Tatooine

[Pinckz]

Malin's nerves were scattered slightly with the sudden change of gears, but he still managed to keep his mind on the mission. Once he and his new employer reached the ship they would be taking to Tatooine, he even fastened his weapons a little tighter, to compensate for his accelerated footwork.

 

However, considering their 'cordial' impressions, no matter how offensive or obtuse they were, Malin remained considerably more quiet than he had since he arrived on Dubrillion. Once he fastened the safety harness around his shoulders and abdomen, he fell completely silent; and considering what was to come, he was sure that was enough riding on the mission that no suspicion would come of his introspection.

 

Still... He knew this work would be difficult to swallow. Not even five minutes into his employment, he was already going to secure a slave operation. A despicable practice in civilized society, but civilized society wasn't a dogma that Malin clang to anymore. Still... Innocent people will be hurt...

 

Malin shook his head a little side to side, trying to rid his mind of those hauntingly familiar blue eyes, staring daggers at him through his subconscious.

 

I know she wouldn't like it... I know she wouldn't, but she isn't here. Yeah, she isn't here because I failed to protect her.... Ugh...

 

What kind of person am I...

_______

 

Time passed relatively quickly outside Malin's head, but the speed at which his thoughts cascaded through his consciousness, pulled Malin's temporal awareness to a crawl.

 

He remained silent though, continuing his thought pattern until the ship hit Tatooine's orbit. He still had regrets clinging to his mind, but he would serve his masters, same as he did years ago... Just like a mongrel pup...

[Pinckz]

Malin had been prepping himself for a landing onto the sandy ball of nothing but desert after a bout of repeated smiles and what seemed to be a particularly interesting combat ritual. He had seen people wound themselves before battle, but never in a way as formal as what had been shown to him. Still, Malin was raring to go and readying the guns when a sharp beeping sound struck his ears once more.

 

The mercenary looked back toward Terra for a curious moment and found that, just as quickly as they had been taken from their previous job, they were called to another. It seemed as if they would never get a job done with the amount of hopping around they did and by now, Malin's head was thoroughly sick of trying to make sense of the situation.

 

He merely sat there, sighed and then walked back over to his seat and buckled in after delivering an equally pleasant smile back to Terra, with a little bit of an extra fiendish flair.

 

"So where are we off to now, mon Capitan? Are we off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of the cos... mos?" Malin said, with a slight chuckle as he wrapped his arms around his chest in attempts to comfort his conflicted feelings.

[Pinckz]

“Raider’s Tempest with a shipment of medicine, provisions, and materials, requesting permission to land,” Malin reported over the ship’s comm system. Amara, who was firmly planted in the co-pilot seat, looked back at the Smuggler with wide eyes hidden behind goggles and gasped.

 

“Mal, I thought we were the ‘Bloated Torton.’ Do I need to remember a new ship name?” Amara’s nose crinkled a little as the skin under the nosepiece of her goggles started to itch.

 

Malin, thinking quickly and disabling the audio transmission for a second, looked at Amara with a sense of smug satisfaction. “Nah, this baby has a rotating transponder system. It has a load of different identifications. We could register with anyone who wanted us as different names and go into any system if we wanted to. Obviously, we can’t do that right now because all of the transponders aren’t registered anywhere. However, it does mean that it’ll be easier to run away if we get caught doing something bad.” Malin rubbed at the scruff of hair that had grown on his chin during the flight, adding a subtle reminder to shave to the many things that clouded the space between his ears. “Now do me a favor and be still a moment, Amy. I need to make sure we're clear to land.”

 

Amara scowled but quieted as she watched the ball of sand and dirt shift into view. Malin clicked the audio transmitter back on just as he got an answer from the Mos Eisley comm tower.

 

“You are cleared to land, Raider’s Tempest. Please proceed to the Farstrider’s Rest space station.”

 

A little unsure of himself, Malin paused. He took a moment to get some VFR before spotting the large space station sitting in the sand ball's orbit.

 

“Please proceed to dock 5, freight and transit, thank you.”

 

Malin nodded to the disembodied voice and maneuvered his large turtle-like vessel until it was nestled carefully into the designated docking bay. The docking clamps emerged shortly after and the ship came to a rest with several satisfying thunks.

 

Malin, days of travel wearing down his face, looked to Amy and Celine with a pleasant smile. “Time to christen this new bird with its first job. Care to do the honors with me, Amy?” Malin asked, offering his hand.

 

Amy started for a second but retracted her hand almost immediately. “N-no. I can’t go out there. They’ll find me.”

 

Malin cocked his head to the side. “They?”

 

As if in answer to his question, a knock sounded on the docking bay door, echoing through the ship and interrupting the awkward silence that had begun to set in.

 

Amara flinched and jumped almost a foot into the air. Celine caught her and put her arms protectively around the young Togruta. The finely articulated arms of the droid moved with more grace than her clunky body would suggest. And while it wasn’t aggressive, Malin made a mental note of the droid’s capability. “Alright, Celine. Then can you please keep an eye on her and don’t let anyone in here while I’m gone unless you hear my voice give you a specific catch-phrase over the comms?”

 

The droid nodded. Malin whispered a small phrase to her then ambled out of the docking bay door, arming himself and closing the door behind him as he left.

 

Before he could get more than two steps onto the tarmac and just as the hissing of his closing ship’s door eked out, Malin was stopped by a colorful trio of thugs.

 

The frontman, scraggly and slightly aloof, was a Devaronian. And while it wasn’t immediately obvious, he was apparently the mouth of this cadre of miscreants. He started to make his way toward Malin, his movements slow and calculated. But Malin’s stony gaze rattled him, causing him to stop in his tracks and look to the others that bookended him.

 

“So, what you three doin outside my boat?” Malin asked, a small scowl playing on the edge of his lips.

 

You could hear wool scraping across durasteel with how silent the next moments were. Malin almost thought they didn’t hear him when the Devaronian finally discovered his stones and spoke up. “We’re here to collect the girl.”

 

“Girl? What girl? I may be a pretty man, but I ain’t pretty enough to fit that qualification, thank you.” Malin said, his mouth bending into a little smile. “And, if I were, no offense, I don’t think I’d be interested in you. You’re uh… not my type.”

 

The Devaronian visibly paled and his two Houk friends laughed a little, despite their earlier stoicism.

 

When his composure returned, a touch of deeper scarlet mingled with the lines of the Devaronian’s face. “My name is Devarus Kathek, and we are here to retrieve Mr. Quelos’ property. He is a very wealthy individual with stock on Thyferra and a fair shake of the Outer Rim. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind paying you for turning over his property. He might even… entertain… your seemingly odd preferences.” Devarus smiled a slimy smile at his own attempt at humor. But Malin wasn’t smiling this time.

 

“No one is ‘property,’ least of all, a kid. Now, I don’t mind entertaining your strange thoughts. But if you think either of you is going to step on my ship or manipulate me into giving over a living breathing being, pain is going to be the least of your worries.” Malin’s fingers hovered over the steel of his slugthrowers. Each finger stretched in time and he breathed easy through the manufactured air provided by the Farstrider's life support and HVAC systems.

 

The Houks eyed each other warily while the Devaronian scoffed.

 

“You’re bluff-” The Devaronian attempted to say and then keeled over in pain. The Houks didn’t know what had happened, but they heard a noise and rushed at where Malin was standing. The shot had barely echoed when Malin sidestepped the right Houk, narrowly avoiding his advance, and lowered himself beneath the left’s center of balance, causing him to flip end-over-end and slam into the metal of the Bloated Torton’s hull. Malin held both of his slugthrowers in his clenched palms and stared daggers beneath the rim of his wide-brimmed hat.

 

“I’m terrible at gambling. I never bluff.” Malin’s words were iron. He clipped each syllable as if the weight of every word was important.

 

The Devaronian, a shocked expression printed across his face, stood up and gaped at the open hole that had been shot through his horns.

 

“Next time, the shot will be lethal. Get your scrawny piece of kriffing druk out of this space station. NOW.” Malin fired a warning shot off the hangar walls and watched as the three thugs scurried out with their hands on their heads.

 

“We’ll be back with more you kriffing junker. We’ll be back!!!” Devarus said as he ran and then disappeared down the nearest corridor.

 

I don’t doubt it. Damn it, Malin, what have you gotten yourself into this time?

 

When he looked down, he was grasping at the small locket around his neck. A little F shined in the bright light of the hangar. Docking officials, who were ‘conveniently’ misplaced during his altercation were now making their way over to his ship and ushering the transfer and stevedore of his cargo. He stayed just outside of the open door until the process was complete, monitoring his surroundings for a resurgence of Devarus or any of Mr. Quelos’ thugs.

 

“Malin, as I live and breathe, what're you doing here?”

 

The voice was familiar but Malin couldn’t quite place it. When he turned to face the newcomer, Malin was swept into a large sweaty hug. A big Besalisk face greeted him with a wide grin and its arms tugged tighter before letting the Smuggler down, letting the color return to his face.

 

“Rufus, what’re you doin’ here? You working for Black Sun now?” Malin asked, still eyeing the docking bay for signs of trouble.

 

“Yup. They made me a provisional docking official while they scramble to staff this beast. It’s a miracle they managed to turn this hunk of junk into something practical in the first place. I can’t say I was their best decision. But I definitely think they’re doing great things for this ball of sand.” Rufus’s smile was echoed by the number of chins that rested beneath his fat lips.

 

“Good ol’ Rufus, ever the optimist. Think you could hook me up with someone with cargo to move?” Malin asked, looking over at one of the dock workers as they almost dropped a crate full of valuable medical supplies.

 

“Well, first, here is your cut for the delivery you made. Black Sun wishes to show their appreciation for contributing to their efforts out here on the Outer Rim.” Rufus said. And although it wasn’t sarcastic, Malin read a bit of sarcasm in the words ‘Black Sun’ and ‘appreciation.’ “Now, I can’t promise you anything official. But I can put in a word to my boss and see if he can find you some work. Just hang tight here for a little bit, try not to cause any more trouble, and I’ll see what I can do. Alright?”

 

“Aww Rufus, you know me, what could possibly go wrong?”

 

Rufus’ jovial smile shifted into a knowing grimace.

 

“I seriously wish you hadn’t’ve said that.”

Edited July 25, 2018 by Guest

[Pinckz]

The Besalisk grumbled a little when someone interrupted him in the middle of one of his stories. But Rufus’ face fell a few degrees when he noticed that the interruption was none other than a Black Sun viceroy and her escort.

 

He bowed meekly and scuttled as gracefully as he could into the Farstriders Rest main thoroughfare.

 

“The Black Sun is interested in MY exploits?” Malin chortled, eyeing the surveillance cameras located at every corner of the docking bay. “I’d be foolish not to admit I’m curious how they found my exploits when I’ve only had a few. But, we can get to that another time. Where are my manners?”

 

Malin removed his wide-brimmed hat, placed it to his chest and took a deep bow. “Honor ma’am. I don’t think I ever met a Black Sun top gun such as yerself. I must admit, I didn’t take ye for a mercenary, or a crook. And if you are, yer the nicest looking criminal I’ve ever seen. Name’s Malin, Malin Wrynn. And I’m always looking for work. Oh! And between you and me, I’m grateful you interrupted Rufus when you did, he likes to ramble a lot about his past with the Starlight Corsairs. He thinks it makes him sound tough.”

 

Malin fiddled with a cigar in his right hand. He settled his eyes on the viceroy and put his hat back on his ruffled black hair. “What particular job did ya have in mind?”

[Pinckz]

The smuggler grumbled a little under his breath, grabbing a new cigar from his jacket pocket and lighting it up. He took each of their hands in turn and matched their grips. He looked both of them in the eye and kept eye contact with each of them for a good ten seconds. It was how he knew whether they were full of druk or not. Unfortunately, it looked like both of them was telling the force's honest truth. Which meant that Malin’s second delivery would be of questionable origin. He’d barely made it out of the Coruscant port before his smuggling enterprise took a criminal turn. He long suspected it was a matter of time. But he figured it would take months, not days.

 

Some part of him wanted to ask. A niggling worrisome part in the back of his mind desperately wanted to know why the Black Sun was shipping out bad bacta and liquid explosives. But the part of him that hadn’t had a decent meal in a little over a week was louder. It’s okay Malin. As long as you don’t have to use the gorram stuff, you should be good.

 

Malin took a long hard look at his ship. He swallowed away what little professional pride clung to the back of his mouth and sighed almost imperceptibly.

 

“Yea, I’m interested. But first I’d like to lay down a couple conditions,” Malin replied. “First, I want a guarantee from you both that the Black Sun will not harm my crew or my ship even if they are not directly affiliated with the Black Sun. And, second, if jobs run low in the Outer Rim and you run out of smuggling requests, I want the freedom to run jobs with anyone that can pay. That is unless they put out jobs that directly oppose quests and jobs made by you and yours."

 

Malin cracked his knuckles together and took a long hard drag from the cigar still in his mouth. Then a mischievous grin broke the stolid lines of his face. “If all that’s okay. I’d say we’re in business. Just point me to the first shipment and I’ll be on my way.”

[Pinckz]

 

Wrong profile. >.<

Edited May 29, 2022 by Pinckz