Jedi vs. Sith: Rise of the Scoundrel

[Seraphim Knight]

OOC (Closed RP only.)

A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away...



Rise of the Scoundrels

Years post the events concerning the second Death Star and the fall of the Imperial regime,
sectors of the known galaxy have been delegated, fought and toiled over, or conquered.
Jedi and Sith are now as common as the battles they wage, spanning throughout the galaxy,
but behind the scenes, between the lines, and under the radar of the factions and empires,
there always remains the wayward group of space-farers: Smugglers

Captain Galdaart Fel and his motley crew, banded together by both circumstance and
substantial payouts, have traversed sectors of the galaxy together, bringing with them their
vast backgrounds and broad fields of experience. Seros Darklighter, a hunted Jedi Knight apart
from the Order, hoped to pay his way off Coruscant in a desperate attempt to flee his pursuers,
all the while, the crew came under attack by a mysterious species known as the "jekk."

Currently employed by the ever dangerous and elusive Dante Deveaux, Fel and crew restock
and lick their wounds, preparing to reclaim a lost compatriot to the jekk, Wade Connors. But in
a looming Syndicate outpost above Coruscant, vile evil grows and schemes that will involve
both the hunted Jedi and the crew are already under way, interlinking fates and destinies of all
that are involved....

An endless expanse of stars, pierced by rays of bright light cast from the local star below, intermittently eclipsed by the slowly rotating asteroids of the Smuggler's Run. Traffic remained heavy amidst the Skips (floating asteroids fitted and renovated into outposts) while a lone lucrehulk lurks to the forward left of the field from the mainstream hyperspace route.

Now aboard Oz Griffin's highly modified, retrofitted, renovated, and personally reprogrammed lucrehulk, dubbed "The Independence," Seros had just walked out of the Loronar's make-shift medbay. The Loronar was docked peacefully in the massive loading docks along the embracing arms of the Independence. The crew's rather precarious employer, Dante, seemed to be stable, and Seros' work here was as done as it could be, he supposed. Jace would report to Fel soon enough, and that left Seros free to go about his business. ...Still, the whole ordeal left Seros with some undenial question marks looming over his head. Deathstick inhalation. Dense concentration at that. It's a wonder the man's lungs didn't completely implode on themselves or collapse, but..Seros chocked it off to the Force. Even being a 'former' Jedi Knight in the ranks, certain doctrines 'did' make a bit more sense, if you believe in the 'will' of it all. He knew Dante was versed in its ways, but to what extent remained a mystery. Not that Seros cared to stick around and find out, though. The man was wild and barely tamable in just the few short minutes Seros had interacted with him.

In the cold central hallway of the 'Lorry', Seros sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he rubbed the coarse salt from his eyelids, left over from his rather rigorous workout he'd done prior to the docking. It brought him to the thought of Kaali again, how he'd intentionally exerted his Force signature for six hours straight in hopes she wouldn't lose him during the last hyperspace jump. Much to his relief, he succeeded. She was close by, somewhere. Probably on another one of the local Skips. But, before he would meet her, there were several things he needed, namely different garb, as the ones he was wearing, while appeasing his personal preference and taste, weren't his. He finally made a decision to forsake the traditional garb for the time being until the threat of his pursuers was properly...managed.

He began his trek back towards the main lift, through the main passenger hold just beyond the hall. There, Faith, an abrasive yet fearless acquaintance Seros had made back on Coruscant, still lay in mournful silence, curled up on the round couch next to Nephesh, whom Seros presumed to be the crew's grease monkey, by the ever present smears of grease about her young face and matching clothing to boot. The evidence of Sky's abrupt reaction, a hole punched straight through the durasteel plating under the main holovid display on the adjacent wall, showed Seros the magnitude of the situation. The loss of Wade hit them all hard. There was much history Seros wasn't aware of, but he wanted to respect it regardless, especially since Sky granted him Wade's concussion staff for use. It was not a light gesture. The weight of such a connection to someone Seros only presumed to be a figment of his existence seemed just a tad bit more than surreal. He knew he had to leave them all be. Logic and circumstance dictated that it made the most sense...but his heart felt completely off about the whole 'leaving' bit. Why, by the Force, did he feel this way?

..Just then, as he was about to continue his trek to the lift, he got a not-so-subtle answer to his conflicting query...

"..Seros?!.."

His gaze darted back down the hall from whence he came. Jace from the medbay. He looked back at the brunette that had been with him in the YT-1300 back on Coruscant. She looked as though she was about to get up and respond to Jace's retort..but Seros, looking stern and unyielding but for a moment, rose a finger towards her and the wary man in glasses sitting next to her, and shook his head. "..Don't come in there!" and he was off, satisfied to not hear any rebellious footsteps behind him.

Into the medbay, he took a moment to lock the door behind him, and assess the situation. Jace looked frantic enough, but Dante..
"What happened?!"

He approached the bedside and immediately caught whiff of the rancid combination of vomit, urine, and sweat...and yes, deathsticks. He just about gagged a lung out, cringing behind his shielding arm over his mouth. "Sweet Force, how the hell..?" Yellowish black vomit being wiped off his chin and chest by Jace. Goopy yellow secretion seeping out from his tear ducts, and pores on his neck and arms..but not his face. Must've been a mask, obviously. Omwati don't bleed red anyways. Didn't concern him regardless. Seros lifted the lower end of Dante's med-sheet just enough to see the bedpan and its contents. Black urine. "....holy sithspit."

As Jace told him what happened, which wasn't much more than what Seros observed himself, he peered at the vitals monitors. ...Dante's vital signs had improved. Not by much, but at least noticeably. Heart rate was slightly increased, blood pressure rose a smidge from its dangerously low level, and Dante's chest seemed to heave up and down normally on its own.

"...A natural form of rapid detox?" He indirectly asked Jace, as if gambling as to whether or not he'd possibly have an answer. There were humanoid species that had similar inherent traits like that, but none able to adequately disguise themselves as an Omwati and be anywhere nearly as convincing, at least in Seros' vast field of study. He looked at Dante's still unconscious face as he helped Jace wipe him clean.

[Gunthar]

~Prior to Seros leaving the med-bay~

Jace sat next to the door, looking from it to Dante, his datapad, and then back to the door again. There wasn't much he could do at this point until Seros got back, which was extremely frustrating. Not three meters away from him lay his friend, dying of some unknown poison. Dante's pulse was feint as was his breath, and he was exposed to the environment as well as the crew. The most he could do was sit there and wait for Seros to come back with some sort of solution. Letting him go examine the container was something he wished he could have avoided, but it seemed like the only way to pull Dante out of this one. He just hoped that this curious 'Jedi' wouldn't take his time examining the rest of the sensitive container but simply figure out what they were up against.

When he heard the heavy footsteps he deduced it was Seros warning him of his arrival. Nobody else on the crew walked that heavily, nor did they have a reason to. Jace popped the lock as Seros approached, opening the door for him as he walked in. He let it slide shut behind him and locked it, getting up to follow Seros over to the table that Dante's damaged body rested on. When Seros revealed to him what Dante had been hit by, Jace's brows furrowed in confusion. "...Deathstick fumes? Interesting..." That would have been his last guess. Jace didn't hang out with too many Deathstick addicts, and for good reason. Destructive health habits and shortened lifespans were something his PMC tended to avoid, and thus had made sure that those they hired weren't on them, and provided treatment to those who had picked up on it. To this effect he didn't know much about it himself, other than the fact that an aerosolized version was unheard of. He wondered what type of facilities would be needed in order to manufacture this.

Jace listened to Seros' explanation to everything he was hooking up to Dante. The damned creature that did this to him tried to overdose him with a concentration of Deathsticks, and now he was going to remain on medical support for Force-knows how long. But, he was here because of Seros' help. And whether or not he knew his tendencies and past well enough to say that he trusted him, the 'Jedi' was on a fast track to getting there. As Seros left the room, Jace turned his head to the man and gave him a quick nod. "Hey Seros... Thanks. I appreciate what you just did, and I'm sure he does as well." He looked back to Dante and smiled, thinking of what he might say if he was conscious. "As much as he might deny it at times."

~Present~

Jace watched the doctor leave before turning back to Dante. At least everything was as it should be, or at least manageable. He figured he'd have to keep an eye on his Firrerreon friend, come in here and there to make sure his oxygen and bacta were still in working order. Probably give the captain a heads up or something, just so he doesn't stumble in to find a wounded Firrerreon that came from nowhere on the table. He figured that they would realize it was Dante upon closer inspection, but a little warning would help. He was about to step out when he noticed something strange about Dante.

At first he noticed that he was... changing color? Followed by the fact that his skin was glistening in the light of the med-bay. Jace stared at him for a moment in awe before he was snapped out of it by a light cough from Dante, followed by his head swaying to one side with a vile liquid spewing from his lips. Jace's eyes grew wide as he turned around and grabbed some gloves, towels, and disinfectant. He glanced at the doorway, wondering if the apparently knowledgeable Seros was nearby. He called out to him; "Seros?!" while slipping the gloves on. He moved next to Dante and went to work, whether or not the Jedi heard him.

The first thing he did was move the bedpan into place before... well, you know. Second, he tilted Dante's head to one side carefully, moving a container under his mouth so that the sickly yellow tears and blackened vomit wouldn't get everywhere. He checked the oxygen to make sure that it wasn't conflicting with Dante's vomiting. Next, he started to wipe him down to clean up all the thick sweat that was pouring off of him. "Would you just stop dying already?! I swear, when you wake up..." He mumbled something unintelligible just as Seros walked in, glancing over at him as he wiped the normal sweat collecting on his own brow with his upper forearm. He paused a moment to look over the form of Dante as he contemplated his question. "I wish I knew. One minute he was relatively stable and the next his vitals went crazy and this started happening!"

As Seros looked Dante over, Jace went over and took a look at the heart monitor. From what he could tell, that little episode had actually made him better. Maybe Dante was going to get through this one after all. He glanced over at the counter and saw an empty vial sitting in a small rack. Taking one he scooped up as much of the yellow sweat as he could, putting the stopper on and placing it back on the rack with a little label. He might be able to use it later, who knows. Grabbing a few extra towels, he walked back over and handed them to Seros. The two started to wipe Dante down, and when Seros asked if it was a form of detoxification Jace shrugged and looked at the masked face of his friend. "Something like that. Although, I've never seen anything like this before."

Once Dante was cleansed of the deathstick secretion and was resting in a clean bed, Jace started to clean up the area of dirty rags and towels and realized he was dizzy. It was only now that he realized that it stank of deathsticks and something else that he couldn't even place. Putting all the yellow soaked materials into the incinerator pile, Jace threw his gloves away before turning on the vents. In a matter of several seconds the air would become 'fresh' again (as fresh as recycled air can get that is). But it was too late for Jace. With Dante cleaned up and the air becoming fresh once again, the last trace of the unpleasantness that resided in the room went down the sink as Jace wretched up his previous meal.

[Bioman]

What is left after the fire scorches the earth? What is left at the pyre when the flames have abated to a smoldering of coals? What is left when lies and truth are stripped away from the soul, to bare its naked face to the flames? A hard question that - a hard question indeed.

~~~~~~~~~

The light was blinding, and with it came a burning and itching. From somewhere came a moan, and hands lifted to cover the eyes: bad move, for as muscles moved, they screamed out in pain and exhaustion – the body aquiver with soreness. He winced with the pain, and the jarring sent a *pop* and a high-pitched ringing in the ears, which seemed to drown out all thought as well as sound. More and more, the mind became aware of the body . . . disorientation, nausea, fatigue, a splitting headache.

Another wince, and the eyes struggled to open – thick and heavy, they slowly opened to admit the blinding light and a miasma of color. The world seemed to spin dizzily out of control as his eyes fought to focus. A groan, dry and raspy . . . his groan, he realized with a start. Silently, he drew himself up on his elbow, looking around slowly. Where was he? He saw bright lights, screens, and bottles . . . “Thiamycin” one of them read.

“Thiamycin. Painkiller.”

He almost wretched as he spoke, the effort of speaking sending a wave of nausea and pain through him, reminding him of the dryness and soreness in his throat. Silently, he brought a hand up to rub his head, trying to ease the pounding. Experimentally, he worked his jaw from side to side: he was rewarded with a satisfying pop in his ears – and mercifully, the ringing in his ears died away. He scanned the room, and then froze as his eyes settled on two sentients in the room. One was military looking, the other looked like a force user. The military man was retching into the sink, the force user . . . well he was standing rather close. Thousands of years of instinct took over as Dante instinctually shrank away from the man’s proximity, and gave out a guttural growl of warning.

“I’d put some distance ‘tween us if I were you.”

Now that . . . well that was odd. He hadn’t used his home speech in some time; he’d taken great pains to cover up his accent over the years as he had gone into hiding. A wince, a hand rubbed his forehead. Who were these people? Who was he? The man by the sink finished his vomiting, and Dante spied his face . . .

~~~~~~~~~

“Go go go!”

Blasts of energy surged all around them, peppering the ground, blowing out holes in the quickcrete fortifications. The platoon surged forward, and Dante and Jace split off from the main group under the cover of their advance. Quickly, they changed out of their armor and into the clothes of the natives – civilians, non-combatants – Jace took out a com, calling in for extraction.

“Jace InA, 18384 and Dante CInA, 46383 requesting Evac!”

~~~~~~~~~

Stealer, Jace, Demici, Identification code 18384, Intelligence Agent, Serennoan Military. Deveaux, Dante, Peten, Identification code 46383, Counter Intelligence, Serennoan Military. They knew each other – they were war brothers. With the realization, came memories: the battle of preyja gorge, the battle of Ford’s crossing, the liberation of Carannia. He and Jace had been through a lot . . . a lot indeed. He could trust him.

Things were coming back . . . the ship, the Fel crew, he had treated several people – he was a doctor, the lucrehulk they were on . . . the container, the gas. The Container. Quickly, far quicker than he should have, Dante bolted upright.

“The Container.”

Feebly, Dante struggled to get off the medbed. Perhaps this would be amazing to the others, for Dante, not so much: Firrerreo had incredible healing abilities, with even major wounds being capable of being healed within hours. When you factor in the fact that there was no physical trauma, only poison to contend with (with the majority being purged) coupled with the fact that super healer bacta was being pumped into his system – in no time, Dante would be regaining his strength. Already, he was far stronger than he had been several minutes ago.

Indeed, with every second that passed, he became stronger and stronger; already, his headache was gone, and his eyes and his soreness were much better. All he needed now was sleep . . . only that would cure his fatigue unfortunately. As Dante stood, he began to rip off various sensors and scanners, and tossed them aside. And looking at his body though, he found that the lower and upper half of his disguise had been compromised . . . hands quickly came up to touch his face, then lowered when he felt the synthflesh of his facial mask. To Jace, he nodded his head slightly.

“Has my disguise been compromised?”

[Snow Phoenix]

Previously...

While the rest of the smuggling crew had landed on The Independence, Liya, Sam, Sky, and Liya's erratic R5 unit, Scrapheap, had been dispatched by Captain Fel to the cavernous spacer slum town located within the hollowed-out interior of Skip One. Leaving Sam with the Millennium Eagle, Liya, Sky, and the astromech set out on foot to locate a supply depot and fill Fel's wishlist. Liya's initial approach was to locate familiar landmarks from their previous visit, but this proved unnecessary, as they found a promising depot almost right away. Liya got in line outside the door of the cramped establishment, while Sky struck up a conversation with a woman loitering outside (Kaali).

~

The line was moving slowly, but at least it was moving. I took a few steps forward as a short, stout Duros exited the shop, looking rather annoyed, and hurried off, crossing dangerously in front of a moving cargo carrier loaded with crates as he did so. From his frustration and blind haste, he evidently hadn't found what he was seeking.

Glancing back at the reflection in the makeshift sign, I saw that Sky and his mysterious stranger hadn't moved. With each boring moment, I wondered what in space they were discussing. I just hoped it wasn't drugs. In another few steps, my 'mirror' would be out of sight, so if something was going to happen, I hoped it would happen soon.

=R5-E1 Scrapheap=
Now that he was no longer intently working a problem for his mistress, which allowed him to focus his circuits and his sensors on a very narrow set of observations and ignore his filthy surroundings, Scrapheap was slowly losing control. This dirt, and oil, and filth, and grime all around him was almost paralyzing to his sensors. There was so much of it, and he could practically see ever last germ and air pollutant. It demanded to be cleaned, and yet there was so much chaos, and only one tiny droid. The R5 unit let out a mournful hoot, and shook slightly, from side to side.

Scrappy's wail cut through my curiosity like a knife. My eyes snapped back to the germaphobic droid, and I laid one hand gently on his dome, brushing a thin film of dust off as I did so. "It's ok, Scrappy. No one expects you to clean this place." *I whispered.* "Maybe you should shut your sensors down for now. I'll tell you when I need you." *My faithful droid let out a short hoot in binary, and the light from his photoreceptors dimmed.*

~

*Sky's eyebrows rose and he leaned back instinctively (well, as far as he could in the chair anyway) when her tone grew low and angry. That was NOT the reaction he was used to getting. At all. She was definitely a thief, no one else would have that "appraising" look about them, but maybe she just preferred to work alone. He followed her gaze to the group of three mercenaries, then turned back to face her.* "You sure? I mean, far be it from me to tell you how to do your thing, but they don't exactly look to be the friendly type. A small scale partnership might not go amiss in this situation."

*Her mouth firmed. She hadn't realized her behavior had given so much away that this humanoid could so accurately guess her intentions. She shook her head dismissively. She was in a hurry to find a means of payment and leave. Seros' ship could have landed anywhere, by now. It would be difficult enough as it was to track his signature again.

She clapped his shoulder firmly, then moved gracefully past him.*

"They're all yours, champ."

*She paused, sensing eyes on her. Where? A sense of movement. Kaali's focus shifted towards that direction, and found the eyes reflected in a scrap-metal sign. But they shifted away towards the droid next to her. The tall woman that had accompanied the charming male. Could be nothing. She was keeping an eye on her companion. Could be more than that. There was some vague sense that was telling Kaali that she needed to linger nearby, but she was eager to return to her own ship. Besides, she didn't let the Force make the calls for her anymore.
She moved towards the front of the line to see what she could do in regards to payment. It was time to get off of this rock.*

~

Finally, the line cleared in front of me, and it was my turn at the counter. Inside the dingy shop, a small, flustered Toydarian was flitting back and forth from one end of the counter to the other, accepting orders at my end, and accepting payments for fulfilled orders at the far right. He acknowledged me with a quick glance, before turning away to accept a handful of cred chips from a waiting Devaronian. Then, the blue-skinned alien flew over, talking almost as fast as his stubby wings were beating. "Hello, ma'am? How may I help you?" He caught sight of my datapad almost before he completed the question. "Is that your list?" I nodded, and handed it over. "Good, good. Let me see..." He looked up as the strange woman to whom Sky had been talking entered, the other door, apparently looking to pay for her order. "Be right with you, lass." The frenetic supply dealer called out in her direction, as he hovered in front of his computer terminal, keying in Fel's requests with lightening quickness.

Sliding my datapad back to me, he fluttered sideways to his left, along the counter, to address Sky's acquaintance. "Ah, your crates are ready, yes?" He took up another datapad, tapped the screen twice, and slid it across the counter to the woman. "Here's the invoice. I just need your signature and payment, and you'll be all set." Without waiting for a response, he was back in front of me. I was starting to get a headache from watching the avian's perpetual motion, and I was grateful when he perched on the counter. "Anything else I can help you with, while we fill your order?"

The alien's question couldn't have been more on target. Captain Fel had indeed had one additional request. "Yes, actually." I responded with a smile. "Do you have any small cargo speeders or a few speeder bikes?"

The alien's eyes swept away from me as he acknowledged a fidgety Duros who had come in behind the cloaked woman (Kaali). Even as his attention seemingly shifted, his mind apparently stayed with my question, and he shot back a question of his own, even as he moved away again. "Do you prefer any models in particular?"

I pressed my lips together slightly. "No, anything fast, high quality, and capable of fitting up the cargo ramp of a Loronar Medium Transport will do just fine, thanks." I couldn't have known it at the time, but my casual comment would end up being just the clue the other woman was awaiting.

[Archaos]

Previously, aboard Oz Griffin's Lucrehulk the 'Independence,' inside Oz' personal repair shop...

Oz Griffin wrote: *Using the arms to pick himself up, he poked his head back out the top of the ship and located Fel again.* "Hey, d'you want fusion, hypermatter, or solar ionization for the new reactor? Personally, I'd go with Sol-ion. Best fuel efficiency in the business." *Not to mention you can refuel just by being near a star...*

*...Fel looked up from the burnt-out housing he was replacing on Wrench's torso, his hands black with scorching and the residue of burnt wiring. Choices? He'd never been given choices before...* "As long as Solar doesn't turn my boat into some sort of half-assed TIE, with solar panels festooned on it like some gaudy red-light whore, then fine." *He thought twice* "Then again -- when am I concerned with fuel efficiency? I'm not running an eco-boost green delivery service here... which one gives me the best power transfer and bang for the buck? I'm trying to outrun gangsters and villains here, not win the 'friends of the atmo' award."

*shaking his head, he turned back to the task at hand, and very quickly realized that time passed quickly and tirelessly when Wrench was involved. He didn't seem to tire, or be distracted by trivialities like food, the need to rest, or passerby. He was completely focused. And before long (or was it several days later?) he stopped, the final piece of the puzzle being the re-installation of the Intellex brain unit -- which Fel was certain he'd leave for Oz to handle. The unit was far to delicate, and his hands far too clumsy -- relatively speaking -- to handle the task.

He looked over his work; Wrench had been a bodge of several different droid spares before, but he was truly a rainbow of parts now. The left leg and some of the access panels were from a black R9 which had served with a sec force over Corellia, and the right leg was from a green R5. The servos and actuators came from an old R2 which Fel had spent hours refurbishing, and the radome was from a blue R7, though many of the fittings were from the R2-series, some scavenged from Wrench's original (?) structure. Most of the main frame and chassis was Wrench's original orange, though now scored badly with blackened blaster-fire, and ground to a dull silver with an angle grinder where necessary, he looked to be the bastard project of six drunken Jawas. Many of the access panels held nothing, Fel having decided to leave it to Wrench to decide what he wanted to carry. Only the manipulator arms had been installed, 'borrowed' from Oz' scrap bin. It looked atrocious, Galdaart had to admit.

But everything worked, there was positive hydraulic pressure and all circuit boards were active and conducting properly. All things considered, he was impressed with himself, and turned to speak with Oz to inquire about the final act, finding the tech engrossed in a wiring harness as big around as Fel's upper arm:*

"Oz -- I think this step is all yours. I've gone as far as I can. Would you, take care of his mind? I'd like to be the first thing he sees when he's brought online."

[Archaos]

[interrupt] system online.
[run] time-stamp update. 030999.
[run] self-diagnostic.
01010110000000000000000000000101010101010101010100 10010101111111010101010101001000000000000000001111 11111101100101111111111111010101111111110010001001 00100101110101010100100100100101 <break>
[peripherals] parameters missing, bus 89977, 1411, 2987, 34490.
[run] system-shutdown.


[interrupt]system online.
[run] time-stamp update. 040499.
[run] self-diagnostic
11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111 11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111 11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111 11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111 11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111 11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111 <end>
[peripherals] all systems positive response.
[run] interface-ready.
[Binary] Droid R2-P47 stands ready. First task?

*Fel stood by as the little droid was reactivated for a fourth time. There had been foul-up after foul-up, a burn-out here, a popped circuit board there, a dead photoreceptor, a missing part, an incompatibility. Solving the issues was like finding a needle in a stack of needles. in the ensuing days, 'Frend' had been repaired, and was working alongside Oz' army of droids on the refit of the UA, but still Wrench stood, incomplete, his head spilled out on a workbench. Only in the last few days, as work progressed on the UA to a point that Oz could turn his considerable talents to other items, that the droid had been reassembled, again and again. Each time the source of trouble was found, another problem arose. He'd seen Oz replace the power grid on a ship over a hundred standard years old with the mathematical precision of a student answering simple math, seen him modify systems that weren't meant to be modified with a smile and a nod of satisfaction... but this R2 unit had made them both sweat. Fel had barely left the workshop in four days, pausing to eat only when Malora and Jace had threatened him with stun pistols. And now, the little droid sat, softly humming, its radome turning slightly, taking in its-- HIS-- surroundings.*


"Rust-bucket?"

Nothing. The droid extended its third leg and wheeled to meet the source of sound. Coming to rest a few feet from Fel, the R2 drew upright, and intoned flatly in a stream of Binary:

Droid R2-P47 stands ready. First task?

Fel set his jaw, crossed his arms protectively in front of him. "Wrench?"

The small droid helpfully extended one of its arms, a spanner standing at the ready.

"Wrench. WRENCH! YOUR NAME IS WRENCH GODDAMNIT!" *Fel shook, and tears welled up at the corners of his eyes as the little droid looked at him placidly, retracted the mechanical arm, and went about collecting data. He felt sick. Mad. Slightly insane. He wanted to laugh. Throw something. Kill something. He put out a hand, reaching for the corner of the workbench, missed, and landed with a hollow 'thud' on the duralumin plating. He was dizzy, and his stomach burned, as it had for days. He felt lost. "Wrench..." He walked out of the workshop, Oz' voice trailing off behind him, and out into the massive hangar of the Lucrehulk...

[Copperlinks]

~Kaali Xsato~

*It was dangerous to be distracted in an environment like this. Perhaps dangerous anywhere in the known galaxy, anymore, but Kaali's narrowed gaze was not so focused on her surroundings as it should have been. She awaited the multi-tasking Toydarian without signs of either acknowledgment or interest. Part of her fractured focus was due to the endless concentration she needed to exert in disguising her force signature, so that none would know how far the Jedi Sentinel had fallen from the light. Though it was unlikely that she would run across any members of the Order on this asteroid, she had grown so accustomed to hiding the darkness that it was almost an involuntary reaction any time she wore the robes of her former position.

The other distraction, of course, was Seros. It was torturous that he was so close, and utterly inaccessible. How would she find a way to board the Loronar? Or had the Loronar docked, so that she could cease this maddening chase across the stars?

A datapad was pressed into the Echani's pale hand, and the corner of her mouth twisted into a scowl at the final number. She would not have enough to refuel if another chase was imminent. Silver eyes flickered once more towards the three armored Nikto, reconsidering-*

"No, anything fast, high quality, and capable of fitting up the cargo ramp of a Loronar Medium Transport will do just fine, thanks."

*Kaali stilled, her breath trapped in her throat. How many Loronar Medium Transports could there be out here in the middle of nowhere? She forced the tension in her shoulders to ease and for air to enter her lungs at a controlled pace. Perhaps the brazen humanoid and his tall female companion would be of use to her, after all. And while she was at it, she might as well cure her own financial problem.

She paid the merchant the last of her ignots and left her signature on the datapad behind, than moved out of line, with the casual intent of someone who knew exactly what they were doing. She returned to where she had left the thief [Sky], and leaned in close so that her soft murmur could be heard.*

"I've had a change of heart. Partner. Let's clean house."

*Already, she felt the energy within her swelling, a subtle application of mind trick to help influence and encourage the thief's natural tendencies. All she needed was a fall guy.*

[Schradinger]

"Huh." Oz stared at the droid with a mix of curiosity and sadness as Fel left the room, but barely noticed the other man's absence. Everything else had gone without a hitch, the new reactor, the replacement of the cracked portions of the hull, even rebuilding the loader droid. Why was this little droid being so difficult? Every other time it had refused to come back online it had been because of a hardware issue, but now that they had fixed all of those it seemed that there were portions of software missing too. Like holes in a memory. To Oz though, that wasn't any more final a situation than the lack of good hardware had been. this droid needed something that had been removed, and he just needed to find out what it was and put it back.

Turning to the pile on his workbench of parts that had been replaced, Oz sifted through them until he found the collection of memory chips they had removed from the little droid. Some of them were too burnt out to even be recognizable while some still had accessible information on them, but all were in no condition to run programs or store information. He'd already taken as much information as he could off the ones that weren't blackened wrecks, but a lot of it was too fragmented to be accessed and the parts that weren't were sporadic at best. Like snapshots of events without context to give them meaning. Picking up the memory units, he carried them over to a smaller worktable and took a seat on the stool next to it, leaning forward with his elbows on the table as he stared down at the units, willing them to give up their secrets.

"Indy?" "Yes, Seymour?" "Any ideas?" "There does not appear to be any technological way to retrieve more data. I'm afraid the hardware is too badly damaged." For the first time in what had to be years, the dark cloud of defeat began to inch its way into Oz's mind. This was the first problem he hadn't been able to solve since before he'd found the Independence. Angrily, he picked up one of the memory cores and drew his arm back to hurl it across the room, but stopped dead in his tracks when a memory flooded into him. A mess of shifting stone and metal, rocks the size of battleships crushing and colliding, forcing a course that brought them back as often as forward as they twisted and turned through the maze of death, a maze that was constantly changing and altering and adapting. "There are beings in here with me. Beings that must be safe, must reach their destination. My job to make sure of it. Keep shield levels highest at greatest danger points. Optimize engine thrust for best power ratio and performance." The images and sensations continued, and while the personal speech was all in binary, Oz translated it in his head as it came to him. The images were of Wrench's first trip to the run, acting as copilot for Fel as he successfully navigated the field, but that wasn't the only impression coming from the little memory chip. There were flashes of a dry, dusty world... no, two. One looked like tatooine but he didn't recognize the other. Flashes of danger and quiet and drifting through open space. Things from years ago mixed together with things from mere moments before he was forced offline.

But there wasn't enough. Some of the memories were almost complete, but most were fragments of sensations that even Oz's mind couldn't make sense of. There had to be more. Dropping the chip back onto the table, he snatched up another and tried to emulate what he'd been thinking when he'd seen the images from the last one. It wasn't long before more images flooded his mind and he began to sort them into the proper order as best he could. It was like trying to put together a million piece puzzle but only being able to see a fraction of the pieces at any given time. It was the kind of challenge that Oz hadn't had since he'd re-written the history of the galaxy in binary when he was nine (mostly to spite his father, who had threatened to take away his workshop if he didn't write the history paper he'd been assigned. He'd failed to specify what language to use). Once he'd finished with the new chip, he dropped it and snatched up another, then another, then another, soaking up the stories and information in a mad quest to save the little droid that sat less than ten meters away, blissfully unaware of what it used to be. Of who it used to be.

- - - Updated - - -

A smile spread across Sky's face as the woman voiced her change of heart. "Looks like this just might be my kind of party after all." He spun to face her as he stood, his movements unconsciously graceful, and swept his eyes over the crowd as he did. "So who do you want to hit first? I vote tall dark and ugly." He jerked his head in the direction of a lone weequay that was even taller than he was and twice as broad. "Though there's always the power trio you had your eye on before." His eyes shifted across the space again and picked out six more likely targets, then went back to the woman. "Honestly though, I'm up for just about anything." His smile returned and he finished the phrase with a wink that made it pretty clear he wasn't just referring to thieving.

[Seraphim Knight]

Seros watched Dante with eyes as curious as they were cautious, standing beside the bed, switching wary glances to and fro the monitors.

“I’d put some distance ‘tween us if I were you.”

..and so Seros did as he was asked as Dante made his grueling, yet surprisingly valiant effort of sitting upright. But Seros' attention was then diverted by an abrupt heaving and grunting coming from the other end of the room. Seems the coalescing concoction of smells had gotten to Jace a bit more mercilessly. Granted, the room smelled nothing short of a rancor's intestinal tract--which, yes, Seros had the..experience of dissecting once back in his Academy days on Felucia. Required bio class for his field of study. He didn't complain as much as the other students, though. But he had a hardened constitution in more ways than one. And he didn't mind being the "fall-guy" for the lab project. Everyone else 'jawa-ed' out.

Seros left Dante and Jace to their business, despite that aching question in the back of Seros' head.
"..How the blazes did he heal so bloody fast??"

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Stepping out into the chilly, silent hallway of the Loronar, Seros figured it was time to finally take his leave. Yet that bothersome notion in the back of his head told him to stay put, to a point of borderline annoyance at that. "Why the hell..?" he shook it off. The Force was normally the culprit of such anomalies, but ever since having left the Order...and ever since his rather mind-bending dream he had the previous night, he wasn't exactly sure how to handle it anymore. It now went beyond that 'surreality' to a degree of 'am I really that much of a rebel, or does common sense just not make any sense any more' kind of thing.

Regardless, he needed to move. To do something. Kaali would find him. He had no doubt of that whatsoever, and how he longed to see her perfectly pale and fair complexion and intoxicating gaze. It was the blindingly bright spot of this entire endeavor. Shady deal with Muro, bounty hunters and countless thugs coming out of the woodworks to collect on him and his on-going research, being kicked out of Wade's hole-in-the-wall hideout, to witness his death by a wickedly ravenous new species he'd never encountered, nearly getting himself killed in the process....and then...Kaali...

Her presence became all but tangible for mere seconds as they rose from the dark and dank depths of Coruscant's Underworld. Remembering her first, inhibitionless touch on the blade-scar running along his forearm, that became all he wanted. Not sure if Skywalker would have dubbed his motives as foolish or not, as he married and bore children, but Seros wasn't one to care much nowadays anyways. It wasn't 'emotion' to him. It was life. SHE would be his life.

"Easy there, tiger.." Seros pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, rubbing away the burning feeling in his eyes left over from the dissipating traces of deathstick fumes and other bodily fluids expelled by Dante's...whatever the hell that was. Burning feeling gone, he exhaled, and proceeded down the hallway again, praying by the Force he wouldn't be called back to the medbay in any sense of urgency again. "..Take things in small bites, yeah? Got a lot on your plate, and if you're not careful, the host o' the party's gonna catch on.."

..Meaning she could get tied up in it all, and possibly be used for ransom by Black Sun...or whomever this new conglomerate was. Hell, there was little chance she wouldn't get involved now. That would have made Seros' stomach churn..had he not rounded the corner yet again to see the brunette (Karana) and disheveled looking man (Logan) whom he inexplicably and harshly warned not to follow him back to Dante. He sighed upon stopping, both of them looking at him, as if already waiting for an explanation of some sort, and dare Seros say..almost as if he owed it to them. Well, the girl at least looked that way.

He forsook his trek to the main lift and trudged over to them, hands on his hips, initial gaze to the floor. He looked up at the brunette, icy blue eyes reminiscent of the planet Hoth, young tightened jaw disposing a "don't kriff with me" demeanor. "Apologies about before. Patient prefers confidentiality above even his own safety, it would seem." "Making light...FAIL." "But still, I wouldn't go in there. The man.." he turned back around to look to the medbay beyond the durasteel wall. "..reeks of madness, literally."

Looking back to the man in glasses, Seros chocked his head up. "..The jekk took their toll." (Referencing Wade) He hung his head solemnly. "...My condolences. Didn't know him for all but a day, but..." he stared out the viewport in the lounge to the starry expanse outside, into memory, "..you could just tell, that was a man worth his stripes. I'm sorry."

..Adorning Wade's staff in the rear lapels of his tabards whilst speaking.
But something picked at Seros' head...

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Previous to Seros re-entering the medbay...

Having figured out the cause of Dante's plight and done all he could have done, Seros headed down the hall towards the lift, hearing the voice of one of the passengers off to his right.

"Anyway you asked about the artifact," his voice returned to it's normal tone, "it's called the Eye of Ono Kli, there isn't a lot of information on it but what is known is largely considered a myth." He decided not to get too into detail unless she asked, something told him that she wasn't actually interested in a history lesson and as he suspected earlier she was probably only here to size him up.

Seros had slowed his steps, not letting them fall nearly as hard onto the durasteel plates covering the main hall.
His eyes grew brim and narrow as the word 'artifact', although ambiguously insignificant by itself, was backed by the less mistakable phrase 'Eye of Ono Kli.'
"..Doth mine ears deceive me?"

Rounding the corner, he saw the young brunette from the YT-1300 and another man Seros didn't yet recognize. Although disheveled in present appearance, Seros could only surmise that he was a scholar of sorts, put on perhaps the right boat at the wrong time, what with the jekk attack. He would have at least 'considered' going over and inquiring of what he had just heard, but his name being desperately shouted from the inside of the adjacent room snapped him back into 'Doc' mode.

Seros, looking stern and unyielding but for a moment, rose a finger towards her and the wary man in glasses sitting next to her, and shook his head. "..Don't come in there!" and he was off, satisfied to not hear any rebellious footsteps behind him.

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He now felt he had a tinge of an answer as per his "Why the hell.." question. Maybe this was it. But first, he'd let this heavy silence pass after mentioning Wade, which had seemingly struck the girl more than it had the man opposite her.

[Gunthar]

Jace coughed up the last of what looked to be the remnants of the banana-beef bar he had tried earlier. He had a feeling that was a bad choice. As he resided over the sink for a few moments to let his stomach settle he heard the sounds of Dante stirring behind him followed by a guttural warning. He was slightly surprised that he was up already, but considering his species he should have guessed he'd have a swift recovery. Standing up a little straighter, Jace reached over and snagged a synthetic cleaning rag from the dispenser and wiped off anything that might have stuck to his lips. Crumpling up the rag and tossing it into the receptacle, Jace gave Seros a curt nod on his way out. A silent thanks for his persistent help with Dante's health and enlightenment surrounding the cause of all this.

Before turning around to face Dante, Jace reached over and grabbed two containers. One was labeled Thiamycin, a little package with all the required components to administer the drug. The second was the vial filled with the sickly substance that he had taken off of Dante. He waited until he heard the door close before addressing the slip he managed to hear over his own vomiting. "Haven't heard you talk like that in awhile." He turned to his friend and handed him the two containers. Jace leaned his back against the sink as Dante administered the Thiamycin...

~~~~~~~~~

"Here."

Jace handed Dante a package of Thiamycin to help ease the pain of his arm, which had taken a hit right as they broke off from the platoon. He knew he'd heal quickly, but that didn't mean it hurt every second of the way. Jace raised his comm device back up to his ear as he flipped a switch on the device. "Transmitting coordinates." He only had to wait a few seconds before the coordinates for extraction came up. He frowned as he received them, calculating the distance from their position. "That is way too close. We don't need a hot LZ... Understood. Over and out." Jace slipped his device away and looked up to Dante. "They're putting down a klick from here, in that direction." He pointed down the street from them, which coincidentally happened to be right along the front lines of the conflict. After silently frowning at one another and looking down the street, the two decided to break off at a dead run as a round from a friendly light tank sailed over their head and into the building several meters from them.

~~~~~~~~~

"The vial holds some of the sithspit that was pouring out of you. Seros says it was some sort of aerosolized Deathstick concoction. Highly concentrated." Jace could see Dante was in thought, most likely catching himself up on everything that had happened. It was a lot to take in. He wondered if his friend even remembered the holo-recording. Doubtful. The man's mind seemed like it was always a flurry of activity, and it seemed that toxin had only slowed him down for a moment. When Dante struggled to get himself out of bed, Jace almost got up from his spot to motion him otherwise, but then thought better of it. He sometimes forgot of his supernatural ability to heal himself.

When he had come to his senses and started to rapidly ask questions to catch himself up on the situation, Jace couldn't help but smirk. It was good to see that nothing had changed. Except for one thing. "Slow down, Dante." He stood from his position at the sink and rested his hand on Dante's shoulder. He released a sense of calmness through the Force into his friend, all the while watching him carefully. The sensation he had felt from him at the time of exposure had been... explosive, to put it lightly. He wondered what had become of it now. "The container is still on the deck where you left it. I'm sure nobody has gone near it after watching what happened."

Jace took his hand off of his shoulder and looked him once over. The only shred of disguise left was his face mask, and even then it looked strange on the shoulders of what seemed to be another person. Jace pursed his lips and nodded his head. "I'd say it's fairly compromised. At least, the Omwati part that is. You could still pull something off with that mask of yours, nobody has seen your true identity. But its going to be hard to hide anything far from the truth. Might be better to play your cards a little more in the open... Probably don't have any other choice." Jace raised an eyebrow at his long time 'brother', wondering how he'll handle the new circumstances. And if he'll pick up on the fact that something might be a bit... off.