Ship "purchase"

[Andreas Graphose]

Andrew let the white, soaked towel on his neck slowly slide off, exposing his partially sun burnt neck, and continued walking on. As he approached his destination, a small pub in the middle of nowhere, he took off his white robes and threw them aside, exposing his Guild fighter pilot’s uniform, black airtight pants with a jacket that could seal over it and a white shirt underneath, sweat patterns all across.

As Andrew neared the pub’s door he caught a smell on the hot, summer air. The smell was like cotton candy, but with a harsher, sharper tone. Andreas smiled as the sensation of home swept over him, this really wasn’t his home, but back on Kyrin V his father would walk to the pub with him, purchase him a drink, and they’d talk all night, looking at the stars. Andrew shook the feeling, feelings only got in the way.

Andreas stumbled into the pub, through the main doorway. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness within, he noticed the majority of the patrons were looking at him, hands on holsters or clenching knives. “Hello, I’m in search of transportation.”

[Andreas Graphose]

Andrew breathed slowly, the harsh smells of various articles, mainly strong drugs, scorched his lungs, leaving a hot, burning feeling. As he walked in, one man, in his mid thirties with white, dyed, hair and inexpensive clothing, beckoned Andreas towards him with a slight, jerking motion of his head. Andrew approached the man; he rested one hand on his Kleine Gewehr, a standard issue hand weapon produced by Sevon Rifle, Co. for the Guild.

The man motioned for Andreas to sit and Andrew followed suit. “I ear ya’ lookin’ for a ship,” said the man in a harsh, choking voice.

“Yes, that’s what I announced upon entering this establishment,” said Andrew in response with a slight amount of annoyance.

“Well, den. I just so happen as to have a YT-5700, one of the fastest and most heavily armed craft you’ll find in these parts. Where ya’ headed?”

“Nal Hutta.”

“That’s awfully far away from TDK. What business do you have in them there parts?”

“Twenty thousand credits worth of business for you. Other than that, you don’t need to know. Five now, fifteen once there.”

“Fifteen now, five there.”

“Ten now, ten there.”

“You got yourself a ship and a pilot.” Andrew smiled at this, this would be an easy operation.

[Andreas Graphose]

Andreas walked up the ramp of the YT-5700. It was a beautiful ship, painted black, but still standard issue. The craft was sleek and streamlined, the armaments popping out of the hull like headstones. The first thing Andrew noticed was the padded insides of the ship, it was truly designed for luxury, and probably had never been used before. “How old did you say this ship is?” asked Andrew.

“Just got it last week,” said Bitel, the man Andrew had hired to transport him to Nal Hutta. Andreas had shared a drink with the man, finding out that he had five wives and twice that about of children, all he had left homeless and without a cent. He then found out that the man was racist against alien races, especially wookies. Andrew kept finding more and more reasons to relieve the man of his life force.

Andrew made himself comfy in his quarters, setting a dull brown pack that had seen its fair share of war in the corner and his pistol on a small night table. Andreas lay down, the stiff pillow under his head feeling extremely comfortable at this moment, and fell asleep.

[Andreas Graphose]

Andrew woke up as a slight jolt traveled through the ship; it was coming out of hyperspace. Andreas sat up, his head aching from the stiffness of the pillow that had been supporting his head. He pulled his pistol from its holster, opening its control port and setting it to its heaviest setting. He holstered the weapon, keeping one hand on it as he moved slowly towards the cockpit of the craft. “Hello?” said Andrew in a soft, low voice.

In response to Andrew’s call two men came from the cockpit, each about six feet and, most importantly, carrying disruptor rifles. Andrew cursed and lifted his weapon, leveling it with the first man’s chest and firing, sending a bolt of red energy that left a smoldering hole where it had touched. The second man fired his rifle, sending a large blast of energy towards Andreas. Andrew cursed and jumped into an escape pod, landing safely away from the beam, which would have turned him into a pile of dust.

Several more shots rang out, searching for Andrew’s hiding place, but they misted terribly. Andreas rolled out of the pod, firing off three blasts, the first burning off the opposing man’s ear, the second blasting off his leg, and the final one vaporizing his head. The man was dead before his body hit the ground.

Andrew holstered his pistol, pulling a combat blade from a holster in his right boot. He approached the cockpit, the door sliding open to reveal Bitel with an Imperial blaster rifle leveled at Andrew’s head. Andreas smiled, concealing the blade in his shirtsleeve. “Bit, we can work this out… I’ll pay you double.”

“No deal.” Said the man as he began to pull the trigger. Andreas brought his blade up in one snap motion, cleaving the man’s hand, sending it across the floor.

“I thought I was going to have to kill you later, once we were at our destination, but it looks like my plans have been forwarded.” Andrew brought the blade up under the man’s neck, entering the jaw and going through the roof of his mouth, traveling into his brain, killing him.