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Helen Holcomb

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PRAKITH, THE DEEP CORE...

Helen Holcomb, ace pilot and Galactic adventurer, drew up the coarse synthweave cloak she wore over her flight suit, vainly trying to keep out the cold wind that whipped down through the mountain passes to blast the crude spaceport in which she found herself. Had she any other choice, she would not have come to this planet, but her quest had dictated she set down to investigate a rumor.

For what felt like years - hells, it had been years, now that she thought about it - Helen had wandered the Galaxy in search of those who had been stolen from her world. Alien bandits had taken many of her kind; her world was primitive by Galactic standards, long severed from mainstream civilization, and its people had been able to do little about the slavers from the stars.

The slavers' first mistake, however, was assuming that the people of Tolvis VII would take such treatment meekly. Primitive though their technology might have been, they were not mere savages to be over-awed by blaster fire and some old third-hand freighters. They had fought back. Were fighting back.

Their second mistake was their decision to take Lieutenant Helen Holcomb, United States of Hemispheria Naval Air Service, alive.

The town abutting the star-port proper was a ramshackle affair, with steep, twisting streets nestled in the hills and canyons that surrounded a mountain plateau upon which a few crude fusion-formed landing pads had been built. Its buildings were mostly made of rough stone or local wood; many were built in such a way as to be narrower on the first floor than the second, creating gloomy, shadowed streets due to the overhangs. Even by the very low standards of Prakith, it wasn't an especially nice place to be, although that could be said for most of the planet, in truth. However, it was an out-of-the-way town on an out-of-the-way world in the Deep Core, and so for the purposes of Helen's quarry, it was perfect. They probably even thought they were safe here.

As she walked along the street, Helen caught movement, turning to see a figure emerge from a doorway, a rectangle of light in the overhang of a building. Above it was an old-fashioned wooden sign, lettering picked out in electroluminescent paint identifying the establishment as "The Busted Drive". The Lepi paused, considering; it would be nice to get in out of the wind, and in a place like this there might be information on the people she was hunting. Turning, she ducked inside, looking around at the decor and patrons as she entered. Not a few of the latter studied her back.

The place was a typical spaceport dive. Built of thick timbers and rough stone, it looked like something out of a fantasy novel, with a few notable exceptions. Behind the wooden bar, for example, was a battered droid of indeterminate make and model, while the various booths and tables were occupied by an assortment of mostly sullen aliens.

Helen, assessing the beings around her with a well-practiced eye, sat down in an empty seat at the bar, which was occupied by a handful of other beings. Idly, she wondered just what she might find out in a place like this...
 

Zad Ruzed

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Zad Ruzed sat at the bar of The Busted Drive nursing his second glass of whiskey and ogling over his datapad. He hadn’t been on Prakith that long, passing through more than anything, but then the same could be said for any place the Ranger found himself drifting toward. His finger slid down the screen, viewing one report after the other, and all of them boring. It was SR business atop SR business, the very same business that had brought him to Prakith, but reports just were not really his thing.

“Barkeep,”
he called across the counter, blowing smoke.

“Hey!” Waved the bartender. “Not in my face!”

“Sorry,” Zad blew in the other direction.

“Or my droid’s, ya fool!”

“...Sorry…”
He cleared his throat. The droid seemed too broken to care but, eh, whatever. “Another whiskey.” The bartender humphed but poured the drink anyway, glass scraping across counter. Zad watched it slide his way at the same time as watching a Lepi take a seat beside him. Interesting creatures, Lepis. Persons, Zad. No different than you, ya fool.

“Howdy,” he nodded the Lepi’s way. “Buy you a drink?”



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Helen Holcomb

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Helen settled herself on a bar-stool - no mean feat when its synthleather cushion had been crushed flat long ago - and was just getting ready to order a drink, when a voice spoke up next to her. Looking up, the young Tolvite took in a dark-skinned human male. After so long out in space, the young Lepi was beginning to see aliens like him as just more faces.

"I knew there was a reason I came in here." She replied, flashing the human a grin. She turned to the bartender. "Hey, barkeep, you got any syrspirit back there?"

In response, the bartender grunted, thumping the droid on the shoulder. The old machine shuddered, then pivoted at the waist and extended a hand to take down a dusty bottle from behind the bar. With jerky motions, it produced a glass, filled it, then returned to staring at seemingly nothing.

Helen picked up the glass, sipped it, and coughed slightly at the strength. Syrspirit - especially cheap syrspirit - reminded the Tolvite of a drink she knew from back home.

"So... what brings you to a place like this, buying drinks for random pilots, stranger?"

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Well, whaddya know? Zad smiled back at his newfound friend. He had half-expected the Lepi to turn him down. It would not have been the first time. The last patron to sit that stool was a Zeltron. Even with her wit and charm there was no empathy mutual enough to keep her on that stool. In present circumstances, Zad wasn’t exactly interested in the person beside him or anything, but he was happy to at least be obliged.

“Pilot, is it?” He looked the Lepi over, noting the flight suit. He might not have missed it the first time around but, then, he was a a couple of glasses into events by now. “Eh, I’m here on business—the boring kind, so far at least.” He brought the glass to his lips, savored the swallow, and set the glass on the counter to turn it absentmindedly.

“Tracking a bad batch—Ahem!—bad bunch." He shrugged. "Pirates. Slavers. Both. Sometimes there ain’t much difference. ‘Scuse me.”

With that, he reached into his coat to produce an item that was far more valuable than a souvenir.

eRYvNnY.png

“Name’s Zad. Zad Ruzed. Sector Ranger. Might not have bothered with the badge so soon but, eh . . . ” Trailing off, he took another sip. “ . . . I am a couple of glasses into it, and say what you want about these parts but this place knows its booze.” He hoped he was not alone in that sentiment; the last thing Zad wanted to do was buy someone a drink who did not enjoy it.


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Helen Holcomb

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Helen took another sip of her drink, smiling at the human beside her. It was nice, she supposed, to find someone friendly in a place like this; it had been a long time since the Lepi had considered anyone in those terms. Perhaps she wasn't strictly interested - not now, anyway - but it was still pleasant.

As Zad explained his reason for being on the planet, and flashed his Sector Ranger badge, Helen raised her eyebrows. How much of a coincidence was that? A fortunate one, to be sure.

"You don't say!" She replied, glancing around, before unzipping her flight suit slightly to turn back the collar. Inside were two tiny badges, more pins really; one was a pewter double-bladed propeller overlaid on a brass anchor. The other was an enameled white silhouette of a 3-Z light freighter, with the initials S H A D E picked out in black. "I came here looking for the same bunch, I'm guessing."

The Lepi stuck out her hand.

"Lieutenant Helen Holcomb, USH Naval Air Service." She said by way of introduction. "On assignment with the Supreme Headquarters Alien Defense Establishment. Well, I suppose I'm still on assignment... it's been awhile since I've had a chance to talk to my CO. You've never heard of a planet called Tolvis VII, have you?"

Helen took another sip of her drink. As she did, there was a rumble from overhead that rattled the bottles behind the bar, causing the bartender to scramble to keep several from falling. He scowled upward as the sound dopplered by.

"Crazy rabbits!" He growled, before seeming to remember Helen. "No offense, but we get some visitors here sometimes who really need to baffle their engines properly..."

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As the Lepi moved, the Ranger drew his gaze to her chest. It wasn’t that kind of gaze, o’course, more a raised brow as to whatever the grey-propeller-brass-anchor and S H A D E freighter symbols represented. They were clearly the insignia of something more organized than an independent pilot. They could just as easily have been mementos but the Lepi’s following words suggested otherwise.

Zad shook her hand, careful not to squeeze too tight despite his enthusiasm. Alcohol had that kind of edge over him. He smiled with two rows of full teeth as his new drinking buddy introduced herself, always happy to have his suspicions proven right.

“Tolvis?” The name bounced off his tongue like a ball that ought to bounce back. “Pretty sure that’s what my lead sa—” His hand began to shake just then, holding the glass of whiskey that began to rattle upon the counter. Zad looked from the bartender to the Lepi, not quite sharing the former’s enthusiasm.

“That’s Lieutenant Helen Holcomb to you, partner,” he corrected his host with lips half curved, half rigid. “My new friend here, well, seems she’s more than a mere rabbit.” He raised his glass Helen’s way. “Crazy enough though, I guess, to help a Ranger track down some pirate-slavers?” He prepared to down what was left in his glass, assuming Helen obliged him with an affirmative drink of her own and then some.


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Helen Holcomb

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Helen looked up at the ceiling as the deep rumble of a poorly baffled fusion thruster passed overhead, glancing curiously at the bartender. She was about to ask what the bartender had meant by "crazy rabbits", as she didn't think he had been referring to her in that statement, when Zad spoke up.

"I might be crazy enough to do that, yeah!" She replied, and raised her glass to clink it against the human's. She then knocked back a sip, and grinned. "This is great, honestly; I didn't think I'd find any help on this..."

The bartender, meanwhile, was starting to look agitated. He picked up a glass and began to clean it, looking around at the other patrons.

"You're not... thinking of going up against the Materiaalaankopen, are you?" He asked, shaking his head. "Listen, they have a warehouse just outside the spaceport, and you did not hear it from me, mind. Frankly, if you're considering going in there, you're as crazy as those other fool Lepi who stop by!"

Leaning over, he saw Helen's two small pins, and raised his eyebrows.

"Oh hells you're not with them, are you? I don't want any trouble in my place!"

Helen, blinking, raised her eyebrows at the bartender.

"Wait... other Lepi? They don't..."

She shook her head, barely ready to believe her ears.

"...they don't call themselves Tolvites, do they??"

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Helen seemed like quite the enthusiastic rabbit—er—bunny—er—Lepi. Zad snapped himself out of his thoughts with a blink that rumbled his head not too differently from the ship above the bar. His eyes didn’t fare much better as the bartender spoke a word that ought to have been more familiar were it not for the booze.

“The Material-lanko-pan what now?”


The Ranger’s question was brushed aside as the bartender carried on. At that point, Zad looked between him and Helen, starting to piece it all together. Helen was too. Apparently she was not the only USH Naval Air Servicewoman in town. More than that, these Material-lanky-pens were most certainly on the radar of her Supreme HQ Something This And That.

Whatever the bartender’s answer to Helen’s question, Zad also leaned over toward the man, suddenly aware of the old droid gazing back at him. “This warehouse…” He began, trying to ignore the creepy droid. “How big is it? How much traffic? How heavily guarded?” He sipped from his whiskey, trying to keep the questions as casual as possible, all the while subtly shifting one side of his coat to remind the bartender of the SR badge pinned to his breast. “Not that I’d hear any of these answers from you, of course.”


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Helen Holcomb

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The bartender cleaned his glass a little more intently, shaking his head at Zad's inquiry. Looking around at the other patrons in the bar, he gritted his teeth and steeled himself before speaking.

"Well if you want to go and get yourself killed, that's not my problem I suppose. Frankly, I'd like it if those... people didn't do business on this planet anymore."

He eyed Helen again, who was leaning forward intently to listen.

"It's... big. I dunno, big enough that they can get a couple of bulkers in there at a time; they process... inventory in there. Nasty business. Got a few guard droids - old ones, but they certainly work - plus a bunch of thugs who vary depending on whether a ship is in."

The bartender took in a deep breath, and let it out before continuing.

"And yes, miss, they do. Strangest bunch I've ever seen... the local KDY rep meets them at the spaceport occasionally. Must be-"

Abruptly, Helen dug in her flight suit, pulling out a wad of credit bills and smacking them down on the table. The bartender's eyes widened at the amount as the Lepi spoke.

"You've been a great help. Keep the change."

Helen downed the rest of her drink and jumped down from her barstool, taking Zad by the sleeve.

"C'mon, we gotta hurry!!"
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Barkeep had a bit of a bite for Lepi, it seemed. Zad didn’t understand what the big deal was. Helen was as cute as a button. A room full of buttons? Cute. The Ranger caught himself smiling and it was his turn to shake his head as he listened to the deets. “Big” covered it; Zad wasn’t looking for measurements. Whatever “inventory” was sounded nasty. So, a few droids and a bunch of thugs guarding the joint? Business as usual then.

He blinked down at the money that landed on the counter just then. It definitely covered his drinks and then some. Having half a mind to also let it cover a bottle of whiskey on the way out, Zad went with the other half of his brain and allowed the Lepi to tug him away. They received some odd looks from other patrons, what with a rabbit-like individual walking side by side with an individual that much taller and with a large frame draped in dark leather. Neither of them cared. They had a job to do.



Some time later and the uncanny duo of Sector Ranger and USH Airwoman arrived outside the warehouse outside the spaceport. They kept their distance, keeping nonchalant and such, far enough to where Zad could light up a cigarette and pass the binoculars over to his partner. “What do you see?” While Helen saw, he looked another way. There was a vessel coming in from one side, likely a pickup or delivery given its size. “Zoom in on that, if you don’t mind,” he sighed out smoke while turning his head away from her. “Wanna find out how many guards react and how they react.”

The response of an incoming vehicle would be a good indication of what kind of folks they were up against. Slow and lazy, tight and coordinated, loose and frantic? Was the vehicle expected or was its arrival unannounced? Would droids wave it in or would flesh and bone? Who was in charge? All of those questions could be answered with just one look.



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Helen Holcomb

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Helen peered through the offered electrobinoculars, her breath misting on the cold air and streaming away from her in the wind. Sure enough, an enormous cargo hauler seemed to be coming in to land. Small figures came out to meet it; they appeared relaxed, but in a well-practiced way, not slack or lazy. There were ten old-model security droids and an about equal number of organics, various humans and near-humans by the look of them, looking like professional mercenaries or at least well-trained for gangsters.

The Lepi handed back the binocs, crossing her arms.

"There's more than we can deal with just on our own. And frankly, I wouldn't want to try anything before they... unload. If we hit them too early, they can just take off again and we'll never see the 'cargo' again."

She turned back toward a nearby landing field, where an unusual ship had set down. Crude-looking even in comparison to the shabby vessels at some of the surrounding pads, it gleamed dully in a bare titanium finish, and Helen could see figures moving around it in bulky padded flight suits.

"Gods, you'd never think I'd be nervous to do this... I'll be right back."

Turning, Helen walked purposefully toward the strange ship, fishing in her flight suit and extracting both her pins. She looked down at them, biting her lip in apprehension, before clipping them onto the outside of her collar, where they would be visible.

As she approached the landing pad, the figures looked up. They wore what Helen finally recognized as a variation of an Ebran-pattern high-altitude pressure suit, the bulky diving helmet hung behind the wearer. The beings wearing them were plainly Lepi, and they moved in agitation as Helen came closer, several fumbling for crude slugthrower pistols they wore at their belts.

"Alright, that's far enough!" One of them called, aiming their weapon. "Identify yourself!"

The speaker had what Helen recognized as a thick Tovarin accent, although their Basic was otherwise fluent. To her surprise, the Lepi realized that she knew the voice; coming up short, she called back.

"Piotr, is that you??" She called, shaking her head in disbelief. "I thought I saw you buy it over Area B7R!"

There was a stunned look on several of the faces, and the speaker - Piotr - lowered his weapon, blinking in surprise.

"Helen?!"

Stopping at the edge of the landing pad, Helen drew up, standing at attention and giving a stiff salute.

"Lieutenant Helen Holcomb, USH Naval Air Service, reporting!"

There was an instant commotion among those gathered, many of whom dropped what they were doing to rush toward Helen. Piotr, a dark-furred Lepi with a pale scar along one cheek and a sizable notch taken out of one ear, looked Helen up and down before coming to attention himself and saluting back.

"Captain Piotr Kiovanov, People's Defensive Air Corps." He said formally, before relaxing. "My gods Helen, it is you. Everyone told me your crate went down in the middle of the enemy camp! What are you doing here?!"

Shaking her head, Helen looked past the other Lepi - the other Tolvite - at the gleaming spacecraft sitting on the landing pad. The vessel resembled nothing so much as the rocket ships seen in motion picture serials before the arrival of the UFOs.

"I could ask you the same question, er, captain? You got a promotion, huh?" She shook her head disbelievingly. "Where in the world did you get a spaceship?! Don't tell me you came all the way from Tolvis in that!"

Piotr looked briefly over his shoulder at the ship, shaking his head before turning back to Helen.

"A lot has changed since you've been away, Lieutenant."

He looked past the Lepi pilot, his apprehension returning as he caught sight of Zad.

"And what-... sorry, who is this?"
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“We’re just carvin’ steak, Hel. Just carvin’ steak.” Zad responded coolly to his partner’s assessment of the surveillance situation. Then he cleared his throat of some awkwardness. She might not have been as familiar with such word choice as he was. “Stakin’ out the place, I mean. Stakeout. Yeah.”

Helen was too busy scoping out the other ship that had just arrived. He couldn’t tell who was in it by the design alone but the Lepi’s words and movements gave it away. Zad figured the reunion that was about to happen might not cater much to a Human Sector Ranger but, well, if he was about to pluralize the word “partner” then he had to at least meet the would-be's in person. “And our boat will be here when we get back.” Flicking his cigarette, he followed Helen to greet their guests.

The Tolvites’ ship was as vintage as their guns. Zad could appreciate both, curving a smile over both hull and holster. Then he passed his gaze over the other Lepi standing in the open air. They didn’t look as cute as he had expected. They look serious. Spirited. Skilled. Whatever their background, Helen appeared to share in it, and Zad kept quiet beside her until his tongue had been prompted to flick forth.

“Zad. Zad Ruzed.” Zad introduced himself with a two-fingered salute that was less formal than the badges and pins of his contemporaries. “Sector Ranger.” This part was his favorite.

eRYvNnY.png

Zad tucked the ID away, sweeping his eyes over each furry face before resting them on Captain Piotr. “Ran into your bunnyahem!buddy in a bar and here we are.” He nodded toward the warehouse yonder. “Looks like we just might be chasing the same pirates, guys and gals.” Blink. “Slavers.” Blink-blink. “...Pirate-slavers?”



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Helen Holcomb

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The Lepi hesitated, looking Zad up and down for a moment, before apparently coming to a decision. He stuck his hand out for the human to shake, trying his best to look confident.

"Sector... Ranger?" He said questioningly, quirking an eyebrow. "Then you are with this Republic we've heard so much about? My people have heard rumors of your organization, but I don't believe my planet has ever seen one of you. But then... I also hear this is a big Galaxy."

Piotr then turned to Helen.

"What's this about... pirate-slavers?"

Helen looked serious, and pointed back toward the landing pad where the giant criminal vessel had come in to land.

"You picked a very convenient time to visit, Captain." She said. "Just over there is a trans-shipment base used by the Materiaalaankopen, the alien criminal syndicate which is primarily responsible for stealing our people and selling them into slavery on other worlds." The Lepi glared over at the slaver warehouse. "After my plane went down, they were the ones who captured me and took me off-world. I escaped before they could get a collar on me, and I've been fighting them out here ever since."

She paused, and then nodded toward Zad.

"Zad and I independently tracked them to this planet, and specifically, that warehouse. There is a literal shipload of our people in there, and we both intend to bust them out."

Helen looked Piotr in the eye.

"Frankly, we could really use your help. You and the rest of the crew."

Piotr crossed his arms, looking past Helen and Zad at the other landing pad, his expression hardening.

"Kriff, Lieutenant... that won't be easy. We were on a mission to support a technology exchange, not stage a prison break."

The other Lepi shook his head.

"Frankly, though, I resent be a glorified wholesale shopper, and this seems like a much better use to put my ship and crew toward..."
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Zad obliged the Lepi with a firm handshake. As Piotr spoke of the Republic and such, Zad scratched his head while the Lepi spoke on and the conversation moved on to the meat and potatoes.

Helen gave the deets about the Material-lanko-pen, a pang of sympathy striking the cords of Zad’s heart given the fact that the very people being enslaved were gathered before him right then and there. The man hated slavery more than most might. It was among the lowest of the lows even for the lowliest criminal. The fact that enslavement was so rampant made it that much worse, not better. Clearly, then, he was in the right company.

Escaped? Zad blinked at Helen. She was a tough gal, this one. He made a mental note not to get on her bad side, not that such a scenario would likely present itself anytime soon. He had a feeling they would make a good team if they hadn’t already. He nodded as his partner brought her own up to speed, finding his way in after Piotr weighed on hesitation.

“Mind if I see one of those?” Zad gestured toward a holstered pistol. If the Captain obliged, the Ranger would stand with a slugthrower in hand, turning it this way and that. He didn't really consider himself ‘old’ but he had some mileage on him and appreciated the age in other people and other things.

“A weapon like this needs a good hand to hold it.” He passed the pistol back, unholstered his own, offered it to Piotr for a feel. “That’s a TM-357 blaster pistol. Packs a mean punch even with the stun feature. I call it ‘The Proposition’.” He grinned, proud. “It, too, needs a good hand to hold it.” He would accept his pistol back, looking from Helen to Piotr, Lepi to Lepi.

“I may know less about these Material...lanky...kopipens...than all of ya’ll but I know a pirate-slaver when I see one, and they ain’t nothin’ but trouble.” Zad holstered The Proposition. “So a proposition for you folks: We share hands as much as shake them, share in shaking down that warehouse over there, and together we free your people.” Zad could often be a jocular soul but right now he was as serious as Helen. “Break some chains and free some slaves…” Focuses on Piotr. “...Do so together and this Republic you’ve heard so much about can hear more about you. We can partner up right here and now, partner, and maintain that partnership through the days to come.”

Zad was just a Ranger of a Sector Ranger, not much in the way of rank, but he was still a Sector Ranger. He had contacts and he had channels, and if the Tolvites, Lepi, USH or whoever and whatever they ultimately called themselves desired it then he could help build relations between them and the galaxy at large.



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Piotr passed the taller human his sidearm after a moment's hesitation, and accepted Zad's once it had been returned. He turned the weapon over in his hands admiringly, raising his eyebrows when the Sector Ranger explained that it was a blaster.

"This is a formidable weapon... I have seen some like it before, but always either from the wrong end or broken on a table. I hear the engineers back at SHADE are working on scaling down the weapons we use in our ships into something handheld, but as you can see... we aren't quite there yet. Something about solid-state circuitry and gas diffusion..."

The Lepi handed the weapon back to Zad, and smiled.

"Ranger Ruzed, Lieutenant Holcomb, I would be honored to fight at your side. What are we looking at inside this slaver base?"

Helen spoke up then, explaining what she and Zad had seen through electrobinoculars. The compound was large, and the group would have to plan carefully.

"It'll be difficult, but if we all move quickly and quietly, I think we can overwhelm them and take the place before they can solidify a counterattack. It won't be like Area B7R; they don't seem to have blockhouses or any other purpose-built static defenses. As far as anyone is meant to believe, this is just a standard cargo staging warehouse."

Piotr nodded, fingering his pistol.

"Even so... I should bring out the heavy hardware. Or what passes for it, I suppose."

He turned to Zad.

"And what do you think. Do you concur with the Lieutenant?"
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There was something profound about the way the Captain had addressed the Ranger just then. For a moment, Zad just stared back in a moment of wonder. Testing me to see if I'm smart or stupid? He let his thoughts drift before going with his better judgment. Nah, Piotr’s just the kinda guy who respects his allies, and this is who we are.

“I met Lieutenant Helen in a bar by blind chance, Captain . . . ” Zad trailed off, now taking a moment to linger on the Lieutenant’s countenance. “ . . . But sometimes the stars align just right that a man like me wonders if fate might have brought us together that moment so that we could do some justice today.”

He snapped himself out of the daze with a shrug. “Ah, sorry. Old man’s musings… Yeah, I concur. I’m pretty good with a gun, and you guys are...nimble...so...though...huh…” His gaze wandered off with his words, catching a light freighter set down not far from their position. A crew of three if no more were standing outside smoking cigarettes; likely unaffiliated folks just taking a break. Zad hoped his idea flashed behind his eyes so that others could see it.

“That boat’s big enough. I say I flash my badge and commandeer it and we waltz into that compound under the guise of a delivery.” He looked left, looked right. “I mean...I do have a bunch of Lepi with me, after all…”

He knew full well that he was asking these strangers to trust him and hoped just as much that they would. Helen if no other. He liked to think that she had picked up on his sincerity back at the bar. Zad was ‘rough and tumble’, Corran liked to remind him, but he was still the law. He wasn’t about to sell others into slavery, though he was willing to pretend to if it meant getting in smoothly so that they could end said slavery—as allies.



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Helen looked back at the taller human, a smile coming to her lips as their gazes briefly met. She liked this human. When his gaze traveled to a nearby ship, however, she followed it, and rubbed her chin at his suggestion.

"That... could work too!" She conceded, before turning back to Piotr. "What d'you think; could you and the rest of the crew pose as captives long enough for me and Zad to get us inside?"

Piotr frowned, crossing his arms.

"If this is all actually a trap, it's the most elaborate one I've ever seen." He replied, and shook his head. "But it's a better plan than I could come up with, so..."

He turned back toward the crew.

"Well, spacers! You have heard the plan! Anyone who wants to back out on this, nobody will top you!"

None of the 7 other beings moved at the officer's words. Piotr nodded in satisfaction.

"I suppose we're all in."
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Zad Ruzed

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“Well, all righty, then,” Zad emoted as best he could. He suddenly wondered if he was more wary about this 'plan' than all of his counterparts combined. He had a habit of just suggesting things without really knowing where they would take him but, eh, oh well. We’re in the pit now. Now we just gotta kick the dirt. “Follow me…”

Some moments later and the freighter’s crew of three stood staring perplexedly at their new guests. “The hell’s this?” One emoted, flicking ash from a cig. “Circus in town?”

“Kinda.” Zad smiled. My favorite part.

eRYvNnY.png

“Zad. Zad Ruz—”

“Yeah, okay, whatever, Ranger! We don’t want no trouble!” Another crewman held up his hands as though under arrest. “Th-Those stolen nexu cubs? In-innn those c-cages? W-We...uh...we don’t know...how they got there…heh...”

“...Nexu cubs?”

“WEREN’T US, MISTER!”
The third sailor hastened. “S-Some gangster planted ‘em in our hold and snuck credits in our pockets and and and we don’t even like credits so I uh hmm um eh hmm”

“Beat it.” Zad blinked.

A moment later and the crew of three tossed their cigarettes and skipped away. Zad picked one up. The flame was still strong. Mmm, Corellian. He finished a final drag, flicked the butt and boarded.

“Sorry about the music,” he frowned to his new crew of a number of Lepi. “Looks like it’s stuck on a loop.”

Moving on, Zad piloted the freighter—the Peacock—and lifted off, moving to cover the distance between their landing pad and the pirate-slaver compound. They would close it in moments, enough time for the Ranger to turn toward Helen in the co-pilot’s seat. “Anything you can clue me on these...Material...lanko...pen?” Got it that time? “Club greetings? Codewords? Organizational structure?” He shrugged. “Anything I can say to where they might assume I’m one of ‘em before they even ask for my invitation?”



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Helen Holcomb

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Helen looked up at the overhead speaker from which the music issued, frowning briefly before turning back to the controls. The little freighter was old and worn out, but it would do for their purposes.

"Well, I don't know much about their inner workings, to be honest. But this technique has worked for me in the past;"

Helen proceeded to rattle off a tale about breaking into a Materiaalaankopen facility using a few old codes and some key phrases scattered into her comm conversations, which seemed to be enough to convince the personnel guarding the place to let her through.

"Really, I don't even know what Rancor sauce is." She admitted, keying on an intercom system as she talked. "I see it advertised at Kupohan restaurants sometimes, but I'm not brave enough to try it, frankly."

As she spoke, Helen flipped a switch, and a small cathode display flickered to life, showing a view of a large, mostly empty cargo bay, occupied by eight Lepi in old-style environmental suits. They were fiddling with a collection of worn-out binders. A few of them also seemed to be playing with a group of small quadrupeds, which leaped and ran enthusiastically.

"...-isn't going to work!."

"It'll work, trust me."


"How's everything going back there? Ready to go?"

The group of Lepi looked up in surprise, and after a moment, Piotr's face filled the screen.

"Amazing! Closed circuit television intercom!" The Lepi exclaimed, before answering. "We're as ready as we'll ever be. What do you think of the equipment we brought?"

Helen looked down at the unusual weapon which Piotr had given her from the Tolvite ship's armory. It reminded her strongly of things she had seen in seventh-day morning newspaper serials.

"An actual rocket pistol." She said, half-disbelievingly. "I've wanted one of these since I was a kid! And of course, they called it the Gordon Gun, even though everyone knows he uses a raygun! Honestly!"

She turned to Zad.

"You're not too upset about the illegal rocket launchers, are you?"
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Zad Ruzed

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Rancor sauce… Zad’s thoughts took him back to this one mall in Coruscant with toki toki sauce. It was nice and spicy. ‘Rancor sauce’ was a thing on the menu but boy did it taste weird. It wasn’t cajun sauce as the music’s vocals brought forth but what the hell was cajun sauce? More importantly, the last time Zad had tried rancor sauce it was with noodles. What were they again? Right!

“Rancor sauce with Corellian buckwheat noodles!” He smiled at his co-pilot, speaking into the activated intercom. “Damn was that a good bowl!”

The Ranger’s gaze drifted to the display of a group of Lepi and a group of nexu. He suddenly had a bad feeling about this. Blinking at his counterpart amid the mention of “Gordon Gun” (it sounded as bad as “The Proposition”, his own pistol), Zad suddenly wondered whether this was going to work.

“Lady…” He began, summoning confidence to clout the doubt. “Legality is less of a rule and more of a guideline for Rangers like me.” He shrugged. “I’m a shark who lets the little fish escape to catch the bigger fish...whatever that means.”

Moments later and another voice chimed in over the com.

“Freighter, state your business.” It was a humanoid voice. “And your clearance.”

Zad looked left, looked right. “We’ve got clearance, Clarence.” He cleared his throat. “We’re fine. We’re all fine here now, thank you. How are you?” There was worse to come unless a fellow co-pilot interrupted him. Zad was generally functional under pressure. Listening to “Chicken Bone”? He was getting a headache and it was a bit debilitating.




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