The Vipers: Wheelin' 'n' Dealin'-9.223 ABY

[Revvie Boyle]

Revvie Boyle, 51, a slugthrower permanently strapped to his waist, was in an interesting conversation with a giant slug. More specifically, it was a Hutt. The matter of discussion: A Carrack Patrol Cruiser, obtained from a Moff over ten years ago. Right now, Revvie, who was known as “the Snake” in more undesirable circles, was tired of repairing the old thing, and was eager to get rid of it. The Patrol cruiser had been part of a deal reached with Moff Joran Greth, who was and still is in control of Valc VII and the entire Perinn Sector. At the time, Revvie, who had been thirty nine, was in his prime of pirating. He was raiding convoys left and right with two Vibre-class assault cruisers, which had been purchased, for a hefty sum, from the black market. His mother and father had provided the credits, as had the years of illegal transactions on Valc VII itself.

Revvie’s mother had died when he was only five, but she had accumulated a reasonably large sum of credits from her years of work as chief practitioner of the Valc VII medical center. Unfortunately, her job was her undoing. One of the more deadly diseases had been stubborn, and resisted the decontamination. His mother had unknowingly carried it home, but she never made it. Halfway to the large house, she lost consciousness, crashing her speeder into the side of a house. She survived the crash, only to die the next day of the disease. The family had been broken. Revvie’s older brother, Devik, was seven at the time, old enough to truly understand what had happened, but too young to deal with the grief. With major counseling, he had recovered from his depression, still as smart as ever.<O:p</O:p

Devik had been the family genius. He had known from a young age that he would be in the military, as he came up with incredible strategies seemingly on a whim. As luck would have it, he had graduated from the Imperial naval academy in 15 BBY with top honors, and had been given command of numerous ships in the past 24 years. After his counseling, he had buried himself in strategies and tactics, using the data pads his father had obtained from the library to reinforce his ideas and lead him on his path to greatness. Years later, he said Eliza’s death had been his turning point, and he was right.

Revvie’s father, Ivan Boyle, was the chief librarian at the Valc library, and also earned massive sums of credits from his job. His day was full of work; organization, supervision, collecting, buying, and Eliza’s death forced him to bury himself in his work, going overtime nearly every day for two years before he resurfaced from his depression. His access to data pads had allowed Devik, or “Dev” to Revvie, to obtain most of his knowledge.

Revvie had dealt with his grief in a different fashion. He had kept his sorrow bottled up for years, and it soured, turning to spite. At ten, he joined a local gang. At fifteen, he was a notorious gangster, despite his young age. He dealt in everything from smuggling and drug selling to sex trafficking and back. All of this was without the knowledge of his father, but Devik had always known.

At 23, Revvie parted ways with his brother. While Devik attended the Imperial naval academy of the newly formed Empire, Revvie took advantage of the confusion and stole his father’s fortune, along with taking all of his own. His friends, at least the ones who were still alive, came with him, and they pooled their money. Their goal: to be pirates. It was not a childhood dream, or even an adolescent one. It was a reality. With their combined fortunes, they purchased to Vibre-class assault cruisers and four Toscan 8-Q starfighters. Revvie had sent out a notice to other gang members, and soon amassed a following of several hundred strong.

He decided to name his new gang the “Vipers” for the animals quick and deadly strikes. Consequently, he earned a new nickname: The Snake. The Vibres were then named the Venom and the Toxin, keeping in line with the reptilian theme. At first, they stayed in the general vicinity of Valc VII, hitting the then-new Imperial cargo shipments. They had a mantra: “Fast and deadly.” They kept with this mantra, hitting the shipments with their two cruisers and the star fighters, then boarding the defenseless ships, killing those inside, and taking the cargo for their own. After ten years of this, they had amassed a huge fortune of credits. That’s when the new Moff arrived.

From the start, Revvie knew Moff Joran Greth was going to be different. He immediately started putting escorts on the shipments, which Revvie would promptly outwit and destroy. Finally, the Moff knew he had to reach a deal. The terms were as follows: The Vipers would stay away from Imperial cargo shipments and attack any Rebel intruders, and in turn, the Moff would ignore them, and they would receive two Carrack-class cruisers. One was a Light Cruiser, which became the Fang, and the other was a Patrol Cruiser, which became the Strike. Unfortunately, for the Moff, he hadn’t mentioned anything about cargo shipments on other worlds, and soon the Vipers spread like so many baby snakes. However, the Viper’s got bored, and the deal was not to last.<O:p</O:p

[Revvie Boyle]

“Well, after several years repairin’ her, I finally decided that the piece of junk just wasn’t worth it to me. Mind you, I wasn’t raidin’ any convoys back then, so I had no use for ‘er. She’ll be good for your line o’ work, though. She can hold her own against most light escorts, and I understand that’s what you’re up against.” Revvie said, trying to win over the Hutt with a charming smile and a good sales pitch. Twenty years of fixin’ ‘er up had finally gotten to him, and he decided to sell her in exchange for a vast sum of money.

“Good, good,” said the slug. Revvie could never get used to the fact that an entire crime empire was run by slugs. It was just unfathomable. Yet, here was one right in front of him, slimy as ever. “She will do well in my fleet of ships. Now, let us talk price.” The slug was obviously going to offer something low. That was how it usually worked. For something like the Carrack, Revvie was shootin’ for ten million credits, and no lower than five million. The ship was worth that much. If he had been selling the Fang, that would be a different story.

The Fang could hold her own against any escort smaller than a Victory Star Destroyer, especially with Revvie’s hand-selected crew of scumbags. After ten years with her, he had made numerous upgrades, including an increase in power output. The shielding on the ship was more than enough for its line of work, but over the thirty years of his career, Revvie knew he needed to be ready for anything. At the moment, he was in the process of buying up weaponry for her. The absence of the Patrol cruiser would mean his anti-starfighter capabilities would be lower, and despite the purchase of a couple new freighters, he knew it wasn't enough. He had planned out removing eight of the ion cannons and four of the turbolasers, while adding twelve quad laser batteries and a hangar bay to house the star fighters he was going to purchase. The Fang wouldn't be as good against larger ships anymore, nor would it be as good against star fighters as the Strike had been, but it would fill in the hole left by the cruiser's absence.

“Fifteen million.” Revvie gave the high price immediately, knowing that the Hutt would never agree to that. If he offered five million, Revvie would offer fourteen. That was how it worked. The Hutt needed the cruiser, and Revvie needed the money.

“Five million.” The Hutt was as predictable as he was slimy.

“Fourteen.” The reply was almost immediate. Revvie had planned for this, and he had been in the business for years.

“Six.” Predictable again. Maybe there were so much fat in that head there was no room for brains. It was amazing this slimeball could keep a criminal empire together for more than a week.

“Thirteen.” This was going exactly as planned, easy as robbing an Imperial convoy.

“Six and a half.” There was a surprise. The Hutt probably guessed what Revvie had been shooting for, and was trying to change the game.

“Twelve and a half.” Two could play at that game, and Revvie was up for the challenge.

“Seven.”

“Twelve and a quarter.” His trump card. He had turned the tables on the slug now, and depended on the next move.

“Eight.” Obviously the slug was desparate. He needed that Patrol Cruiser, and Revvie had the upper hand.

“Eleven.” Once again a predictable rebuttal, but he didn't care now.

“Eight and a half.” Well apparantly there was a brain in that overly large and slimy head.

“Ten.” His optimal price, now he would have to settle.

“Nine.” Now Revvie was stuck. He wanted to get as close to ten as possible. He needed the money for what was going to happen next. Once the Moff found out he had sold the Cruiser, the Imperial would be all over him. As the Hutt considered, Revvie smiled, trying to guess who was slimier. The Hutt, or the Moff? It was closer than it would appear.

"Ten." Revvie tried to finalize it, but to no avail.

“Nine and a half.” Finally the Hutt answered. That was a price Revvie could live with.

“Nine and a half.” He nodded his head, not wanting to push it too far. If he had said nine and three quarters, the Hutt might have broken off the deal. Seeing the Hutt’s expression, it was what he had expected, but not what he had wanted. “Meet me at Bespin.” Revvie finalized the deal, picking a planet that was neither in Viper territory nor in Hutt territory.

“Two days from now.” The Hutt said, and Revvie gave him a mock salute before shutting off the comms.

“Okay, men. She sold. We’re now nine and a half million credits richer and rid of one lousy ship.” He said, half celebratory, half sarcastically. “We are to meet Mr. Prime Slime at Bespin in two days. We’re comin’ in full force, in case that slimy bastard has anything up his sleeve.” He added that last remark as a warning: I want you on high alert. “Well, we better get a move on. Signal the Basilisk, the Lizard, the Poison, the Venom, the Toxin, and the Watcher to form up.” He listed the biggest ships in his service. “Oh, and the Hydra.” The last one he nearly forgot about. He had named it that because it popped up everywhere, and it had just come back from its last mission. “The Strike will be in the rear. We will wait for the credits to be transferred on-board the Fang until we give them the Strike. We will outgun them, so we do not need to fear them. If they choose to fight, give them no quarter.”

The rag-tag group of ships, freighters, and fighters grouped up and simultaneously jumped into hyperspace, leaving nothing behind but the stars of empty space.

[Revvie Boyle]

Revvie was anxious. That was all he could say. Two days of non-stop hyperspace had put the entire crew on edge, and he knew he wasn’t the only trigger-happy bastard with an itchy trigger finger. If one of his men fired during the exchange, all hell would break loose. He needed the money more than the Hutt needed the cruiser. He was planning on another expansion, and was attempting to make the Fang a more independent cruiser. The Strike was her counterpart, and he needed that to change. He was planning on a massive modification. The ship had 20 heavy ion cannons, 10 heavy turbolasers, and five tractor beams. With nine and a half million credits, he would have enough money to buy 12 quad lasers for anti-fighter defense, but that would mean removing four turbolasers and eight ion cannons. He would also add a main hangar, where he would house the Toscan 8-Qs along with the new star fighters he planned on purchasing. His dream team of fighters included four R-41 Star Chasers. They were fast, maneuverable, and above all else, deadly. They packed a big punch for a small ship. Unfortunately, their armor was a piece of crap. On top of that, they were big, one of the bigger star fighters in the galaxy. Lastly, he would purchase four Z-95 Headhunters, which would give him an even twelve, a full squadron.

The rest of the credits he would stow away. Who knew what would happen in the future? He might also need ammo and parts for his ships. He might even purchase a new freighter. He nodded to himself, enjoying the idea. If he got a freighter with good sensor masks and upgraded the sensors, he could get himself a good scout ship for raids. He could still remember the time he had dropped in on a convoy guarded by two Carracks and a Vic. That was one hell of a fight. He sat at the bar, sipping on a cocktail the bartender had perfected years ago. Many of his pirates were younger than he was. Most of the oldies had died years ago in a raid or a fight. One of his best friends had been taken out by a cluster bomb. The bar was full of pirates, and the bar itself had been Revvie's idea. He knew how much his crew liked their drink, and he couldn't just go marching into any ol' bar with a thousand thirsty pirates. In fact, over the last two days, the bar had seen plenty of action, and their stocks were getting low. Revvie had a man on Valc who could get him the booze he needed. In fact, he had a man on that planet for just about everything. His various criminal rings on Valc had expanded quickly. Racketeering, embezzling, smuggling, sex trafficking, you name it. He had several connections on that planet, and the annual Viper income from Valc VII alone numbered in the hundreds of thousands.

“’Ey, Revvie. We’re comin’ out of hyperspace now. Get you butt off that bar stool and drag it up to the bridge you old pirate!” That was Ferr, his second-in-command, longtime friend, and the only person who could yell at him like that without getting several slugs in the chest as a reward. Snapping out of his reverie, he set his cocktail down, surveying the bar. It had emptied quickly, which was a good sign. The best of his crew wound up on the Fang. It was known to be a fast-track to a promotion. He shoved the barstool aside as he got up. Even at fifty one, he still moved like a thirty year old, quickly and confidently. He slipped inside of a turbolift and was on his way to the bridge.

“There ya are. Drinkin’ again, Revvie?” Ferr was there, leaning against the wall with an ease that belied his face, which was taut with worry. Revvie knew the ol' man was as worried as Revvie was. The Hutt;s weren't trustworthy, less so than most pirates. That's why Revvie had come in full force. If the Hutt wanted a fight, he would get one. Looking out the viewport, Revvie could see the Hutt ships waiting there. Most of them were freighters, which was to be expected. Revvie had been lucky to get the Carracks, and now he was giving one away.

"I don't like the looks o' this Revvie. Seems like a lot of ships for a simple trade." Ferr was there too, scanning the ships with a trained eye. Ignoring his friend's worries, Revvie leaned down and opened the communications between the Fang and the Hutt’s Pride.

“Well, I brought the Strike, just as you asked. Hand over the credits first, and I’ll give you the ship.” He said, making sure the Hutt knew the deal. He had positioned the Strike behind the freighters and the Fang. That way, if the Hutts attacked, they couldn't just make off with the valuable cruiser.

“Fine, but let me see the ship first. I know you, Snake. You might be trying to pull a fast one on me.” Ah, the friendship between pirates knew no bounds.

“Relax, she’s right here. Just as I promised.” The freighters parted revealing the Patrol Cruiser. “Now hand over the credits.” “

They have already been transferred to your account,” the Hutt said, waving his hand as if he was some Jedi or magician. Revvie stared at him shrewdly before turning to his friend, ignoring the Hutt.

“Ferr, check that. I trust him less than he trusts me.” He growled at his lieutenant.

Seconds later, “Relax. It’s all covered.” Ferr gave the affirmative.

“Alright, Hutt, you can have your ship.” The freighters swung around, and the Fang followed suit, allowing the Hutt a clear path to the cruiser. “Ferr, we’re outta here. I don’t want Mr. Prime Slime tryin’ to trap us here.” The pirate nodded, and gave the signal to the crew down in navigation, or simply “Nav” to the casual pirates. Luckily, or not so luckily, Revvie had ordered the jump sequence and the firing up of the hyperdrive before the trade. If the Hutt was going to try anything sneaky, Revvie was ready.

In the disance, Revvie could see the ships swarming over the Carrack, disgorging pirates onto the pristine ship. The Hutt hadn't even thought of a fight, which relieved Revvie. "I look forward to doing business with you again," Revvie said, giving the Hutt a salute not unlike the one he had made several days ago, and then he shut off the communications.

"All right nav, hit it! We're outta here!" He said, signaling the rest of his group to jump. The stars returned to starlines, but the group of ships wasn't heading back to Valc VII, at least, not yet.

[Revvie Boyle]

“So, Revvie, you gonna tell us where the hell we’re headed?” Ferr sidled up to Revvie, who was pacing the bridge.

“Parshoone. I need to check out the market there for a new ring.” Revvie replied, staring ahead coolly at the display, which was showing a holo of the system and the habitable planets. “Also, I hear they have a couple freighters for sale there. I need a scout for future operations in the Perinn sector. I have already purchased the sensor masks and sensory packages for the freighter, and all I need is the ship. Regardless of ‘er make, she’ll be the Mole.”

“Well, finally drifting away from your reptilian names, I see.” Ferr said, punching him in the shoulder the way they used to do years ago, before either one had crossed forty, let alone fifty. Ferr was a year older than Revvie, but by no means his superior. The man had grown soft in his old years, and was more accustomed to the bar than the battlefield. It had been years since he had been on the front line, which was a good thing. Revvie’s old friends had died one by one, dropped on the front line of a fight, gunned down by soldiers. Ferr was the only one left, the only connection to the past that Revvie had.

Most of his pirates were younger, and they had an ever-flowing stream of twenty-nothings coming in from Valc and Gandrossi, the two main operating systems for the Vipers. Despite their wealth, the Vipers had never expanded extremely far, simply because they had no need to. The vast credits coming in from the two systems, as well as the space raids that Revvie himself commanded, paid handsomely. In fact, he considered himself to be rich. Each pirate got a cut of the money in any raid they participated in, and they earned a yearly salary, which helped keep them in line. The bars installed on each of the ships had been a godsend, keeping morale ever high, even if the competence level dropped somewhat.

“So, what kind o’ ring ya thinkin’ of settin’ up, Revvie?” Ferr again, always pestering him.

“Racketeering would be my first choice. I can’t really see the market for slavery in there, or sex trafficking. Maybe smuggling.” Revvie showed him the markets on each planets, pointing out the interests of the people. “I heard there was a black market on Parshoone, the main planet. I’m going to check that out, and I need about five of my best soldiers. Try Jon, Igor, Ty, Erik, and Gorrl. They’re usually up to this type of task. I’m going to investigate possible weapons, so we can refit the Fang to compensate for the Strike’s loss. I’m also lookin’ to buy some starfighters, and I did some research for once. Four R-41 Star Chasers, and four Z-95 HeadHunters. They should round out the starfighters, givin’ us an even 12, a full squadron.”

“If you say so, Revvie. I’ll send out the standard notice to all criminals and gangsters in the area, as well as any of the kids I find on the street. I’ll give ‘em some information about the gang, then get them to join. We need us some fresh recruits, and they’ll help set up the racketeering ring you were tellin’ me so much about.” Ferr walked away, yelling something obscene into his comm about some problem or another on the Fang. Revvie had a whole crew of handymen on the Fang, ready to fix any problem that came up. In fact, he had people that could do just about anything. He had handymen, manufacturers, trained fighters, and smugglers, all under his command. Hell, even had one damn fine bartender right here on his ship.

Turning away from the display, he gave up and went to his quarters, trying to catch some sleep. He had maybe ten hours until he arrived at the Parshoone system, so he could get maybe six hours of sleep if all went well. His quarters were fancy, and he had paid considerably to improve them. He had his own private restroom complete with a deluxe shower, a huge four poster bed, and a weapons case full of slugthrowers and disrupters, his favorite weapons. His crewmen were equipped with heavy blasters and the occasional blaster rifle, and due to their trigger-happy nature, he had to pay a fortune in tibanna gas and blaster cartridges. He shut off his comm and retired for the time being. Ferr would wake him up if needed. In the meantime, he could catch some much needed sleep.

[Revvie Boyle]

“Get up, ye old pirate!” Ferr. Revvie glanced at his chrono, looking at the time. Seven whole hours without being interrupted by his second-in-command for some crisis, like running out of booze at the on-ship bar. It might be a new record, which was amazing, even after forty years. Since Revvie slept in his clothes, he simply kicked off the sheets and rolled himself out of bed, feeling more sluggish than a Hutt. He straightened his gray hair, brushing it aside with a hand. He pressed the control button, admiring how the door still slid soundlessly aside, making no more than a whisper when the lock disengaged. Ferr must have convinced one of the handymen to oil the door, which was one of the things Revvie appreciated. Even a well-oiled door was a godsend to an old pirate. “We’re almost comin’ out of hyperspace.”

Revvie stepped through the door, surveying the corridor with a cool stature, making sure no one was in his way. He made his way back up to the bridge, taking a turbo-lift up to the command center. He felt trapped by the walls of the moving capsule, especially when Ferr was on a roll. He was talking incessantly about setting up the racketeering ring and all of his plans, which Revvie had heard before. The doors finally slid apart, allowing Revvie to step out of the turbo-lift and away from the yammering Ferr.

“’Ey, Revvie! I saved you a cocktail from the bar!” One of the bridge pirates called out, holding up a pristine glass filled with the liquid of the gods. Booze. An entire pirate organization could be kept together by the simple presence of alcoholic drink. Revvie took the cocktail, sipping at it. The Snake special. He glanced at the pirate who had presented it, and simultaneously slid out a data pad, adding a bonus to the man’s salary. Nothing like a little reward in turn for a little booze. Revvie could live with that.

The tactical beeped, and nav reported in. “We’re gonna come out o’ hyperspace real soon.” That was pirate navigation for you. No specifics, no countdowns, just “soon.” It was a miracle they had managed to survive this long.

When the Fang emerged from hyperspace, they were alone except for the Hydra, just as planned. The other cruisers and freighters had jumped to Valc VII, where they awaited Revvie’s orders to pack it up and move. The entire Viper base was easy to demolish, and that was exactly what they were doing. Once the Moff found out Revvie had sold the Patrol Cruiser and parted ways with the Imperial, there would be hell to pay, but Revvie never paid his dues anyways. The last time the Imperials, or “Imps,” had persisted, Revvie had captured the collector and ransomed him for a handsome sum of money. Kidnapping, which was another branch of the Viper Consortium, paid exceedingly well for such small trouble. All Revvie would have to do was send in a crack-team of his best fighters and have them take the target back to the base, where he or she would be ransomed, usually for several million credits a piece.

“Nav, guide ‘er over to Parshoone. That’s where we’re settin’ up for the day. Ferr, broadcast the false I.D. The Bantha’s Horn.” Revvie had no idea where the false I.D. s were coming from, but they were certainly useful. There was no doubt the government of the Gandrossi system was aware of the Fang. Revvie didn’t want this to be any more trouble than it had to be. “Hydra, broadcast false I.D. the Lucky Toad. I will be boarding, along with Ty, Jon, Gorrl, Erik, and Igor. Stand by.” He sent out the message before waiting near the boarding area he had installed.

One of the Fang’s five tractor beams locked on to the Hydra, pulling it closer to the hull of the ship. Once the Hydra sent out an airlock, the tractor beam was de-activated, allowing Revvie and his team, all armed to the teeth, to board the smaller freighter. Despite her size, the Hydra was well armed. Two turbolasers, three quad lasers, and a concussion missile launcher were positioned around the small ship, leaving no area uncovered. Her engines had been massively upgraded, and she was almost faster than the Fang. As soon as Revvie stepped on board, the airlock disengaged. He made his way up to the pilot’s seat, where he nudged aside the current pilot, a rough, tough human named Uller, and put the ship in motion, guiding it towards the planet. While he made a bee-line for the space port, Ferr guided the Fang to a position far enough away from the Hydra to not attract any attention, then followed suit, heading far the small planet, and quite possibly more credits for the Viper Consortium.

[Revvie Boyle]

After landing the Hydra, a feat harder than it seems on the busy Imperial world, Revvie and his team stepped out of the freighter, surveying the bustling port. Revvie looked around with a trained eye, immediately noticing any authorities or gang members hanging around the port. The air was surprisingly clean, as if the population hadn’t gone into industrialism yet. Despite this minor setback, Revvie thought he could set up the racketeering operation.

Racketeering was relatively simple. Revvie would start up a reasonable following on the planet, then order the members of the Viper Consortium to hit several businesses, taking valuables and causing damage. Then, Revvie or the appointed leader for the planet would approach the businesses hit by the Consortium, offering protection in return for large sums of money. Due to the lack of crime, this was going to be hard. Each business would be hit at least once, and nearby businesses would also have to be hit, all by separate people, to convince the local owners that crime was on the rise, and this was not just an isolated incident. If the owner didn’t agree, usually a slugthrower was enough to make him or her reconsider their options.

“Well, men, my data pad says the black market is about a mile east, so let’s get moving. Once we are inside, I want you five to keep a look out for trouble while I negotiate. If anything seems to be going wrong alert me. If I can’t get a good price, Gorrl, I want you to point that disrupter straight at the person’s chest, and we’ll get a good price. I’ve set a budget for a million credits here, so we need to find good deals. I’m going to go after the starfighters first, then the weapons, then the freighter and the equipment.”

Revvie and the five pirates started walking towards the distant market, moving purposefully through the crowd of people surrounding the port. Even though the pirates were heavily armed, most of their weapons were hidden in order to escape unwanted attention. Even at 51, Revvie could still keep up with the much younger pirates, telling him he wasn’t that old yet. The group moved swiftly, covering the mile in under 20 minutes. This was a feat harder than it appeared, because they were scoping out possible targets for the racketeering operation. Most of the shops were lightly guarded, and many didn’t even have recorders there. This would be easy. He would have his men break in and steal valuables, all under the cover of night. If they hit seven shops each night for three nights, that would be twenty-one shops now under the “protection” of the Viper Consortium. And if each shop paid the small fee of ten thousand credits a year, that would mean another two hundred ten thousand credits in the coffers of the Viper Consortium.

When the group reached the black market, Revvie could tell immediately that this would be an easy trip. The owners did not seem to know the true value of their products, and the hawkers were shouting prices well below the correct value of their products. After scanning the shops with a hawk’s eye, Revvie finally found the one he was looking for. The sign read “Ben’s St*rFi**te*s, and nearly half the letters were smudged, destroyed, or simply gone. Under that, it said, “Low Pr*ces.” Revvie could guess how low the prices would be. He had read the advertisement for the shop, and the prices were low, even in this market. The four R-41s, which were 55,000 credits used, were priced at forty thousand, which meant a total of 160,000 credits, which was an incredible price, basically the same as one and a half new fighters. Revvie approached the owner of the shop, who was young, maybe only thirty, but already was missing an eye and an ear, presumably from fights. He looked like the type of guy the Viper Consortium needed, and Revvie also wanted the connections the young man had. He politely rang the bell, diverting the man’s attention to him with the clear note of the warning bell.

“Mornin’ friend,” Revvie said. It was indeed morning, or what passed for it on this planet. The slow rotation and axial tilt of Parshoone III meant the days were long, and morning here might as well be as long as a Valc VII day. “I’m interested in those R-41s you’re sellin’. Tell me, how did a man such as you acquire these lovely ships?” He asked the question calmly, with no threat behind the words. He didn’t want to scare the seller.

“Sir, I, uh, receive them from a couple of friends that work at some shipyards. That’s why the prices are lower than average. They barely cost me a thousand credits to get them here.” The man was obviously nervous, and Revvie knew that might have something to do with the four bulky humans and the massive alien behind him. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the group, and they took up positions ten feet away from the stall, arranged in a semicircular pattern.

“Well, Ben, how about joinin’ the Viper Consortium? We’re settin’ up here, and we need someone with you connections. You’ll be paid a salary of course, which will compensate for the cost of the ships, and a little extra. All you have to do is keep supplying us with starfighters. Keep in mind, though, you are not unique to the Consortium. We have others like you, so don’t expect me to raise your salary if you threaten to stop supplying us with ships.” Revvie gave the man the offer, waving his hand as if conjuring up credits. The man nodded with Revvie’s movements, and he knew the kid was hooked. “And,” he added in a low voice, “There’s booze.”

That seemed to have done it, the man glanced around, and shook Revvie’s proffered hand, sealing the deal. “Now, I’ll pay you the 160,000 credits for the Star Chasers, and the 150,000 credits for the Z-95s over there,” he said, pointing to the pricing. 310,000 credits, almost a third of his budget, but also his top priority. Revvie transferred the credits to the newly appointed Viper Supplier’s account.

“They’ll be ready for pickup tomorrow. I can fly them out to you from my warehouse. Meet me at sector 18746.” Ben pointed to the designated spot before disappearing into the back of the shop. Now, it was on to the weapons.

[Revvie Boyle]

Finding the weapons would be much harder, and Revvie was aware of that. Despite the Viper Consortium’s notoriety in the Valc system, they weren’t well know in other parts of the Perinn sector. Maybe a few people knew of them, but not many. Some day, that would change. In the meantime, Revvie had more important things to do. He needed to find twelve quad lasers, and that wouldn’t be easy. He could see a dusty looking warehouse up ahead with the proudly displayed “Krasher and Klasher. Weapons 4 U.” Revvie approached the building, on his guard for any gangsters wanting to relieve him of his money.

As he got closer, he realized that, despite its dusty appearance, it was actually in good repair. The doors were still on there hinges, and the durasteel wasn’t even dented. He opened the doors, and was surprised to see the warehouse was fairly well lit. The place obviously got a lot of business, but as Revvie glanced around, he could see mostly blasters. “Igor, Gorrl, follow me. Jon, Ty, Erik, stand guard.” He motioned to his guards, and stepped into the warehouse to take a look around.

He browsed systematically, starting from the right side of the warehouse and going up and down the aisles, looking for any sign of laser cannons. Blasters, heavy blasters, and blaster rifles were all present in the warehouse. Finally, he found the help desk, where an interesting looking alien sat behind the desk, his four cloven feet resting on the desk, while he used his reptilian claws to manipulate a magazine titled “Weapons of the Galaxy.” The issue appeared to be extremely intriguing, as Revvie had to stick a blaster up the alien’s nose to get him, or her, or whatever it was, to pay attention.

“Well that was rude of you! You could have just rung the bell!” The alien was obviously indignant at getting a blaster up the nostril, and threw the magazine aside. Revvie was surprised it spoke basic, seeing as he had never met another alien quite like it.

“I did. You didn’t hear it.” Revvie said dryly. “Now, I need 12 Quad laser Cannons. Do you have any?” He displayed credits before tucking them back into his pocket, and immediately the alien forgot the blaster.

“Well, you came to the right place. I’m Klasher, and Weapons 4 U has the best selection of weapons on Parshoone, and you won’t find better prices. Now, the big stuff is in the back.” The now energetic alien motioned for the group to follow, and led the way into the back of the warehouse.

Revvie whistled in appreciation as he stepped inside. Turbolaser, laser cannons, torpedos, warheads, and even ion cannons were piled in the huge room. Revvie had no idea the warehouse was so big, and he thought the back of the warehouse was probably hidden by the early morning Parshoone fog. Revvie immediately spotted the AG-2G quad laser cannons in the center of the room, and immediately pointed them out.

“How much for those?” He asked, getting his credits ready. This was going to be a big purchase, and his success with the Fang depended on it. If he could add the quad lasers and take away four turbolasers and eight ion cannons, he could have a more independent ship, rather than one that relied on her anti-starfighter counterpart. Additionally, the quad cannons would make up for the inferior starfighters.

“10,000 credits a piece.” The alien announced the price matter-of-factly, but Revvie could see the glint of greed in what passed for eyes.

“I’ll take 12.” He quickly scanned the quality, then gave her the price. “So, 120,000 credits. I’ll transfer that to your account.” He picked up a data pad, and transferred the credits. “I will be coming back later to pick them up. I also want two hundred small missiles, so another 100,000.” He noted the price, which was 500 instead of the normal 400. Thinking of the high prices, he began to question the quality of those starfighters he bought. As he left the shop, with a credit account somewhat smaller than before, he moved on to the next item on his list: the freighter and accompanying parts.

[Revvie Boyle]

Finding the freighter was hard, but that was what Revvie had expected. You couldn’t just go waltzing into a black market and find a freighter at the nearest place. After what felt like five hours, but was probably closer to three, Revvie finally found a freighter. It was a Y60 Thalassian freighter, and the price tag was about 50,000 credits. The man selling it was old and frail, possibly more ancient than the ship, if that was possible. The freighter would be perfect for the job, though. Banged up, inconspicuous, it would be perfect for a scout ship. Revvie approached the seller, leaving his guards behind.

Softly, he spoke to the old man. “Excuse me, sir. Is that freighter still available for sale?” He had his hand on the his slugthrower, ready if a fight came.

“Yes, young man. Do you wish to buy it?” The old man had a creaky voice, like a rusty door hinge, and he was one of the few people Revvie knew who could call him “young man.”

“50,000 credits for this?” Revvie said, eyeing the freighter incredulously. He was shooting for something lower, but the man was in no mood for haggling.

“Yes, it’s 50,000. I’m 80 years old and I can still read, so why can’t you?” The man snapped at Revvie, but nonetheless showed him the freighter. Revvie stepped inside the bulky freighter, which was slightly circular. The thrusters were in the rear, two main and four auxiliary. There were no weapons Revvie could see, and, after scanning the ship, the sensors were not very good. This was going to get pricey.

“I’ll take it. The credits will be transferred to your account.” For the third time that day, Revvie said that statement. His credit account was considerably lighter after the end of the day, and he had come close to exceeding his budget. This was without purchasing the upgrades on the freighter.

“She’s all yours then. You can actually launch her from the pad.” The man sounded pleased, but Revvie doubted the ship could even get off the ground.

“Igor, Erik, stay with this ship and bring it up into orbit. Gorrl, Jon, Ty, you’re comin’ with me. We gotta pick up those weapons. I saw a speeder there, so I assume that’s what it’s for.” Revvie nodded to the three soldiers and they followed him, dutifully guarding him. When they finally returned to the warehouse, Klasher was back behind the counter, once again reading the magazine. This time, Revvie rang the bell, and the alien answered on the first ring.

“The back is unlocked. Go ahead and take the weapons, load them onto the speeder, and return the speeder to me.” The alien gestured a claw towards the speeder, then resumed reading.

Revvie beckoned with a hand, and the four men started to load the weapons into the large speeder. The lasers were the heaviest, and all four men had to pitch in in order to load the weapons on to the speeder. The concussion missiles were small, and they would each take an armful and stack them in the back. To Revvie’s delight, the speeder had several compartments for storage, and even a false bottom to hide weapons. Obviously the aliens knew what they were doing. The speeder had only two seats, so Revvie sat in the passenger seat with Gorrl driving, while Jon and Ty sat on the sides of the speeder, holding on for dear life.

Due to excellent driving and incredible speeds, the drive took less than a minute to complete, and soon they were unloading the weapons into the cargo hold of the Hydra. The various smuggling compartments proved useful in holding the weapons, and soon they were done. Jon and Ty returned the speeder, and Revvie sat down in the driver’s seat while Gorrl guarded the entrance hatch. It was a full half an hour and two cocktails later before the two men returned. As the entrance hatch raised up, Revvie took off, leaving the planet of Parshoone III behind.

[Revvie Boyle]

By the time Revvie had hooked up with the Y60 Thalassian freighter, which he had aptly named the Mole, Ferr and the Fang were already back in space. Apparently, the Mole was more spaceworthy then it appeared, and it needed no assistance from the Hydra. As the two ships approached The Fang, Revvie opened up a comm channel with Ferr.

“Well, this bucket o’ bolts was the only thing we could find. She should work beautifully for the job, but the upgrades will cost at least two hundred thousand credits. How was your racketeering jaunt?”

“Incredible. Most of the kids here, after we convinced them we were pirates, were more than eager to do their part. By the number of kids I recruited, we should have enough to hit at least ten businesses over the next week, so we might gain one hundred thousand credits from this little investment, which will help pay for those upgrades you have in mind. On top of that, we managed to make this a yearly kind of thing. We can just keep hitting more businesses and getting more people in the ring... What’re you gonna do with that thing anyways?” Ferr seemed incredibly cheerful, especially when noting the possible income from the racketeering. He was in charge of the recruitment because he was more likeable than Revvie, who was always more than happy to point a slugthrower at you and relieve you of your possessions.

“I’m thinkin’ about addin’ two quad lasers on the top and bottom and puttin’ them under droid control so they can hit more often. I’m also gonna increase the shields by 100 and the hull by 100 to make it more fight worthy. The expensive stuff will be the scouting. I’ve decided to give the ship jamming equipment, advanced sensors, a better sublight drive, a better hyperdrive, and better and disguised transponders. I passed on the sensor masks because the false I.D. should be enough, at least for this ship. That and claiming the hyperdrive broke down if they are discovered spying in deep space. Damn, I wish we had a whole fleet of these things.” He muttered.

As the Mole and the Hydra drew closer to The Fang, Revvie shut down the communications and got ready to board the Carrack. He let Igor and Erik, who were aboard the Mole, go first. That way, one of them could help Revvie, Jon, Gorrl, and Ty with the weapons. After the new freighter departed, Revvie established the airlock with the Carrack, and they began to unload weapons. Rather, the henchmen unloaded the weapons while Revvie ditched them for the bar. As soon as we sat down, Ferr ambushed him and started asking questions again.

“So, where are ya gonna find all the parts that yer wantin’ to buy?” Ferr tended to ask obvious questions, and this was one of them.

“I know a man by the name o’ Hroth who oughta have all that. But I ain’t seein’ him just yet. We gotta help pack up first.” Revvie turned back to the bar and called the bartender, asking for the Snake Special.

The Snake special was Revvie’s favorite drink, and it was customized for him. A half a pint of Corellian Tequila was mixed with some Valc Vintage Beer and some Tatooine Desert Beer. Most of the pirates found it sour, but Revvie was used to it. Besides, any pirate who wanted a small raise could simply pick one up for him and deliver it up to the bridge. After downing two Snake Specials, Revvie staggered up to the bridge. "Well, we need to wait around a couple days for that Ben kid to deliver our ships. In the meantime, I'm going to take a nap." And that was that.

[Revvie Boyle]

The day between the purchasing of the ships and the delivery was a nightmare for Revvie. He had pirates lining up and practically groveling in front of him to get the chance to pilot the new ships. He had a volunteer list at least a hundred strong for the R-41s and the Z-95s. He had another list devoted to the manning of the Mole, which was a two-man job. One had to pilot, and the other had to constantly man the communications and sensors, looking and listening to the area around them. For more populated areas, three people would be needed, two manning the sensors. After the long line of wannabes, Revvie took a power nap, sleeping for a short time, but sleeping heavily. For once, Ferr hadn’t interrupted him, and Revvie later found out why.

When he was going over to the restrooms to relieve himself, he heard some one throwing up in the toilets, which was not out of place on the ship full of drunken pirates, but the groans sounded distinctly like Ferr’s, who never drank.

“Ferr, that you? You okay?” Revvie said, concern edging into his voice. If Ferr was coming down with something, then the whole crew might be in danger.

“Yes, it’s me, and I am most definitely not okay.” The reply was weak, and afterwards, Ferr had to throw up again. After the retching stopped, he continued. “I’m gonna have one hell of a hangover tomorrow. How do you drink so many Snake Specials?” The answer was incredulous, but slightly stronger.

“Ferr, I thought ye didn’t drink. Yer the only one of my crew that doesn’t.” Revvie said sternly, glaring at the stall. “Don’t tell me you got hooked.”

“I just thought I’d try them. After all, you’ve been drinking for years, and you’ve never been hung-over before.” Obviously, even at fifty two, Ferr had a lot to learn.

“Ferr, I’ve been drinking for forty years, since I was eleven. My stomach is made out of durasteel now. I can’t get hangovers. Now, I suggest you relax for a while and stay away from the drink from now on.” Revvie tried to put it kindly, and when Ferr finally stopped retching, he cleaned up and went off to his quarters. Revvie left and started drifting over to his HQ, which was also known as the “Venom of the Fang,” and most commonly referred to as the bar.

The man behind the counter was heavyset, with a beer belly and jowls. Kellen had been working behind the bar for years, and obviously enjoyed the drink as much as, if not more than, the next man. “Kellen, I want a Snake Special and some answers. Tell me, did you convince Ferr to drink last night?” He asked this sternly, and as the bartender filled up a glass from a specially marked keg, he shook his head no.

“No, Snake, I never told him anythin’. The man just walks in and starts drinkin’ like a fish. I reckon he downed a least four of your Snake Specials, and won a hundred credits in return.” As Revvie downed the cocktail, he shook his head sadly.

Usually this was the type of trick the old crew of the Fang would pull on a new recruit. Offer him a drinking contest, where one was drinking out of a regular glass while the new recruit was drinking Snake Specials. The crew had never lost, not once. Apparently, someone had bet Ferr that he couldn’t drink four Snake Specials, and Ferr had accepted the bet. Now he was richer in wealth but poorer in health. As Revvie finished up the second Snake Special of the day, one of his crew members, Jelko, a bridge pirate, started yelling about the fighters being delivered.

As Revvie made his way up to the bridge and looked out, he could in fact see the fighters, which apparently could fly, coming in for landing on the Fang. The kid had fallen through after all.<O:p</O:p

[Revvie Boyle]

Revvie immediately commed Ben, whose channel he had picked up at the stall the day before. “’Ey kid, ya came through. Now, we’ll let ya go right through into the hangar, then you can all board that freighter ya came in and just go on outta here.” Revvie was brisk and impolite, but he had already paid the kid for the ships, so he could be as rude as he wanted. Especially with a Carrack cruiser starin’ the kid in the face.

The hangar Revvie had installed was large enough to fit the twelve starfighters along with a couple of freighters to boot. Eight of the ion cannons and four of the turbolasers had been removed, and Revvie’s best technicians had already installed the twelve quad lasers. Four were on the port side, with about seventy five meters between them, two were on the dorsal ridge, with a hundred meters between them, four were on the starboard side, again with seventy five meters separating them, and two were on the ventral ridge, with a hundred meters between them. This left no angle uncovered, and Revvie was very satisfied with the results.

As the fighters and freighter approached the hangar, the tractor beams engaged, escorting the ships two at a time into the hangar until everything was on board. Hastily, Revvie shut off the comm and took the turbolift to the hangar, ready to meet the other instigator of the deal. Ben looked somewhat more jubilant than when Revvie had met him the day before, and he apparently had changed his eye patch.

“So, Ben, I see you’ve held up your end of the deal, and now that you are aboard my ship, I can examine the ships for their true worth.” Revvie had meant to scare the younger man, and it had worked. The fifteen thousand dollars of the regular used price was suspicious, and Revvie was a suspecting man. “Get a scanner crew over here! I want the entire area scanned after he leaves, in case he wants to give us a present.” Revvie barked at the nearest pirate, who scurried off to do his bidding. “I see that these are not in the best of shape, but they can fly.” Revvie said, scanning the eight ships.

The R-41 Star Chasers were huge, around thirteen meters long. They were also heavily armed with lasers, ion cannons, and missile launchers. They would be excellent for assault, speeding around the targets and launching disabling hits with their ion cannons. The Z-95 Headhunters were lightly armed, but much more maneuverable then the R-41. They would serve well in dogfights and defense. To Revvie, the ships were worth what he had paid for them.

“Well, I suppose I’ll be seeing you off now.” He said warningly, gesturing to the freighter.

Plaintively, like a sniveling weasel, the young man replied. “What? I can’t see the rest of the ship?” It was obvious he was a fan boy. That had to stop.

“The rest of the Fang is off limits to anyone other than the hand-selected Vipers I pick. Now leave before I decide you’re better off dead.” Revvie tossed aside all of his kindness. “You’ve overstayed your welcome, kid.”

And with that, Jon and Ty shoved the kid and his friends back up the ramp of the freighter, and the kid, grumbling the whole way, took off from the hangar, leaving behind eight new starfighters. “Now, where’s that scanner?” Revvie asked, and the scanning crew complied, scanning the entire area where the group of wannabes had been.

When they finished, they said. “Nothing here.”

“Well then, scan the starfighters as well. I don’t want trouble.” Revvie said, irritably. In the middle of the scan, Revvie’s comm beeped. It was Ferr, who seemed to be feeling better.

“Revvie, you gotta see this. We have eight ships inbound.” That son of a bitch. He had led the authorities straight to them! He had no idea what he was dealing with.

“Well, let’s give ‘em a fight. Nobody will be flying the starfighters. I don’t want them damaged yet. Right now, all hands to all guns. And nav, get the hyperdrive going.” Revvie walked coolly up to the bridge, despite the danger. In the distance, he could see eight cruisers, two IPV-1 and six Imperial Customs corvettes closing in. That son of a bitch..

[Revvie Boyle]

“How long until we bust ass outta here?” Revvie growled into the comm, angry as hell. That little bitch had betrayed him and sent out the entire planetary defense to get him. On top of that, his hyperdrive had a slow warm-up, and he wasn’t sure he could hold out that long.

“Five minutes.” Nav reported back, and Revvie could hear the desperation as they tried to get the ancient drive working. At the moment, though, there were more pressing matters. Mostly the eight Imperial cruisers bearing down on them, guns a blazing. The shielding on The Fang was not up to the task of such a bombardment, and the numbers were steadily decreasing.

“Viper Flight, swoop around those ships and try to draw some fire away from us. Hydra, try to get behind them and blast their flanks.” Revvie was pacing the bridge now, nervously glancing at the shielding as the numbers continued their steady plunge.

“Well ye old pirates, don’t just stand there, shoot!” Revvie yelled, noticing the lack of returning fire. The shields kept dropping, dipping below seventy percent in less than a minute. This was not good. “Give ‘em all ye got. Fire at the nearest ship.” The fire coming from the Fang intensified, but the return fire was just a strong, and there were eight of them. As the shields dipped below sixty percent, the announcement came.

“Four minutes.” This was not good. Definitely not good. The cruisers just kept on blasting away at the Fang, pounding her shields into submission. In the distance, tiny flashes of light could be seen where the sun glinted off of the metal of the starfighters that were harassing the flanks of the cruisers. Suddenly, an explosion lit up the space next to one of the cruisers. One of the fighters had been destroyed. Meanwhile, the shielding continued to drop, heading past the fifties and into the forties.

More and more of the ships’ batteries fired at the Carrack, lapping hungrily at the edges of the weakening shields. The barrage continued, and salvo after salvo slammed into the cruiser. Suddenly, an explosion lit up one of the cruisers, and she disappeared in a ball of flame and destruction. The steady pounding of the Fang was paying off, and the number of cruisers was down to seven. Unfortunately, the barrage seemed to intensify, slamming into the cruiser with the fury of lost friends, and the shields dropped below forty.

“Ferr, we’re outta here.” Revvie said quietly, trying not to alert the pirates. But Ferr was nowhere to be seen. The pirate was probably heading towards the escape pods already. Revvie followed suit, running as fast as he could to the nearest escape pod. He heard a klaxon sound as the shielding dipped below twenty. Now the shields would allow hits between recharges, and the Carrack was going down.

Another minute later, and a second klaxon joined the first. Ten percent. With no time to spare, Revvie launched the pod. And none too soon, as just behind him, the Fang exploded, throwing shrapnel, debris, and bodies into the surrounding space. Revvie’s pod rode the shockwave, expelling him out and away from the battle. In the distance, he could see his hopes and dreams, twisting in her death throws as she lit up the night sky in a spectacular death.

A shape shot by, and Revvie flinched, but it was only the Hydra coming to pick him up. The freighter was in bad shape, but nonetheless she attached to the escape pod and started running for her life, away from the slower, larger ships. As Revvie untangled himself from the escape pod and made his way to the front of the ship, they hyperspaced away, leaving Revvie’s life behind and his future ahead.

[Revvie Boyle]

The hyperspace trip didn’t last long. The hyperdrive on the Hydra shorted out about five minutes into the trip, and they were alone in deep space. At least, Revvie hoped they were alone. Surprisingly, Gorrl, his most loyal henchman, was flying the Hydra, and had picked Revvie up as soon as he had seen the explosion. He had known Revvie would have escaped, and had looked for the pod and picked him up. The alien filled up the entire chair, his hairy mass spilling over the side. Despite the doglike appearance, with a pointed nose and triangular ears, Gorrl spoke Basic, even if some of the sounds were not as easy for him to make.

“I’rr fix it.” The alien heaved himself out of the chair and stomped over to the back, where the hyperdrive was. Meanwhile, Revvie ran a scan, trying to determine whether or not they had been followed. While the alien cursed in another language as he banged on the hyperdrive with a wrench, Revvie ran the scan through the surrounding areas.

Nothing, nothing, more nothing, still more nothing…Wait, what was that? He returned the scan to a position where had picked up an anomaly in the surrounding space.

“Holy mother of all mynocks. Gorrl, take a look at this. A Venator. You better have the hyperdrive fixed, because we need to get outta here now!” The alien stomped back up to the front, and peered over Revvie’s shoulder.

“I think I fixess it, but I not ssure.”

“Well, no time to waste, let’s get the hell outta here!” With that Revvie pulled the lever back, and they returned to hyperspace.

“That was too close. Do you think that was from Parshoone?” Revvie said, now that they were safe.

“Mosst rikery.” The alien replied, looking straight ahead.

“Well, we’re on our way to Gandrossi VI, and we’ll be safe there. I can’t go back to Valc just yet, seeing as the Moff will be hunting for me down.” Revvie thought about the situation he was in. He had no command vessel, and no way of returning to his base, due to complications and an angry Moff. The Moff had probably put a huge price on his head, and he didn’t want to be around for the hunt.

[Revvie Boyle]

When Revvie finally got off the Hydra, his life was in shambles. His ship was gone, and he had no way to return to his gang. Being a pirate, he immediately set off to find the nearest bar and have a few drinks. It took him longer than he expected, but eventually he found a hole-in-the-wall place with a holo up.

He sat down and ordered to rounds of Corellian Tequila, which was the best part of the Snake Special. He downed the two glasses almost immediately, and bought another round. His plan for the moment: to drink himself out of his misery. After that, who would know? Deciding on some entertainment, he got a better look at the holo, which was displaying the wreckage of The Fang. That little son of a bitch Ben was up there, making an announcement.

“It seems that The Snake wished to step down from command, and he brought the cruisers on himself. His dying wish was that I, Ben Illerson, would take up the reins of the Viper Consortium and lead them after his death.” The kid was smug as ever, smirking for all he was worth. That asshole was going down, but Revvie hadn’t the means to take him down.

After over six Corellian Tequila’s, he staggered back to the Hydra, a futureless man. All of his credits were in the Viper Consortium, not himself. He went from crime lord to penniless in one day, and now he was holing up in a converted freighter with an alien that looked like a dog, biding his time, waiting for the day he could take revenge on Ben Illerson.