Onderon

[Parangor]

Quite a clever foe, accepting the non lethal blow and counter attacking. The stutter step garunteed the weapon strike would miss but he was surprised at the Tuskans speed at grabbing his arm. Listening to his instincts he twisted his arm in such a way that they were both suddenly gripping forearms as if they were friends, which was rather amusing if he had taken the time to think about it. Grappling was just another style of martial arts to him and he hoped that this fight could still end in a draw or some form of surrender. He was coming to respect this Tuskan and hated the thought of having to kill him.

 

Twisting his shoulder down he pulled with the bulk of his strength not to pull the Tuskan to the ground but to give him enough room to drop into a crouch and engage the Tuskans staff with his blade while striking out at his shins with hs one leg. The hope was to trip him up and lunge upwards striking the Tuskan in the chest or face with his helmed head. Again though his instincs warned him the odds of this working was slim to none yet it was the best course of action he could think to use.

[Wyvernfall]

How dare he touch me like we were kin! Demonspawn!

 

 

The clang of metal on metal echoed through the room, blade on rough metal gaderffii. Rruror'rur'rr was pulled down, catching his foe's foot in his robes lower half, twisting his legs around the leg that had been meant for his shin and allowing himself to fall. The helmeted head against his own turbaned helmeted head was painful. It would leave a ringing in his ears if he had time to notice, but the rage of combat was beginning to consume him; such minor inconveniences easily shrugged off and he reveled in the heat of the battle. There will be blood!

 

"Graa'krr'raaaa! he cried as he kept the man's armored leg caught up between his own twisted in his dense robes and flopped backwards with the blow to his head, wrenching his foe's leg upwards and sending both being clattering flat to their backs.

[Delta73]

Delta let his grin fall into a slight frown at her words,

 

“You mean to tell me that you have no rooms? Stately or otherwise? I can take care of that right away free of charge of course. I have three suites available aboard the Marie, all are over 2000 square feet and the height of luxury. Some even have controls for point defense cannons on them so you can fight from the comfort of your own bed.” He winked agressively, “Though you can always share my quarters if the prince doesn’t mind.”

 

He laughed, and took a deep swig of brandy from a goblet.

 

“So tell me about yourself Miss Feline.”

 

At least she wasn’t a bothan, those dog headed creatures disgusted him. Cathar’s on the other hand...Well surely Qaela wouldn't mind, she wasn’t human after all, so no extra bastards to worry about if things went wrong.

 

______

 

Wrong.

 

Deactivate it, that's a refugee ship from Honoghr, please God deactivate it

 

It's too late my general...Too late.

 

Delta's voice in all its lack of emotion echoed through the decades to pummel his ears. Then the antimatter bomb went off in a giant explosion that swallowed the previously unregistered refugee ship and its half a million Noghri in a blink of an eye. Dragging innocents into the abyss with no regard for age, gender, or background. A warcime unprecedented in its time, only to be eclipsed by such things as the Caamas Firestorm or Base Delta Zero attacks carried out by the Empire later in the coming decades. But for now,

 

The silence was defending from the rear seat, and Delta could hear Kailen sob as she tried to choke back tears or rage and desperation. Her presence in the force completely withdrawn.

 

War is no place for a Jedi. They are not prepared to live with the choices that have to be made. Delta could justify it, and he did just that before the tribunal, but Kailen had never been the same.

[Zalis Krales]

Zalis almost felt a sense of relief upon hearing Delta's voice come through on the comm. She was glad that he was alive and well, which also meant that the assets she had been acquiring was well worth it. Taking a client acknowledgement, she moved her ship to land in bay 4892 as she was told. Before she left her ship, she made sure they also got dressed up formally for a dinner party of sorts. She wore a black dress of sorts, where the majority of the middle was mesh, but it also had some white trim along the outer seams. She did keep her boots on, which also carried with them her vibrodaggers that she always had on her for safe keeping. She didn't feel a need to bring her blasters along with her, as she was being escorted by four KX-series security droids that had been programed with protocol 18 and protocol 21. Upon spotting Delta eating with someone she did not know, she addressed only him.

 

"Your armor seems to be getting more slick. You still trying to send pics to random females across the galaxy?..."

[Sheog the Mad]

Anders Rae slipped silently beside the young Cathar the darkness of his cloak swirling about him like a shadow. His eyes were those of a demon, and without his Master’s influence, the Sith Lord was eager to leave behind the abhorrent laziness that had consumed him. Scarron Rae, his mirror in every way but sex, stepped to the other side of the Cathar, brushing aside a long lock of auburn hair from her sulphuric gaze. They were both clad in simple cloaks and tunics of pure black, stained from years of work beside the former Dark Lord of the Sith. Scarron pressed the credit-chit back into the Cathar’s furred paw with delicate fingers, painted in crimson with the symbolism of the Sith. A swirling tapestry that foretold the spells of witchcraft in which she was proficient entwined every finger, arising from the cuticle to disappear within her robed sleeves like a vine creeping up a marble pillar.

“Keep your money, young thing… You are the apprentice of Sheog the Mad…”

 

Anders stepped forward, his boots of blackened steel making a satisfying click.

 

“Worry not about material possessions or comfort, for with the Sith you will have both, but as an apprentice you must first earn them.”

 

Scarron pressed a simple knife of durasteel into the Cathar’s hand.

 

“You have shown you can be a diplomat, now show us you can do more than talk. Take a room for your own, and bring us back the body… And the story.”

[Parangor]

Even as he fell his instinctual voice lashed out at him for being foolish enough to forget the robes the Tuskan wore. Landing flat on his back jared him slightly but gave him the opportunity to catch the Tuskans staff hook with his blade and force it from his hand. In doing so he discarded his own weapon and launched an elbow towards the Tuskans stomach. This fight was not going the way he thought it would but he couldn't help but be having fun. As he finished his series of moves he realized something. With them both on their back and his leg tangled the elbow would only land with minimal impact. This was going to get interesting.

[Wyvernfall]

The Tusken grunted at the blow of the elbow; still, it landed with enough force for the man to know he was hit. Rolling over, Rruror'rur'rr found himself straddling the armored warrior, now, beneath him. Without giving Drogan a chance to respond, Rruror'rur'rr pressed the attack. Wrapping his gloved fingers around the lower edge of the man's helmet, with a Tusken battle cry he tore the helmet off the man's face, At last, now he will pay, sending the helmet skittering across the metal floor out of range opposite of the weapons that were also out of reach.

 

The ancestors were smiling upon him. Today, this devil would pay!

 

With closed fists, Rruror'rur'rr began to pummel the pinned man's face, first one cheek, than the other. Back and forth. Back and forth. With his own hands, he would end the sinner before him.

 

Odd. Why is n't he fighting back?

 

((Written with coordination from Parangor))

[Parangor]

It was oddly sureall having the Tuskan smashing away at his face, like most Sun Guard he could ignore pain in almost all of its forms but for a few moments he pondered the situation. The Tuskan obviously wanted him dead, understandable given their view of outsiders and religion. Yet Drogan felt no ill will toward him and was still contemplating a non lethal method of combat. Oh well he thought, cant let him ruin my face to much. Reaching up he grabbed the Tuskan by the scuff of his robes, not bothering to try and block the punches he figured he could just hoist him over him an reverse their current positions. As he latched on and lifted though something unthinkable happened. He heard the fabric ripping even as he instiinctivley let go. He hoped he was fast enough. Dropping his hands to cover his eyes he averted his head, a gamble considering this left his temple and ear on the one side completely exposed. However he knew that if he looked on the Tuskans face in this manner, the mild blood lust he felt from him would become a blinding rage. Tuskans and their traditions were odd to him but then again he was considered odd in the universe as well. Hoping he had somehow prevented disaster he shouted out "You must fix your robe, I can't fight you if I can't look at you and that seems a little unfair." Hoping the translator worked quickly enough he waited to see if he would suddenly have to kill this man he had come to respect.

[Wyvernfall]

RIIIIIIIIP The fabric of Rruror'rur'rr's masked face tore along the edge of his rebreather and the cool recirculated processed air of the ship blew against his face.

 

KILL HIM!!!! the voices screamed in his head as red began to creep in the fringes of his vision. Prodorissac! (Betrayer) he screamed in his native tongue as the unfettered Tusken rage within was released in full fury. In a blur, he rained down innumerable blows on the face of the man, even as his foe averted his eyes. In his rage, it was all he could do to even hear the cries of the man, in Galactic Basic as they were. Still, such a blasphemy was punishable by exile, if not death back home; having spent most of his life under such strict adherence to the law, Rruror'rur'rr's first instinct, was to cover himself. With one hand, he grabbed the torn cloth and pulled it over his exposed pale cheek, while with the other he directed a blow squarely at Drogan's exposed temple with enough force to hopefully render the man unconscious.

[Parangor]

His instincts told him to fight back, this man was going to kill him, but then again he had commited a crime against him. Hopefully averting his eyes would show his respect, which was sadly his final thought as his temple took a mighty blow and he blackd out. As darkness spread across his vision his last thought was that at least the Tuskan would be free if he died, his men would honor the trial by combat even with his death.

[Darth Nyrys]

“...Right, I’ll just poke someone with the pointy end, I have it on good authority that that’s how killing works. Lysander, I get the impression that this is something that I have to do myself, but I’ll call you when it’s done. Maybe you can keep Delta company, you know, trade war stories and braid each others’ hair.”

 

Ailbasí left the group to enter the crowds of the city, but had no idea where she was going, and felt a gaping pit in her stomach as she walked. She moved in a directionless daze through the streets, the sobering task that had been laid upon her had gutpunched the high that she had been riding for weeks now. She had always thought of herself as a good person, a lawful citizen and a determined student who treated others as she had wanted to be treated, but now that perception was going to be shattered. She knew she couldn’t run, they knew her name and wouldn’t be afraid of going after the people she cared about to hurt her. The only way was forward, and the worst part was that the major preoccupation of her mind was not wanting to get caught, worrying about how this would affect her. Maybe she thought of herself as a good person because she had never had the motivation to do anything bad, and rather than being good she had just been sleepwalking through a life untouched by moral choice of consequence.

 

Now however, with reason upon reason building up for her to do wrongful things tonight, it seemed like a darker courage would be needed tonight, or at least the instinctual need to survive. On some level Ailbasí knew that the nausea she was feeling wasn’t just from stress and fearful trepidation, and soon it would be followed by burning fever, crippling pain, and a host of other symptoms. Without sanctuary for the night, she could end up in a hospital or on the streets and defenseless. While it hadn’t been an issue earlier, Ailbasí now acutely remembered the travel advisory for the planet. Onderon was another example of how xenophobia on primarily human worlds was an ever metastasizing cancer.

 

She could feel the piercing stares as she walked down the street, hear the whispered insults and mockery. With enough clothing she could pass for human enough, but she hadn’t expected to need to go off on her own. Normally she just ignored it, but some of the voices were starting to sound consistent, meaning there were people following her. Ailbasí quickened her pace, but they did too. After enough years of dealing with the heckling, there was a numbness to it, the words replaced with formless sound and fury, like people trying to shout underwater. Some of the hecklers were getting more brazen, starting to move in front of her, screaming in her face.

 

The breaking point was when one of them grabbed her forearm. As long as certain lines were not crossed, the best course of action was to just ignore them, but it was out of her hands now. The painfully tight grip of the stranger sent her instincts screaming to the foreground. Her hand reached into her bag, feeling at first the naked blade of the knife that the twins had given her, but she dug further until her hand found her Smartspray chemical incapacitator. There were too many here for the knife to be a remotely good idea. Depressing the activation stud, a streaming cloud of chemicals hissed forward into the face of her assailant, and he let out a confused and angry shout as the concoction contacted his exposed skin and eyes. New voices joined the cacophony, voices that were simultaneously incredulous, concerned, and demanding.

 

Two humans emerged from the quickly forming crowd, one of them displaying some sort of insignia of authority, and the crowd surrendered some space to the four of them, but Ailbasí still couldn’t shake the feeling of being surrounded by Otherness. Words were being exchanged between the official and the man, now curled up in a fetal position and clutching his face, but Ailbasí couldn’t hear the entirety of the conversation. She could make out some words and phrases though, like assault, arrested, saw everything, and blood. Wait, blood? Almost as an afterthought, she became aware of a warm, wet, sticky feeling on her left hand, and noticed a slender but deep cut. She must have cut herself on the knife when she was reaching into her bag, and not noticed it due to adrenaline.

 

The official spoke into her comm and within several minutes a repulsor transport already nearly filled to the brim with arrested cultists, and two police speeders arrived. One of the police officers had a quick exchange with the woman, revealing that processing was overwhelmed at the moment and procedure at this point was to get contact information for witnesses and victims, to reach out to them after the madness became somewhat manageable. At this point Ailbasí’s condition was starting to come to the forefront, and she could feel the shivers starting to move through her muscles involuntarily.

 

“Ma’am, ma’am, are you alright?” The official inquired with a concerned tone in her voice. “She looks like she’s freezing.” offered one of the officers. The official felt her forehead and the fever burning there was readily apparent, “She’s sick, fever and chills at the same time. Well sick or maybe a reaction to whatever cut her.” The uniformed officers seemed to back up a bit at the mention of sickness, and Ailbasí didn’t blame them, she knew what she looked like when she missed her meds.

 

“Not sick, at least not in the viral or bacterial sense, I have a genetic condition and I missed my scheduled time for medication, and it will take time for the meds to return my body to some semblance of normalcy.” The explanation seemed to put them at ease, fear of catching something was a near universal constant.

 

“I’m Lead Detective Berast, ma’am and fortunately for you, I saw almost the entire encounter. However, we will need you to make a statement, and I have no desire to put you in general holding right now, and the hospitals are on high alert for any more bombs. This isn’t exactly procedure but if you want you can stay at our place until it’s feasible to safely get a statement at central.” Berast’s demeanor seemed genuine, even if something in her eyes seemed… off. It was probably paranoia from spending too much time around Sith.

 

“Are you sure detective? I know you mean well, I just don’t want a repeat of that one incident.” One of the uniformed officers asked with his own measure of concern.

 

“I think I can handle one feverish coed, rook,” Berast said with a large grin, “But if you want to be all protective and junk you can take her in your speeder and run her ID in the process. My husband and I are here in the two seater, and he takes exception to me putting him in the trunk.”

 

The uniformed officer offered her an arm to steady herself on as they walked over to his speeder where he let her into the front passenger seat, a much appreciated kindness. She collapsed into the seat and secured the safety harness while the officer came around the other side. When he climbed into the driver’s seat she handed him her ID, earning her a raised eyebrow.

 

“I don’t know what this incident you were referring to was, but I want you to know I’m not exactly a criminal, officer Rook. I’m a postgrad college student who was working on a dig and ended up on the weirdest internship ever, which brought me here, but I don’t know if it’s going to work out. Reality kind of shot my expectations out of the sky.” Under no circumstances was Ailbasí going to reveal what was asked of her, but she longed for the sense of connection and normalcy of a mundane conversation.

 

“It’s officer Knell Maqlin actually, rook is short for rookie,” Knell said sheepishly, “and I know what you mean about expectations and reality. I’m in this uniform because I wanted to help people, to be a hero, but all I’ve found since I’ve gotten my badge is people that don’t want help.” Ailbasí looked at his face and saw a pain on it that had no place being on a face that young. “I don’t know, I mean I appreciated the helping hand and the ride,” she offered sympathetically, and got a half smile in return.

 

“So what was the “incident” you were referring to earlier?” Ailbasí asked curiously. “You aren’t the first stray Berast has taken in, she’s a real believer in police tending to the roots of the community. About two months ago though there was a Twi’lek girl that she took in that snuck some drugs, got high, and nearly slit Berast’s throat. Fortunately or unfortunately what she had taken all came together to hit the girl’s heart so hard it basically exploded in her chest before she could kill Lin, but we’ve all been uneasy about her letting people into her home since then.”

 

A measure of guilt crept onto Ailbasí’s face, would she end up finishing what that other girl started when push came to shove? Would she be another cautionary tale of why people should be afraid to show compassion to strangers? Even the people who survived would be hurt by this. Would it destroy Knell’s future career because held a conversation with a killer and never saw any sign of ill intent? And Lin had mentioned a husband, would there be cubs at her place too? A thousand internal demons gnawed and chewed away at her stomach until the time came for them to eat her soul.

 

“Are you okay miss?” Knell asked, noticing the silence.

 

Playing it off as her illness, Ailbasí launched into an explanation, “Humans and Cathars aren’t supposed to be genetically compatible, but my father was an imperial science officer during the galactic war, and had enough resources and lab access to make it work, so to speak. As long as I remember to take my meds, I’m pretty much as healthy as anyone else, but if I forget, basically my body starts rejecting everything in it as foreign, and that leads to bad times. Fever, chills, nausea, pain, more pain, shortness of breath, coughing, oh, and pain by the oodles. For obvious reasons I’m normally very good about staying on top of my medication schedule, but it’s been a crazy month.”

 

The speeder gradually slowed to a stop outside of a suburban dwelling, far beyond the crowded city streets where they had begun. A long duracrete walkway stretched out to the door. “We’re here!” Knell said cheerfully, adding “Now you can finally get some rest, and if any hospitals resolve their codes tomorrow morning, maybe they’ll have something to help with the symptoms. I hope you feel better soon.” A shocked look of realization dawned on Knell’s face, and he ran for the trunk of the speeder. “Stars and stones, your hand! I am so sorry, I’ve been up since yesterday and it’s almost tomorrow.” He came back around the speeder with a medkit and the return of a very sheepish look on his face. Knell gingerly sterilized the cut and then applied a field dressing to it.

 

“Thanks for everything, Knell, but I really will need your help getting to the door.” Ailbasí took hold of the arm he proffered and this time standing up was like plunging into an electrical current, setting every pain receptor in her body aflame. Despite the the brave face she tried to put on, walking sent hooks down into her throat to pull and tear out mewling sounds of pain as her body moved stiffly like a droid with rusted over joints.

 

Remembering back to her time aboard Sheog’s ship, she reached out hoping to find even the smallest measure of strength to get through this. There wasn’t the rush of energy and heat like when she connected with Sheog, that had been like a blazing cataclysm that could consume a city block. This was more like a meek flame of candlelight, dim but comforting in its own way. Moving closer to the candle flame, it illuminated thoughts of home, a tiny box of an apartment with a bed that was too small but worked well enough. A nagging feeling informed her that Knell’s shift had actually been supposed to end about five minutes after he got the call about Ailbasí’s attack, but a sense of fulfillment seemed to sequester that thought and keep it in a dusty corner. A sense of fulfillment that he had found a good person to help… It cut into Ailbasí’s gut like a freezing cold machete. Back in reality, she doubled over while clutching his shoulder tightly and coughing, sputtering.

 

She could hear him comm a hospital dispatcher to check if they were still code locked, but it felt so very distant and through a thick pane of glass. After the connection she felt so dirty and ashamed even though she hadn’t even done anything yet. Through wheezing, gasping breathes she fought to push the words out, what at this point felt like the most important words she would ever say. “I… am… I’m… not… good…” Tears streamed down her face both from the pain and acceptance of the words that she had just said. So this is what it feels like to be damned. Maybe if there was a benevolent force in the galaxy it would let her just curl up and die here before the darkness claimed its cost.

 

But there would be no such sweet relief, only the cold abyss of an indifferent universe that had her against a wall, and that wall came rushing forward, feeling like slamming into a duracrete so hard it would leave bruises. Suddenly the wall vanished and she felt an embrace carrying her towards bright light, and between fevered thoughts she realized that she had fallen and that Knell had carried her in through the doorway to the home. A burst of cold wetness fought against the fever heat as an ice water drenched cloth pressed against her forehead. She felt herself being lowered into a bed with soft sheets… and a strange plasticy sound. A thousand miles away she heard Berast reassuring Knell that as soon as she got word that the hospitals were reopened she would take her there, hell or high water. Another human… the one with Berast earlier, lifted up her head and had her drink something, hot tea maybe? It tasted off, but that could have been a hundred things at this point. More words were exchanged, but at this point it was like listening through cotton swabs. Light left the room save for a partially cracked door, and sleep called so sweetly.

 

Rolling on her side, a sudden pain shot through her hand and she dimly remembered the cut. Looking through half closed eyes, she saw that the wound had reopened and bled through the bandages onto the sheets. Muttering a string of curse words she slid over to the edge of the bed to see how far the blood had stained into the sheet layers. Peeling back the layers revealed that underneath the comforter was a sheet of heavy plastic, like a tarp. Why? Knell said Berast took a lot of people in, maybe stains were part of the territory. Sleep called, promising a clearer head with morning, she could apologize about the blood then, and apparently they were already prepared for such a situation anyway. She should have been asleep anyway, if only the pain in her hand had… wait. Why was she only feeling pain in her hand? It should be everywhere. It hadn’t been long enough for the medicine to kick back in.

 

Sleep now loomed over her in a far more menacing aspect. Something was wrong. Her instincts were screaming that she needed to leave, and reaching into her bag she grabbed the knife. The door opened slightly, and a face peered inside. It was the husband, and there was a look of unwholesome hunger in his eyes. As sleep threatened to overwhelm her, she dug her claws into the knife wound on her hand, and the pain brought with it some measure of wakefulness. She pretended to be out as footsteps revealed that he was moving closer… closer… ever closer. When he was too close, Ailbasí plunged the knife into the closest approximation of where he was, and the blade struck deep into soft fleshiness until it hit bone. The man dropped like a sack of tubers or a puppet with its strings cut. Even so, he wasn’t dead yet.

 

Using the bed to kick off of, she tackled the man to the ground hard, wrapping one hand over his mouth while to other clutched at his throat. Even with him being injured though, he was still the larger, more powerful one. His hands wrapped around her throat with a vice like grip, and he kept slamming her head against the wall, but whatever she had been dosed with reduced the pain to a dull roar. Her vision started to go grey with sparkling spots, and another kind of darkness began to set in. Desperation brought out her claws and tore a ragged series of wounds in the man’s neck, unleashing a torrent of arterial spray into her face. Wiping the blood out of her eyes and both gasping and sobbing as his fingers went slack on her throat, she felt the cold hardness of the floor, and the light from the half open door shown upon a drain. This wasn’t a bedroom, it was a place for slaughter.

 

Forcing herself to her feet, she made her way to the door, supporting herself on the frame. Adrenaline had cleared the cotton from her ears, and now she could hear Berast on a comm call, talking about how if someone had waited until there were no witnesses it wouldn’t have been a big deal, and that she couldn’t stay on much longer because she had already heard her husband starting. When Berast ended the connection, Ailbasí let out a primal vocalization that she didn’t even know she was capable of and shoulder tackled Berast on pure adrenaline. The tackle connected with Berast’s upper torso and even through the drug induced haze Ailbasí felt wrenching pain in her shoulder as it dislocated.

 

Berast rolled with the impact and turned the momentum into a throw, putting Ailbasí through the nearby glass caf table. She heard the glass crunch and grind into her as she rolled onto her side to try and get up, but a sudden pressure from above drove her back into the shards of glass and onto her dislocated shoulder. Ailbasí looked up to see Berast’s foot pinning her down as the detective drew her service weapon and trained it on her head.

 

It wasn’t like the holovids. No witty one liners or villainous monologuing, just the cold and smooth pull of the trigger. Ailbasí wanted to fight back, but she could feel herself draining away through all of the cuts and bruises. The most she could muster was feebly clawing at the boot pinning her down. She felt the pain before she heard or saw the shot, a roaring inferno that moved across her body uncontrollably with what seemed like the force of a typhoon. Ailbasí closed her eyes.

 

CRACK

 

Then there was screaming, as Ailbasí realized that the sound wasn’t a weapon discharge, but of bone breaking. Berast’s forearm was oddly angled at ninety degrees, and broken bones protruded through her flesh at the curve. The blaster was nowhere to be seen.

 

While Berast stumbled away in a state of shock, Ailbasí felt a second wind moving through her now that survival was once again a possibility. It felt like it took an eternity to clamber to her feet, but Berast was still clutching her broken arm and shouting unintelligibly when the cathar got there. Both shared a look of realization at the same time, and clumsily charged into the kitchen area. While Berast tore open a drawer to grab a knife with her good hand, Ailbasí yanked a frying pan off of the kitchen overhang and swung a wide arc into the back of Berast’s skull. The detective’s head lolled for a moment from the blow, and Ailbasí seized the opportunity to ram Berast’s good arm in the sink drain and turn on the garbage disposal.

 

Ailbasí swung at the woman’s face while she screamed in agony, but she had never learned how to make a fist for punching, so the strike ended up hurting her as much as her opponent. If there had still been fight left in Berast, this would have been a critical opening, but between the concussion, shock, and blood loss, she just crumpled to the ground. Ailbasí went over to the open knife drawer and grabbed a steak knife before closing in on Berast. Straddling her, she let loose a raw cacophony of screams, shouts, and sobbing as she stabbed again and again, continuing well after any sign of movement or life had faded.

 

Desperately she tried to weigh options in her mind about what to do next, but with the immediate threat gone her adrenaline drained away and darkness consumed her, and with it came unconsciousness.

[Delta73]

Delta’s eyebrows raised and he took another bite of his food as the girl wandered off. She reminded him of a young Qaela, full of misguided malice and bitchiness and prime for the hunt. He ran the girls name through the database and set up flagging so he would know if she popped up anywhere else. She could be useful, though he was generally tired of people ignoring his questions and pissing off to do other things. He looked over his account billing and ordered another Victory Star Destroyer to be made at Mechis before finishing his dinner and going on a walk. His feast a complete and unattended disaster. Such was life. He considered sending Jaina another unanswered comm but figured that would be too stalkery.

 

Several hours passed like Nal Hutta Molasses before his datapad chirped and indicated the the feline had been checked into the trauma ward. He laughed, and set off on a brisk walk to the hospital where he entered her room just as she was stirring awake. She looked in very poor shape, her fur matted in places and a good deal of IV's hooked up to a mainline in her neck. She was also wearing bindercuffs that indicated that she was probably in some kind of protective custody. Which would explain the man who had tried to stop him from getting in. Which would in turn explain why said man was slumped against the outside wall due to a triple stun bolt to the groin. He coughed lightly to wake her up if the blaster discharge hadn't already done that and feigned looking away from her state of undress, though he had already made sure to memorize every detail. He made a scene of flipping through the many paged folder that hung on the end of her bed before letting out a low whistle.

 

"You've been through hell and back little cat, being the gentleman I am, I should tell you I have come to rescue you from Onderon Security." He tossed a sheet over her body to keep her dignity and began the task of dismantling the soft restraints that held her firmly in place for eventual interrogation. At the sound of a human scream from the doorway he leveled his large caliber blaster pistol at the nurse who was standing in shock at the door.

 

"Now be quiet my sweet. You haven't seen a thing."

 

He let out a wicked grin and gestured with the gun to a chair.

 

"Now let me and the kitty do a quick chat, followed by just as quick escape..." He eyed her and his brow rose slightly, "She will also need your clothes. All of them so pip pip get on with it."

 

_____________________

 

Elsewhere the construction of a Golan III defense platform begins over the planet of Onderon with the ETA of 11/15/2017

[Wyvernfall]

Drawing his hand back for a followup blow, Rruror'rur'rr paused. The man before him was no longer a threat.

 

With a short harsh snarl, the Tusken was off his opponent and glancing about at Drogan's men. Surely they will now attack me

 

Careful to never let any of Drogan's men out of his sight, Rruror'rur'rr made his way over to his fallen gaderffii and scooped it up. Shooting distrustful, albeit masked, looks at the still unmoving unwavering guards, Rruror'rur'rr made his way about the room, kicking the array of fallen weapons about the room towards the center near the fallen Drogan; careful to never bend over or lose sight of the watchful henchmen for more than a fraction of a moment. Once gathered, he stood over his fallen foe; is he really an enemy? Something in Rruror'rur'rr's mind told him no, this fallen man, albeit a danger, was of no more a threat to him than an angry Bantha tied to a fixed stone - only dangerous if one was foolish or got too close.

 

Shaking his head in silent argument with himself, Rruror'rur'rr finally decided that there was something more to his fallen foe...comrade...enemy...person, and he would stay and see what it was. After all, the man had not been trying to kill him, despite his challenge, and he knows the Tusken ways; even if he does not follow them. He knows.

 

He knows! Perhaps there was more to this being than met the eye. With a furtive glance at the yet motionless watchers, he slowly laid his gaderffii down. Gently, but rather unceremoniously, Rruror'rur'rr drug the downed man towards a nearby wall and propped him in a seated position, head lolling about. After that he found the man's helmet and careful slid Drogan's exposed head back into it, covering up the man's exposed flesh. Even in hell, there was a glimmer of hope. Friends could be found in the most unusual of places. Friends....could this man be a future Tusken? smiling beneath his mask, a glimmer of hope burned in the depths of Rruror'rur'rr's chest for the first time since he had found himself in the hellish landscape of not-Tatooine.

 

Keeping an eye on the watching henchmen, Rruror'rur'rr did the hardest thing he could yet: wait. Rruror'rur'rr would wait until this man, Drogan, awoke. maybe he was his ticket home.

[Parangor]

As he began to claw his way out of the darkness, the first thing Drogan did was begin running what his grandfather had always jokingly called a systems check. Without indicating he was awake he began making sure that his limbs still felt intact via minor muscle contractions. As soon as he was satisfied that everything was alright he looked up. To his surprise there was the Tuskan just sitting there watching him. Nodding his head, which was rather painful at the moment he spoke slowly to allow the translator time to catch up. "I am sorry I tore your robes, that had not been my intent. When I grabbed them I had meant to grab your shoulder but missed due to the angle. I see you decided not to kill me for some reason, and I appreciate it. AT this moment the trial by combat is finished, you won. Your are welcome to one trophy in the room and your freedom."

[Lysander0301]

“Lysander Straken, pleasure to meet you in person” said Lysander as he out stretched his hand in a greeting to Delta.

 

“Yeah sure” Delta replied in an annoyed tone as he continued to watch the Cathar walk away. He began to type into his data pad and asked “Sooo.... do you need something or are you just gonna stand there?”

 

Lysander knew he was a nobody to this galaxy wide legend. Maybe one day he to could a legend like Delta.

 

“Oh I was hoping for a friendly chat since we will be working together in the future but I can see your busy. Maybe another time then. In the meanwhile any chance I could have access to Black Sun resources? “

 

Delta replied "Of course you can have access just comm me what you need and I'll get you an agent profile! I look forward to working with you in the future."

 

“Thank you” said Lysander as he walked away from the table to leave Delta in peace.He wandered the halls of the building. He stopped in front of a large mirror and removed his helmet. As he stared into his reflection he quietly said his to himself“ Your a small fish in a very big pond. You sure you are ready for this?” He then began to meander the streets of the city and pondered what supplies he could request outside of the standard supplies to restock the ship. Hours passed and Lysander found himself at a dinner. Sitting there in a half daze and eating, a news alert popped up on his data pad.

 

“ This just in!! A Cathar was found unconscious in a police officers home after a call was placed to unusual sounds heard by neighbors. Reports are saying a slaughter chamber was found in the officers home and the two officers brutally kill. The Cathar was taken to Universal Hospital for treatment....”

 

That was all Lysander needed to hear. He pushed his food aside, leaving credits on the table he bolted out the door. “Stupid girl!! I knew I should have tailed her!!!” he began to look for a quick means of getting there. He then spotted three bikers give a twi’lek couple a hard time. “Filthy xenos!!! Your kind don’t belong here!!!” The lead biker screamed as he pulled his knife out. Suddenly a blade erupted from his chest. Looking down he saw the blade slide out and fell down. As the other two turned to meet their attacker, Lysander made two sweeping motions with his stave. The two men then erupted into fountains of blood as each had a massive gash from shoulder to hip. As they crumbled to the ground the couple took a few steps back from the crimson figure and bodies. Lysander knelt down and found the keys to one of the bike and growled “Leave” to the couple, who promptly ran in terror. Lysander ordered his drones to meet him at the hospital and hopped on to the bike and rode as fast as he could to the hospital.

 

Entering the hospital Lysander asked the doctors where the Cathar was as he was family and needed to see her. Skeptical a doctor took him back to her room. The doctor instructed Lysander that she would not be awake for a few hours and that she was in rough condition. Upon entering the room they saw a naked nurse trying to cover herself with a blanket. “Nurse what is...” that was all the doctor would say before Lysander picked up the doctor by his throat. “Where is she!! If this is joke, IM NOT LAUGHING!!!” Lysander yelled.

“Wait!! She was taken by a man in armor” cried the nurse. Letting go of the doctor who fell to the floor gasping for air “Which way did they go” Lysander demand.

 

“I don’t know” replied the nurse.

 

Lysander Stormed out of the hospital in a fit of rage. The drones had finally meet up with him. “Spread out and find her now!!” Lysander said to the drones, which then flew off in different directions.

 

“ I really screwed the pooch on this one” Lysander said to himself as he heard sirens in the distance.

[Wyvernfall]

Beneath his mask, Rruror'rur'rr frowned; he did not expect this turn of events. Clearly he has much to learn

 

Offering a gloved hand to Drogan, he pulling the man to his feet. The Tusken spoke in slow gravelly basic, "You have much to learn of our ways."

 

Gesturing to the myriad of trophies around the room, he continued, "All I need I gain from the land, my land. Not this...hell. Please return my weapon to me. I let you live. He shook his head at the useless bits and baubles; true artifacts had their place, but these were not his prizes or the stories of his people, of what use were they to him?

 

Recognizing, however, an opportunity when he saw one, he continued, curious just how far he might push things. The man was, it seemed, honor bound to him in some way. Grimacing at what he was about to ask, sure that it violated some deep found tenant of Tusken-hood, he pressed on, "As my prize, I want, this."

and he pounded his foot on the deckplating beneath them, reverting back to his native Tusken tongue, "Gr'gran goo'gr'gk'gk" (Your blasphemous beast. Take me home)

 

"And don't forget my mount."

[Darth Nyrys]

Darkness gave way to a dim glow, and somewhere nearby a steady beeping sounded, loud enough to pierce the fog, but gentle enough to not be an alarm. Ailbasí felt so tired that curling up into a ball and falling asleep for three forevers sounded like a grand idea, but she heard noises like words and slowly forced her eyes open. The light quickly let her know that doing so was a terrible idea.

 

Her eyes adjusted to the light to some vague degree, and she saw Bendy McFurlessface, floating and flanked by a choir of singing porgs. He was twisting and undulating like a snake, and saying weird gibberish in a slow motion manner. Even though he was acting very silly and lime green, the tone sounded comforting, like the warm fuzzy haze she was in right now. He gestured over to a woman dressed like a nurse, and Ailbasí wondered if Bendy had gotten her a stripper. No one had ever done that before, and Ailbasí was admittedly unsure of the protocol for such situations. Ailbasí’s present started unwrapping itself but wasn’t doing a very good job of it. She must have been very ashamed of her performance because she was crying.

 

A shouty stormcloud came into the room and had a blaster measuring contest with Bendy, and then together they turned the stripper into a thousand red butterflies. Ailbasí, touched by the profound moment of metamorphosis, and sincerely hoping that the woman was a better cloud of insects than she was an exotic dancer, commemorated the moment with thoughtful poetry.

 

“Bah bah rud buh buh floos!”

 

The stormcloud person pointed to the stripper’s outfit, and Bendy decided to don her outfit so that he might take her place in the world. The uniform was way too tight on him and Ailbasí leered while squealing approvingly. Top marks on his first day on the job, clearly Bendy was going to take the exotic dancer world by storm. Speaking of storms, the one in the room was making button pressing sounds with her fingers, and more warmth and haze washed over Ailbasí as the group floated out of the room together, serenaded by her new porg friends.

 

“Sleegurgle battah nom nom!”

[Delta73]

The Marie was lovely in its dark paint job, silhouetted as a dark shadow against the bright moon of Dxun. It green ridge mountains distant flecks seen through two thick atmospheres. As the shuttle pulled up to the dorsal docking portal Delta was quite pleased to see that the hull was still in pristine condition, the sleek curves of the added engines and power reactor made for a beautiful variant of the often used CR-90. It was home. Or had been for the last decade since the departure if Silas, Kayal, Piccolo, Crosa, and the rest of his old team. They were sorely missed, those old partners in crime who he had shared his early days as a fresh agent with. Now all gone, dead, departed, murdered. This ship was all that he had left of that era.

 

And now here he was dragging a beautiful kitten chick on board, with her bodyguard in tow, with a great deal of strangers following him in. He surrendered the lady cat to the medical Droid who quickly gave her a medical clearance before letting her back into the ship, free to wander or attend the briefing.

 

He looked across the gathered section of men and women of the crew, as well as any of the crew that Ailbasí may have brought. He noted the new Onderonian Nobles that had also accompanied them up and spread his hands in a large gesture across the starmap in the center of the room. With his fingers he indicated the large swath of space that represented Hutt Space.

 

“My Sith lords of Onderon, loyal crew, agents of The Black Sun, and beast Riders, welcome. As you may have heard, the old empire of the Hutts has fallen against imperial might. This leaves a power vacuum in their exterior operations including on the small isolated world of Tatooine. We will strike there with the full fleet while the Golan is under construction overhead. Any and everyone is invited to participate and show their worth.”

[Darth Nyrys]

The bright colors and fuzzy opiate induced warmth had abandoned Ailbasí, leaving her with a dull sobering pain and traces of nausea. Her recent memories were muddled in a narcotic haze and the disorientation of a minor concussion. While her entire body ached, her shoulder and fingers stung with greater intensity, and Ailbasí realized that she had a medcast on her hand. She didn’t have it in herself to face what had happened, and what had almost happened, but she did have vague and confused memories Delta being there afterwards, and being… comforting? She didn’t deserve it, she had been so taken aback by the Sith asking her to kill someone that she had walked out mid conversation in a daze, which must have seemed like she was blowing him off.

 

She made it to the briefing, feeling too restless to lie down anymore, but too worn out to be her usual bubbly self. Apparently they were going to Tatooine, because crime, but maybe in the solitude of the desert she could continue her Sith studies. She had, after all, completed the task that had been given to her, doubly so, and it’s not like she had cheated and smothered an old lady. Even better, she had managed to do it in a way that wouldn’t get her a death mark on Onderon.

 

During the briefing she saw the woman that she had been told was her doctor and had assisted in her extraction from the hospital. She had severe, aquiline features, and black hair cut short in a pixie cut. Her face was covered in ragged scars that had healed a long time ago, and her eyes conveyed coldness both with their focus and their deep blue color. A comm text arrived on Ailbasí’s personal comm, from the woman.

Your father understands the need for discretion, but requests a comm when able.

 

Had her Dad seen her on the holonet? Or maybe they had contacted him while she was out in the hospital. Either way, it was going to be a long and awkward conversation that she wasn't looking forward to.

[Parangor]

So the Tuskan wanted a ride home, well it wasn't the normal trophy awarded for combat but why not. "I will honor your request and return you to your home. If you will tell us how to collect your mount I will have space in the cargo hold made for it and the appropriate provisions brought on board. Is there anything you will need for your journey?" As he waited for a reply he decided to risk asking the tuskan a somewhat strange question. "You have bested me in combat and shown honor and dignity beyond the bounds required of you. I would as that while we travel if you are willing you would teach me of your culture. I have always taken an interest in what I consider true warrior cultures and I believe I have found one worth learning about in yours."

 

While allowing the translator to speak for him, though he wasn't sure it was necessary, Drogan issued orders to his men to prepare to depart and to send a message to their employer. Any and all questions on defense will be answered and the meeting in person would be delayed. If he was honest he was actually happier to be going to tattooine. His group had made a decent profit last time round and were in no immediate need of a job, and besides when was the last time they had gotten to go on a good hunt.

[Wyvernfall]

He has so much to learn... the tusken thought as he stared unmovingly at Drogan. Eventually, Rruror'rur'rr nodded, he would teach what he could, "You will have to come to Tatooine to learn from the shamans much of our ways;m but I'll show you what I can once we are underway."

 

Hefting his gaderffii over his shoulder, Rruror'rur'rr left the mess hall, making his way to the bridge to explain how he thought best to capture his newfound mount. In truth, he was not entirely sure it would work, but somehow, he just felt that if the crew were careful and the beast could sense that he was okay with it the winged reptaivian would board with little blood-loss on his part or the part of the crew.

 

After he recovered his rifle from the armory where Drogan's men had stashed it, Rruror'rur'rr returned to his room to do his best to mend his torn robes. Eventually, the signal was given that his mount had been successfully brought aboard and they were docking with another accursed metal vessel.

 

Along with Drogan, Rruror'rur'rr hesitantly stepped aboard the Marie; his entire body stiffened as he begrudgingly and suspiciously made his way to the gathering of Black Sun, Beast RIder, and Onderian agents and otherwise. Bristling with indignation at the site of so many blasphemous techno-dependent bastardized lost cousins of his people, Rruror'rur'rr decided that discretion was indeed the better part of valor at this time. So silently, he made his way to the back of the hall and stood, a silent sandy sentinel watching and listening; his gaderffii at hand should violence breakout, Given this group, it is amazing they have not all slaughtered one another already. Rruror'rur'rr was pleased to note that there were at least a few members covered head to toe, even if it was in techno-blasphemy. At least they covered their exposed flesh.

 

Now all there was to do was wait until they could back to Tatooine.

[Sheog the Mad]

The halls of The Marie were filled with the rushing footsteps of soldiers and pilots preparing for departure. To Scarron, the scattered thoughts and borderline panic flowed around her like a river as she tasted its sweet waters. Fear was in the background of every conversation, even those of Black Sun’s finest warriors, and it was delicious. Her brother followed in her wake, taking the hum of war in with each breath. To the half broken kitten, the Sith twins were an enigma, a brooding pair meditatively silent to the proceedings around them. Anders broke his silence with a gravely word

 

“Zirtani, your exhaustion causes your mind’s clarity to wane like a winter’s moon.”

 

Scarron’s words carried a venomous undertone, like the reverberating hiss of a coiled serpent.

 

“You would find yourself swiftly dead with such distraction..."

 

Her voice softened slightly and she outstretched her hand to the snow-white creature, staring into bestial eyes of vivid cerise, matched with tawny sulphur.

 

“Reach into that pain, cast away the deadness of your mind… Refresh yourself with the caress of the dark. When your mind is fully immersed, what do you see?”

[Parangor]

Docking with the Marie proved to be easy and the meeting room was filled with a rather surprising number of agents from multiple orginizations. Looking around he allowed his presence alone to announce him as he chose to stand beside the Tuskan and wait to see if his contact decided to approach him. He was none to pleased with the number of people in the room and made sure that his blades and blasters were loose in their scabbards and ready for easy access. Strangely he was as comfortable having the Tuskan at his side as he would be to have his crew. While he had left them behind on the ship their orders were simple, should a fight break out and he be killed they were to destroy as much of the hanger as they could and leave. Leaning slightly against the wall he waited to see what would happen and who would be the first to approach him and introduce his to the odd collection of groups and explain just what he was being hired to do.

[Delta73]

The Marie’s command center was packed to the gills with the lords and nobles, various mercenaries called from the surface, and the ex leader of the Black Sun Zalis. Who Delta was glad to see. The breathing mass of men and women sat or stood around the starmaps as Delta outlined his plan for the quick and efficient seizure of the outer rim territory of Tatooine. Though not originally thought as important in the smuggling realms, the lonely desert planet would become the lifeblood of smuggling in the outer rim territories under Black Sun, supplying spice, slaves, and ill will throughout the now relatively undefended outer rim and colonies.

 

With the destruction of the Nar Shaddaa smuggling rings by the woeful imperials, it was time for the Black Sun to strike. Within moments of finishing the planning phase, the entire Black Sun Armada entered hyperspace towards the distant sandy world on the edge of the Arkanis Sector.

[ChessRo]

Onderon hits Chess like a tidal wave of heat; less humid than Nal Hutta but still irritatingly hot. They have a feeling they will be shedding quite a bit of fur on this planet, meaning the next expedition into space will be even more uncomfortable. The first thing they do coming off the ramp of the cargo shuttle is to head towards the opening of the Minx, where Oz is whizzing around, doing a fuel check and running systems diagnostics.

 

“You beauty, you brought her in without a scratch!” Chess kneels to brush a paw over the head of their little astromech. Oz beeps cheerfully, pushing underneath the touch like one of those pet felines that humans occasionally like to own. (Chess doesn’t really get the appeal; do Cathar keep small hairless animals as pets? Of course not!)

 

Overhead the docking bay, the rumbling, almost-screech of a Ruping reverberates through the half-enclosed building. Chess looks up just in time to see the Reptavian creature glide past, its jade green eyes looking around with a slight hint of savagery. A figure seems to be riding it; the mere thought makes Chess’s fur stand on end. Flying in a spacecraft is fine; flying on the back of a creature that might drop you as soon as eat you for lunch is something else.

 

The crowd around the landing pad is a good mix of on-and-off worlders, often distinctive by the kind of clothing they chose to wear. The locals wear lightweight fabrics and aren’t afraid to show off a little skin, which is conducive to keeping their bodies at a manageable temperature. Many of the off-worlders are wearing flight-suits or materials that do not deal well with heat, and consequentially, any parts of their body that is visible is covered with a thin layer of sweat. Chess immediately sheds their jacket and their outer layer of clothing, revealing a black tank-top, while uncorking a small flask they keep in one of their pockets for an occasion such as this. Taking a swig, the Cathar pulls out their data pad and sends a message off to their Black Sun contact. If they can arrange to meet before night kicks in, there might be some time to enjoy oneself before Chess has to take off yet again.

[Jefsa J'Feh]

ChessRo's datapad dings announcing the arrival of an incoming message scrambled all across the galaxy. last known waypoint: Tatooine.

 

 

A blue holographic image of a portly Corellian with graying features appears,

"It would seem you have diverted my shipment from Tatooine. Please adjust your course and make with all haste towards Tatooine. My delivery must not be any later than it already is. i have customers anxiously awaiting their preordered Gunga-glow!" The holo-image appeared to glance around furtively before leaning in and whispering, Perhaps, I can sweeten the deal a bit more. An associate of mine with Black Sun has a proposition for me. As undoubtedly explained to you by my Zabrak collegue, I am unable to journey to Tatooine at such a time. Production being as busy as it is with all the back orders of Gunga-glow. Since you'll be going to Tatooine anyway, perhaps you can meet with them as well for me? It will be made well worth your while. Just tell my associate when you turn over the shipment and you will be directed further.

 

Booster out.

 

and with that the image scrambled in a pixelation of techno-nonsense and vanished

 

[Black Sun Agent(s)]

The bright blond haired Agent Liam Corlai pushed his way through the throngs of human onlookers at the appearance of the mercenary and bounty hunter that the Black Sun had summoned. He adjusted his bright red collar and waved at the feline, showing his badge of the Black Sun sponsored Mercenary/Hunter league. He shoved a datacard into her paw as he walked her through the crowd of onlookers into the shade of the outdoor cantina and appetizer place Mujabee’s which had half off their appetizers at this hour. He ordered a very expensive top shelf whiskey and a side of nef sticks and informed Chess that he would be paying for the meal and whatever she would like to drink.

 

“As we eat, please feel free to tell me if you need any help in finding this bounty, this is the first of many that the black sun offers. Think of this one as a test. See how you do.”

 

The card Contained:

 

 

Name: Booster Rann
Description: UNK
Wanted: Alive
Bounty: 200,000 Credits
Return: Onderon

 

[ChessRo]

“Think of this one as a test. See how you do.”

 

Chess runs a paw through their mane, frowning slightly at the data card, though still attempting to appear nonchalant. The name of their current employer staring at them on the miniscreen unsettles them more than they’d like to admit, but one never shows their cards to the other players before the round is over. Booster Rann might be up to something unsavoury, but it remains to be seen whether his actions merit an actual bounty, or just a bit of competition with an angry rival. Chess decides to stall for time and gestures towards the bartender. When the Twi’lek shuffles closer Chess looks up from the data card and peers at the overhead menu.

 

“I’ll take a plate of Berbersian crab and a glass of blue milk with a shot of rum.” The bartender nods and shuffles off, leaving the Cathar with the slightly overbearing human.

 

“This is no small bounty, especially for a first job” Chess begins, looking straight into their contact’s eyes. “This individual seems to have quite a price on his head. I’m curious as to what he did to merit such a large grudge. May I ask what the bounty is for?”

 

The two of them are interrupted by the milk sliding down the counter. Chess picks it up and takes a long draught, giving the blonde-haired human a chance to respond.

[Black Sun Agent(s)]

Merit? He scratched his chin for a moment and took another long drink of his ale,

 

“Well he and his boss are wanted by the Black Sun for cutting into our profits in the toiletries business. Which believe it or not we are very profitable from, and we want him alive so we can join our companies together. Plus…”

 

He laughed softly as he looked towards the cathar woman drinking milk,

 

“We like to give easy and high priced contracts out to newer bounty hunters that fit our diversity standards. As we in the Black Sun would like to invest in you and your future endeavors.”

 

He slapped a large denomination credit chip of 10,000 credits worth onto the counter between them.

 

"There is the first part of the payment to get you going, if you aren't interested simply leave the chip here. If you are, well best of luck, the Black Sun supports its bounty hunters."

[ChessRo]

Chess watches the Agent leave Mujabee’s, eyes slitted and fur standing slightly on end. The encounter with Corlai leaves a bad taste in their mouth; but still, credits are credits. The Cathar tears into their meal with relish and swipes the chip off of the counter.

 

One thing that Chess has confidence in is their ability to glean every little scrap of information from even the smallest interaction. They have spent enough years among the copious species of the galaxy to learn about the unspoken cues behind words and small gestures unique to each race. Therefore, there are two things that they can walk away with from this conversation that they can use to their advantage. First of all, judging by the generous behaviour of their agent, the Black Sun believe that Chess is a lady. Secondly, they are watching Chess’s every move.

 

The Cathar licks their lips, relishing every last bit of the Berbersian crab. Leaving a reasonable tip with the bartender, they tap on their commlink and click out a code for BB-05.

 

DIRECTION: PERFORM SECURITY SWEEP OF THE MINX AND ALL COMMUNICATIONS SYSTEMS. HIGHLIGHT AND ISOLATE ANY SPYWARE, TO BE DELETED ON NOTICE.