The stars were blurred into the familiar streaks of light of hyperspace for hours now. For Areem Vikargo, captain of the Swift Fortune, it always had something comforting. Seeing it after narrowly escaping numerous dangers does that to a being. Areem was suddenly disturbed from his gazing by the FA-4 pilot droid calling a 20 minute ETA over the Swift Fortune’s intercom. As if he’d been holding his breath Areem let a long sigh escape as he checked his reflection in the viewport of the Command Pod, mounted atop the heavely modified GR-75. A last look at the bow of the ship stretching from underneath the command pod and Areem slid off the ladder that connected the pod with the main deck.

The warmth of the engine control room greeted him together with a strong mix of sweat and tobacco coming from the Besalisk lying on his back beneath a panel, doing one kind of repair work or another. Two hands of the Besalisk were busy with wires, one held a small welding torch and the last abruptly stopped scratching it’s crotch as he heard the captain’s boots hit the deck. Areem payed no mind, for he directly pressed the intercom control to relay a message over the entirety of the ship and any connected vessels:

“Assemble in Valana’s Diner, All.”

It came out bored for some reason. Disinterested, some might say. Yet Areem was on the verge of doing one of the more dangerous jobs he had ever attempted. The loud ‘thump’ of the Besalisk’s scaled forehead hitting the control panel he had just been fixing made him question the crew choices he made, but it were slim pickings for this line of work, especially on a job like this.

“That includes you Jax, finish that up.”

As he gave him a look he couldn’t help but notice Jax was relighting his cigar with the welding torch. Areem sighed and added:

“And don’t do that, it’ll cost you an eye one day.”

He didn’t bother to wait for a response. If there was one Areem couldn’t hear it due to the blast doors ‘swooshing’ open. He passed through the crew quarters with long strides to get to the second set of blast doors that led to the common area he had just called ‘Valana’s Diner’. The doors opened just in time for his quick pace and after coming into the sleazy den Areem took an immediate right to bring him to his favourite chair next to the patched-and-torn-again corner couch that he promised to replace five or six ports ago. What stopped him in his tracks was the fact that there was already a human child sitting in it, playing with a wrench and a sheet of metal as if they were spaceships. The ‘pewpewpew’ and ‘woosh’ sounds the child exclaimed kept the boy oblivious Areem’s halted approach thus it only startled him more when Areem put on his soft but carrying voice with just enough venom to scare any 15-year-old.

“Sitting in my chair now you louse-ridden, pox-infested, too-young-to-throw-out-the-airlock fugitive stowaway laserbrain.”

The sudden whisper so close made the boy jump and halfway between the sentence the boy was already storming hands and feet over the couch.

“What the kark!! I didn’t mean to –eh- Sir, just I haven’t seen you here since when I got discovered don’t blame me I didn’t know it was your chair!”

Areem had already subtly eased himself in the chair and demonstratively out his boots on the table, swiping away some of the pieces of junk that counted as toys for the boy. After the clattering of said ‘toys’ ended.

“Go make yourself scarce boy. Now you know. Your buttocks aren’t worthy for this throne.”

Areem said it while making a dismissive gesture, as if instructing a pet. Defiance sparked in the boys eyes.

“The name is Bast you know! And I have been repairing this dump you call a ship for the last few days with that smelly four-arms even did some work fo-“

“Spare me. Now shoo”

The boy made another start at a sentence but this time Areem faked getting out of his chair, and the boy went running for the bow-section of the ship. Areem had given the boy a beating when they had discovered him 3 days ago, just as they entered hyperspace from their last port of Tanaab. A recent ship-jacking of some Imperial Moff’s ship was done by people from that planet and the Empire came down with a vengeance there, no wonder the boy chose to hide in the cargo bay. Areem was pissed when they had discovered the little Bantha fodder, but there was no way of letting him out anywhere now. He had payed dearly for a hyperspace route that would clear Imperial sensors and would get them in proximity of what once was Alderaan without too much risk of any unsettled debris hitting them. To stop somewhere and leave the boy would be too costly. To jettison the waste of food, water and life support would bring the crew against him, and so Areem tolerated the little snot. He supposed it was good some of the crewmembers tried to make him into an asset on the ship…

Areem’s deliberations lasted for a while as the crewmembers of the Swift Fortune trickled into the common room to hear his say. He returned all greetings with a minimal effort, his mind wandering what to say about the task ahead.

Roka Zale sat bolt upright in his private bunk aboard The Steadfast, his personal ship currently docked securely to The Swift Fortune. The Captain's request rang through his ship's comms, and Roka groaned as he shook his head. Seemed the closer they got to Alderaan, the worse his head felt. He shot a knowing glance at one of the hidden compartments in his room, within easy reach. He could take one now, dull that pain and watch the ship drop out of hyperspace in an even more beautiful fashion than normal... But Vikargo would probably find out, and Roka didn't want to risk this job, especially before it had even begun. Job like this could last months easy. Steady pay, decent work, nearly legal even. Roka needed that, or else he'd start to fall behind on his payments.

Swinging his legs off the side of the bunk, Roka staggered to his feet, tightening his belt and slipping on his vest before tying the laces of his heavy boots up. Best to go see what Cap wants now. Navigating the narrow corridors of the YT-2000 freighter with ease, Roka opened the airlock leading into the larger ship. Coughing slightly at the recycled air of half a dozen living creatures, Roka shoved his hands into his pockets, surprising himself when he felt a small glass tube buried at the bottom of one. Pulling it out as he rounded a corner, Roka smiled to himself as he saw the viscous purplish liquid inside; a full Death Stick. Rolling it in his fingers, Roka tucked it into his palm, resolving to take care of his business after this meeting.

Arriving at the door to the common room, Roka paused for a moment to take stock of what he'd be walking into. Thanks to his Balosar heritage, he could feel the swells of emotion behind the door signifying the people inside. There was the brooding, seething dark spot that signified their dear employer Areem Vikargo, some small undercurrent of satisfaction coming from him as well. Retreating through another hallway was the telltale signature of a beacon of innocence, hope, and a healthy dose of fear. Probably the kid who'd stowed away. Decent enough, aside from the whole stowaway thing. Roka had planned on seeing how well a shot the kid was before this job was done, he could use a decent gunner.

Pushing the door open, Roka grimaced at the sound of the metal creaking against its track. He'd need to do something about that headache soon, it was like a hangover getting steadily worse. He pasted on a big smile for his benefactor though, and greeted Vikargo as warmly as usual; and as usual the Captain paid him little mind. Roka took a seat nearby, but not too close; finding a seat at the Dajeerak board and sinking into the once-plush seat, reaching over and beginning to tap his Death Stick rhythmically on the holo-projector surface of the game board as he waited for the rest of the crew.

Dr. Khava Marr

@frapet @Korkoa

Dr. Marr was sat down in his laboratory - the other one, the secret one - when he heard the order muffled through the cover he had placed over the intercom system linked into the pod. The only sign that he heard it was the slightest of downturns of the left corner of his mouth - the rest of his body remaining perfectly still, his eyes hidden as the peered into the microscope. "...variant test - proto- Restriction-enzyme, set:CHISS, subset B1, Phosphodiester bond cleaving proving irregular at best, resulting in - original estimation 73% - unusable end-states, with less than 3% being viable for further testing. Conclusion: While subset has proved more stable than earlier efforts, it does not provide the results to validate further refinement at this time. Store - Continue with Subset C when culture matures." The room became quiet, as the holocron in front of him saved his findings, when he got confirmation, the sound of glass and metal clinking as he put away the samples. Getting up from his chair he rolled his neck a few times, offering little more than a sigh to the quiet room, filled with many glowing glass cylinders - in turn filled with hundreds of functioning body parts. Straightening his dark grey lab coat - he exited the room and left for the diner - making sure to lock the nondescript door behind him.

The trek offered very little in the form of distraction, as he either ignored the people he passed, or they ignored him. His stride was confident, his shoulders back, his chest and chin risen - and his hands clasped behind his back. The ridged form was only disrupted by the bored look on his light grey face. Eventually reaching the hallway that leads to ‘Valana’s Diner’ - as if a mess hall needed such sentiment wasted on it - he felt the side of his mouth turn down once more. Down came bounding the Human. Such a boring race. So easily replicable. So replaceable. The boy made a wide arc around him, and continued on.

Reaching the Diner soon after, Dr. Marr walked in with an air of indifference - heading directly to the captain where he was parked inelegantly on an inelegant piece of furniture. For effect he rose his right brow and crossed his arms in an apathetic manner. "I am busy Vikargo. As you know. What is the meaning of this?"

Valana sat at the holoterminal in her quarters, doing as she did every day and checking the Imperial bounties. There were a few recognizable faces, she wasn't the first to turn their back on the Empire though it seemed there were fewer and fewer familiar faces from her time in the Empire every day though. After awhile browsing the Imperial turncoats and a few of those bounties that just seemed to be permanent staples she finally decided to look at the reason she was there. It was like looking in some kind of tick mirror, the holoimage before her was definitely her face, but it was adorned with much shorter hair only reaching to the nape of her neck and with skin unmarred by the scars that now adorned her. "Crass'enn'parloo 'Sennpa': Wanted Dead or Alive for crimes against the Empire... Dead: 25,000 credits Alive: 250,000." Her lips pursed in disappointment and she shook her head just enough for her earrings to clang against themselves, making faintly audible noise. As confident she was in her abilities to evade the Empire indefinitely it was still disheartening to know that a single mistake could mean she spent the rest of a short life in some Imperial cell getting to intimately know a torture droid. "Oh well, no point dwelling on it!" She spoke aloud to herself as she shut off the terminal and rose from her seat.

She promptly left her quarters heading to the ship's Mess affectionately referred to as Valana's Diner she thought it a really sweet sentiment even coming largely from aliens. In the Academy she didn't even bother to know the Mess Officer's names. She barely had time to glance around the empty room and adjoining hallway before she was standing outside the freezer due to her quarters being so close. She quickly pulled a small key out of the right pocket of her robe and unlocked the door before replacing the key in the pocket.

As she entered Valana began to examine the shelves of the walk-in freezer. Taking mental note of the remaining quantity of cuts of each meat. They had enough Bantha and Nerf meat to host a Gammorean Wedding that much was apparent from the slightest moment's glance. She took note of the stocks of Eopie, Harvorisk and Opee as well, all sufficient enough to not be worried. Eventually she scanned over a shelf full of various cuts of Nuna and let out a slight chuckle as she recalled an assignment gone awry from her time in the Imperial Senate. She'd watched a Gran diplomat tear through almost an entire Nuna she had prepared for a formal event, the naive triclops killed himself with such voracious appetite it was almost surreal. Unknowingly sealing his fate though it would take days for the poison to take effect. It had been supposed to kill the entire Gran's entire delegation in attendance at the time, but he ate so much she had to hire a bounty hunter to silence the other two the next evening, whom she then had to kill herself with a celebratory drink for a 'Job well done'. "Good times." she muttered through a nostalgic smile.

Her smile flattened abruptly though as she heard the ship's intercom requesting the crew to assemble in her diner. She took her time grabbing up an armful of Bantha, and Opee fillets before trodding out of the freezer. Locking the door behind her she placed the meat in a sealed climate controlled cabinet adjacent to the door before making her way to the common area. Looking over the room she took note of the parties already there, cordially smiling towards each before lifting herself to sit upon a crate near the others. Curiously awaiting what news the captain had that required the whole crew to be present.

Within the bay of the Swift Fortune was a customized Z95 headhunter with the cockpit open. The base color of the fighter seemed to be a matte black with a dark red accent color on the wings. Upon closer inspection, on the port and starboard sides of the fighter, beneath the cockpit hatch was a red Twi'lek woman in a rather skimpy black leather outfit. An exotic dancer or an escort. no one was really sure. Except for the pilot. And he hasn't told anyone. The pilot of this craft was seated in the cockpit of the fighter, going through a diagnostics check. One of the engines had a slight misfire. Not a terribly huge problem, but left unchecked, you could find yourself floating in a cold vacuum. He was also doing routine maintenance on the ships internal computers, hiding under his forward console, peaking his head up every once in a while to take a look at the screen, only to discern what was a problem and what wasn't with his engine.

The captain's voice came over the intercom, calling everyone to the diner. "What does he want now? I'm in the middle of something..." Caster said to himself, slightly annoyed. He climbed out very carefully out of the cockpit and down the access ladder. He took the last puff of a hand rolled tabac cigarette that was sitting in a tray on the work bench. He'd been working so long that he forgot it was there and let it all but burn out. He put it out in the tray and walked towards the lounge, wiping his hands on his oil and grease smeared coveralls.

He opened the door to the lounge, noting that everyone - well, almost everyone - was there. He leaned against the bulkhead closest to the door and waited for the meeting to start. He removed form his pocket a small leather pouch that contained his tabac and a few rolling papers. Enough to tide him over until he got back to his quarters or his fighter. He removed a sheet of rolling papers and began to sprinkle a small amount of his tabac into the center and distributed it evenly. He took special care to pack the substance by rolling it back and forth inside the paper, between his fingers. When satisfied, he rolled the paper around itself and licked the end, forming a perfect cigarette. A ship mate or two that he had on a previous ship would've said that he was methodical about his tabac. Oh well. He looked up, hanging the newly formed cigarette from his lips and waited for the captain to start the briefing.

Jax was lying on his back underneath a panel of the engine room. Adjusting this or that was how he got by, but at the moment he was contemplating their newest destination; Alderaan. The bolt needed three turns from his wrench before it could go no more.

The number three set him to think. It had been three days since the news was made official. Jax had heard stories of the place, a beautiful and lush place that fit the requirements of a retirement planet in Jax’s mind. He had designated twelve planets for that purpose, only eleven left now, three years less than the number of years he still intended to work. three was a good number. Or was it bad? Jax wasn’t sure. Maybe neutral, that’s three options. He smirked as his hands were busy with the repairs.

Stories were circulating for a few days about Alderaan being the site of a mayor battle. The official story was that the Rebel Alliance had revealed a superweapon that destroyed Alderaan and that the Empire had destroyed promptly upon the terrible reveal. Jax didn’t buy that. A day ago footage had been released of the wasteland that has been Alderaan and a Rebel broadcast had went up speaking of a ‘Death Star’. It all seemed more plausible and terrifying at the same time…

Jax inhaled with the bud of the cigar still on his lips, letting the sweet aroma fill his mouth. During his time on the Swift Fortune the Captain had never cared about the real story, as long as there was a profit to be made. A destroyed planet meant a profit alright. The Swift fortune had always specialized in the big-risk/big-reward jobs but this one defied all that. The place was sure to be patrolled by Imperial vessels, checkpoints had been instated so that ships couldn’t make a hyperspace jump from the conventional jump points. Though partly to keep ships from smashing into the Debris of Alderaan mid-jump, something that had caused at least another 260 deaths since the news had spread, the main reason was keeping journalists out. And scavengers of course.

Jax grinned to himself as welded a wire back in place. For here he was in a ship with a very real chance of exiting the hyperspace journey into an asteroid, debris field, or force forbid an Imperial Star Destroyer. But this was the life of a scavenger. Wasn’t it.
Jax pondered about it but before he formed a thought he heard the heavy clang of boots hitting the deck. Only then he became aware that he was scratching in an unseemly place. Stopping to wipe his hand on his trousers, up, down and up again. As he heard the Captains voice the urge to get up and offer an apology made Jax forgo prudence and he smacked his head into the panel he had been fixing. Over the thump he still heard: ‘Valana’s Diner’

The embarrassment made Jax crave for another drag from his cigar when he noticed the bump must’ve extinguished the thing.

“That includes you Jax, finish that up.”

The captain said as Jax used the welding torch to relight his cigar and made a few hairs of his moustache singe. Only to get berated by the Captain:

“And don’t do that, it’ll cost you an eye one day.”

Jax held his hand, including the torch in a mock salute, this time almost burning an eye out while saying:

“Aye Aye, capt’n.”

But the Devaronian had already moved into the corridor, Jax’s words muted by the blast doors opening and closing. He had counted the steps the captain had taken and guess what: three.
The panel was as good as finished, he had only redone some of the work he had let Bast, the stowaway kid, do. Jax finished up in a few moments, bolting the panel back into place and sliding out from under it. After a quick adjustment of his greasy, once-white wifebeater shirt he tucked his tools away and made for his quarters, the fifth door on the left, when counting both sides of course, that took him two steps to get to and five minus two is three. It made jax ponder if not counting the door opposite to his room was valid as he punched in his code to reveal a cluttered mess of stuff all around the large bed in the center of the room. Just to be sure Jax holstered his scattergun in the small of his back, the set of stun batons he slid in the leather straps above it. His blaster pistols were still on his hip and so he took his beloved trenchcoat from the hook next to his door and put it on. Jax only slid his upper two arms trough the sleeves, using the lower two to close the coat instinctively over his blasters and hiding his lower arms.

Jax sighed and ran his upper hands over the many pockets of the coat, feeling the bolts, gears, packets of matches, power packs the assortment of other stuff. Everything was in its place and Jax smiled in relief.

“Time to go.”

Jax hooked the thumbs of his lower hands into his belt and strode out of the room and towards the lounge. He made an effort to make it three steps, but he was still short to open. He gave a snort as the last half-step made the door open and let him continue his way to the lounge.

He missed the first part of the sentence due to the hissing of the door, but it was unmistakingly the doctor’s voice posing the question:

-know. What is the meaning of this?"

And that was something Jax was keen on knowing himself. So he took a seat at the table making sure there were seats to the right of him.

Areem had been thinking on the approach for a while now, a last rundown of it kept him busy as the crew entered the common area. Nigh everyone was there as the doctor raised his voice to Areem:

“I am busy Vikargo. As you know. What is the meaning of this?”

The way the doctor said it made Areem frown as he looked at him from behind his boots on the table. He knew he was an absent captain. But a captain nonetheless, and this was no way of speaking to the captain. On the other hand he was the man that would patch him up should things go wrong…

The annoyed frown would have to suffice as Areem slowly started speaking.

“Good afternoon to you too. Doctor.”

Only now did Areem notice he had his hand placed on the pommel of his vibrosword and he took it off. Making it look more of a threat than he had intended.

“I called all of you here because or pleasant stay in the warm and comforting bosom of hyperspace is over in roughly fifteen minutes. After that lies ‘The Graveyard’ as some call the remains of Alderaan. We will call it an asset retrieval and relocation opportunity.”

Areem looked from crew member to crew member as he spoke, a devious grin forming for the last bit that stayed on his lips.

“High risk, high reward. And therefore I will need all hands to stations upon arrival. That means you go into that silly headhunter of yours,”

Areem rested his eyes on Caster Wren

“You aboard that Holo-cinema of yours,”

A glance at Roka Zal’Ebos followed

“I even want you aboard your fighter, cook.”

Areem pointed at Valana and raised his eyebrows to indicate he was serious about this.

“I want the three of you to scout out the absolute asteroid mess we are getting into, spot anything of value and mark the location. If you run into anything alive out there, shoot it the kark down, or be sure they haven’t seen you. Comms will be scrambled by the asteroids so the Imps will have patrols out there, hopefully they will try to stay out of the asteroid field though. Rocks will interfere with our communications as well, so I want a relay network up. That will be your job in the Quadjumper Jax. Tug ‘m out there and place those things to relay messages to the Fortune. After we got a decent grid you start hauling in what they mark."

Areem watched the doctor for a moment as he paused, hoping to taunt a ‘and why am I here’ from him but continuing either way.

“As for you Doctor. I want you on Roka’s ship. He can use a spotter hauling that freighter trough the field, besides, it crews the ship out better should anything happen. I need all hands out there for this and we are understaffed as it is. After Jax has put up the network I want you back here Valana, I want another pilot for a Quadjumper to tug salvage in.”

Areem looked at them all one by one:

“That clear for everyone?”

He didn’t wait for a response and tried to enforce the ‘no discussion’ sentiment with a harsh look.

“Now, for the newcomers; just reply with ‘Swift Fortune’ it’s a silly custom the previous captain had.”

Areem sighed.

“Let’s get this over with;

What do scav’s seek, from the core to the unknown reaches?

-A Swift Fortune-

Who do scav’s fear all the while?

-The Swift Fortune-

For who claims the highest rewards from the highest risks?

-The Swift Fortune-

And what do we ear when we complete our task?

-A Swift Fortune-

To your stations than!”

Areem never liked the small chant, but it brought some comradery to the ragtag band. That was the hope at least. He had stood up halfway through the questions and made for the hallway leading back to his quarters. That way any protesters had to scurry after him. From experience he knew that after the last sentence the door would hiss shut behind him. That way if anyone gave chase to object he would know by the door staying open.

Let them come.

Not long after they would exit hyperspace.

Dr. Khava Marr

@frapet @Korkoa @Caster @cunfuzzler

Dr. Marr had left, obviously not participating in this pathetic attempt at mustering bravado - turning from them with a barely contained sneer - and started towards the hanger. Roka? Balosar. 26. Death stick habit. No wonder he needed a bloody spotter. And now the bloody Doctor had to be the one to do it. This entire enterprise has already devolved more than Marr had originally bargained on. As people and droids moved around him hastily, he quickly stopped at his medical center, and picked up his emergency kit. Checking that everything was prepped for emergency surgery - he made his way out and towards the hanger. The walk gave him time to cool down and make a little bit more peace with the fact that clearly he was supposed to be more of a team player. He never thought he would miss being a borderline prisoner of a mob boss.

With a deep sigh he entered the hanger and waited for Roka to arrive, peering at the ships with a clear sense of distaste.

Roka listened patiently to Captain Vikargo's instructions , noting with interest the wave of disgust that came rolling off of the good doctor at the notion of being paired with Roka. The Balosar had to chuckle at the thought as he mindlessly recited the chant Vikargo had set before them. Was it racism? Class divide? The Death Sticks? Probably the Death Sticks, Roka mused. He finished the chant with the rest of the crew, noting that the Doc had left already. Roka stood and popped the small vial between his teeth, gingerly holding it in place as he headed for the door back to the hanger bay. Roka smiled as his senses picked up on a familiar aura, the stowaway kid from earlier. Maybe he could prove useful.

Zal' stepped out into the empty-looking hallway and leaned against a bulkhead. He could feel the boy close by, though hiding pretty well. Curious about what was going on, probably. "I know you're there, kid." He said, taking the vial out of his teeth and picking at the seal. "Bast, right? You wanted off that crapshoot of a station, I don't begrudge you that." He said, glancing in the direction he knew the boy was hiding and giving him a smile. "But out here, especially with spacers and scavs, you gotta earn your keep. 'Bout ten minutes from now we'll be in the Alderaan graveyard. Crawling with Imps, choked with asteroids. I could use a gunner.Someone to watch my back. You learn a skill, maybe the captain won't drop you off on some backwater moon. Think about it." He said, tipping his head back and draining the viscous liquid into his mouth. Roka winced and tucked the empty vial away, shaking his head.

"One more thing: Never do Death Sticks."

A few minutes later, Roka had made it to the hanger bay, and onto his ship. His first stop was his cabin, where he strapped on his shoulder holster; smiling at the familiar bite of the leather. Next up, his belt holsters, all decked out with his blasters. He put his vest on and grinned into his mirror, noting the fuzziness at the edge of his vision. He was trying something different with the Sticks, just trying to take the edge off his senses, not go over the edge. Maybe this dose was slightly too much... No matter, it was done now. Roka's head had cleared, no longer could he feel the cold hand of despair clutching at his heart. Heading back into the hanger proper, Roka pasted a smile onto his face when he saw the doctor. "Ah, there you are!" He called, noting that he couldn't feel the aura coming from the other man anymore either. "It'll be nice to have some company around here, usually it's just me and the Holos!" He said with a chuckle, thinking back to Vikargo's remark about his ship. Quite funny actually, even if it were meant as a dig. "Ready to come aboard, friend?"

@frapet@Almosegosum

Caster lit his tabac cigarette and waited for the captain to address him. He took a drag and let it out slowly. "What's the problem with my fighter? I've made a few special modifications to her myself. SHe'll out manuever any imperial TIE fighter at the drop of a hat." He took another slow drag from his cigarette and inhaled, letting it out slowly. "I understand my orders, Cap." He sniffed once, as iff to clear his sinuses and let it out just as fast. "I'll just need twenty minutes to finish my overhaul. Guidance and Nav were a little out of date."

Caster didn't bother to join in with what he thought was a stupid chant. It had nothing to do with Mandalore. Or mandalorians. Or anything remotely... inspiring to him. Whatever. As long as he didn't fight it, he was sure he could get away without having to chant along. When the chant was over, he took the last puff of his cigarette and put it out on the instep of his boot and cracked his neck before walking back to his fighter to make final adjustments for his overhaul and to prep for takeoff.

Valana nodded as the captain tasked her with being a scout/fighter escort, it wasn't something she minded normally. She'd been instructed on how to pilot a wide variety of ships at the Imperial Academy, she was no ace, but she never needed to be. She feigned enthusiasm through the chant the Captain started. As it came to an end she promptly set on her way to the hangar. As she strode through the ship's halls she blankly stared ahead moving by memory as she focused on removing the ornate sapphire encrusted chandeliers dangling from either ear and placing them in a pocket in her robe opposite the one she keeped the freezer key in. Following that her hands once more rose to her head as she tied her jet black hair into a high ponytail. By the time she was finished she had arrived at the hangar.

She glanced around the hangar before making her way to her fighter and subsequently opening the cockpit and climbing into her Cutlass. With the cockpit set the ship to begin a diagnostic and pre-flight checks. Performing everything with a rigid efficiency that was indicative of her Imperial training. Once the pre-flight systems were busy with diagnostics beyond her control she began to take in her situation. She wasn't thrilled about the idea of being within a parsec of an Imperial Patrol much less working right under their noses. That said it was nice to have others out there with her if for no other reason than the option of having someone to distract them while she made an escape if it came to it. At the thought she glanced at the Mandalorian at his own ship and smiled, waving politely, not waiting for a response before turning her gaze back to the readouts from her fighter's computer and affixing her headset comlink.

Bast had kept hidden as the Balosar had spoken to him. The alien was nice to him, most of the time, and he didn’t trust him for it. Besides, the fact that this Roka fellow always knew where he was hiding didn’t sit well with Bast. Still his words made sense.

“Think about it”

That was exactly what Bast intended on doing. In the meanwhile let the creeper think he was talking to the smelly air of the Swift Fortune. Relief went through the kid as he heard the alien walk away. He waited out the other sets of footsteps going through the hallway before coming out of hiding and making his way for the hangar. He wanted to see them take-off at the least, even if he didn’t take up on the offer. Since his discovery Bast had wished he could go back in obscurity, hide again and be forgotten about. But people insisted in involving him. Like the alien had now…

He waited for people to enter their ships but the Besalisk kept checking the set off odd-looking satellites that were hoovering behind his small four-engined ship. Eventually curiosity drew him closer to the ship that he had heard being called the Steadfast as the Besalisk was busy on the other side of the row of satellites. He checked out the freighter that looked quite new and well-maintained as he made for the boarding ramp. Bast nearly jumped out of his skin as he suddenly heard a voice behind him.



Jax knew his place before the Captain even named it, still he liked the little speech Especially the chant at the end. He knew it was coming and thought it to be a good ritual, if only for the repetitive structure. He enthusiastically looked around after repeating ‘Swift Fortune’ every time only to see mellow stares of boredom or even disgust. Jax didn’t understand why.

There was some time to ponder on it though as he made his way to the hangar. He felt comforted running all the standard pre-launch procedures of the Quadjumper he was on. He counted buttons, positions and the ones he clicked, always trying to make it add up, divide, quadruple or subtract into three. For it was the number of today. He saw the other crewmembers make for their ships and waved at them as his other three hands flicked buttons and pulled levers to test the crane-arms and tractor array. After that he checked if the relay beacons were all linked up correctly and could be tugged out using the tractor array. As he did he saw the stowaway kid move towards Roka’s ship, of which the boarding ramp was still down. Jax called at the kid.

“Hey hey hey, Bast. Got assigned as well? Good for you!”

The kid looked sort of startled at Jax but quickly recovered and replied:

“You could say that Jax. Here to make myself useful you know. Avoid getting dropped off on some backwater moon.”

Jax nodded as one of his hands rubbed is chin.

“Reckon it does avoid that…”

There was no point in telling the kid about the risks involved, besides it was just as dangerous aboard the Fortune. Made him wish the boy made a better choice of ship to hide in. But there was nothing else to make of it.

“Good luck out there kid. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Jax always hated the advice, for he knew this wasn’t that one fringe case kid that would actually think twice due to the words. But again: what else was there to say. The kid affirmed as Jax turned his back and made checked the last of the relay beacons.
It wasn’t too bad a team he reckoned, they all seemed to know what they were doing, somewhat. The lack of enthusiasm at the chant was exemplary of Jax’s primary concern: They weren’t a team. It had all been so rushed to get to Alderaan- or it was ‘ The Graveyard’ now- that they hadn’t really bonded. It made Jax grin that his exact job would be to provide for communication between the entire team. Upon completion of all his tasks he re-installed himself in the cockpit and he started padding himself down to procure a cigar and a box of matches to light it with. Another ritual of his. Of course it took him three matches to finally light the thing.




The Swift Fortune rocked as they exited hyperspace exactly 10 minutes after the speech was given. It immediately made a sharp turn to the left to avoid a larger asteroid and the continuous sound of smaller things bumping into the ship could be heard. All kinds of things drifted by the soft blue hue of the magnetic shield. Rocks made up the primary component of their view, but the occasional starspeeder parts, half-spaceship, trees and parts of buildings drifted by. Occasionally a grotesquely deformed corpse floated past to add to the macabre parade. As it passed by the overall ship intercom sounded with Captain Vikargo’s voice:

“No patrols in scanning range. Everybody launch, let’s procure some scavenge. Launch!”

A set of co-ordinates marking an area to survey got send to every ship about to launch.

Dr. Khava Marr

@frapet @Korkoa

Dr. Marr grimaced at the man, before his eyes widened slightly. He stepped forward, reaching forwards with a gloved hand - batting away Roka's instinctive block, and confidently pushing the other against a wall, towering over the other man. With his hand, he carefully forced the other's eye open. He leaned forwards, smelling deeply, and taking in Roka's hormonal state. After a moment he stepped back, "I can't fucking believe it - high - on a job." The sneer on his face did not diminish. How could this moron even consider using... his eyes narrowed. He did not seem mentally unstable... trauma? effectively suppressed? why? No. There is no point in offering justification to someone so clearly unconcerned with the well-being of not only those in his care - but that of his own as well. He looked the other in the eye once more, before he turned and started walking away. He took a moment to recall which ship was Roka's.

The doctor looked through the ships and found the one that he needed to board. Just as he was about to, the child arrived. The boy looked at the ship with barely restrained awe. "Don't be so easily impressed. The mechanics of a machine such as this might at first impress the untrained mind. When considered against the vast, interconnected biological array afforded us by... (seeing that the boy's eyes had glazed over) Never-mind." The doctor got into the ship and moved to where he was to be position, placing his bag in a secure area. he crossed his arms and closed his eyes, waiting for the other two to get themselves into position.

Roka's eyes widened as the doctor stepped closer to him, shoving him up against the wall and grabbing at his face. Roka growled and pushed back against the taller man, though it was of little use in his current state. The Balosar's lip curled in a snarl as he watched the doctor carefully, his words piercing even through the ringing in Roka's ears. He didn't even need his emotional senses to know what was going through Doc's mind; smugness, superiority, self-righteousness. He'd never been through something like this, never had to deal with the kind of anguish and pain that grew stronger and sharper with every light-year they'd gotten closer to the Graveyard! Finally, Marr let him go and sauntered away, leaving the sickly scent of pretention in his wake. Roka spat behind his back, finally releasing the white-knuckled grip he'd taken on one of his blasters and stalking after the doctor.

Walking up to his ship, Roka rolled his eyes as he heard Marr beginning to lecture young Bast. Pushing past the two, Roka cleared his throat, interrupting the doctor's reverie. "By all means friend, be impressed." He said, motioning to the hallways ringing the ship's saucer-like design. "The miracle of space flight and hyperdrive technology are feats of engineering, on par with the, what was it? 'Vast, interconnected biological arrays'? We built this. People like you and me, Bast. We can make miracles happen." Roka allowed himself a smirk at the thought that maybe, just maybe he could get under the doctor's skin a bit, before focusing his attention on Bast. "We'll be launching in a few minutes. What I'd like you to do is to go pick a turret; there's one on top and one on bottom. You'll be a second set of eyes, mostly. Check the displays, figure out how the guns work; it's pretty simple. Don't shoot anything unless you hear from me first though. If you see anything interesting, just call me using the comm." The stowaway boy looked to the side,seeming to take little interest, but Roka knew better. As soon as his back was turned, the kid would scamper off to the turret like a bolt shot from a blaster.

Roka motioned Marr to follow him towards the cockpit, rubbing his temples with one hand. This would be a long flight. "Cockpit's cramped. That's about the only drawback to the 2K." He said, stepping into the narrow cockpit. Blinking lights and flashing consoles covered whatever wasn't being taken up be the plasteel viewscreen at the front-center of the ship. Roka deftly skipped around the co-pilot chair and settled into the slightly sunken Captain's chair in front. He let out a slow sigh as he tried to collect himself. The flashing buttons sparkled like miniature supernovas to his eyes, and the beeping consoles began to meld together to form a soothing symphony. "You sit behind me, there." He said motioning to the co-pilots chair. "Keep an eye on the sensors, let me know if you see something interesting." Roka said before getting to work decoupling from the mothership. A few moment later The Steadfast was adrift, her engines powering up and taking her smoothly through the desolate wasteland that was once one of the most beautiful planets in the galaxy. Everything in perspective. Maybe this wouldn't be a horrible trip.



This was a horrible trip. The headache was back. Stick had worn off. Cockpit was hot and cramped, Doc's knees kept sticking into Roka's back. The Balosar kept mulling over the events of the day in his mind, dwelling on the altercation outside his ship for longer than was good for him. He was starting to get his senses back, he could tell from the overwhelming feeling of pomp and boredom from behind him. Now was as good a time as any. "I wanted to wait till the kid wasn't around, it doesn't concern him." Roka said, a cold edge seeping into his voice as he looked over the new sensor readings coming in. "Keep your hands off me unless I need stitching up. What you did out there was over the line, and you're lucky I didn't shoot your pompous ass." He said, his voice picking up speed as he felt his own emotions starting to flare. "You don't know me, you don't know what it's like for me to be in this graveyard. I can respect you wanting to be safe, but I promise you that without those Sticks, you'd be in a lot more danger. You want a clear-headed pilot, there you go. You might not like it, but I'm working it down to a science, I know exactly how much I can take and still function in order to not be crippled with dread every waking moment." The last part said through clenched teeth, Roka bit his tongue for letting slip details he'd rather keep hidden.

Fortunately, it seemed the Graveyard was on his side; his consoles lighting up with signs of energy, mass, even life signs. Roka eased up on the ship's throttle, pulling alongside a larger asteroid. "Anyway. Something coming up here. A ship maybe, but no engine readings. I'm gonna try and get some more readings before going in for a visual." He said, feeling torn between wanting to continue his diatribe and wanting to drop it completely...

@Almosegosum ((I moved us ahead a little bit, if you'd like to pull it back just let me know and I'll fix it! Also up to you how to continue, if you want to get into a discussion or move on.))

Dr. Khava Marr

@frapet @Korkoa

Dr. Marr had been silently ignoring the other for a while, peering out of the windows and perusing the scanners when they offered either a bleep or a bloop. 'down to a science - bah... where had he heard that before? imbecile. He did not even bother offering an apology to the man about the handling. None of Marr's business? Who did he think he was? If his eyes had been diluted but an increment more, Marr would have reported him to the captain and demanded another pilot. While they were flying however, he could feel the high receding - and the other man's hormonal system re-calibrate. The heady hormonal cocktail that spread over the doctor was nothing if not unexpected. Crippled with dread indeed... Naturally he knew that they felt emotions, but emotions don't linger after the people who produce them leave... If he could do this? perhaps a unique evolutionary strain? the ability would be - would have so much potential? Dr. Marr could feel his hands wanting to reach forward and grab some of the Pilot's hair - but resisted the urge. Then the beeping started.

"If you are quite done with your melodrama, you might realize that my race too experiences the inner workings of proximate other races - I am well aware of your unusual emphatic levels... yet only one of us seemingly possesses the willpower to not resort to... soporiferous crutches." He remained quiet from then on wards as the other took his many readings. As they came in, something began nagging at Marr. They seemed familiar. The manner in which the latent data signals were formatted seemed eerily familiar. He closed his eyes to try and recall what it was, ignoring the beeps, pressing Roka's emotional turmoil from his mind, until eventually his mind was quiet and he could recall effectively. Codes... he had seen them before. In passing. Not his department. The ship was to be flown by the crew - he had to focus on the wor--- the work? His eyes flew open. The empire. Science division.

just as the thoughts flooded over his mind did they both spot the Empire Science Division craft. It brought back so many memories to Marr, of a life that now feels an age away. This was a trap. He was sure of it. They were going to kill him. "I - We- we should not be here. That ship should not be here. This is a trap. I am sure of it. WE have to go back. We have to get out of-" Then again... That thing could be filled with the latest cloning tech. Just the residual resources would speed his work up years. Risk it? should he? No... even if it were empty of threats, he could not take the risk. There was still too much to do. "Yes... we, should get reinforcements, or have a more skilled group take this one." While his voice did not waver inside he could feel a multitude of emotions, fear, burning envy, suppressed ambition, fear. His eyes flicked to his hand that seemed to be shaking slightly. He closed his eyes and tried to force his hand to calm, but behind his lids he saw to yellow eyes peering at him from beneath a cowl, a cackling 'well done' as he was standing in a line with a group of other scientists in a dark throne room. "...we have to leave here."

Roka's lip curled up at the sound of the doctor's voice again, rolling his eyes as he felt the sense of dismissiveness from Marr, though there was a strong undercurrent of curiosity at the mention of Roka's... Situation. The Balosar shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the curiosity he felt from the other man. He decided to ignore the jabs at his willpower, and focus on the strange readings, opening the comms down to the laser turrets. "Bast, stand by. We have some weird readings coming in. Fingers off the trigger, don't jump the gun. But be ready, just in case." He said, pulling the ship around the side of the asteroid.

Roka gasped and his eyes flew wide as he sensed an overwhelming mixture of emotions coming from Marr. For a moment, Roka didn't understand. He didn't recognize the ship, though it looked like a science vessel. It was only after studying the signature and colors for a moment that a piece fell into place. That was an Imperial ship. Mar was... Terrified. Terrified and jealous. This meant something to the good doctor. "Now hang on, hang on!" Roka said, keeping the 2K close to the asteroid and scanning the disabled vessel further. "I don't... I don't think it's a trap. Even if it is, I don't think they've seen us. We may as well get all the readings we can, right? What are they doing here...?" Roka looked at the reading coming in now, nodding slowly. He pushed a few buttons and began converting the scan into a 3D image, projecting it from the cockpit Holo-projector. "Look, most of their systems have power except the engines. It looks like part of their thrusters have been crushed, knocked out of place. I think they got hit out here. They're... Yeah, they're leaking fuel!" He said, pointing to the floating blue sparkles coming from the staticky image floating in mid air. "They might be dead in the water, drifting out here. They might not even have a connection to the Imperial fleet, we haven't found any relays out here. They're drifting, scared, haven't seen us... I think we could take them."

@Almosegosum

Jax saw the other ships speed out into the cluttered asteroid field outside of the magnetic shield and powered up his own engines. His Quadjumper hardly matched their ships in speed, certainly that Z-95 of Caster, but made up for it in raw engine power and tractor beam utility. That was why he was selected to tug the twelve comm relays out. A fitting number, Jax smiled to himself, three per ship out there.

It was a mess out there and while quite agile while going slow due to the vector thrusters Jax had trouble getting the relays trough the field. Small rubble knocked into the ship and the relays, but luckily nothing enough to disrupt the tractor array. That only happened when, off all things, a frozen corps knocked into the eleventh relay he was carrying, knocking the last 2 off. He had just did a sharp pull to pass over a larger asteroid and one relay crashed into it straight away. The other drifted slowly away. Jax knew Captain Vikargo wouldn’t be happy, relays cost credits. He punched the oversized datapad he had on the co-pilot chair to activate the beacon that had been accidentally cast off. Jax couldn’t help but grin when he saw it was close to one of the pre-calculated drop points, the red line on the eleventh position, indicating the downed relay, quickly stifled that grin though.

“First Relay is up Captain. I, uh, lost one in the process though”

-an audible gulp-

A few harsh mockeries ensued from Areem, but Jax praised himself lucky no one else could be listening in. He took the promise of what would happen should he lose more to heart, letting the datapad calculate the new locations of the relays due to the missing one.
As he was at his fifth relay he linked up with the comms of Valana and Caster. Check-up back with the Fortune gave a lot of static at the fourth relay.

“Jax here for Mister Wrenn, how’s it looking out there? Spotted anything good yet?”

Knowing there would be some delay on the line he continued to message Valana as well on the same open comm.

“And m’lady Valana, what’s for dinner tonight? Captain’s lonely aboard the Fortune, only got me to talk to for all this time you were out. Give him some good news guys.”

The channel should connect to the Swift Fortune as well but the Captain remained silent. Jax picked up the datapad while 2 others held the controls and the last tried to boost the signal. But a second red line had appeared on the twelfth position. Wether the others chatted or not didn’t register with Jax, he could only think of the flight back to place a relay on the key location again. He reminded himself to pick up the argument he had with the captain about letting the relay grid overlap more again.
He lifted his eyes from the datapad and started speaking while he saw something glint before him.

“Kark, first relay is out. Have to trace back to get the Fortune back up h-“

At first Jax had thought it might be something worth scavenging, but it quickly grew bigger the glint came from the center of something shaped like an H and Jax tilted his head to see. Mid-sentence he realized what it was he gave a hard pull on the controls to turn the tug around.

“Valana, Caster, cosy time is over. got a TIE here!”

Jax checked the weapons systems, but the Quadjumper was just a spacetug, never meant to be armed in the first place. The small autoblaster turret on top could dish out decent damage, but only at very close range. Running was really the only option for Jax. Having the TIE out of sight made him even more anxious since scanners couldn’t pick anything up out here.

“Don’t know if he seen me yet. Why is the connection with the Fortune out now of all-“

The signature howl of a TIE-Fighter drew closer, maybe even a second. But what had really shut Jax up was the sound of laser cannons striking asteroid behind him. Judging by the shot the Tie was close.

“Kark, I could use some help over here!”

At the same moment Jax reversed engine power to go full reverse, a unique function of the Quadjumper, as he steered his ship narrowly passed an asteroid. The Tie came into sight on his right, missing a few shots due to Jax’s manoeuvre. Jax tried to engage the front tractor array to pull the Tie towards him and let the autoblaster take over, but after a short slowdown of the fighter he broke off to away from Jax. It violently picking up speed again as it got out of tractor beam range and narrowly avoided getting a tree trunk through its cockpit. That was when Jax saw the second fighter opening fire, but that wasn’t what really made his heart sink.

“No, no no NO! Three man fighter team, one breaking off to report! He’s heading past your sector Caster, CUT HIM OFF!”

Jax pushed the throttle up again, to go full speed ahead, trying to put some rocks between him and the TIEs but in the meanwhile he would have to hope for Valana’s aid. Three wasn’t a good number after all…

@cunfuzzler@Caster

Valana checked her ship's computer verifying she was within the coordinates she had been given to search. She activated her ship's scanners and began to look around at the field of debris surrounding her ship. The graveyard that was once Alderaan gave her an eery sense of dread, she knew from the start this wasn't the work of the rebels. During her time in the Imperial senate she had met Bail Organa a few times, it was an open secret that he was a rebel sympathizer, possibly more than even that. While there wasn't any actual proof, she was confident that Alderaan was serving the rebels. The Empire was responsible for this, she didn't know how they'd done it, or why, but she knew they were responsible. She felt a pang of dread at the thought, she'd never been to Alderaan personally, but if Senator Organa was anything to go by even if the whole planet was full of rebels they didn't deserve this. He was a good man, even if his beliefs were often at odds with her own, she only hoped he had gotten off the planet before this cataclysm.

Her musings were interrupted as Jax's voice rang out over her commlink, after he inquired about her mealplan for that evening she replied in turn over the same channel. "A choice of Bantha or Opee fillets cooked to taste, along with sides of crispy seaweed, baked daro root and potato wedges. Jogan fruit cake for dessert." She began to once more scan the remains of Alderaan outside her ship all she could see appeared to be rocks. Big rocks, maybe even precious metals, but that wasn't something her crimson eyes could tell her from her current position.

She was however snapped back to the situation once more when Jax came over the comms again, this time with a worrying report of TIEs near his position. Valana adjusted her ship's course to set it on an intercept for Jax's quadjumper. Carefully weaving through the debris that was once Alderaan she set her shields to double front pulverizing smaller pieces of debris as she sped towards Jax. She was reassured as he clarified it being a three man TIE fighter team, unshielded and rarely piloted by aces she fancied her odds as long as she didn't make a mistake. Still, Jax's weren't as nice in the quadjumper. "Don't worry Jax I'll be there before you can say 'tessellated arboreal binjinphant'. Just try not to kill them before I get there." She wanted to reassure the Besalisk with her words, hopefully he'd still be there when she arrived.

"Roger. Wilco on cozy time," Caster interrupted the comms transmissions. He rarely spoke, unless he had to. Though, when he did, it was usually some sarcastic remark. He engaged his weapons and made a sensor sweep, finding the few TIE fighters that were being referenced. He powered up his weapons as they reached full charge. He ran another sweep, finding the fighter that was en-route to the two, preparing to maneuver around the asteroid field they had been dropped into.

"Copy, Jax," Caster replied to the radio transmission. He adjusted his coarse to follow Alana's fighter. The overhaul and modifications to the Z-95 provided useful, as it was almost as maneuverable as an XWING, and just as fast, to boot. "Valana, I'm coming up on your port side wing, take lead, I'll hang back as your wing man. Suggest flanking maneuver. Follow him down, I'll come around that asteroid at two-o-clock-high." He readied his fighter to perform the maneuver he had suggested. "We'll meet in the middle and attack from both angles. Aim for his reactor, center of mass, rear. I'll go for the cockpit." Caster adjusted and flew over top of Valana's vessel, rolling over to her right, preparing to veer off to his own to come around the noted asteroid.

Dr. Khava Marr

@frapet @Korkoa

Dr. Marr sat back in the seat. He kept his eyes open and his hand clenched together. "I don't know enough to make that decision. You do not know enough to make that decision. We might have limited communication, but they might not. They might not have any reinforcements, but then again they might have entire squads in proximity, hidden from our sight. YOUR addled mind might think that the worst they will do to us when caught would be a few years in a labour camp... you have not seen what I have. What they will do to me - to us." Marr's breath came quicker as he looked at the ship, which they seemed to still be creeping up on.

He closed his eyes again, but this time instead of yellow eyes he saw the fabled Kaminoan Bio-Cron. The registry that is updated every week and moved within the Imperial Science division. Every new edition filled with the latest research. research fuelled by a limitless pool of credits and resources. They were most likely already three cycles ahead of him. His teeth gnashed at the thought. Those morons did not know how good they had it. They did not have the live in near squalor, pouring every penny into second rate tech, while making themselves subject to the whims of gangsters and those who associate with them. He felt the rage building before he could stop it. Rage was bad. Rage made his envy more palpable. It subverted reason. He should not agree---

He wanted that fucking Holocron. He deserved it. If they could get that ship, he could laud the prices of the equipment, and how they could sell it to the captain. it should not be too hard to swipe the database before they notice it. He could not let the captain know of it though... or at least not it's value. Probably more than all of the equipment the might find combined.

"I need a percentile. What do you think are our chances of making it out of here, without them actually being able to alert anyone? Of us disabling their ability to move, and communicate?" Marr sifted through his mind to try and find out anything he could about how the escorts worked with these ships, as well as the security - unfortunately he cam up short. They would have a few guards, but beyond that he never really cared about these kinds of things - and in turn never paid attention to them.