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.
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.
