Ask I Didn't Charter Trouble

[Kel Dryden]

Shortly after the shootout at a nearby warehouse
Hangar 2244, Hutta City, Nar Shaddaa

You have chartered a ship to get off the Smuggler's Moon. At the pre-arranged time, you arrive to the designated hangar. Inside you see a sleek black IFST-21 light freighter in all its glory. A rather fancy and well-maintained ship by the Outer Rim standards. However, something is off. A couple of dock workers—an Ugnaught and a Sullustan—hurriedly move cargo containers up the freighter's cargo ramp on a repulsor platform. The hangar is filled with containers of various shapes and sizes. At this pace, it looks like the work will take at least an hour, if not longer.

What's even stranger, two security droids armed with blaster rifles are standing by the cargo ramp. They are accompanied by a Rodian with an unholstered blaster pistol. The alien seems agitated, as if preparing for a fight. One more guard—a Weequay in a weathered flight suit—approaches you from the depths of the hangar. His E-11 blaster rifle isn't aimed at you yet, but he holds it with both hands.

"You must be the one who chartered the Black Swift," the Weequay starts the conversation matter-of-factly, before you say a word. "There has been a change of plans. The Swift is going elsewhere. I suggest you find another ship." The Weequay stands between you and the freighter, clearly intent on turning you away. In the meantime, the dock workers increase their pace. They hustle to get at least the most valuable smaller crates on board, even if it means leaving everything else behind. The Weekway guard awaits your reply.

But regardless of what you say or do, two Cyclone speeders are already parking outside the hangar. Each of them carries 4 masked men armed with blaster rifles. Leaving one merc to watch each of the 2 side entrances, the 6 remaining goons creep inside the hangar, rifles at the ready. They spread out and take positions behind larger crates. One intruder gets sloppy, and the Rodian at the ramp notices him. The alien shouts something in his native tongue and hastily rushes for cover, while taking a couple of poorly-aimed shots. The droids come to life as well, and spread out from the ramp to provide a defensive perimeter.

It looks like you've just walked into a gang war...

Spoiler: OOC and tags

@Bran
Also tagging @wayvvardking, in case you're still around and want in on the action.

 

[Trinity]

A light drizzle fell upon the metallic surface of the Smuggler Moon's landing platforms. The liquid had the same faint foul stench as the rest of the god-forsaken rock and while Trinity never did care much for that smell, it was the odour of desperate and weak-minded populace that she could no longer stand. Having spent a week on Nar Shaddaa, she was tasked with locating and capturing a governmental official from some backwater planet, one that held some inconsequential influence. In honesty she was fed up with the goose chase and on the cusp of abandoning the hunt altogether, until a tidbit of information came into her possession. The official had very recently made his way offworld, headed back home after a week of frivolous entertainment.

If Trinity was to intercept him on his return trip, she would have to move quickly. Without a vehicle to her name, she decided that the best course of action was to charter a ship, one that could accomplish the task swiftly and without any questions asked. It was by her understanding that many if not all of the ships on Nar Shaddaa were all in some way connected to the crime syndicates that all but controlled the Moon. Without much time to deliberate, she took the first option suggested to her, The Black Swift, it was called. It would have to do in a pinch, Trinity reasoned.

Donning a black hooded overcoat to protect herself from the light rain and partially mask her identity, Trinity arrived at the landing platform slightly ahead of schedule to ensure a timely depature. To her surprise, the platform was far busier than she had expected and a large array of cargo was being loaded aboard the black vessel. A heavy frown spread across the young assassin's face, "Why am I not surprised." Trinity muttered to herself. She slowly approached the ship, her eyes taking in the events unfolding before her, scanning the defenses as well as trying to determine exactly what cargo lay before her. She was met with the hardened face of a Weequay guard, blaster in hand and eyes that gave away his... unsavoury intent. He proceeded to inform her that she was no longer able to charter The Black Swift and that she would have to find other means of transport. Trinity clenched her fist and her amber eyes narrowed. She neither had the time nor the means to charter another vessel if she was to succeed in her mission. "I can't just 'find another ship' I need to get off this ro-" Her words trailed off mid-sentence as her ears caught the blaring engines of speeders approaching.

THEME​

Moments later a group of eight mercenaries arrived at the same platform, armed to the teeth and prepared for a fight. It did not take long for Trinity to understand the situation in its entirety, in a swift movement she darted behind one of the surrounding crates and her own hand placed itself on the hilt of her vibroblade and the other felt for the reassuring metallic hilt of her lightsaber. Only as a last resort, she decided, the last thing I need is to be target practice for either side.

@Catbert

 

[Kel Dryden]

"Ambush!" the Weequay's angry roar spread across the hangar as he ducked behind a nearby crate, on the opposite side of the ramp from Trinity. Resting his rifle on top of it, the enforcer took aim. When he thought he saw movement between the crates, the Weequay instantly took the shot. Judging by a pained scream coming from the area, one of the attackers was wounded.

For the moment, the guard didn't pay attention to the passenger. He hadn't noticed any blasters on the woman, so he perceived her as dead weight... or a potential distraction. The enforcer gestured to his Rodian partner to take cover on the opposite side, next to Trinity. "Get aboard the ship!" he yelled at the woman in black. To anyone else, it would seem like a logical course of action. But a Force-sensitive individual could read through the Weequay's true intentions: to use Trinity as bait and let his Rodian accomplice score a hit at whoever would shoot at her. "On three! One, two, three! GO!"

On that mark, the Rodian would leave cover and aim his two-barrelled blaster at the hangar entrance, while dashing towards the crate Trinity was hiding behind. Meanwhile, the droids would split up and take cover by the ramp itself, programmed to defend the ship not let anyone unauthorized aboard. A detail that the Weequay had legitimately overlooked when asking Trinity to get aboard. An honest mistake.

---

Kel had heard gunshots long before his commandeered Cyclone speeder could approach the hangar. Kriff, they're already here. He pulled over and shut down the engine, which replied with a loud and unpromising hiss. The thing was busted beyond repair. But that was to be expected, since the speeder had crashed and been shot at before Kel could take over.

The scoundrel buttoned up the holster with his DL-44 pistol—he would need something else instead. As he reached for E-11 blaster rifle on the passenger's seat, the burning pain in his chest reminded him about the light injury that he had taken about an hour ago. Almost there, just one final push. The chestplate of Kel's flight-suit was damaged, the gaping hole concealed only by the black leather jacket over it.

Under normal circumstances, Kel would've sought medical attention. But this time he had something big at stake. With a pained grunt, the pilot got out of the vehicle and proceeded towards the hangar on foot, rifle at the ready. As he took a turn and saw a masked man—similar to the ones who had attacked him—Kel didn't take any risks. The scoundrel had an advantage: he expected the merc, and the merc didn't expect him. E-11 wasn't the most powerful blaster rifle in the world, but a double tap aimed at the hostile's chest solved the problem. I'm coming, girl. Just hold on a little longer.

@Bran

 

[Trinity]

The loud noises and bright flashes of blaster fire exploded over the hangar bay as the two groups of criminals opened up on each other. The crate that Trinity used as cover was quickly littered full of holes, big clouds of spice escaped into the air. Using her forearm to shield her eyes and her other hand to pull up the thin material mask of her suit over her mouth and nose she made sure not to inhale the substance too deeply. Through narrow eyes she assessed the situation. Things were looking bleak for the amber-eyed assassin. The spice loaders had managed to take down a couple of the attackers however she still sensed that they held an overwhelming advantage and had her pinned down. Trinity also sensed another arrival, one that she would need to aid her in the escape.

The Weequay guard called out to Trinity, beckoning her to board the ship. She immediately knew that the odds of her making it there unscathed would be less than likely, after seeing the rodian readying himself to make his move she caught on to their plan quickly. Clearly they thought of her as a convenient diversion, enough of a distraction to try and even the playing field. With a wry smile beneath the mask she looked over to the guard and nodded. On the count of three Trinity vaulted out from behind the crate with unnatural speed toward the rodian. A flurry of blaster bolts whisked past her arm, one of them close enough to singe her suits fabric. In one movement she slid across the floor and slashed at the backs of the thug's ankles. The burning pain caused him to scream out and stumble into the open. Drawing a hail of blaster bolts onto his torso, he was instantly dispatched. Such a heroic sacrifice, Trinity thought. The Weequay's eyes widened in shock as he attempted to reposition his blaster rifle in her direction. With the generous diversion provided by the Rodian, Trinity had just enough time to charge down the other guard's vantage point and slash at his throat. "I suggest you find another ship." she taunted as the guard fell limp, clasping at the opened wound. Now pinned down once more, it seemed like she would have to rely on the two buckets of rust and her mysterious ally to make the next move on her behalf.

@Catbert

 

[Kel Dryden]

The shooting inside the hangar only got louder. Kel could swear he heard a high-pitched scream of agony, distinctively Rodian. To Kel's knowledge, there was only one Rodian in the hangar. And if he was down... I hope that you're in there, girl. Palms sweating from tension, the scoundrel gripped his E-11 rifle even tighter and ventured into the hangar.

...​

Half of the security team guarding the ship were dead. That couldn't go unnoticed. The droid watching Trinity's flank registered an unexpected surge of hostile activity next to him. A woman, whose threat level had been "below average" at best suddenly eliminated two friendlies. Reassessment took a couple of moments and placed the woman in black at "maximum" threat level.

However, this also distracted the droid from other attackers. Something that proved fatal for the droid—a blaster shot turned it into a headless scrap heap that toppled onto hangar floor with a loud metallic thud! Moments after that, a pained yell came from the same direction as the shot...

The other droid didn't register Trinity's hostile act. It had already moved further to the opposite side of the hangar and focused on holding off the attackers there.

...​

Inside the hangar, Kel took cover behind the nearest cover and peeked at a mess of epic proportions. Clouds of spice coming from riddled containers, blaster shots flying all over. The woman whom Kel had met the day before seemed to be there too. Right next to the cargo ramp of the Swift. There you are, gorgeous! Ugh, focus Kel, this ain't the time...

From his cover, the scoundrel saw one of the hostiles, who had just shot the head of a security droid clean off. The mercs seemed too focused on the massive shootout at hand, oblivious to the death of the guy watching their back. And if a back ain't watched, it gets shot at. Precisely what Kel's E-11 did: at short range, and with deadly accuracy.

What Kel didn't account for is that someone could pull off the same trick on him. An operative wounded at the beginning of the firefight was hanging back and heard the gunshot. It seemed almost like luck that Kel noticed the attacker and dashed to nearby cover. The shot meant to land on his back only grazed the top of his right arm. Grunting through clenched teeth, the scoundrel returned fire blindly, forcing the merc into cover: "Bryce, circle around that kriffard!"

...​

For Trinity, the shooting from one of the hangar entrances almost ceased with the destruction of the droid. The cause of that soon presented itself. The pilot who had promised her a quick trip off Nar Shaddaa took cover behind one of the freighter's landing gears, about 10 meters from her. The pain of his recent wounds and the adrenaline of fighting for his life would be easy to pick up for a Force-sensitive. The pilot continued firing his rifle blindly, and received the same treatment from the unseen enemy in return.

A shout forced another mercenary out of hiding. Seeing that the center of the warehouse only had a distracted droid and an unarmed—albeit deadly—woman in cover, the man pushed forward through the center of the hangar under the ship, intent on outflanking the pilot.

Meanwhile, the remaining droid held the line, but was getting overwhelmed. As it aimed for an opportune shot at the running thug, a blaster bolt from the side that it was supposed to protect rendered the machine's shoulder immobile. The droid took cover, grabbing the rifle with one hand. Detrimental for accuracy, it was the only viable option that the machine had.

@Bran

 

[Trinity]

From behind her new vantage point, Trinity heard the approaching sound of the security droid, she grit her teeth knowing fully well that was hard pressed to take it out with the fire of a half-dozen men aimed at her. Luckily for the young assassin however, the very same men saved her the trouble by lighting the heap of bolts up. Unable to get a good look at her opposition without risk, she reached out with her mind to try and sense the hostiles as well as the state of her flyboy. The good news was that there were only three or four mercs left on the hangar pad however the pilot seemed to be injured and in distress. I'd weigh my odds pretty well in a fight with those thugs but I doubt those are the last of them, more will arrive... And soon, Trinity deliberated internally.

Reaching into the inner pockets of her overcoat, the young sith's fingers curled around a metallic hilt. It seemed that Trinity would have to do something fundamentally against her nature in order to give the pilot an opening. "Time to become target practice." she muttered under her breath. Using the force to augment a graceful leap from behind the crate, Trinity landed a few meters away from the mercenary that had broken into the open. The lightsaber in Trinity's right hand ignited with a loud rasp and its vibrant purple light reflected off the puddles of rainwater that littered the metallic pad. The masked merc stumbled backward in surprise before calling out, "It's a kriffin Jed-" Before he could finish, Trinity had shot forward and with two lateral slashes had dismembered both his head and lower body. Turning her head back in the pilots direction she gestured for him to get the damn ship airborne. The slight respite in blaster fire as a result of her reveal quickly ended as the remaining thugs came to their senses. "Light that bitch up!"

A barrage of blaster bolts was unleashed at the now exposed sith assassin. With inhumane reflexes she intercepted each bolt with the blade of her lightsaber, redirecting them randomly into the periphery. The sounds of more speeders and disgruntled shouts could be heard nearby. With the arrival of more mercenaries there would be no chance of her holding up the diversion. One of the bolts managed to bypass her defense and proceeded to deeply graze her upper left thigh. The burning pain that followed was masked by the adrenaline and she did not allow it to fault her defense. With slow backward steps she began to retreat back towards The Black Swift.

@Catbert

 

[Kel Dryden]

Hold on, girl, I'm almost there. Just 10 meters away. Even the burning pain of a fresh wound couldn't distract Kel from his objective. He was a man on a mission. So when his would-be passenger entered the battle with a graceful leap—drawing attention of everyone, Kel included—the scoundrel prepared to make his own move. The gesture from the woman in black was an extra incentive to get a move on. Her actions clearly proved she was of the "don't cross me" type.

With E-11 in the uninjured hand, the pilot rushed towards the lowered cargo ramp. He didn't even need to fight back; the dancing purple blade of the stranger and the fire rained by the damaged droid provided all the distraction Kel needed. The only delay occurred when Kel almost tripped over the dead Rodian and his peculiar blaster. Landing on his elbows with a grunt, Kel did take a moment to grab the two-barrelled pistol with a free hand. Leaving it there for those merc kriffards would have been a waste.

The sound of more speeders—along with the increasing urge to get the hell out of there—made the pilot hurry. He crawled the last stretch to the ramp on his fours, behind a spice crate riddled with blaster bolts. The kriffing orange dust covered the floor and dissolved in puddles of rainwater, leaving acidic spills in its wake. Not that the water of the Smuggler's Moon was clean by itself either. Getting those spice stains off the flight suit would be a pain. With a deep breath, Kel made a run for it up the cargo ramp, covered by the retreating "Jedi".

...​

I'm here, Swifty. Glad to see those kriffards haven't gotten inside you. You're mint as ever. Kel ran through the familiar dark-steel corridors of the freighter. KARK! After taking a turn, the scoundrel almost rammed into a cargo containter just standing in the corridor, secured to the wall with a single portable magnetic clamp. The kriffing dock workers must've wet their pants over the news about recent attacks and disregarded most of the security regulations. Mumbling a curse in Huttese, Kel leaped over the obstacle and continued towards the cockpit.

"Fire it up! Fire it up, or we're toast!" he yelled at the NM-series astromech droid (black with orange stripes, like the Swift itself) who welcomed the scoundrel with an unenthusiastic beep, yet proceeded to do as it was told. Meanwhile, Kel threw his rifle and new pistol onto the co-pilot's seat, hit a few switches and landed into his own seat. The humming sound of the engine warming up, along with his hands on the ship's controls gave the pilot the sense of security he hadn't experienced for a long time.

...​

What sounded like humming sound the inside, turned out to be the steadily increasing roaring thunder on the outside. With a loud hiss, the hydraulic mechanism began lifting up the cargo ramp. At the same time, the ventral maneuvering thrusters went to full power, slowly lifting the elegant freighter above the mess down below. The mercs finished off the remaining droid, but there was little they could do against the ship itself. Not that they didn't try though—the sound of blaster bolts scratching the Swift's mint black metal hull angered the kriff out of Kel. However, he could only engage the deflectors once the ramp was fully up, and his passengers was aboard.

Finally, the primary engines kicked in. Illuminating the dark hangar below with red engine glow for a brief moment, the Swift blasted off into the busy skyways between the tall towers of Nar Shaddaa. Some smaller spice containers that the dock workers had left all over the ship—without securing a few—were now sliding on the floor. If Kel had to dodge anything, even a way through the ship would be a challenge...

@Bran

 

[Trinity]

"Keep firing, she can't keep this up forever!" A voice called out from beyond the firing line. Beads of sweat had begun to form on the young assassin's forehead, mixing in with the rain that had begun to raise in intensity. The sound of the heavy downpour meeting metal took over her ears. Like a calming white noise it drowned out the screams of the mercenaries and the high-pitched blaring of their blasters. Her heavy breathing slowed and her movements gained a rhythmic pattern to them as she allowed the Force to wield her as she wielded her lightsaber. Two more streams of projectiles entered the battle as the opposition's reinforcements had arrived. Despite her reinvigorated focus, Trin quickly realised that she was being overwhelmed. One bolt scratched at her chest and another brushed her upper left arm, burning away the material of her suit and melting the surface of her skin. Why isn't that ship flying already?

As if in snarky reply, the heavy crashing of rain was interrupted by a deafening blast of engines being fired. The forceful wind created by the takeoff suspended the rain for a brief moment and almost knocked the young sith off her feet. Took him long enough, her arm reached out the the side and with her mind she reached out and took hold of one of the decimated crates. With a strong tug of the Force, the remaining metal shell burst open and a cloud of spice blew out between Trinity and the mercs. A spice-screen, she mused to herself in the heat of the moment. Inaccurate shots flew through the hazy cloud and the black-clad woman wasted no time, turned and booked it towards the ship. Unfortunately for her, The Black Swift had already elevated itself higher than she could feasibly reach.

Trinity's mind now racing, it desperately worked to find a quick solution. Her eyes caught the sight of the landing ramp, still extended. From within, crates of spice had begun to slide down and fall out of the open cargo bay. As she reached the end of her runway on the pad and neared the steep drop off beyond, her instincts took over and she leaped with all her strength. With the last reserves of energy she had within herself she once again reached her hand out and called out to the Force. The crates tipped off the edge of the landing ramp and began to fall, however for a brief moment they remained suspended just long enough for her to spring herself off each one before crashing down into the bottomless abyss of Nar Shaddaa. The added footholds gave her enough power to grab the edge of the ramp and hoist herself inside before it raised into the ship. With a final clamping noise signalling closure and the noise of the rain and blasters muted significantly, Trinity let out a long sigh of relief and just lay on the ramp. Her breathing was erratic and she couldn't get enough air in to satisfy her body's craving for oxygen. At least I'm alive, she reasoned.

@Catbert

 

[Kel Dryden]

The entirety of the Swift shuddered, and red emergency lighting kicked in throughout the ship moments afterwards, along with a high-pitched siren. "E chu ta!" Kel cursed in Huttese, as the deflector status screen went from blue to orange. Someone was shooting at them; yet the heavy traffic prevented Kel from figuring out how many enemies there were, and where they came from. With an angry grumble, the pilot banked left and pulled the helm towards him, throwing the Swift away from the main skyway towards the more abandoned area of Hutta City.

The pilot was strapped into his seat, and the droid had a magnetic wheel and the computer probe to keep it in place. But any passengers who hadn't reached a seat by then wouldn't be so lucky. Let alone the fact that a few locked spice containers were sliding around the cargo hold and corridors.

However, the maneuver was worth it. Among the many dots indicating other ships on radar, three followed the Swift soon after it left the skyway. Despite Kel pushing his ship to the limit and then some, the pursuers were slowly catching up. Fighters. Not the fastest among them, but still. A reading from the radar soon confirmed Kel's guess, and even provided the model. At this rate, they'd soon be in firing range again. The pilot hit the intercom button: "If you're in there, man the turret, or else it'll be a hella short trip!"

Kel didn't know for sure if his passenger was there, but it was worth a try. However, he wouldn't be Kel Dryden if he relied solely on someone else to solve his problems. As the closest fighter got into firing range, the scoundrel made his move. The Swift jolted, as the reverse thrusters kicked in, drastically slowing down the ship and shaking up any unsecured items... or people.

That was a small price to pay: the first pursuer wasn't prepared for the maneuver at all; it ended up overshooting the Swift. "Eat this, drukface!" Kel smirked, pulling the trigger button. Two medium laser cannons didn't blow up the fighter right away, but sent it to the lower levels of Nar Shaddaa with a trail of smoke. Someone definitely wouldn't be taking off today.

Meanwhile, the other fighters slowed down enough to end up right behind the Swift. A few more shots shuddered the freighter, and the deflector was steadily going from orange to red. "Oh, kriff this!" Kel shouted, unaware that the intercom was still on. Pulling the helm towards him yet again, he sent the Swift upwards at a steep angle, then banked it slightly left again. That way, the gunner in the turret—if anyone was even manning it at that point—would get a better angle at the pursuers. "If you're there, do something!"

Unprepared for the maneuver, one of the fighters flew forward. It would have to maneuver to get back on the Swift's tail. The last pilot, however, was more prepared, and slowed down well in advance. His Toscan was rapidly catching up with the Swift, threatening to knock out the deflectors. "Nyx, set up the jump!" Kel shouted to his astromech, as the Swift was about to break atmoshpere. All they needed was a little extra time, and the smuggler only had so many tricks left...

@Bran

 

[Trinity]

Naive to think that this whole ordeal was over, a resting Trinity was thrown a meter into the air and slammed back down onto the metal ramp after the ship performed an evasive maneuver. Her ears now ringing and a throbbing ache paining through her body, the young assassin could barely make out the words of the pilot, something about a turret or other. Before she could regain her composure, a loose crate displaced by all the movement slammed into her stomach, the dull metal edge immediately resulting in a purple-ish bruise around her mid-section. For a moment she thought she would throw up on the spot but somehow managed to keep it in. The collision knocked the wind right out of her lungs as she sluggishly pushed the crate to the side, her mouth wide open and gasping for air. If the two members of this motley crew survived this ordeal, Trinity would be sure to give this 'pilot' a piece of her mind. Or perhaps split him to pieces, she pondered.

The young assassin put aside these thoughts for a later date and began to trudge her way through the corridors of the ship, her hands outstretched to aid in balancing against the turbulent flight. Turret... Where is the turret? A simple and rather obvious question but in her mind she was an assassin, she was not taught nor did she care to learn the intricacies of dogfighting. I'm not much of a dog person in the first place, she thought to herself as a random aside. A few moments of wandering, bumping into walls and dodging flying crates, Trinity eventually found the ladder leading up to the main turret system. With great struggle she managed to haul herself up the ladder and into the gunner's seat. Making sure to strap herself in after the previous displays of 'aerial prowess' she then began to analyse the set of controls before her.

A plethora of buttons and switches lined the control interface however the only thing that really caught her attention was the upright joystick control that housed a little transparent plasteel cap over a big red button. With a sharp flick of her thumb, the cap flew off and with her other hand she grabbed the control and shifted it slightly left and right. The entire thing was clearly highly sensitive as the entire turret span round sharply with just the faintest of movements, almost causing chronic whiplash to the inexperienced operator. Her thumb hovered over the red button and with a light press the deafening sound and bright red light of the turret firing filled Trinity's senses. The red beam flew off into the depths of Nar shaddaa and landing with a large explosion, no doubt causing a lot of damage. "Oh..." she said with raised eyebrows. The pilots voiced came through on the intercom, "If you're there, do something!" he barked. Just then another ship came into view, closing in on them. With narrow, focused eyes and a tongue stuck out, Trinity gently tugged at the joystick, repositioning the turrets weaponry and pressed the red button down tightly enough for her thumb to go white. A stream of plasma bolts rained from the barrels of the turret, many of which went wide and caused major collateral damage. Several of them however managed to make direct contact and in a massive blaze of glory the ship exploded, causing large fragments of metal and plumes of smoke to fly in all directions.

@Catbert

 

[Kel Dryden]

Kel wasn't aware of the troubles Trinity was going through. Nor did he see the destruction caused by her reckless shooting. The latter was for the best; otherwise the pilot would've seen his rap sheet getting longer, and bounty getting larger with each shot. But what Kel did see was the power being drained by the turret; and more importantly, one red blip vanishing from the radar. "Great job!" he shouted with a wide grin, pushing the Swift and its engines to their limits. It wasn't long before the round shape of Nar Shaddaa—dappled with lights and steadily getting smaller—could be seen from the turret.

The pilot felt a familiar pull down as the Swift's own gravity generator kicked in with a soft hum. Finally, they were outside the moon's gravity well. Before the last pursuing ship could catch up with them, a beep from the astromech made Kel push THE lever. For a moment, every dot of a star turned into a straight line rushing towards the ship... And then the Swift punched through time and space, into the familiar blue corridor where most pilots spent a large part of their lives. We're safe... And we're home.

Kel blew a long breath of relief and exhaustion. That had been one karked up day. First the ambush at the warehouse of his boss, then that murder show. The scoundrel wasn't even sure if anyone of Bochaba's crime ring was alive at that point. Whoever was out to get them, they sure had spared no expenses on mercs. But first things first... Kel needed to take stock of the situation.

"Nyx, take care of the ship. Any issue, you take us out of hyper, ok?" The pilot turned in his seat and stood up. With the surge of adrenaline over, the burning pain in his chest and in the upper part of his right arm was steadily returning. Holding his left hand on his right arm, near the wound, Kel headed from the cockpit towards the main hold. Hopefully, he'd have some medical supplies either there, or in one of the dormitories.

However, the sight in the main hold made him scoff. Compared to what the dock workers and the evasive maneuvers had done to the ship, even Kel's usual creative chaos would've seemed like Jedi cleanliness. But there and then, it was like an aftermath of a rancor rampage. Upturned containers with spice were all over the place. Some of them had opened, scattering the plastic packets with orange dust throughout the compartment. And if Kel's passenger turned out to be a Jedi, who could very well be working with Sector Rangers... "Kriff," he mumbled.

He didn't see his passenger yet, so he raised his voice: "Are you there? It looks like we've lost those guys."

@Bran

 

[Trinity]

The jump to hyperspace and the following travel on the lane finally signaled safety to Trinity. With a big huff of exhaustion she fell back into the leather-lined seat, taking a moment to close her eyes and rub the sweat and oily rainwater from her face. Having left her heavy overcoat behind on Nar Shaddaa she only had her black skin-tight suit as clothing. The suit was torn and riddled with holes from the blaster bolts that managed to make minor contact with her. She would need to a change of outfit at some point but right now, she was tired, hungry and very tired. Trin un-clipped her seat belt and began to descend the ladder back down into the ships main corridor when she heard the voice of the pilot call out to her. I'd almost forgotten about him, she thought callously.

As she reached the bottom of the ladder she began to hobble her way down the corridor in the direction of the man's voice. Noticing the complete and utter devastation caused by the flight, she wondered how in the galaxy she even made it through in one piece. She didn't believe in luck but there was definitely some divine intervention at work. A little more through the ship and Trin's amber eyes narrowed and locked on to the back of the pilot, he looked in similar shape than she was but he was still walking fine. Without even a word of warning she reached for her lightsaber again but a sharp burning pain shot through her body. Trinity clutched at her stomach and she fell to the side, her arm reaching out and grabbing the wall to steady herself causing quite the thud. The noise would have been enough for the pilot to notice her and turn around to which she ignited her lightsaber and held it pointed in his direction. "Don't... You..." Her breathing was shallow and her voice deadly serious, "Move..." With her non-lightsaber wielding hand she slowly lifted the drenched material top, revealing her mid-section of fair skin, lined with red gashes from blaster bolts and a large purple/black bruise situated in the center. It's worse than I thought, she realised.

Dropping the shirt again she returned her gaze on the man across from her, "Think you can walk me into a trap like that and get off free?" Her amber eyes were narrowed on his, studying his features with his next reply, "Who were those people." Her words spat out like venom, her purple lightsaber humming in the periphery. "And more importantly... Who are you really?" The man was clearly not just a pilot for hire, not that she expected any different on Nar Shaddaa.

@Catbert

 

[Kel Dryden]

Moments after Kel turned around, he was met with a glowing purple blade pointed at him. Instinctively, he lifted his arms to the sides, away from the blaster pistol holstered on his hip. The last thing he needed was another showdown, especially if it could be avoided. Besides, his DL-44 wouldn't stand a chance against someone who had just deflected a barrage from multiple rifles. Sure, electrostaff was probably lying somewhere around here too. They said it could even hold against a lightsaber. But would Kel hold his own against a Jedi, even in such a state? The scoundrel didn't really want to have to find out.

As the woman inspected her injuries, not seeming to give a damn about anyone watching, a small part of Kel admitted that the outfit suited his passenger, even despite the blaster holes. However, those thoughts were quickly snuffed out by the sight of the injuries and a VERY important realization. It's my flying that caused some of them. And then, the woman asked him a question. When someone has you at gunpoint—or saber tip in this case—chances are, you'd do what you're told. As usual, sarcastic replies came to mind first, but Kel had to cast them aside... mostly.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he replied rather seriously, returning his passenger's gaze, but occasionally shifting it to the many burn marks on her clothing. "As for those people... I don't know much more about them than you do." The pilot sighed, lowering his gaze at the floor for a few moments. Kel didn't feel right when playing his entire hand this round; but all the spice lying around left little room for talking his way out of it. "They just showed up today and hit my boss's operations." There, he said the A. Might as well say the B.

Kel met his passenger's gaze again, while shifting from foot to foot. This time he spoke much less reluctantly: "I didn't lie to you. I'm Kel Dryden, pilot of the Black Swift. The ship itself ain't mine though. It's the property of Bochaba the Hutt. He rents it out to people like you, I fly them to their destinations, no questions asked. Occasionally I haul spice and other stuff too."

The man scoffed at the sudden twist of fate. "This morning, those masked freaks hit all of Bochaba's operations. He had his spice moved aboard. I only found that out moments before I got caught in the crossfire..." Kel moved one of his arms slightly backwards, to so that the open jacket reveal a gaping hole in his flight suit's durapalast chestplate, with a burn mark on the fabric and the skin below it. "I escaped... Got to the Swift... You know the rest..."

While telling all this, the pilot tilted his head and paid close attention to the stranger's reaction. He didn't want to escalate hostilities. In fact, the woman had saved him, so he did feel indebted to her... to a point. "Looks like we both could use some medical attention. I should have a healing stim or two lying around." Kel stopped at that, but the implied part was obvious: "Perhaps we could continue this conversation on slightly better terms, and after dealing with more urgent problems?"

@Bran

 

[Trinity]

The pilot spoke carefully and as far as Trinity could tell, he spoke truthfully. Whether or not he was telling the whole story however, was much harder to determine. The young assassin had somehow hoped that this 'Kel Dryden' had ulterior motives and happened to be some bounty hunter that knew who and what she was. For Trin was agitated. Her current condition posed a major bump in the road for her mission and she needed something to blame in the here and now. Nevertheless she needed the pilot, her own pilot skills were next to useless even with her connection to the Force. It wasn't that she was particularly opposed to learning but she had never seen it as a necessity therefore unimportant. In this case though, it would have avoided her a lot of trouble.

Trinity pushed herself off the wall and slowly hobbled towards Kel, her lightsaber still pointed at the smuggler until it was inches away from his nose, "Well 'Kel Dryden', for your sake I hope you're telling the whole truth." her voice was sharp and quiet, her eyes narrowed between tangled locks of raven hair, "I too hope that your little friends don't find us again, or else next time, you're going to be the distraction..." She lowered the blade to the floor, with a flick of its switch the purple beam retracted into the hilt with another loud rasp. Trusting the smuggler was going to have to be a necessary risk, one that she hoped would pay off. Trinity could not afford any more setbacks at this point. Turning away from the pilot with a swift spin she announced her retreat, "I'll be in one of this ship's living quarters to rest, find me once you've found... Whatever it is you're looking for." Hobbling off back down the corridor she stopped momentarily before disappearing out of sight turning her head slightly, and placing one hand on the metallic wall one amber eye looking at the smuggler from a distance pausing for a second before speaking, "I'm also hungry." she announced softly before continuing on.

@Catbert

 

[Kel Dryden]

The lightsaber was coming closer and closer to his face, Kel kept stepping backwards until his back ended up against one of the many containers. With nowhere to go, his eyes focused on the incoming purple blade, as the pilot desperately tried to come up with any smart move. However, the stream of heated magnetically-contained plasma stopped right in front of his face. Kel exhaled through his nose as his dissatisfied passenger made her threat. Next time? Ain't gonna happen. By the time they pick up our trail, this charter will be long over, and I'll be on the other end of the galaxy. He didn't muster the courage to say it to the passenger just yet.

A blade to the face made him stand at attention. Only after the Jedi—Kel still thought that his passenger was a Jedi—extinguished her blade, did the scoundrel stand at ease. Meanwhile, the passenger announced her intentions matter-of-factly and made her leave. But not before making it clear what Kel's next order of business had to be. Yeah, right, make yourself at home. And don't worry about the food, filet-mignon coming right up... Not.

Once the woman was gone, Kel spread his hands helplessly and proceeded to toss aside the packs of spice. That was the only way to get to the containers with food and medical supplies. The current mess aboard the Swift meant that the ship's kitchen was in no state for proper cooking. To top it off, Kel's gut told him that his guest wouldn't like to be kept waiting for too long...

...​

It took Kel a while to find his passenger. He checked the dormitories, but to no avail. Of-kriffin'-course. She'd have to be in the VIP room. Reserved for Bochaba the Hutt, but usually occupied by the ship's captain... Well, not anymore. It won't be for long, Kel. Just a week through hyperspace at most. Besides, Bochaba has paid you for this job already.

The VIP room was quite small—almost cramped even—but had everything one would need. To the right from the entrance, a private refresher was walled off, accessible from the inside of the room. The full sized bed was on the far side from the entrance; the top half of it was in a small alcove left by the refresher. Opposite from the bed, there was a large wall-mounted holo-screen. A large metallic wardrobe stood parallel to the wall, separating the sleeping area from the business area. The latter had only one point of interest: right by the entrance, to the left, there was a narrow table surrounded by 3 bar chairs. A small computer terminal was built into the wall, and could be deployed to occupy a part of the table.

The pilot arrived to his quarters with a metallic tray. On top of it, he carried whatever he could scrounge aboard the Swift. That included a few pieces of veg-meat and a loaf of polystarch bread from an emergency ration pack. Tastes like poodoo, but at least it's nutritious... I think. To make it easier on the guest, Kel also brought a metallic glass of hot water with a sweet energy cube dissolved in it, along with some herbs. Of all the things on the tray, that drink would be at least remotely enticing. And the last but not least, Kel had put a healing stim on the same tray, since both his hands were busy.

Kel had to push the button by the entrance with his elbow. However, a red light and a low beep indicated that the door was locked from the inside. Meanwhile, a higher-pitched beep spread through the VIP room, indicating that Trinity had a visitor. She would have to come over and open the door herself. The pilot raised the voice a little, so that she'd hear him through the door: "Hey! I've got you what you asked for."

@Bran

 

[Trinity]

Walking back down the corridor of the Black Swift, Trinity made sure to inspect each room as she passed, mapping the entire space out in her mind for future reference. It would be a fair while before they dropped out of hyperspace and until then she would have to find something to pass the time. The first thing on her mind was to get herself herself clean and do a proper shake down of the damage done to her. The Sith assassin happened past two compact dormitories which had little of the way of space let alone amenities. The young assassin had always traveled in modest luxury, usually funded by the wealthy contractors of her missions. Not that she cared much for such a lifestyle, but she could still acknowledge the benefits. Another few rooms down and she found herself at a considerably larger (but still fairly cramped) living quarters with its own refresher, full-sized bed and holoscreen. This will do fine, she decided with the slightest nod of the head. Trinity entered the room and made sure to lock the door behind her.

With a stretch of her arms and legs, Trinity fell back onto the bed and just lay there for a few moments with her eyes closed. Her mind drifted and she could feel the drowsiness begin to set in. She was exhausted. Her overuse of the Force had left her beyond drained and she could feel her muscles already stiffening after being worked to death. With a groan, Trin sat back up and her hand began to trace the hole in her top over her upper left arm. The material had vaporised and underneath it, her skin was a bright red and stung to the touch. She did not wince at the pain nor did she cry out but the intensity was enough to instinctively grit her teeth and bring tears to her eyes. Trinity stood up and slowly stripped off her weathered suit, discarding the tattered pieces down the trash compactor. Now completely bare, the assassin walked to the closet mirror and scanned her reflection. She was definitely a state to behold. Blaster wounds, bruises and her messy, tangled hair. Trinity simply shrugged and turned away.

The Sith assassin placed her vibroblade and the metallic hilt of her lightsaber on the counter top and made her way to the refresher. With the turning of a few dials and the press of a button, the sonic shower hummed to life and Trinity felt the sweat and grime of Nar Shaddaa evaporate from her skin. In but a few moments she went from filthy to spotless as the machine did its work. She also went on to lather a cream-like shampoo through her hair and rinsed it out with a few sprays of water. Using a hand towel to dry the majority of the liquid from her hair, she allowed the remaining black, damp locks to fall on her shoulders. Feeling slightly more refreshed than before, she sauntered to the wardrobe that lined the wall. The cupboard opened with a sliding door and within hung a multitude of different types of trench-coats each lined with a plethora of pockets and hidden cavities. The classic uniform of a smuggler, she determined. She would have to 'borrow' one after treating her wounds now that her suit was trashed. In the meanwhile she grabbed an ill-fitting shirt that covered just about enough to be considered decent, not that she cared much about decency.

A high-pitched ringing sound reverberated through the room as the ship announced a visitor at the door of her new room after which she heard his voice speak out from beyond the door. "Wait," she spoke out sharply. With a swift step, Trinity retrieved her vibroblade from the counter and held it firmly behind her back as she approached the automated door. With the push of a button, the door slid open and behind it stood Kel Dryden. In his hands he held a tray laden with food an medical supplies. A quick glance confirmed that he was not holding any weapons but still she took a step back and with her head she gestured for him to enter, "Put it down over there on the counter. Slowly." she ordered. Realising that her lightsaber was still there too she watched his movements intently. It wasn't that she was nervous that he would attack her, her senses had already determined that much. It was rather that she knew that the chances were likely he'd cut his own hand off should he fiddle with it.

@Catbert

 

[Kel Dryden]

What Kel found inside his quarters evoked an absent-minded smirk on his face. That woman had just dispatched several thugs and threatened to kill him. And yet there she was: fresh out of shower, smelling like shampoo, wearing nothing but Kel's own oversized shirt, and holding hands behind her back. Kel's passenger would've looked innocent, if it weren't for the context and the way she talked to him and watched his every move. You sure have made yourself at home, I'll give you that.

"Alright," the pilot made a quick blow through his nose, as the smirk grew wider unwittingly. Nonetheless, Kel stepped into the room and proceeded towards the table. He put the tray on the table slowly, as instructed, but kept an eye for his passenger at all times. The scoundrel did notice the hilt lying on the table; for a few brief moments, his gaze stopped at it... But then he let go of the tray and stepped back towards the entrance and rested his left elbow on the table.

Kel felt that something was off: either with the woman, the current setup, or with this whole charter thing. A part of him wanted to break the ice and say something... no, anything. Apologize for the quality of the food, or the lack of ointment for burns? Suggest injecting a stim to ease the pain? None of that seemed really appropriate with his passenger. The only indication of Kel's doubt was a wince of his facial expression.

However, the pilot had at least one more thing to do: grab a change of clothes. Especially if he were to let the passenger have his room for the trip. And the said passenger happened to stand in the way. All he really needed was an opening to get to the wardrobe. Ah, kriff it. "Need anything else?" he asked the first thing that came to mind. Sure, they had gotten off on the wrong foot, but the woman did save Kel's life and ship. The smuggler could overlook some inconveniences and threats for that.

Then something else occurred to him, and his face cleared up a little. There was a question that he definitely had to ask. "Oh, and... how should I address you?" A "What is your name?" would've been too personal. Not all VIPs were comfortable with revealing their names, so Kel had retooled the question to emphasize its utilitarian purpose... Even thought he was actually curious.

@Bran

 

[Trinity]

Taking yet another step back as Kel entered the room, Trinity made sure to keep a wide berth between the two of them. Her amber eyes caught the slight grin on the smuggler's face as he set the tray down. She could not tell exactly what it was that amused the pilot so nor could she ever hope to comprehend. Deciding that perhaps an amicable atmosphere would be most beneficial should the two have to work together for an extended period, she reciprocated with the slight upturning of a corner of her mouth. An awkward smile by all means, but an attempt nonetheless. The musty aroma of the hastily prepared meal caught the nose of the young sith and immediately she could feel her mouth begin to water and her stomach begin to growl. It had been a hot minute since she last ate and she could feel her body crying out for sustenance.

Edging around the outskirts of the room, Trinity made her way to the table. Her narrowed eyes conveying her requirement of a modicum of space, the vibroblade still held tightly behind her back with her right hand. She arrived at the tray and bent down to sniff the meal more intently. From what she could tell there were no dangerous chemicals added, only that this particular ration pack had probably been in the ship's storage for longer than she'd care to imagine. Ignoring her company for a brief moment she ripped the loaf of polystarch into pieces with her hands and shoved it into her mouth quickly. It was an unsightly eating habit that she had picked up whilst going through her initiation with the sith eternal. Food was scarce back then and the quicker you ate, the less chance of another kid shanking you for a bite. The taste was of little consequence to her, for she only cared for the hole that needed to be filled.

The voice of the smuggler caused her attention to revert back to him. She could see and sense a certain visual discomfort emanating from him as he tried to find the appropriate words for the moment. He would ask her if there was anything else she needed, to which she would pause in thought. "I don't believe so." she spoke nonchalantly between bites, "I'll let you know when I do." In truth the young assassin now only needed time to rest and meditate. Her mind and body would have to be quickly honed once more for the upcoming encounter. The smuggler went on to ask Trin what he should address her as, a simple and polite question to which the sith replied with a sharp glare, "You should first and foremost know me as one that does not like to be questioned." With her vibroblade she cut off a sliver of veg-meat and put it in her mouth, "But you may 'address' me by whatever you'd like." she replied with a shrug of her shoulders. Perhaps she would reveal her true alias to the man in time but right now she did not see a value in it. "You may even call me Bochaba the Hutt if you're already used to groveling to those by that name." The joke was dry, as was her expression during its delivery.

 

[Kel Dryden]

The smirk didn't leave the smuggler's lips, especially after his guest's response to it; no matter however weird the girl's smirk looked. Kel remained by the table, but kept a respectable distance while the stranger sniffed the meal and started eating... furiously. Do you even put it like that? 'Eat furiously?' Who cares? That's how it looks! That sight only made Kel lower his gaze and shake his head and chuckle soundlessly.

However, the guest's comment about her name snuffed the smirk away... for the most part. All business, huh? Kel was used to not asking questions, so the remark didn't bother him in the slightest. Yet the way his passenger spoke about Bochaba the Hutt made Kel wonder whether it was a joke at all. Still, he decided to play along: "I usually call him 'fat slug' behind his back." The smuggler made a wide gesture with both his arms to show just how fat Bochaba was. "That name won't suit you."

Regardless, while the stranger was eating, the path towards the wardrobe was open. Kel stood up; as he walked past Trinity, he made another comment: "I'll call you what you are..." He opened the doors of the wardrobe and started going through whatever clothes he'd need during his temporary "exile". "The mysterious stranger." For a few moments he went silent, grabbing as many clothes and necessities as he could carry. "It works... But it's a bit long..."

The pilot chuckled, as a seemingly good idea came to him. "You know what?" Kel closed the wardrobe with his elbow and walked towards the exit, his hands full of clothes. "I'm going to call you Misty. Short for... Well, you know." He made a slight shrug, unsure how his guest would take to her new name.

Stopping briefly at the entrance, he'd listen to any comments of his guest. If the woman didn't have any, he'd simply add "Well, Misty... Have a good night." before leaving the room; doors closing behind him automatically. He'd have to settle in one of the dormitories for now... And also find his blasters and electrostaff, in case "Misty" would change her mind. But most importantly, he'd need to pack up all the spice bags lying around.

@Bran