Ithor Intruders, Part I

[Eice Frex]

@Insalius @The Captain

Eice Frex bobbed her head, eyes closed and giving her hips a little sway as she braided loose wires. Smiling to herself, she tied off her handiwork with a length of space tape and opened her eyes, re-tucking the braid behind an access panel on the wall. She re-secured the panel with a servodriver, stepping back to regard her work, closing her eyes again and shuffling backward a few more steps, continuing to sway her hips. She made a little spin before re-opening her eyes.

Spoiler: Eice's Music

The Tintinna reached up, brushing back the pair of slim headphones she wore. They fell around her neck, muffled, tinny music being heard for a moment before she reached down to a device at her waist and clicked off her portable sonocassette deck.
"Daesha!" She called, tossing her servodriver back into the toolbox at her feet. "I think I fixed that short circuit in the remote bay door controls you were talking about... looked like a fire-trap back there!"

Eice was a passenger aboard Daesh'afenn's freighter, the Burnout Junk. After a rather hair-raising reunion on Ord Mantell, the two had entered into a partnership for a smuggling venture on Ithor, a planet known for its agricultural and pharmaceutical riches. They planned to pick up a valuable cargo from Daesha's contact on the world, an undertaking which had great risks associated with it, but also great reward.

The young smuggler made her way to the cockpit of the freighter, scrabbling up into the copilot's seat beside Daesha. On her way, she had stopped by the ship's galley; she passed the Twi'lek pilot a steaming mug of caf, sipping from her own as she stared out of the cockpit canopy at the swirling tunnel of hyperspace.
"...never gonna get used to that view..." She said quietly.

 

[Daesha Keever]

Daesha had never met anyone who could listen to music while repairing starship wiring with her eyes closed, dancing. It was really sort of a fascinating display, watching Eice awkwardly sway and swing while humming along to her tunes, tiny hands expertly weaving loose wires back together with remarkable dexterity. Of course, the fact that the little Tintinna had so many malfunctions and errors to fix in Daesha's ship was rather troubling. She heard tales of old pilots who never bothered to check up on their ships, who never ran proper diagnostics, till one day a crossed wire met a damaged fuel line and proper ship maintenance became the least of their worries. Daesha always thought she ran a tight ship, a few loose panels and old components aside, but Eice had just proved to her how complacent she had gotten, letting her ship's systems fall so far out of repair. At least Eice was helping put her flying fire-trap back into shape, and Bucket had practically fallen in love with the little rodent, following her around like a big, metal puppy dog. With her door wiring fixed, Eice brought two cups of caf up to the cabin and dropped one off for her.

"And she makes caf too." Daesha joked, taking the cup up to her nose to take a good whiff of the fresh brew. "At this rate I could take you on as my full co-pilot."

The ship would come out of hyperspace in Ithorian space in about half an hour, give or take, so the duo had some time to talk about their flight, the job on Ithor, and whatever else might come up between them.

 

[Eice Frex]

Eice flashed a grin, before sitting back and taking a long sip of her caf. The fact was, there had been less to fix aboard Daesha's ship than the little Tintinna ha thought; even so, it was nice to have something to do.
Anything to keep her mind off recent events was nice, really.
Though she hadn't pulled the trigger herself, Eice still felt bad about the Blackrow agent's death. She did try to console herself about it; if the agent had had his way, she would have been hauled back to Corellia in chains, tried in a court that the company had likely bought and paid for, and probably remanded to Blackrow custody to serve out some disproportional sentence, one which Blackrow's impenetrable system of fees and contractual obligations would turn into a life sentence toiling for them.
Knowing Blackrow, they would have even found a way to wring money out of her corpse.
Still, she suppressed a shudder with another sip of caf.
"Everyone at the office said I always got the caf right!" She sighed. "That was about all they ever said to me, but I'm never going back to that office."
Eice swiveled her seat, looking down at the navicomputer readout and raising her eyebrows.
"We're almost there! Should've said!" She blushed a little. "I've never actually been to Ithor... just seen pictures and trade statistics..."

 

[Daesha Keever]

"Well if that's all they ever learned about you that's their loss." Corporate culture was so strange to Daesha. As a Nar Shadda native the thugs, con-beings, and gangsters wore their corruption on their sleeves. If they did try to look legitimate it was more out of personal preference than any real desire to be a good organization for those that work with and for it. Everyone knows everyone is dirty, so they don't really try to hide it. But Corporations like Blackrow were just as vile as any Hutt Cartel, but they held themselves up as paragons of virtue and free trade, even though everyone saw through their bantha-kark. Why?

"Hmmm? Oh yeah, we'll be there shortly." It was kind of cute, how Eice wore her heart on her sleeve like this. Daesha knew she had to train her to shield that heart in time, but for now she could simply enjoy a little slice of naivety and sweetness in the galaxy. "Ithor really is a beautiful world. I've been there once, and its completely overgrown with plant life, the opposite of a place like Nar Shadda or Corellia. Anyway, wanna go over the mission one more time before we drop out of hyperspace? We've got a few minutes."

 

[Eice Frex]

Eice, for her part, was learning about life on the other side of the law, albeit in more of an immersive, sink-or-swim scenario, though she believed most of her friends wouldn't really let her sink if they could prevent it. It was, to her mind, a more honest way of life; gone was the corporate double-speak, and any politics or back-stabbing was done out in the open, for the most part.
The little Tintinna stretched, and nodded to Daesha.
"Yeah, that can't hurt..."
Eice leaned over and punched in a few commands on the navicomputer. A hologram projector hummed to life, and a wire-frame of Ithor and its significant satellites flashed up, spinning slowly. The planet was rendered in a deep green, with moons, asteroids and space stations in amber and orange.
The Tintinna gazed up at the projection, her eyes briefly tracking an orange space station as it passed over the face of the planet in its orbit and then slid behind the curvature.
"I take it we'll have to meet your contact somewhere on the surface?"

 

[Daesha Keever]

"Yep, we'll be meeting the aspiring farmer just outside the hangar at the nearby spacer's bar, the Gnarly Root." Daesha had to stifle her snickers the first time she heard the ludicrous, plant-based name of the Ithorian bar. And, of course, she had to laugh at the concept of an Ithorian bar in the first place, as she couldn't imagine the docile hammerheads having much for drinks. "So this is basically just a simple ding-dong-dash delivery job. Our cover story is they we're just popping in for a quick refuel and some grub, so customs probably won't pay us much mind going in or out. After we meet up with our guy, he'll take us to a nearby storage garage where he's stashing all the dry seeds and equipment he needs to get started. We part ways, taking the goods with us, loading up the ship, and taking off. Sound good?"

It shortly after this moment that the ship dropped out of hyperspace above Ithor.

 

[Eice Frex]

Eice smiled, tapping a few more keys on the navicomputer console, inputting a search query for the Gnarly Root. The location sprang up as a point of light on the spinning holographic globe, accompanied by informational text, markers for nearby landing fields and an advised landing track.
"Sounds nice and simple... I'll have Jeeves help with loading."
Her eyes briefly flicked to the wire-frame model of one of the space stations orbiting the planet. She regarded it for a moment, giving a brief frown, before keying off the hologram.
It's just a space station, Eice, nothing to get excited about. Calm the kriff down.
She straightened in her chair.
"Alright, I'm excited! My first intentional venture into criminal activity!"
It was meant as a joke, but the little Tintinna's wide grin seemed quite genuine.
"Let's DO this!"

As the Burnout Junk slowed and dropped out of hyperspace some time later, however, Eice seemed to have cooled a bit.
The great green globe of Ithor - appearing as it had in every holo Eice had ever seen of it - hung in space, bright and verdant. Against and around it, Eice could see the distant running lights of other spacecraft, and of various space stations. It was a tranquil, mundane scene, likely one pilots the likes of Daesha knew well, though it fascinated Eice greatly.
She was excited, certainly, but the young Tintinna could not suppress a twinge of unease. She watched as a particularly large station emerged from Ithor's shadow, sliding across the day-side of the planet in its orbit, a tiny but noticeable imperfection against the growing green.
She squirmed in her seat slightly; something was wrong here.
For a long time, Eice had found she was able to sense things that were about to happen, just a bit better than most people. It wasn't enough to predict the future, or even cheat at sabaac, but it seemed to make her wary just when she needed to be, or sometimes allowed her to react that split second faster to things.
"Um... Daesha..." She said, biting her lower lip nervously and turning to the pilot. "Would you... mind if I went up to the turret?"

 

[Daesha Keever]

"That's the spirit! Embrace the larceny!" Eice's comical enthusiasm was infectious, and Daesha found herself beating the control panel in a rapid flurry of slaps just to vent some of her newfound excitement. At that moment, the ship dropped from hyperspace above that great green jewel of the Mid Rim, Ithor. Dropping out of hyperspace was always such a serene moment, one that left a pilot and their crew alone with nothing but the soul of the universe and its profound silence. Or at least, that was what that Alderaanian poet Allard liked to read said about space. Being a regular space-hopper herself, Daesha was inclined to agree with the man as she marveled at the great emerald mass before her floating in a see of pinpoint lights. A glorious sight.

The sight became decidedly less glorious, however, when a massive space station, clearly not Ithorian in design or ownership, slid out of the planet's shadow and into view. That gargantuan thing hadn't been on her charts, had it? Daesha had little time to react, as she became instantly wary of the alien structure, and it seemed that Eice shared her deep concerns.

"Yeah, yeah you can go pop up to the turret. But don't touch anything until I say so, don't even power it up." As Eice headed for the turret, Daesha whistled for Bucket. "I need navigational calculations now, we might need to make a run for it."

 

[The Storyteller]

Romero Ives had been the Commander of the Blackrow Orbital Administration Station around Ithor for a long enough time to know when a legitimate, approved ship was jumping into the system and when an errant irritation had arrived. Despite his somewhat unruly red hair, the man actually ran a pretty tight and efficient operation for his superiors, that fact alone being one of the reasons that the stations even very existence was usually a surprise to interlopers. The alarm had been brought to his attention a few moments after the new ship had left hyperspace, it's identification not matching any approved ships, so the usual protocol would need to be followed. He could already hear the groans coming from the main crew area, many of them having wanted it to be just another typical day at work without any surprises. Romero picked the closest source of discontent. before tapping on the man's monitor with his stun rod, saying nothing but raising a crimson eyebrow that sat over a cold emerald gaze. They knew the rules.

It took only a minute for the Pinnaces to scramble, a message being sent to the ship on an open channel to power down and wait for scanning. Their weapons were powered on, to add the weight of threat to their command, and their nimble designs would allow them to surround the freighter quickly. That was when the scanning began. At first nothing seemed to jump out as a problem, just a craft that had made many travels between different worlds being in a place it wasn't authorized to be. In the command center, though, Romero frowned slightly as he read the history. It was TOO generic, like it had been trying to hit all the right notes to be as average as possible. To him, this stood out like a sore thumb. Whether or not the information was true, he wasn't going to let the ship go as it was. A few orders later and some boarding craft were on the way, a message sent to the freighter to prepare for a boarding and inspection. One way or another they'd get to the bottom of their identity and purpose. If it were malicious then it was best it was carried out this far from the station anyway. He didn't want to have to explain scorch marks on the hull of the Station to his superiors.

@Captain Hook @AutoFox

 

[Eice Frex]

Eice fairly bolted out of her seat as Daesha gave her the OK, scrambling down the corridor to the ship's gun-well. She stopped when she got to the latter, staring up at the short ladder apprehensively.
She gulped, took a deep breath, let it out, and began to climb.
When Eice got to the top of the ladder, she swung herself into the suspended seat in front of the targeting scope. Instinctively, her hand reached for the switch that would power on it and the pair of connected laser cannons, but she stopped herself in time, following Daesha's instructions.
Given the excuse, Risk Management shoots first and asks questions never. Don't give them the excuse.
Eice instead dropped her hand - it was trembling, she noted - to the seat controls, adjusting them and bringing it up to put her eyes level with the scope, and her hands with the control grips. She reached out and flicked another switch; the turret aboard the Fathier-class freighter was a "blind" design, without a proper view-port. Substituted was a bank of monitors linked to exterior cameras. They were not connected to the gunnery system proper, so their activation wasn't likely to raise alarms.
"Gods, it's a lot like the simulator..."
She reached for the headset hanging on the scope and put it on.
"...-your engines and prepare to be boarded!"
Eice squeaked, nearly tumbling out of her seat at the crackling voice in her ear. She looked around wildly, and then squealed again as the shape of an R-70 Dalyrake briefly filled the displays, having buzzed the Burnout Junk at high speed.
Eice muttered curses to herself, and keyed on the intercom to the cockpit.
"DaaaaaeSHA WE'VE GOT TROUBLE!!"

@The Captain

 

[Daesha Keever]

Kriff, kriff, kriffity, farking-kriff! It was a Blackrow Hyperlogistics station blockading the planet, most likely armed to the teeth and already halfway through scanning them. Daesha's heart nearly shot out of her chest and broke for the escape pod, as she was now faced with perhaps a pilot's worst case scenario, starring down the barrel of a full Blackrow Hyperlogistics station. She had, for the briefest of moments, the flickering hope that the station hadn't detected her presence yet and she could simply slide by undetected, allowing her to avoid the massive station. And then the automated boarding warning came over the ship's intercom, followed by a pinnace racing from the station toward her. Daesha's smuggling instincts kicked in at once, setting the computer to scrub the mission transmission from Ithor from the logs, making the ship seem as squeaky clean as any other independent freighter. She wasn't currently carrying any contraband, maybe a few personal items that she didn't want some inspector rifling through, but this was a clean run all things considered. The only real problem was the Tintinna in her gun turret, who was currently screaming bloody murder over internal comms.

"I know, I know!" She barked back, powering down the ship as requested before the pinnace drew any closer. "Frex! Cargo hold, NOW!" Daesha wasn't going to explain to Eice her plan, she was just going to shove the Tintinna into a concealed smuggling compartment in the wall just by the ramp up to the living quarters. For Daesha it would have been a cramped fit, but for Eice it was a safe place to hide, she would be able to breath and the panel was shielded against most inspecting scanners. As long as Frex didn't do something loud and/or stupid, they would be fine. Right?

 

[The Storyteller]

Lieutenant Dario McGivney hated wearing the uniform but loved the pay of his job, so he put up with the little things. He was the man that was called in when unexpected guests arrived in system and didn't start immediately trying to flee or fire on Blackrow. In truth, he couldn't understand what would compel people to do the latter, though maybe fear made them suddenly stupid. Oh well, at least this one seemed to know how to follow the rules. He rode in on his pinnace, moving to dock with the freighter as he detected it was powering down. Maybe this was just a person who had gotten confused and were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Still a good deal of paperwork that would have to be done, but less than there would be needed for blowing a ship that tried to be cute.

He docked with the freighter in a pretty deft move, locking his ship to the other as he activated the communications portion of his main console. "Okay, we'll try this the easy way. My name is Dario, and I'm here to give yer ship a full inspection. Willing cooperation will be noted and appreciated. I shall give you 30 seconds to unlock and open this door before I have it forced open. It's all yer choice, now." The slicing programs on his ship were top of the line and could open most doors and airlocks in the galaxy. As he had said, though, hopefully this would be quick and clean. The blasters at his hip, though, kept his hopes grounded in reality. It was that somewhat jaded look on life that had kept him alive this long, after all.

@Captain Hook @AutoFox

 

[Eice Frex]

Eice felt a clang reverberate through the hull of the freighter, and cursed again, her gaze immediately snapping to where the wing of a pinnace could just barely be seen. The smaller craft had latched onto a docking port and deployed a cofferdam, obviously preparing to dispatch a boarding party. Eice knew that this type of pinnace could carry 4 people, including the pilot, astrogator, passenger and rear gunner; they had her and Daesha outnumbered 2 to 1.
And of course the ship had docked in such a way that it was below the gun depression of the freighter's turret.
"Okay, o-okay! I'm on my way!"
Eice was trembling, but she had to believe that Daesha had a plan. It was the only way the two of them were likely to make it out of their situation alive, or at least not stunned into incoherence and locked in a Blackrow detention cell.
She climbed down the gun-well and scurried for the hold. As she reached it, JV3 powered himself on, swiveling his head to look at the Tintinna and giving an interrogative chatter.
Eice frantically waved the hulking droid back.
"Not now, Jeeves, we've got trouble!" She bit her lip. "Quick, power down again! I'll tell you when the coast is clear!"
The pinnace pilot's ultimatum boomed over the ship's intercom, and Eice bit back a whimper.
"...kriff..."

@The Captain

 

[Daesha Keever]

They had thirty seconds. Alright, the countdown started now, the difference between freedom and life in a Blackrow private prison. Once Jeeves was secure, Daesha opened up a secret panel in the wall, perhaps a meter and a half tall and a just a few feet in every other direction. She was quick to urge Eice into place, sliding the panel back once she was done so that nothing appeared out of place. Unless, of course, Eice did something that drew someone's attention, the panels might have been disguised but they were also rather thin.

"Don't worry, just stay quiet and we'll get through this no problem." The last things Daesha said to Eice before shutting the hatch. Air would get into the Tintinna, so there was no chance of her suffocating in there, and she might even overhear what was going on. But even trained eyes had been fooled by the appearance of the panel, and so had well-made scanners. With Eice secure, Daesha straightened out her jacket, zipped it up, and moved over to the airlock, opening the path from the pinnace to her ship with mere seconds to spare.

 

[The Storyteller]

The first man through the door was a Blackrow Risk Management enforcer, the point guard. He had his weapon in hand yet did not point it at Daesha, a combination of being cautious and the barest level of respectful of the freighter's occupant. Once he was sure it was secure a woman in a specialist's uniform came behind him, carrying a scanner that she then immediately put to work on every inch of the ship. The pilot stayed in the Pinnace, meaning the last person to enter the Burnout Junk was Dario himself. It was by appearance alone that one could see that this man was allowed some liberties based on his station, things he took to make himself unique, yet still just as effective at his job as all the others. Apparently it paid off to be in Risk Management.

Dario wore a well kept Blackrow uniform, yet had a custom gunslinger-style belt that held his blaster at exactly the right location on his waist for the quickest draw of his arm. His face was slightly scruffy, as if even after he shaved he grew a five o'clock shadow in seconds, and his cobalt eyes seemed to look lazily around yet had an analytical feeling to them as he beheld the ship around him. After a moment he tipped the dusty ten gallon hat that seemed just as weathered as the man himself, perhaps a keepsake of some kind, at Daesha and gave her a small, polite smile. "Apologies, ma'am, but you've entered Blackrow Hyperlogistics space without the proper identification. We don't get our reputation by not being thorough, after all. Don't you worry your head, young lady, if this was a mistake then the scan'll turn up nothing and we'll let you be on your way to another planet soon. And your cooperation is duly noted and appreciated."

@Captain Hook @AutoFox

 

[Eice Frex]

Eice blinked as she watched Daesha pull a seemingly innocuous wall panel out of place, revealing a rather small space, even to the little Tintinna's thinking. Nevertheless, she entered it, turning around and flashing her Twi'lek friend a nervous look before the panel was put back in its place, sealing her in claustrophobic darkness.
The little would-be smuggler suppressed a whimper and tried to hold still, heart beating rapidly.
Thankfully, Eice didn't mind tight spaces; in fact, she rather enjoyed them sometimes, something she suspected came from her genetic makeup. Even so, the smuggling compartment was a cramped affair, and afforded very little room to move, or do anything...
It was then that she heard a hatch open, and she did whimper, though the hatch hydraulics and the walls of the compartment made it almost inaudible. She tried to make herself even smaller, listening to the muffled footsteps and voices outside. Someone was giving the standard company spiel... it all gave Eice the overwhelming urge to bolt.
You're on a ship, Frex, nowhere to run... just stay still and maybe they'll go away!

 

[Daesha Keever]

Standard Blackrow procedure, the point guard came in first, some fresh-faced little echuta so clearly proud of his blaster and his shiny new uniform, just itching for something to shoot at if given the chance. Daesha made a note of him, keeping her eyes on the guard as he moved into position next to the door. The next person through the door was an almost mechanically dead-eyed inspector armed with a scanning device, who set to work instantly shuffling around the room with her beeping apparatus. This, actually, gave Daesha a little thrill of confidence, as she had beaten such scanners before with her hidden panels, and she no doubt could again. But the last man that came through the door, he was a curiosity. A Blackrow Security Lieutenant with a very personalized uniform, sporting a custom leather belt and a rather unique pistol sitting in the perfect place for a quickdraw. His look was analytical, keen, despite the laziness in it, marking him as a man not to be trifled with. Daesha made sure to keep a closer, if subtle eye on him than the rest.

"Of course, proper procedure and all that. If I had known Blackrow had a station in this region, I would have sent word ahead about my flight." Her feigned politeness was almost masterful.

 

[The Storyteller]

Dario was silent as Daesha spoke, though he still had that small smile on his face and tipped his hat as the woman finished speaking. He kept a lazily analytical eye on the scanner tech as she did her work, as diligently as she could with her equipment, while the other guard just kept his gaze on Daesha. Dario seemed to notice the fixation of the man and cuffed him on the ear, obviously annoyed. "Calm down, greenhorn. She ain't done nothin' yet that deserves a twitchy trigger finger. Show some more restraint and class or I'll bust you back down to laundry tech." The man flushed and looked down, properly chastised. Dario turned back to Daesha with a somewhat sheepish look on his face, hands spread in a seeming show of apology.

"The kids these days want whatever shot they can at a promotion, sometimes literal. We run a respectable business here, though, and that means we have to keep higher standards for myself. My apologies if you felt threatened. I know the boarding and can and all seems a bit much, but we'll be done when-" The scanner technician came back over, wordlessly shaking her head as she pointed at her instrument. Dario nodded, smiling again and tipping his hat to Daesha. "It would appear that there was nothing to be found, contraband or otherwise. I'm a man of my word, you're free to go. We'll return to our Pinnace and I'll radio that you're allowed to leave on whatever vector you prefer." He ushered out the greenhorn enforcer and the scanner tech. He smiled just as he was about to close the hatch, but then suddenly opened it again as if he had forgotten something. "Oh, and again, apologies for the impromptu boarding. Your cooperation is again appreciated and we hope that you choose Blackrow Hyperlogistics for your various needs in the future."

@AutoFox @The Captain

 

[Eice Frex]

Eice pressed herself up to the door of her little compartment, tail swishing in agitation behind her as she listened. Even with her large ears, it was difficult to make out exactly what was being said by anyone; judging from the tones of voice, though, Daesha was putting on a convincing act, and the voice belonging to the apparent leader of the boarding party sounded affable, rather than suspicious.
She gasped and pressed herself into the back of the compartment when the beeping of the scanner passed close to her, but it did not stop, and the little Tintinna let out a sigh of relief.
Her heart leapt. Might this actually work out?
The Tintinna strained to hear, leaning further against the wall panel. She could hear tramping boots now, people moving for the hatch?
"...-preciated and we hope that you choose Blackrow Hyperlogistics for your various needs..."
Eice had pressed her ear as close as she could to the panel, and could just make out what the Blackrow agent was saying, when there was a loud click, and the Tintinna felt herself falling forward.
"...in the future."
CLANG.
Eice squeaked as the wall panel fell outward, clattering on the floor and sending her sprawling on top of it, face down.
Oh kriff!

 

[Daesha Keever]

Dario seemed like a decent and level headed employee, so how he come to join Blackrow Hyperlogistics was anyone's guess, given they seemed to have a 'murdering innocent people' quota or something. In any event she was thankful for the man's levelheadedness, she could always appreciate a little professional courtesy, even if she didn't like his profession. The scan quickly came back negative, because of course it did, this wasn't her first rodeo, and it wouldn't be the last, Blackrow would have to wake up earlier in the morning if they wanted to catch someone like her.

"No need to apologize. You didn't do anything wrong, and as long as nothing is the matter I'll be on my way. Thank you for being so courteous." She decided to leave out the 'you stupid echuta', as she didn't want to taint this little moment with such unpleasantness. That would be for later when she was bragging about this to the rest of her crew. Her swelling relief and self-confidence was dented, somewhat, when the Lieutenant poked his head back through the hatch one final time to apologize, and rather shamelessly plug his own company. It was fine, marketing yourself to everything with a pulse was the Blackrow corporate creed, so it made sense that the good inspector would want to name drop his business one last time. Daesha simply smiled, and began to offer a quick retort.

"Of course, I'll be sure to do-" A terrific clang from behind her caught her attention, as Eice collapsed from her smuggling compartment on the wall and spilled into the main cargo hold in a heap. Yep, Blackrow-escapee Eice Frex just fell out of a secret, shielded panel in the side of her freighter. She was farked. "...that."