Passage Off this Rock (Open to anyone with a ship that's not an Imp)

[Anuis Ma'artra]

Two Days Prior --

"Mr. Shivon?"


"I'm sorry I believe you have the wrong fellow," The grey haired man spoke waving his hand in front of the Devarion bounty hunter.

"Are you sure?" The Devarion's eyes glazed over for a moment but then seemed to regain clarity.

"I'm positive, why don't you go bother someone else I'm a bit busy here." Slowly the old man's hand moved towards his waste. It was subtle but the Devarion was a well trained bounty hunter and immediately assesed the threat.

"Do you really think you can get to your saber quick enough old man?" The bounty hunter mocked him.

"Saber?" The man feigned ignorance, but he knew he had been had, his hand shot into his cloak for his long dormant saber. There were two flashes, one of red and one of blue.

"Master! NO!" A young man's voice cried out. The bounty hunter looked shocked. There had been no report of a disciple. His intelligence failure was a lethal one as the blue saber soared up from the ground into the already swinging hand of the young man who had cried out at his master's death.


Present Day --

"I'm looking for passage off the planet," the voice was quiet and shaky. The twi'lek running the docks looked up from his data screen at a young roughly bearded raven haired youth.

"You got an Imperial Travel Voucher?"

"I don't even know what one of those are?"

"Quit wasting my time then kid!" The twi'lek growled, baring his hideously pointed teeth.

The young man briefly exhaled, took a moment then collected himself.

"Perhaps you could refer me to someone who could help me travel without an Imperial Voucher?" He waved his hand past the eyes of the twi'lek who seemed to be getting angrier by the moment.

"Listen you little piece of bantha waste..."

"I only need a name and an address." The voice was calmer and more confident this time. Again he waved his hand past the twi'lek's eyes.

The twi'lek glazed over for a second and without missing a beat replied; "Bronsky's Salvage, bunch of Spice Runners and Smugglers hang out there..."

"Thanks," replied the man and then he walked away.

The twi'lek just nodded and went back to his data screen, it wasn't until after a few minutes that he suddenly realized what had just happened. When he looked up no one was there, thinking it was just a daydream he forgot about it and went back to his work.

[Zeke]

At Bronsky's today is a rare, rare thing. A legitimate ship has landed there. The Happy Child is berthed at the farthest end of the area, and it's crew are hurriedly unloading it's cargo here. By the ship's cargo bay a young man working a loader has parked temporarily by the Captain, who's marking off inventory.

"Now, tell me again why we decided to do business here," said the young man, casing an edgey glance around the place. "Sure is shady."

The Captain doesn't even look up, he's so busy flying through the inventory. "Because, Zeke, this is the closest place to our client, and he didn't mind offloading the cargo here. Don't worry so much, there's lots of protection." He gestured at the shifty-looking men in armor standing about with blaster carbines. "We're fine."

"Explains why you're so worried," Zeke replies, running a hand through his shaggy blonde hair and over the scruff on his face. "But whichever. There ain't but two boxes left, no how."

[Anuis Ma'artra]

Bronsky's was like something out of an old holo-vid. It was full of all the usual suspects; Gammorrean Goons, twi'lek lackeys, and even a few rough looking humanoids.

Anuis moved cautiously through Bronsky's avoiding any and all eye contact, reaching out with his limited ability in the Force to see who might be the most suspectible to accepting his pauper's price. After a little while he noticed a group of men unloading an old Cargo ship. They seemed uncomfortable being in the same room with most of Bronsky's best customers. This made them stick out.

They would take the job and more than likely not ask any questions.

Slowly the made his way over to one of the younger men unloading the crates.

"Excuse me," He said softly.

[Zeke]

Something starts itching at Zeke shortly after he drives out of the cargo bay with the last crate. He's not sure what it is, it's elusive, he can't grasp it. He settles the final crate into the ground transport supplied by the client and turns the loader around, whiffing the young man standing there.

"Don'tcha stand so close! I coulda hit ya." The wierd itch disappears, but Zeke doesn't have time to wonder about it. This guy looks like he's in a whole heap o' trouble. "What can I for ya?"