Bring back my Bonnie to me, to me

["Hasan Kemal" <hasan_kemal@hotmail.com>]

A little log with Haroon playing a House alt.

This ties in with rumor 15/3.

Spaceport conference room--Somewhere on Malarca Secondus

Players:

Hasan

Hasan pauses from his pacing and looks at his reflection on the blade of his 
knife.

It is plain to see that this man, if you recognize him at all, has changed a 
good deal. Still tall, olive-skinned, slicked-back black-hair, one ruby 
earring--but his manner is more one of barely contained rage than 
rakishness. He holds his wide and expressive mouth as if he is trying to 
supress a roar rather then a laugh. His brown eyes no longer twinkle with 
good humor, but instead scan the area for hidden enemies, no matter who he 
is with. If you can get him to focus on you, his eyes burn with near-lethal 
intensity.

He is wearing a well-worn black military-style uniform with dusty riding 
boots. The uniform carries no sign of House or rank. He has a cracked brown 
leather belt around his waist. From it hangs a shield generator, a sturdy 
cleaver-like knife, and a long scabbard containing a calvary saber. He also 
has a projectile sidearm and ammo clips on his belt.

The biggest shock of all, however, may be his headgear. A blue traditional 
Bajazet turban.

Mustafa comes in from the terrace.

Mustafa has arrived.

Hasan paces, his hands behind his back. His head snaps around to look 
Mustafa up and down as the older man enters.

He is a middle aged man of medium build and average height. His deeply 
tanned face has a hooked nose, and deep-set dark eyes that watch the world 
from beneath a pair of bush eyebrows. His face sports a fine moustache waxed 
into points, which conspires to give him a maniacal look whenever it is 
combined with his toothy smile.
He wears long flowing robes of dark green patterned with gold embroidery 
over a short khaki tunic. Bulbously baggy white trousers are tucked into 
black desert boots and a scimitar hangs from his waist.

Mustafa enters, the light from the open doors behind him turning him into a 
silhouette. He bows to the waist and the afternoon sun casts a contorted 
shadow of him against the far wall. He coughs and steps forwards looking 
slightly less dramatic in normal lighting "Lord Kemal, I assume". He glances 
around the hall and returns his gaze with a passable attempt at a smile.

Hasan smiles a cruel smile. "You must be a civilian. Nice moustache wax," he 
says mockingly.   As he sheathes his knife, his eyes darken as if he 
remembers how these types are supposed to talk to each other. "And you will 
address me as /Pasha/ Kemal. Or ibn-Ramalleh... people seem to like that 
name." He walks towards the window, forcing the other man to stare into the 
sun. The Pasha turns to face his guest, "Who in the thousand hells are you?"

Mustafa sniffs and his fingers (soft, clearly not used to hard labour) stray 
instinctively to one of the points of his moustache. He paces further into 
the hall "/I/ am Mustafa Ben'shiri Al Ibin and I am private secretary to the 
Lord Chancellor Zukunfkriege"

Mustafa waits and appears in no rush to proceed with his business. He looks 
disdainfully at the state of his robes and starts dusting off his sleeves.

Hasan squints as he tries to place the name. "Oh, the Venhei whoremonger, 
right. I thought his taste in secretaries ran towards Yazukan girls." The 
Pasha rubs his chin with his rough hand. He could certainly do with a shave.

Hasan adopts an apologetic tone, "Not that you're not a good lay, Mustafa. I 
just didn't know that fact about /Chancellor/ Juseppe."

Mustafa draws himself up to his full and none too impressive height "My good 
Lord Pasha may be advised to remind himself as to the forms and manners of 
Kaitain during your heighliner flight back." He stops and smiles toothily 
"Hmm?"

Hasan snorts, "I'd sooner feed those moustaches of yours to the feral dogs 
of Erzurum Slum than than take advice from you." He scowls, "And what do you 
mean, 'back'?"

Hasan's hand drops to his belt and he squares his shoulders.

Mustafa mutters something in Amat under his breath. "Hmph. I was warned 
about your ways. /Back/" he snaps and after seeking an expletive settles 
merely on "Pasha, means that you are to return to Kaitain." He reaches into 
the depths of his robes and produces an enevelope which looks like a guild 
transport manifest. "Signed by the Regent" he adds flatly.

Hasan tears the envelope from the man's hand and throws it out into the 
hall. "/Orders/", he says the word with some amount of disgust, "are only 
valid if they are successfully delivered." He smiles at the man and looks so 
much like a cobra set to strike that one can almost hear the hiss.

Mustafa looks Hasan square in the eye. "You are acting like a Harkonnen"

Hasan grabs the envoy by the throat and slams him against the wall by the 
window. "You can tell your Chancellor and your Regent that this is a vote of 
no-confidence in their goverment." The Pasha speaks and breathes heavily 
through clenched teeth as he whispers in Mustafa's ear. "While the Divan 
sits in Kaitain and tries to stroke a dithering Emperor and a fickle 
Landsraad into removing the Harkonnen from our fief, I, and the Malarcans 
are acutally doing it. One mangled carcass at a time."

He pats the man's cheek. "You say I am like a Harkonnen, but you have 
probably never even met one, have you?" He shoves the man away, releasing 
him. "It is a pity. You'd fill their slaves pits well, me thinks."

Makes a show of readjusting his robes while the colour drains back into his 
face. "My Lord is wrong, I have met enough Harkonnen to draw the judgement." 
He shrugs, causing his robes to billow "You may bandy words with me if you 
wish but I know your type.. you believe you are lord and master to 
yourself." He smiles, a lazy wide smile like a basking alligator "The 
/regular/ army will continue your sterling work here. Apparently someone on 
Kaitain thinks highly enough of you that your services are required." He 
leans forwards "Required, not requested Pasha. You /will/ return to Kaitain"

Hasan shakes his head sadly. "Such a pity that I will not have the pleasure 
of your company on the trip, then." Kemal turns sharply on his heel, which 
squeaks on the hardwood floor, and strides out of the room.

Ununiformed irregulars stream through the door as soon as he is gone. One of 
them grins as he holds up a Harkonnen transmitter like it was a long-dead 
fish.

"Homeworlder," he says in heavily-accented Amat, "This was found in your 
transport. Care to explain it to me and the boys?"

--the rest is too grisly to be logged--
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