Open Kettle from Kessel

Mallister Keynion

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Fly high. Fly low. Fly true. No such words could ever be accused as being false. Except, well, the truth was that Tranquility was more floating than flying, neither low nor high, stuck at a standstill in space. Katie had recalibrated the sensors, then she had recalibrated the sensors, then she had recalibrated the sensors. “Ship’s fine, Cap’n!” She announced over comm. “Then why ain’t she flyin’, Katie?” Cap’n announced over comm. “I, uh… Lemme recalibrate the sensors, Cap’n…” That tango went on for some time before Cap’n kicked his feet up in the cockpit and settled for sharing a cup with his pilot.

“Relax, Cap,” Waltz announced from the adjacent seat, topping his tin with a pour. “Katie knows this ship better than either of us! She knows it like...like...like the back of her foot!”

“Foot?” Mal blinked, twisting his lips at the sour diesel, or whatever in seven shenanigans this vodka/whiskey/whatsit was exactly. “Don’t you mean hand?”

“I…” Waltz blinked back. “...I don’t know, Captain…”

“Fair enough,” Mal shrugged. Here they were, two friends in a cockpit that wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, when suddenly he remembered that they were on a mission. They had braved the Kessel Run and made it out in one piece, if with a few minor setbacks to engine control and otherwise, sensors notwithstanding.

So, in the space beyond Kessel and in between the space claimed by the Five Syndicates and the Free World Alliance, Tranquility floated, drifted, lingered. Its captain, Mallister Keynion, was to rendezvous with a figure of the former. Instead, it was all he could do to summon the thug to him via the comm. "Come to my position," he had channeled, clearing his throat after he realized he had recorded himself clearing his throat. "My ship's stranded." Should he have said that? Had he encrypted the message correctly? The booze made it hard to tell.

Oh well. The two had a deal to broker and neither bright star nor black hole was going to stop Mal from completing his end. That deal? An object ‘garnered’ from Kessel, far more valuable than spice or slaves. 5S was willing to pay top cred for it, or so he hoped. He had to show it to them first...




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Vako Yizok

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In the belly of the armored freighter, Vako felt rather cramped. It twisted in a slight spin in sublight, and the gravity of the massive rock they were near caused the crates in the cargo bay to shift against the hull. The panels ached and groaned as the vessel had rattled out of hyperspace. The vessel was likely larger then that they were looking to meet, and likely heavily armored. Perhaps not as fast.

Vako had been sent on a basic check and hand off. Verify the goods were what was advertised, see if the price could be knocked down, if not see if the object could be captured outright with force, if not just do the hand off. These jobs were very easy, and also very boring.

This was the lot of a thug approaching middle age. If one didn't have the money or the moves to get out of this sort of thing, then this was the lot they would have. By the time they reached the end of a fine career they were either dead, or the old enforcer for some lower boss.

Vako didn't know if in his future he was the lower boss or if he was even the material for it, but he made sure that every Weequay and Rodian on his boat knew he was in charge none the less.

He fluttered passed a swinging freight chain in the cargo bay up to the cockpit when they received a signal. The message was played.

"My ship's stranded." Was the only part that Vako clung to.

Vako looked at the pilot.

"What kind of idiot puts an open call saying their ship is stuck in space?" Vako asked rhetorically. The pilot shrugged and shook his head. Even the idiots knew that was something you just didn't do.

He then picked up the comm.


"We read you. We're moving to your position now. Keep your cannons and shield powered down and we'll do the same. Don't make any fast moves. We'll meet in the airlock."

Vako directed the ship forward with a pointed claw on his right hand. He then hit the overhead for the rest of the crew.

"Strap up. No blasters on stun. If someone does something stupid, they die for it."

Vako then acquired his rifle and moved to the cargo bay.
 

Mallister Keynion

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Comm chatter just then. Waltz picked it up first in order to relay it. “Cap, someone’s sayin’ stuff.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Mal rolled his eyes.

“Wait...but aren’t you the Captain?”


The Captain didn’t answer that, too focused on the chatter. He couldn’t quite pinpoint the voice; sounded like a rusty nail rattling around an engine. What’s that sound like, again? A man dying from death sticks, maybe? “Man said something about an airlock. He mean our airlock?”

Waltz looked at him like he had just spotted a talking potato. “...What other airlock would he mean?”

“Don’t answer that. Stay here. If I’m not back in thirty minutes…” Mal downed his cup. “...Just wait longer.”


Maybe a minute later and Mal found himself in the airlock of his ship. He wasn’t alone. James stood with him, an ABC-123 Whatsit Carbine-Rifle Blaster Thing in his grip (hyperlink not included). The resident PR official looked as conflicted in understanding as understanding of conflict and was ready to blast someone out of the airlock. Mal was hoping that he wouldn’t have to as much as hoping that he would if he had to. It was just the two of them—as far as their guests would be able to tell, anyway.

“Welcome aboard,”
Mal greeted said guests with a mite of a hiccup. “This is Tranquility. I am its captain. Name’s—”

“Mallister Keynion,” James answered beside him, staring machetes. His captain could all but blink.

“...Right…” He cleared his throat to the Toydarian; a being who appeared to lead his own ring. “Though I’ll settle for Mal. And who are you, friendo?”




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The Toydarian hovered in the artificial gravity, rifle in hand but at a low ready. He did not assume he'd have to rush in and start blasting everything in sight, but he liked the option. Toydarians were not exactly built tough, but they were fast, and he was hoping that would keep him quicker on the draw, or at least faster in the retreat then anyone else there. The docking points extended between the two freighters, and through the windows Vako could see someone standing on the other side.

The entire hallway the two ships formed between their docking points would be no longer then about six meters, and only a single doorway between the two of them. If anything serious happened, as in both vessels slugging it out, it would be a rather painful and costly experience for all involved, so Vako began sizing the situation up quickly.

The human in front of him did not look like much... at all. And beside him there was another crewmen.

'Two guns.' Vako thought. 'no telling how many more.'

Vako did not hold back his hand however. He put all six of his guns excluding himself right there in the cargo bay. They had pistols and rifles between them and while they may not have been the most experienced or well trained, by virtue of working for the syndicates they were likely more dangerous that this fresh faced smuggler.

Vako eyed up the smuggler, his face harder to read behind his white tattooed face. Vako proceeded forward, the rifle he let drop to his side, a sign of comfort in the situation, but he was still fast on the draw so he could handle himself.

"Vako Yizok." Vako granted. "They're names don't matter. Let's just call them five guys."

He proceeded down the hallway alone, and in front of the smuggler.

"So Mallister the smuggler." Vako titled him, somewhat accusatory. "I hear you have something to show me."

Vako hovered at eye level to the human directly in front of him, though he was obviously much shorter without taking wing.

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Mallister Keynion

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Vako Yizok. Mal pondered the name. It reminded him of last night’s pot noodle. Five guys? Well, that reminded him of a burger and fries he had eaten the night before last. Burger and fries for supper wasn’t exactly his standard or anything, nor was getting drunk, but combining the two tended to have that effect.

“Five guys?” Whispered James as the group moseyed down the hallway. “They don’t sound like real names if you ask me…”

Fortunately, Mal would never, ever ask James that question. Moving on, he acknowledged the winged creature with a couple of darting eyes, unsure of which angle to train them on the flying person-thing. “Just Mal,” he insisted. “Don’t know what it is but people tend to confuse my full name.” He shrugged. “Mallister, Malleester, Malachi, Malcolm… Just Mal.”

He wiped a finger across his forehead. Was it getting hot in here or was it just him? The whatever-to-drink, it had hit his sweet spot in more ways than one. Rum? Was it rum? Was it the same rum I told James not to borrow from those same names that want us flayed?

“Sure, yeah, I have something to show you,” he answered Vako plainly, or close to. “But just you. I don’t trust prying eyes, five eyes or ten eyes.”

“Yeah,”
chortled James. “We don’t trust...twenty...twelve...fifteen?...eyes.”

“Yours too,” Mal informed. “Sorry, James, but this one’s a sight for just sore eyes and four eyes—my two and his two.”

While James looked left and right before shrugging his acceptance, Mal waited for Vako’s. The next room to enter would be entered only by one Mal and one Vako, or neither.



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It was a sizeable ship, but not a large one by any stretch of the imagination. Vako considered how many crewmen may be there. It could not have been much more then the two before him, and for that Vako assumed he had the advantage. He also considered it an advantage that his crew would likely not care about opening fire with the laser cannons on this freighter while the two were attached. In the end the Syndicates thugs just did what was in their own best interest, and if that meant making a quick getaway they would.

Vako looked back at the thugs standing on the inside of the airlock, not having yet boarded the vessel that he hovered in.

Vako held a hand up to them, indicating they would stay where they were.

He looked on at the crewmen behind this Mal. He was a large man, but he was not very bright. That did not matter when they were holding the business end of a rifle, and so Vako considered the situation.

'There's another gun on me in here somewhere.' he peered around, but could not discern where. But if he did not show hostility it may not come back to him.

"This is an old ship. If what you have is worth what you imply, you may be able to buy a better one." Vako commented on the vessel. "Then again something this old probably slips off of most registries in civilized systems. Maybe you should consider less freelance work and more solid employment."

Vako obviously was suggesting the spacer look into the Five syndicates... but the small talk was all a part of the game... and if this Mal was put at ease by that he was an actual fool.

He looked on then to the room and waited for his counter part to lead them to the quarry.

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Mallister Keynion

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Old ship? Mal felt his lips split. Old ship? Did he just..? “Clearly you’ve never heard of a Lightning Bug, Mr. Vako.” He stared him squarely in the eyes. “This class of ship, though a mite rare, will fly about and blink away faster than you can…” He blinked “...Uh, well, blink…” Cleared his throat. “Ship like this will be with you till the day you die. And I don’t intend to see which one of us lives that long—you, me or my ship.”

Vako was after something more than one thing. It was old tricks and Mal had encountered the same from the 5S predecessors preceding this one. Well, most of them had less wings and more stature, but still…

“As for work, well, we get by. We’re still flying. It’s enough.”

With that, he opened his arm to a door lining the hall. “Shall we?”

The door opened. Two figures stepped through: captain and captain.



The room opened up. It was dark. Mal flicked a switch. There we go. The light draped over the interior like sunlight through a canopy, and always this room reminded Mal of the same. It was not often that he was permitted an escape into a forest, though this was something at least close to.

Amid the amalgamation of metal and light, potted plants lined the walls beside pots without plants: green leaves and brown branches; yellow and blue and red flowers; a waterfall of a basin where rivulets of water ran down to nurture the seeds and stems every now and then. It all made sense to one Mallister Keynion as much as it made no sense. For something so beautiful to exist in so dark a space...why?

“Here we are,” Mal gestured toward a counter in the middle of the room. Vako would have quickly seen that this was no greenhouse or garden; it was a lounge and a private lounge at that. Not just any guest of Tranquility was permitted to experience this measure of tranquility. If one was then they would be treated to kitchen and counter, sofa and chair, fridge and pantry, bottle and kettle, and the latter would draw the eye—one kettle that stood out in a couple.

It was subtle, insignificant at first; a kettle like no other. But the metal—the metal. It was a shiny thing; pristine, glinting, almost glowing in the overhead lighting. More than that, Mal’s finger was pointing toward it, then touching it. It was cool to his tip, refreshing to flesh, and just as much a warm tingle as to the possibilities and the prospects within. It stood tall, silver-blue from base to to lid, with spout and handle a crimson-black, and might have answered Mal if he had asked it how it was doing.

“There it is…” He nodded from Vako to it, every trace of confidence visible on his countenance. “...The kettle…from Kessel...”





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Vako followed the man into the lounge. It was a strange room not entirely common on ships of that size. It was a comfortable place, and Vako was strangely out of his element. Of course such a place, while wonderful comfortable and peaceful to many, was not Vako's idea of comfort. Toydarian's evolved in swamps and harsh plains. The Hutta sector was what many unsavory creatures called home, but Vako counted himself among them, and many of the finer things in life were entirely lost on him.

And nothing seemed more lost on him then the pot in front of him. "Kettle" as the spacer before him put it. It certainly seemed to be a bit of finery, but Vako hardly understood what he was looking at. He did not count himself a fool, but he had not been told what he was coming there to pick up.

That was a problem since he couldn't make out precisely what this object was, let alone what it was for. It just seemed to be an ancient sort of appliance, and when he noted it came from Kessel, Vako couldn't understand what would be important about it. Kessel was as much a rock as Nal Hutta, and it dealt in spice and fuel.

'This is what I was sent here for?' Vako thought. 'It's a trick... or I'm being demoted.'

"What is it?" Vako asked, obviously entirely lost in this spacers metaphor. He tapped the nail of his second digit onto the side of it. "duraplat?"

It had to be some precious metal, otherwise what could possibly be valuable in it.

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Mallister Keynion

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Duraplat. Duraplast. Durasteel. Duralium. None of that mattered. Mal had recognized that as soon as he had recognized it. Vako would too, in time.

“It’s not the ‘plat, Cap,” Mal dismissed. “It’s not the metal. Not the make. Not the color or the maker. Whoever designed it, eh, I don’t reckon I recollect. But watch this.”

He flicked the switch, just as one would flick a switch in order to boil a kettle. Something happened. There was a transparent bar on either side of the kettle, one that peered within, and the liquid within was visibly boiling in an instant. It began as clear water, bubbling into a controlled chaos, first blue then red then purple, and steaming from the kettle’s snout was a rainbow of no less.

“You smell that?” Mal waved his hand through the steam, brought it back toward his nostrils. “Salty… Like a whiff of an ocean’s breeze… Spicy…” He took a cup and tipped the kettle, savoring the pour of colorful liquid. He offered the cup to his contemporary.

“Take a sip and tell me that ain’t the sweetest spice you ever….well...sipped.”



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Vako was beginning to suspect this spacer was either an absolute simpleton, or was on spice himself. Something in the way spoke and moved just seemed unhinged, and not in the way the Vako was used to where the person was dangerous. This was something along the lines of staring at space too long and losing your mind. Whatever the case he was finally coming around to point out the precise reason why Vako was brought there.

Everything on Kessel was spice, and Vako did not work for the Pykes that ruled Kessel. He avoided it as much as possible as he tended to work most closely with the Hutts, something more familiar and closer to home. In this case he was just doing his run and making a go of it.

The smell of the spice was strong, so perhaps the captain was onto something.

Vako's trunk twitch slightly as the scent got caught in his nostril.

"Strong stuff." Vako commented looking at the pot. He did not care much for the mechanism and did not partake himself in it, but most of those he worked with did.

"My associate, who I represent, would be interested in acquiring all you have for... 20 credits an ounce." Vako obviously could go higher. But this spacer was selling right above Kessel, and may have been in a more dire situation then was being let on.

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Mallister Keynion

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Vako did not sip. Mal did not flinch. He was not surprised. Even if his counterpart had been interested there was a bit of risk in tasting instead of just smelling, and the smell had been enough. So far, everything was going according to plan.

“Not really my thing either,” he set the cup of ‘tea’ on the counter without bringing it to his lips, wondering still if it might have made him less tipsy. “But the source I got it from assured me of quality and had some evidence to back it up.” Mal breathed in the aroma. It was indeed as spicy as spice. Spice spice it rhymes with spice. “Thing is, Mr. Vako, it’s not spice I’m selling. I’m not much of a spice dealer and all’s I got on me is what’s in the pot.” He flicked a finger against it.

“That’s what I’m selling. This quaint little piece of tech will infuse a given spice for all its pretty potency and come out as a nice cup of tea. You can slip an entire batch in and wet your whistle. Take the same variant up your nose or in your lungs and you’re missing out on the trip of your galactic lifetime. And look how sleek it is!”

Mal ran his hand down the side before jerking it away. “And hot. Also hot.”



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Vako Yizok

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Vako's eyebrow cocked when he was informed that the spice was not what was being sold. He of course was more familiar with trades of spice, and knowing its value. A sort of diffuser technology was not something he was well versed in, but it was not beyond his realm of acquisition. But Vako was also wary of some form of treachery here. The Five Syndicates were both predator and prey and Vako was wary of what this little device could have in it.

Such a thing could have a tracker. Be a bomb. He could not guess. But he could take a readout of it.

"For someone who doesn't sell spice you sure speak the fast trade of a slythmonger." Vako observed openly. He tapped on the pot again.


"My associate could have use of a device such as this. But that may take a quick call in a few minutes."

Vako's wings twitched and fluttered around creating a light breeze and he inhaled, adjusting his rifle.

"My associate will want to know where'd you get this... and how many units you'd be able to sell."

Vako was not sure if this spacer was acting as a middle man at the moment, or if he was stupid enough to deal on his own over Kessel. Whatever the case, the deal seemed sound if the details were right.

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Mallister Keynion

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Slythmonger. Mal always liked the sound of that word more than he liked the meaning behind it. “Not the kindest thing anyone’s ever said in regard to my character, but . . . ” He smiled. “Under the circumstances, I’ll take it as a compliment!”

As a sudden breeze came his way, Mal blinked a bit awkwardly. Them wings though. "Well, let's just say I know a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy who knew a guy who no longer drinks tea. As for units..." He shrugged.

“Hey, I’m an understanding man in that I’m sure you and yours want a mite more particulars on this kettle before any credits creep my way.” He assumed a more formal posture by placing his hands on his hips. “Speaking of yours, mind first telling me who you represent? Knowing who I’m dealing with helps me with what I deal and how much.”

Vako needed to know if the goods were good enough to sell. That was fine. Made sense. Mal, meanwhile, needed to know if the buyer was good enough to buy. He wasn’t looking to get ripped off anytime soon, especially considering his predicament with a stranded starship and all.

Tranquility wasn’t exactly a throwing stone away from Kessel, more in the middle of nowhere in between Hutt space and FWA space, but until Katie got her gal under control then, well, the Captain couldn’t quite afford to take much more of a risk than the mighty big risk he was already taking. In more ways than one.


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"The Hutts." Vako commented. "Bira the Hutt to be precise." Vako clarified, reassuring Mal of both the serious nature of the buyer, as well as the gravity of his situation.

Bira operated off of Nal Hutta. Not a small time operation, and not one without renown. Vako had spent a fair amount of time working for her, and had his own reputation for a lack of morality in dealing, but in this case it seemed that was not not necessary. The Hutts were willing to play ball if they had to, but often times they were quick to knock over anything that was competition. Since Mal was not clarifying a source that complicated things. For all Vako knew he was working for the Pikes... but he was still willing to put money down that this spacer was making a foolish gambit on selling on his own.

Vako removed a Holoscanner from his belt. He held it up to the Kettle and took a full read of the device. It was what he'd need to demonstrate the object to his contact on Nal Hutta to negotiate the appropriate pricing. It took only moments, but it got the specifics and functions of the defuser as well as the potency of the spice within. Vako assumed this would be enough to appease the Hutts.

"Tell you what." Vako commented. "I'll make the call. We'll stay linked. They'll say it's either good... or go. Either we do business or not... but either way we walk out easy."


Vako turned and flapped back to the cargo bay, and brought up his comlink to his transport.

"Get me a link to Nal Hutta." Vako told his crewmen moving towards the airlock. He was fairly confident the Hutt's would want the pot, and the spice it provided. It was all going to come down to price.

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Hutts.
Mal breathed steadily at that name and the name that came with it, adjusting his coat. It was the look of uneasiness that was not exactly out of place if not exactly in place with the truth. Hutts… Okay. Good. I like it. Still going as planned, Mr. Keynion. Doing fine. Everyone know that the Hutts were the kind of folk you did not want to trifle with. Pikes neither, for that matter, but the difference was moot. The point was that if you got on the bad side of either then you were likely to pay for it—and not in credits, not necessarily.

Mal kept quiet as Vako scanned the kettle. He would pick up all the data that was able to be picked up and, well, that was enough. Then he weighed the Toydaria’s words. This was game time. It was make it or break it, take it or leave it. Vako would make the call. Mal would not break the link. Vako would take the goods or he would leave without them. Either way, there were more important matters to attend to.

As Vako departed the room, Mal stayed back, taking the opportunity to take a sip from the cup. Sweet. Spicy. Exactly what it says on the tin. He took another sip. Soothing. Another sip. Relaxing. “Ahhh…” He let out to his private self. “No finer taste than tea.” Except booze, maybe that.

“Captain,” a woman’s voice came over the Captain’s comm, separate from the link with Vako. He kept it that way.

“Chloe.”

“I’m in the cockpit with Waltz. We...just picked up a curious signal. Ship appears to be inbound toward our own.”

“Oh? What kinda ship?”

“It’s...it appears to be Sith, sir.”

“Hmm. Here for the party. Looking for the buffet.”

“What do you aim to do, Cap?”

“Same thing I always do…”
He set the cup down, his tipsiness already subsiding, and withdrew the blaster from his hip to inspect its power pack. “I aim to misbehave.”



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When The Sakor came out of hyperspace it was to a dismal site. The filth riddled rock that was Kessel was anything but friendly, but it was a world that needed governing. The Five Syndicates were just a loose band of pirates extorting the galaxy and reinforcing chaos that gripped so much of the galaxy as it was. They had little interest in actual governance rather then just pure extortion for profit and no real cause of unity. They were a rampant form of vermin, and the worst kind that the galaxy had to offer.

For that reason, Venthis Habrak knew that he would encounter next to no resistance in his new assignment, at least none worth noting. No organized militia or defense force. No proud warriors to hold out against a Sith naval vessel. What was missing in this sector was order and discipline. And the first steps were being brought at that very moment.

The Galaxy was massive, and conquest was slow, drawing the fleets elsewhere. For trivial yet lucrative sectors, such as Kessel, detachments would hold the bulk of the weight. But it was a task that they were perfectly suited for. No wing of fighters could match their firepower, no freighter could outrun them.

Order was here for Kessel.

The Sakor was the might that the Sith would demonstrate in even the black background of space.

On the bridge Lieutenant Habrak looked on at his present assignment, eager to get to work on cleaning up some of the miscreants. And he would not have to wait long before he could begin.

"Sir." A bridge crewmen spoke up. "I'm picking up a pair of vessels nearby. They are interlinked and not showing markings of any government to speak of."

The executive officer came about to look at the viewscreen. They began immediate scans of the vessels. Both were wretched cargo wrecks with no good purpose for linking amidst the rocks.


"It is likely smugglers, sir. We may have caught them in the middle of a transfer."

Habrak considered his options, but was eager to make the statement that he knew he had to for the sector.

"Proceed forward to these dissidents. Open up a channel with them."

The bridge crewmen linked Habrak to an open channel for both vessels.


"This is Lieutenant Habrak aboard the S.E.S Sakor. Disengage all non essential functions and prepare for boarding. Anything but full acquiescence will be considered an act of direct hostility and dealt with the harshest measures."

Just as the Sith vessel was coming in range, one of the vessels violently disengaged from the link and began darting away to activate it's hyperdrive. Habrak simply held up two fingers, and directed them forward towards the fleeing ship.

Two fighters were scrambled from the fighter bay immediately and dorsal cannons began to fire vainly at the escaping ship.
 

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“Captain, we’re being buzzed,” Waltz waltzed over ship comms.

“Well…” Mal replied. “...Buzz ‘em back!”

“Uhhh, yes, hi…” Waltz chimed toward the ship hailing them. “This is, uh, navigator of Tranquility, calling...calling back to Sakor, read you loud and clear, uh, copy. All nonessential functions disengaging...preparing for boarding...no hostility intended here, Lieutenant Captain Habbak—Habrak—sir. Copy. Copy? Ahem.”

“You cleared your throat.”
Chloe rolled her eyes.

“Think they heard that?”


Meanwhile, Mal was navigating the corridors toward the cargo bay. His link with Vako had been severed. A moment later and Tranquility went for a bit of a bump. The ship rocked this way and that way. “The hell just happened!?” Mal barked over comm.

“Mr. Vako appears to have cut loose,” Waltz answered.

Sako is in pursuit with two fighters,” Chloe included. “Opening fire on Vako’s ship.”

“Druk,” Mal announced to himself, standing before the cargo bay's airlock with James while receiving readings of what was happening beyond them.

“What do we do, Captain?” Chloe inquired.

“No change in plan. Things are still going according to plan.” He blinked. “Well, to be all articulate, plan has a new interpretation to it but we maintain position. We cooperate. We get boarded. 5S is floating away, in one piece or more. Kettle’s here to stay. Sith’s here to come... Let ‘em come.”

“Hang on, travelers…” Waltz came back. “Here they come…”



@Morse
 

Venthis Habrak

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The fighters gained rapidly on the transport, but the transports head start appeared to be a greater advantage then initially presumed. Either the transport crew had anticipated something going wrong, or were prepared for such an eventuality. Whatever the circumstance the freighter broke free of the asteroids rather quickly, and make what Habrak assumed was a blind jump into hyperspace.

Habrak, watching the scans of the evading ship, which was of course already tagged as a fugitive vessel, directed his attention to the freighter before him.

It was a durable and aged craft, and of a variety that he was familiar with. A smugglers vessel no doubt, especially in that sector. The circumstances were too obvious to be overlooked, and Habrak was prepared to do what was needed to be done in order to reign in the chaos that was gripping this end of the galaxy.

"Send the party to this... Tranquility." Habrak ordered. "Arrest them immediately and take them to the holding cells. I'd like to get the measure of their commander and find out what I need to know about this slime riddled sector."

The bridge officers went to work barking orders and preparing the ship for boarding. The two fighters returned to general orbit and patrol around the Sakor and the smaller freighter. The Sakor came to look over the smaller vessel, and the boarding lock was secured. As it was two squads of heavily armed and armored Sith Troopers entered into the vessel.

They were not interested in hearing statements, excuses, or testimony. They would immediately detain any crew, begin scouring the vessel for illegal materials (which was inevitable given the strict regulations of the Sith Empire), and violently dispatch anyone who resisted.

This was the way of the New Order. This was the way the galaxy would be brought to heel.

@Die Shize
 

Mallister Keynion

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“That liquor illegal?” Mal asked James.

“Well, uh…” James looked about himself. “It’s not technically legal…”

“That makes it illegal. Thought we talked about this? Flush it.”

“Aw, c’mon, Mal! I traded Sara for this bottle! I haven’t even opened it yet!”

“I got no notion to argue this. In about two minutes time this boat’s gonna be crawling with Sith. We already took care of everything else before making it out this far and I’m not about to have your bottle mess things up.”

One man stared angrily, the other man looked away and they both walked away from each other.

“...Fine but I’m keepin’ the glass!” Came a voice drifting down the corridor.

“How are we looking, Chloe?” Mal spoke into his comlink. “Are the stars moving?”

“Vako escaped.” Chloe confirmed. “Both fighters are returning but not to the corvette. Looks like they’re flying laps around us.”

“Yeah and I’ll bet their commander’s kinda upset after losing one of his prizes." Waltz mused.

"Well, dang," Mal admitted. "That sure does change things a mite now doesn't it?"

"Course, Cap?"

"Run."

Their entire operation had been based in part on Vako getting caught, not escaping. Well, since that had proven to be not so much fortuitous, Serenity turned tail and ran. The engines? Oh, no problem; Katie had those fixed in a heartbeat. The Sakor? Sounded like a sadistic Sith's getaway barge and not one that Mal had any interest in boarding without his full support. So Serenity fired up and away, burning hard and fast. Weren't much else choice.



@Morse
 
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Venthis Habrak

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The deck officers clamored out that the smuggler ship was making a getaway. Venthis Habrak stared out the viewport seeing it turn its sublight engines on and starting to make a dash through asteroids. The Sakor was large and not nearly as fast as that ship, but its fighters would certainly be a match.

While the vessel was escaping Habrak considered what sort of message would be best sent in this equation. He could outright obliterate the ship, firing a wave of concussion missiles. But there would be no survivors and nothing to track. It would be stomping out an insect without finding the hive from which it was spawned. This would have no use to the operation in the area and so Habrak put that thought from his mind. Instead he looked towards a more practical approach.


"Send the fighters in pursuit. Disable that ship." His order was clear.

There should be no need to send more then the two fighters that were already around, and Habrak was not about to get caught in an ambush. He'd keep a pair of fighters for the defense of his vessel.

The two fighters roared after the escaping smuggler ship with great violence, opening fire with jets of green laser to attempt to disable it.

@Die Shize
 
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