Making Their Mark [Xel]

[Denoel Quane]

Denoel quietly mused on the scene as she admired the holographic recording. Brayin's face and smile, ever handsome and would be remembered as young as the day she lost him. Immortal. Sighing, she turned off the holo and returned it to the narrow, long shelf that commanded the back wall over her bed. Rising, she slid out from underneath the blanket and tossed it back toward the pillow, laying askew and considered "made" as she continued on to the refresher within her small suite aboard the Acula. Washing her face, she mentally shifted gears as a soft knock on the door preceded her copilot's interruption and Colin leaned in on the door frame.

"Hiya," he greeted. "We're nearing Nar Shaddaa, that jewel of everything corrupt and beautiful in the galaxy."

"Uh huh," she replied, drying her face and hands, then tossed the towel onto the sink and headed back into the room and toward the closet, opening the double doors. "No stimcaf?"

"Oh, that," he glanced back toward the galley and then back. "Dirk had a covert mission to seize and interrogate the caf maker, and it lost."

Slipping her arms into the tan shirt, she grinned as she could actually imagine their ex-military cut out doing that. "Tragic. Let Amund know so he can fix it before I leave this room, otherwise I'll be more cranky than normal."

Colin chuckled, then sobered as well. "You sure about this new help we're picking up? Can't find much on him beyond being a native of this cesspit."

"I was given a name, and that's it." Denoel slipped on the dark grey pants and then sat on the bed as she pulled on the high black boots. "You know as much as I do."

"What if he's a psychopath and kills us all in our sleep, then takes your ship?"

"Then we won't have to worry about it, huh?"

His brow furrowed lightly as the lean twenty-four year old straightened. "Just like that, huh? No subtle plan of defending our home? No threats? Just giving up like that?"

Shaking her head, Denoel moved to the closet and pulled out her weapon's belt and strapped it on, "Get my caf and we can talk about saving your ass from some ghost later."

"Yes, dear," he turned and left her alone with her thoughts.

*****

Soon after, the large, Action VI freighter shut off it's repulsor engines and Denoel rose from the pilot's seat, heading for the main entrance, "Keep it idling, we won't be here long."

"No casino," Colin called back after her as Denoel descended the split stair commanding the lower lobby and descended toward the galley's entrance. "Twi'lek dancing girls? You're mean. You know how long it's been since....?"

Leaving him to his ranting, Denoel passed Baldor and Egil in the hallway as Dirk soon joined her as the captain of the freighter lowered the ramp and opened the interior door, then descended to the hangar bay's stained floor. Now to wait for their hired gun. Standing to her right and slightly behind, the veteran turned mercenary watched and waited, his Prax Blast and Smash couched in his left arm.

"Just him," Dirk asked.

"That's what they said, yeah."

"Roger that."

[Xel-Naga]

Grym Kandle had a lot of nerve to be sending him all the way back to Nar Shaddaa. He'd spent an entire lifetime trying to put as much distance between himself and this miserable rock as he could, but he always ended up back here again. Time and time again. Memories bubbled up as familiar sights were passed on the streets, reminding him of a time he walked this city planet with his head high and shoulders squared, unafraid, and proud. Now he slunk through alleys and side streets in the off chance that someone somehow recognized him, and wanted to get even. His arms were covered so hide the gang tattoos that identified him as a member of a hutt-lead street gang that ravaged parts of this planet and the galaxy beyond. Marks he wore with pride on any other chunk of rock spinning in space.

The job seemed simple enough. Assist some outside private entity in knocking off freighters. Sounded like the sort of thing that Black Sun did on a regular basis. As an enforcer within the organization it was not in his wheel house by any margin. He was almost exclusively paid to rough people up, and back on Cloud City that meant shaking down debtors for what they owed and throwing drek out of the Cumulus Casino. It was not as interesting as some of his previous postings, and that was why he jumped at the chance to get out and stretch his legs. It would have been nice is Vigo Kandle had mentioned Nar Shaddaa in his business statement. He might have turned it down.

He arrived at the spaceport in short order. Jacket and boots, his usual look, with his Deathhammer 434 strapped to his thigh. Behind him a repulsor sled was being pushed by a dirty teenager. On it's bed was a large wooden crate, and judging by how low the sled was hovering it was quite heavy. The Acula was not hard to find. A giant ugly flying box was exactly what he had come to expect from this line of work. The cargo door was open and a few surly individuals were loitering outside. He recognized one of them, a woman, as his contact from the half-assed dossier that Grym had given him. Read and destroyed so there could be no evidence.

Thumbs hooked through is gun belt, hands in plain sight, he approached the pair. "Xel-Naga. You must be Captain Quane." His voice was deep. Very deep. One of the side-effects of the cryo, along with his milky blue-gray eyes. With a snap of his fingers the boy set down the repulsor sled. A cred chit was produced and tossed, and the dirty boy grabbed it and ran, leaving the three alone.

[Denoel Quane]

Brown eyes met the cold blue of their new guest and Denoel immediately began imagining the fate that Colin had suggested earlier. Though they had a job to do and she hoped that he was of like mind as the small, street urchin took off with the token cred that he had been given in payment. Nodding to the strange man, "I am," she replied confidently, then motioned to Dirk at her left. "He'll take you up to your room, make yourself comfortable. We'll be heading out here in a moment." Backing as he got himself situated, she watched him climb the ramp into the Acula and waited for her contact with the information that she had arranged for.

Soon, one of the hangar crew approached, handing her a datacube, "Everything's in order," the Sullustan offered. "BoSS says you're clear, so have a good one."

Palming the cube, she nodded to the alien, then turned and headed up into the vessel herself. Once inside, she pushed the button to raise the ramp and close the interior door behind her and continued on toward the central crossing hallway which conjoined the entrance to the massive cargo bay, stairs up to the cockpit and doors to several berthing rooms, galley and medbay. Climbing the stair, she hurried back to her pilot's seat. "Colin, let's get out of here."

"Buckle up, ladies," Colin stated over the intercom. "Say goodbye to any hopes of gambling and debauchery before the real fun begins."

[Xel-Naga]

Straight forward and to the point. His kind of Captain. Following his instructions, he pushed the repulsor sled the rest of the way into the cargohold of the starship and set it down. Gingerly tapping it's surface, as if to instill confidence that it would be okay where it was, and that he would return, he stepped away from it and followed after the crewman. He was lead through the ship to a room. It was sparsely furnished. Nothing fancy. That was fine with him. He wasn't expecting much aboard a rust bucket like this. Everything he had was in that crate, so there was nothing to unpack.

Instead he settled into the gravcouch and made himself as comfortable as he could. The comfort was short lived, as the call came over the ship comms. Xel promptly bucked himself into his chair and closed his eyes. As the engines fired up and the shipped rattled into lift-off, his hands found themselves gripping any part of the chair he could find purchase. Teeth grit, body rigid, and cold feet. Damn, he hated flying.

[Denoel Quane]

Peering out through the large transparisteel viewscreen, Denoel knew nearly everyone here worked for the very Hutts that they were about to start robbing. Well, at least a majority, she mused as the Acula banked slowly to port and glided out quietly into the busy airlanes, marked by a heavy, sickly green colored fog that hang high in the atmosphere. She was sure that the Hutts contaminated this moon as well as Nal Hutta on purpose. Soon, they were away and into the inky blackness of space and plotted their course. Studying the navicomputer's screen between herself and Colin's station, her copilot input the coordinates, then soon nodded to her.

"All set," he stated.

Pulling back the trio of standing controls, their view soon went from pinpricks of light to the morass of twisting, milky blue. Turning the main controls over to the autopilot, she pushed herself up and headed back toward the stair and descended noticing Dirk keeping an eye on their new ally for this mission. Smirking, she had a feeling that the mysterious older man would prove more than a match for the ex-military grunt, regardless of Dirk's younger body and strength. Moving toward them, Denoel's brown eyes went from her crewmate to Xel. "Dirk, why don't you go help Amund with his project." Taking a seat across from Xel, she noticed Dirk reluctantly rise and soon disappear. "Grym didn't tell me much about you," she began. "Perhaps you can fill in some blanks for me."

[Xel-Naga]

The ship stabilized and he was able to pry his hands free of the couch arms. An aftershock of turbulance shook the cabin, and caused him to tighten his grip again and look around wildly. All he saw, though, was the look of annoyance in the face of the man who, for lack of a better word, was babysitting him. Xel repaid his expression with one of his own; one he reserved for people who were not worth his time. You kind of look through them with unfocused eyes, like they in the way of something more interesting on the other side.

Before the war of faces could proceed the cabin door opened and the Captain came waltzing back in. Mister grumpy face, Dirk she called him, was sent away, but not without a threatening look over his shoulder, which Xel replied to with a little air kiss before turning his attention to the Captain. "There's not much to know, Lady. My job is to do the horrible and messy things that the stuffed shirts like Vigo Kandle are too squeamish to do. Kandle is a monster, don't get me wrong, but even he has his limits. We're not as ruthless as he used to be in the good old days. I mostly guard the door. Toss out drunks, help old ladies to the slots, that sort of thing. I'll have you know that old Cizerack ladies are the worst. Demanding and handsy, but they tip big if you play them right.

Not much else to say. I'm a hammer. Show me some nails. Kandle didn't exactly spill the beans about what this operation was. I hope I didn't sign up for something boring."

[Denoel Quane]

Her mind flashed with images as he described his past position on Cloud City and for some reason it was hard to imagine him doing any of those things, but she wasn't about to argue. Everyone had their stories and locker full of secrets, so she would let that lie. Grinning as he mentioned how nasty some of the older women could be, it reminded her of her own grandmothers and great-aunt's when they would get together. Denoel usually tried to be somewhere else when family get togethers happened at their home. But, that was a lifetime ago.

"Grym wanted us to take five prizes just outside Hutt Space, so if that sounds boring to you, then yep, you're on the wrong ship," she informed casually. "If that's not your thing, then maybe you can pilot the first prize back to his chop shop. We're about a day and a half away from the first, so make yourself comfortable until then." Judging his reaction to the news, the pirate had a feeling that he was all in. Certainly beat babysitting old women and trying to be nice while doing it.

[Xel-Naga]

"Stealing from the Hutts?" He replied, slowly rubbing the building stubble on his chin while thoughtfully looking up at the ceiling. He continued to rub for several minutes, weighing the pros and cons of such a bold move. On the one hand, a likely huge payout. On the other, the eternal damnation of the Hutt cartels.

"That's really ballsy, and just the kind of shit an asshole like Kandle would do. I think he gets off on rocking the boat. Prent might be boring as paint, but at least he's not going to throw any curve balls. Shit."

Xel finally dropped his milky blue eyes back to the Captain, and shook his head. "It's fucking crazy, you know. I'm in. Screw those hermaphrodite slugs. Any idea what kind of resistance we can expect? I'm hoping it falls somewhere in between heavy and oh-shit-they-have-a-rancor."

[Denoel Quane]

Laughing, Denoel was beginning to like this creepy looking guy. "Yeah, they're going to be some mercs aboard all of them, but my sources say that they're more guarding the cargo from the crew rather than worrying about any outside nuts taking it," she grinned. "Which of course is only going to last until they realize we're there to take it all." Pulling out her datapad, she opened it and scrolled to the first target. Listed were the specs and itinerary of the vessel as well as cargo manifest and crew compliment.

"In," brown eyes glanced to her chronometer, then back to the screen. "forty hours we're going to rendezvous with a Action Four named Kartayn that's supposed to be linking up with a HT-Twenty Two Hundred in an empty parsec. Figured we'd lay in wait until the HT's gone and hit them then. No help within at least three hours in either direction. Kartayn's got a crew of five with four Weequay guards on board and a haul of over twenty million worth in credits, cargo." She knew there could also be other security measures in place that may not be listed, but her team knew their job and Xel also seemed capable.

[Xel-Naga]

"Solid plan. Get in and get out. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am. What does our attack team look like?" He assumed that grumpy face would be coming along. He looked like a capable type. Probably ex-military or a seasoned merc. Pity he wasn't Xel's type. He would love to wipe that smug expression off his face and drag him down a few pegs.

Still, he looked like he could handle himself, and that was all he asked from anyone the Captain threw into the fray. He was not in the habit of babysitting and would not have the time or attention span to make sure everyone behind him was still alive. Xel preferred to push forward and never look back, and with the sounds of things he was going to have to dip into his crate and bring out the big guns. Weequays were not to be taken lightly. That meant collateral damage and the chance for friendly fire, so they better have their heads on a swivel and pay attention, or they might get stomped on.

[Denoel Quane]

"There are six of us and four security droids that I leave on the Acula in reserve, should the need arise. We've been at this just over a year, so everyone that still aboard knows their jobs," she relayed, closing out the datapad and replacing it into her jacket pocket, then lowered her hands to her lap. "How long you been with Black Sun?"

[Xel-Naga]

Since the big freeze, would be the most accurate reply, but not something he was ready to divulge to, well, anyone really. Some managed to connect the dots but most just assumed that he stole his moniker from the pages of recent history. Those types ended up in the gutter with no teeth.

"It's been quite a few years now. I'm not one for keeping track of time. I've spent my entire life in organized crime in some form or another." He said as he shrugged off his coat. Underneath he wore a simple t-shirt with a faded Tatooine Gold logo on it. Lifting his muscular arms he showed her the full sleeves that ran up the lengths. They were obviously criminal tattoos, full of cryptic symbolism that denoted certain actions or achievements, as well as a lot of Huttese text.

"You don't grow up on Nar Shaddaa without falling in with the bad crowd."

[Denoel Quane]

Admiring the guns and broad chest, Denoel found herself staring as he spoke about his past, then snapped her eyes from the mental image of things best left private, she then took in the array of detailed color going up each arm. Some she had heard of over the past couple years, the rest were as much a mystery as the man before her. "No doubt," she agreed, leaning forward to get a better view of his ink. "You get any of these in prison," she inquired casually, such diversions being just a small part of the life they had chosen.

[Xel-Naga]

"Prison gangs are a bunch of pussies. The most time I spent was nine months in Psygonk, and I was kept in isolation." The Institute for the Rehabilitation of the Criminally Insane, or Psygonk due to it's large major employment of droids. It was a a prestigious institution for many years until they made the mistake of incarcerating one Nathaniel Xeller. It's noble intentions were long gone and in it's place a simple maximum security prison. He was doubtful they even called it Psygonk anymore. He was dating himself again.

He could have spent hours explaining each tattoo. Which obscure symbol or huttese script indicated that he was a murderer, or a thief, or a rapist, or which organizations he had worked for, what titles he had attained. It was all there. His entire life written across his arms until every space was used up. Very little had been inscribed since the Big Freeze. It was something he had been meaning to correct but had run out of room on his arms. He was saving his torso for something big, and his legs had become a mess after the Fall.

"Enough about me. What about you? Any cool tats to show off? How did you become this... whatever this is." he waved his hand around at the ship, unsure of exactly what to call Captain Quane and her crew. Was she a smuggler, or maybe a pirate? Something told Xel she was more an opportunist who took what landed on her plate. That was a respectable life choice that reflected his own. Black Sun was merely the next organization in a long parade of them to employ his hard ass. They were not the first and would not be the last. He was always moving, ready to trade up for something better. He was no rat, though, and never backstabbed or burned any bridges. It made him dependable.

[Denoel Quane]

Smirking at his comment about prison, she knew the same though her own road to this point had been much different. Trying to think about the name he offered, she soon realized it had come up once or twice not that long ago. "Think I've heard of it," she mused aloud, nodding. "Had one asshole bragging not that long ago, while he was bleeding out, about serving time in the hardest Imperial lockup there was in the galaxy, though I could tell he was full of shit. People don't walk out of those places without some kind of scars." By the look of the man before her, she could easily tell that he hadn't lied to her yet. The eyes alone conveyed how hard his life had been.

Sighing lightly, she sat back again. "No tats, but a few scars," she nodded, unwilling to show them off at the moment. He hadn't earned that privilege yet. "Served a little time for pirating on a station near Balmorra a year ago," she grinned, motioning to the Acula's interior which had seen better days. "Sure learned my lesson. Met these guys along the way. Some of them had served with my ex before I told him to fuck off," she relayed, even though she regretted that choice later. "They're a good crew and each knows their jobs well enough. Joined Black Sun three months ago, more for the notoriety than anything. They've got deep pockets and pay well for what we do, so why not, right? Also helps expanding the list of fences with a real syndicate." She also knew they weren't the type to be trifled with as Black Sun had become one of the most notorious syndicates in the galaxy, so she would keep her nose clean. For now.

[Xel-Naga]

"If I've learned anything from this profession, it's that you want the protection that comes a big crime family. Those lone wolf types think they have it so good with their independence and no strings attached, right up until they die alone in a gutter in the rain clutching the knife in their gut. Nobody is coming for them, and no one is going to miss them. With an organization like Black Sun you have a safety net, provided you do a good job, and guys at your back. You can die knowing that the guy who gunned you down is gonna end up with twice the number of holes in his body, along with all his friends and entire family. That's the kind of security I want in life."

It was all hunky dory until you did something to piss off your superiors. Xel had seen first hand just how fast things can go downhill when you forget to hold your tongue and sling disrespect. He still felt like his vitriol had been warranted. Who loses a highly venomous snake in the lounge? Maddox was a psycho bitch, that was for sure. She deserved a bullet in her skull that day, and would have if Vigo Kasajian had not gotten involved and thrown him out the window. Just thinking about it always sent a chill up his legs. He tried not to think about it, about how weak he felt lying on the concrete ground far below, clutching his shattered legs.

"Don't piss in the stew and you'll go far. If you do, prepare for cruelty. They send people like me to deal with traitors and skimmers."

[Denoel Quane]

Everything that spewed from his mouth she already knew from personal and viewed experience from watching others get repaid for the mistakes they had made. Though she had only seen a bit of Grym's face, she could tell that anyone that looked that bad had no mercy whatsoever. How bad were the top brass in the syndicate? "I'm not an idiot, I know that I only have that safety net as long as I'm making them money and no one's going to come to our aid after a stupid mistake on my part. It's the dead weight that gets cut off," she grinned. "Then they call you, the cleaner."

So, with the introductions out of the way, she mused. "You need anything before we get into this first mission with the Action Four? Everyone onboard has talents in various areas. Amund's our resident mechanic, Dirk's great with weapons and modifications. Egil's the medic and has a good stock of all types of meds if you need anything. Colin and Baldor are my copilot and main gunner, but they love to gamble when they have time," she motioned with her eyes to the far right and entrance to the galley. "Other than that, we've been building a list of fences as well as those that can get nearly anything that's not in the empress's dress, so."

[Xel-Naga]

Xel rapped his fingers on his armrests of his seat a few times while he contemplated his options. "I may have to make use of your mechanic, and I'm always up for a little gambling. Shame I left my Pazaak deck at home." And he just dated himself. Again. Pazaak was the game of choice before he was frozen, and since then the galaxy as a whole had moved on toward other games of chance; namely Sabaac. Pure garbage. Finding enough Pazaak cards to build a new deck had been a chore, but it was worth it for the rare times he could find an opponent to play with.

"I'll be in the hold working on my supplies. I want to be ready for the action. If you need me, that's where I'll be." Standing up, he grabbed his coat and slipped it back over his broad shoulders. A mandatory pocket check followed to make sure nothing had fallen out while he was seating. It was all good and fun until you lose your dataspike or knuckle duster that you need for the job your doing. "Is there any other matters of business to settle?"

[Denoel Quane]

The crew except for Amund left the newcomer alone beyond when he entered the galley and either ate or wanted a game of chance. When the time came to close down the ship, other than life support, the crew kept quiet as they hid behind a large asteroid within a belt whose activity on it's edge was quiet enough. Sitting in the cockpit, Denoel and Colin relaxed as they monitored the variety of sensors before them while Dirk and Egil both commanded the two turrets and kept them on standby. Amund, now in his element, entered the cockpit with them, his zero-g suit on with the helmet in his right hand.

"Probe's ready to go," the tall, gangly engineer informed.

"Sure this thing's going to work," Colin inquired, smirking as he glanced up to the tall human male.

Shooting the copilot a glare, Amund's green eyes returned to Denoel. "It's ready."

Nodding, she knew that this was going to tip things in their favor very quickly as long as it worked the way he advertised. "Alright, let 'er go."

Grinning, Amund turned and hurried out of the cockpit, excited to prove that his idea was flawless. Sighing, Denoel turned back to the inky blackness of space and then to the array of sensor monitors at her right and between her and Colin. "This better work."

"I don't mind finding us another engineer," Colin stated matter-of-factly. "He's been nothing but a pain in the ass since we met him anyway."

Denoel chuckled. "So, you do love him after all. I knew it." Knowing how these guys all loved to harass one another and how close they had become as a crew, she was used to the sarcasm. Soon after, the muffled sound of the ramp being manually opened notified them that the small probe was on it's way and would soon be giving them the Kartayn. If everything went as planned.

[Xel-Naga]

Xel got to work immediately. The large crate in the cargo bay was pried open in short order. Inside was a mess of packing filler; Styrofoam peanuts, bits of paper, and straw. Sifting through the debris revealed metal armor pieces. They were drawn, one at a time. Each one was given a look over, and more than a few made him pause sentimentally as he ran a finger over a scratch, a scorch mark, or a patched hole. Each one a memory of a close shave he escaped thanks to the armor. It had been a very long time since he had donned the Beast. He missed it. Every. Single. Day.

With the help of the Engineer fellow, Amund, they began to put the suit together. The frame had to be pulled out last, stood up, and then each piece bolted into place from the ground up. It would have been done quicker if Xel had not insisted in inspecting each piece to make sure there was not any unseen wear or broken parts. It had been in storage a long time, and he did not exactly trust other people with caring for his things. Eventually the armor was finished (http://vignette4.wikia.nocookie.net/fallout/images/6/61/Ft_power_armor.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20110120184205). Xel had to take a step back, wiping his hands on a rag, as he admired the solid piece of power armor. It was goddamn sexy. The medium-grade armor plates gave it excellent protection while still affording some mobility. The armor was clearly heavily patched and cobbled together from mismatched parts. It had served him for many, many years.

The people at the Coruscant Technology Museum were probably still missing this piece.

---

Now he sat in silence. Just outside the door to the cargo bay the incredible hulk of the Beast sat on a crate. Powered down he could not move. The rotary cannon rested against his shoulder. It was coming. It was close. Soon they would be ready to board. He couldn't wait. The excitement was hard to control. The Beast made him feel so powerful. It was an addicting feeling. A high unlike anything he had ever achieved with stims or spice, or sexual partners.

Soon...

[Denoel Quane]

Closing, the manual release for the ramp again raised as Denoel soon noticed the HT-2200 arrive and the unload begin. Heart began pumping as the adrenaline levels rose and her face grew serious as Amund joined Baldor in the entry and they began getting their weapons and armor assembled and donned.

"You know," Colin interrupted the silence, quietly. "That guy's creepy as hell," he motioned with his eyes to the monitor showing the nearly empty cargo space he had claimed when he arrived.

"Just glad he's on our side," she replied distractedly as she continued watching. The probe should be nearing the target Action IV any minute now and she prayed that no one in the cockpit would see it. Though it wasn't any bigger than a very small meteorite, it's proximity to the asteroid belt they hid in was the only reason that she had agreed to using it.

After a long hour, the HT-2200 soon reclaimed it's docking collar and began it's departure. "Don't leave," she whispered to the Kartayn as it still remained in place with the probe now mere yards from it's engines. Glancing between the bulk freighter and the Action IV, she soon noticed the other ship disappear into hyperspace and the moment after, the probe burst it's magnetic pulse and disabled the engines and main generator as she then noticed the Kartayn go completely dead.

"Game time," she announced over the intercom and immediately fired up the main systems and engines as Colin released them from the asteroid that they had been clinging onto the back of for several hours. Within minutes, they were cruising around the rocky barrier and speeding toward the target ship, avoiding two smaller asteroids on the way. "Dirk, Egil, meet us in the foyer and get ready. Xel, I'm going to open the cargo bay door and let you do your thing, just let me know when you're ready."

Speeding toward their prize, Denoel feathered the engines and banked to starboard, then came around to connect their own docking collar to the Kartayn's situated on it's own port side. Slowly the two ships closed and soon, Colin pushed the button to connect. Rising, he quickly moved to join the boarding party as Denoel finished her docking and waited for Xel to give her the word, unless he had chosen to lumber in that heavy armor with them.

[Xel-Naga]

He felt the ship lurched to life, waking him from his near-slumber inside the metal coffin. As the lights came back on in the hallway he chinned the power control and waited for his suit to power back up. The older model took a few moments and then whirled to life. His HUD flickered into place in front of his eyes giving. On the right a miniature display of his power armor color coded to indicate the integrity of each piece. It was green across the board. On the right was display an ammo count linked to his rotary cannon. Other sub-systems like comms and target assist had their own places in the display.

Standing up, he moved into the cargo hold and over to the where the docking hatch sat. The indicator light above it was red. No connection. That was fine. It gave him time to shoulder his adjust his grip on his weapon. Two hands, one on the grip and trigger, the other on the additional grip along the barrel. Some might prepare mentally, but he had more than enough time in the hallway, in the quiet and the dark, to focus himself. Now he just wanted to get in there. Finally the light turned green and the door swooshed open.

"It's about damn time."

Releasing the safety on the cannon, he stomped through the connection. The umbilical bridge between them barely held his weight as he piloted the heavy war machine through it. The door into the other ship was locked, naturally. Xel was not deterred. He raised a foot and kicked, denting in the door. Three more kicks broke the frame and allowed him to reach a hand in and begin forcing it aside. Blaster bolts whizzed through the openings in the door. He moved his body to block the shots lest the umbilical be punctured. An alarm sounded in his suit, indicating damage taken. He ignored it. Grunting through one last push, he shoved the door the rest of the way in and leaving it a ruined mess that would never shut again. Which was fine with him. They weren't buying the place.

Stepping through, fully into the bath of lasers, he raised his weapon and smiled. The barrel spun up, filling the air with it's sound, and then all of hell came spewing fourth as it fired laser rapidly, filling the air in return back at his attackers. The guards didn't have a chance. With little cover in their own cargo hold he cut them down like dogs. Lasers ripped through their torsos, nearly bisecting them where they stood. By the time his cannon spun to a stop the room was smoky with burned corpses. His armor and weapon steamed from the exchange, and glow points in his armor indicated where shots had gotten a little too deep for his liking. No full penetration.

Laughing, he stomped across the room to the single survivor. The Weequay looked up at him, one hand holding his burned flesh and the other trying to manipulate a blaster rifle. He could do nothing but watch as the big boot went up, blocking out the light before it came crashing down. Mushing the soup at the bottom of his boot into the deckplate brought him great joy. It sent tingles and waves of ectasy through his body. Thankfully the design of the power armor allowed it to be piloted with an erection.

"Clear."

[Denoel Quane]

The cacophony of combat echoed down through the long tubeway as Denoel raced to join the rest of the group, allowing her droids to warn them if the other ship had decided to come back for some reason. Blaster pistols in each hand, the pirate captain had a feeling there would be little left for her to do as the staccato from Xel's man-gun ripped through the defenders. "Damn," she stated thoughtlessly and hoped that none of the cargo they had come to get would end up as collateral damage.

Reaching the far end of the well lit tunnel, she entered the ship in time to see her own crew now racing past the lumbering monster in metal, offering covering fire as the firefight continued from the cargo area and into the front part of the ship where the rest of the crew might be. Jammed, the Kartayn's efforts to get any call out would be nullified before it even left. An old trick she had learned from her ex, long ago. Glancing at the mess that the "cleaner" was making, especially the head of the Weequay now crushed, it's fluids and brain having exploded outward like sunrays, she pushed beyond and did her best to forget that sight.

"Galley clear," Dirk relayed as the group worked in unison, covering one another as they moved from the nearest room to the next.

"Most of them were here in the cargo area," Denoel informed. "Captain may be in the bridge and keep an eye out for any security droids."

"Copy that," the ex-mercenary replied.

[Xel-Naga]

The rest of the pirates came streaming in from the umbilical. Xel kept an eye out the whole time, the barrel of his gun spinning; ready to fire should anyone stick their heads out one of the many hatches or from behind any of the cargo. Some of it was blaster scarred, but that was the beauty of modern shipping technology. The durasteel containers were hardcore, likely meant to evade scans, and that meant serious reinforcement and layers of different materials intended to throw off scanners or render the insides invisible. No doubt the cargo was of an illicit, not to mention illegal, nature. The Hutts rarely dealt in legal merchandise.

Unfortunately the same bulk that made him an unstoppable killing machine kept him from leaving this very room. The narrow corridors of a starship were no place for his increased size. Sure, he could wiggle on through but it would just make him a crawling road block. It was not worth the effort to push through only to get stuck somewhere and be left defenseless while some asshole shoots him a thousand times until he finally breaks through the armor. There was also the potentially of accidentally putting an elbow through something important, like the hull. That would get real ugly real fast.

"Go on without me. I'll guard the hold."

[Denoel Quane]

Nodding to the metal behemoth, Denoel aimed up toward the doorway of the cockpit, another level above as the group continued clearing the lower rooms. Two shots rang out from Dirk's weapon, flashes of light in the dimly lit corridor and they backed out once more, continuing on to the medbay and then up the stairs. Calming her breathing as best as she could, brown eyes focused on the entry to the cockpit through the railing and hoped that this ship's captain would be dumb enough to rush her group. Instead, the heavy rolling of a security droid announced itself from her far right, firing at her weapons. Dodging backward, she angled back toward the right side of the door's frame and glanced up to the exposed group as Amund swung his rifle around and fired. She knew the droid would react and immediately bounced out into the wide foyer and aimed at the droid, center mass. Squeezing both triggers, only one pistol responded as crimson bolts slammed into the metal body and it was only then she realized that her attack was point blank. Sparks flew as the droid's rectangular head swung back to her as did it's weapons.

Ducking low, a shot slammed into the droid's head, holing the casing and it's optical receptor went dead.

"You're welcome," Baldor stated as they continued up to the cockpit.

Ducking back around, Denoel caught her breath once more and then glanced through the lines of stacked crates only to see movement from the back. The ship's engineer had decided to get in on the fun. "Xel," she motioned with an upraised chin toward the far wall and she motioned that she was going to head left and try to corner this next threat. Once done, she quietly moved toward a narrow alley between the stacked cargo and kept her remaining blaster up as she moved.

[Xel-Naga]

The call came through, and his attention refocused. Following the direction given, his eyes shifted to catch a glimpse of movement in an area that none of the team had moved toward. A rat in the hold. His suit whirled to life as he sent it moving toward the stack of crates the defender was hiding behind. He could see Captain Quane moving around from the other side. The difference between the two of them was that Xel could take a shot in his armor, and she was a squishy meat sack. Running an eye over his controls he chinned the external comm button.

"I can hear you breathing, poppit." He said, his voice piping loudly through the external speakers. He made sure to make as much noise as he could while he closed in; intentionally kicking crates, bumping into things, and tapping the floor with the barrel of his gun. "When I find you I'm going to do things to you that'll make you wish you were dead. Use your imagination. It'll be worse. Ah, there you are." As he rounded the pile of crates, he stuck his torso and head around the corner. The Engineer started and raised his blaster, firing wildly into the hulking behemoth. Xel made a show of ducking back, but he could see the Captain coming around the other side.

Pincer. Classic.

[Denoel Quane]

Grinning at the comments now echoing through the large cargo hold, Denoel knew this guy probably should've worn his brown pants this morning as she moved. Picking up the pace as the heavy, metallic footfalls and shoving aside crates made more noise than she ever could have. Distracted, Denoel hoped the engineer was alone as she picked up the pace and meandered around to the man's rear. Firing from the engineer's weapon told her exactly where he was and she ran, glancing down each aisle until she noticed his back, backpedaling as Xel in his massive armored suit emerged around the far corner. Without thought, she raised her pistol and fired, catching him center mass and burning a neat hole in his blue jacket, dropping the human.

Continuing her search, Denoel moved scanning either way for anyone else hiding in here until reaching the back wall. Sighing quietly, she glanced left and right, clearing the avenue and then moved toward the engineering area hatch. Still open, she crouched and peered inside, leading with her weapon. Diagnostic station to the near right, brown eyes followed the barrel toward her left passing massive machinery and piping which had all seen better days. Dust and points of rust dotting nearly everything in here, she continued her scan using the doorframe as cover.

[Xel-Naga]

The engineer curled up into a ball, weakly clawing at the burning hole in his back. The Captain did not hesitate for a moment and moved on, leaving Xel alone with the dying man. Reaching down, a giant metal hand grabbed the man by his arm and lifted him up so he could look him in the face, eye to visor. A spark of life looked back. Fading fast like an ember in the hearth. Given medical treatment he might survive, but he was not so lucky. Instead of a helping hand the barrel of his rotary cannon came up. It was jammed into the engineer's stomach, knocking what little air he had out of his lungs and burning his flesh with the hot metal.

"Should have killed yourself when you had the chance."

Dropping the cannon to the deckplate he took the man in both hands and began swinging him around, smashing him into the floor, then against a crate, back to the floor, and then hurling him across the hold to slam into the bulkhead. His body crumpled to the floor. Still breathing, but only just. He left him there to die slowly from his injuries, his body too broken to ever be a threat. Alone and broken, he would slowly succumb to his wounds, and the whole time his mind would be free to reel and think, accomplishing a job that normally took hot pokers and needles under fingernails.

Following after the Captain, he found her peeking in through a doorway into what appeared to be the Engineering area, if the machinery and flashing lights was any sign. Xel had no idea what any of the equipment was, but he still positioned himself at the other side of the door, cannon at the ready and spinning. The sensor suite in his armor was not that great, but it was not picking up anything. That didn't mean there wasn't something there. He didn't trust what he couldn't determine with his own senses. Stepping through the doorway, which required him to bend his head and step in sideways, like maneuvering a sofa, he looked around the room and found nothing.

"Do we want to smash this shit up, or are we gonna blow the whole thing?"

[Denoel Quane]

Hearing the repetitive slamming behind her grabbed Denoel's attention and she glanced back to see the engineer's body tossed around like a ragdoll, bruising and blood spattering the ceiling and floor as well as Xel's armor. Horrified initially, she was starting to like his style as the remainder of the show ended as the target flew toward the far wall and disappeared behind the stacked crates. Brown eyes turned back to the hulking mass of metal and weapons as he neared, then entered the engineering area.

"Actually no. Grym wanted these prizes sent back to him, so I made sure to bring extra droids that can plot the nav and fly," she informed, standing up now that the room was proven empty. She grinned and then heard a shot fired forward, no doubt the last stand of the ship's captain, she assumed.

"Bridge clear," Dirk informed over the comlink. "Looks like that's it."

"Alright," she replied, holstering her pistol. "Amund, come back here and see if there's anything we need for the Acula. Egil, send the droids. Guys, quick search of the galley and rooms for any trophies and we're out of here. Five minutes for shopping." Glancing back to Xel, then motioned to the room full of crates, though she also knew there were many other cargo holds above them and on the starboard side, but they weren't going to have time to search them all. The longer they lingered, the more chances of being discovered and having this prize reclaimed by someone else.

[Xel-Naga]

Underneath his metal plates his face screwed up into a mask of disappointment. He had all this power and firepower, and he couldn't destroy the ship. Hell, he would have loved to climb into a turret nest and blow the thing to kingdom come. One handed. Of course a sleeveball like Grym wanted this ship in one piece. It was the kind of stupid he expected from the oddity. Steal a Hutt's cargo, sure. You can wash credits and move the product through enough hands to make it untraceable. Black Sun had that kind of power. Stealing the ship? That seemed like suicide. That left a trail. You can change the registry and scrub the whole thing clean and paint the hull, but chances are there is still a way to identify it. A dent in just the right spot, a secret compartment they won't find. If the Hutts ever find out there will be hell to pay.

The price of admission on that pain train was usually your thumbs for starters.

Nodding his bucket head, he lumbered out of the room and headed back to the cargo hold. Everyone was dashing about, peeking in crates, running through the crew compartments to rob the dead. Weapons, credits, used panties, whatever floated their boats. Xel went to the door he busted through getting in. At the time he hadn't know they were keeping the ship. Better set it right. Putting the servos of his suit to work he began twisted the door back into shape. When he was done it would close, but it would leak. The droids would need to coat it with a sealant to keep it from leaking atmosphere. Not a big deal since it would be piloted by droids. Still, they didn't want anything valuable being sucked out.

Xel didn't participate in the pillaging. He never did. There was a fear in the back of his mind that he might steal something considerably more valuable to other parties, and they might want it back no questions asked. As in, they would shoot him in his bed and take it without saying a word. He wouldn't risk it. He didn't look down on the others for doing it. It was their way and their right as the victors. He was already receiving enough credits for this job from Grym that it would cover the expense; fix the new damage to his armor, replace used ammunition, and still put a nice chunk in his pocket.

To be spent immediately on Gallian Cobra Whiskey and Cizerack Lady Boys.

"Time to go!"

[Denoel Quane]

Glancing as she passed the few crates that were pilfered, Denoel settled on the prize going to her new boss instead and for now that was enough. Amund would find any spare parts that they were needing, if possible, so she was satisfied with that. Continuing back to the Acula, the brunette pirate passed the two droids that would be the new proprietors until they reached their secret destination that Grym had provided. Unsure what he had in mind with the Action IV, she hoped that it would end up being a process that would not reveal that she and her crew were the perpetrators, for she had no desire to be left out to dry as an army of bounty hunters and mercenaries would be searching for them. Her plans for the future went far beyond the next few months.

Climbing the stair back up to the cockpit, she reclaimed her chair and began plotting for the next ambush point as the rest of the crew eventually returned as Xel herded them, now that his repair was done. Closing up the access hatch, the Kartayn soon peeled away from them and after a few moments, vanished into hyperspace. A matched effect as the Acula followed suit soon after, though in a different direction. Letting everyone settle back into their stations for now, she tapped the intercom button, "Another eight hours until the next one. Great job guys. Get some rest."

"Thanks mom," Colin greeted as he entered the cockpit and plopped into his chair, satisfaction written all over his face.

"Any one that you can walk away from, right," Denoel grinned as she unbuckled herself and spun the chair toward him.

"Damn straight."

[Xel-Naga]

Safely back on board the Acula, Xel dragged his sturdy crate back into the cargo bay and took a seat. With the help of a crewman he removed his helmet, chest plate, and codpiece. This allowed him to grab an overhead cargo lift and pull himself up and out of the armor. It was not optimal, but it was better than taking the whole thing apart. He was going to need it again in a few hours, after all. Dropping down to the deckplates, he accepted a towel from the crewman. His forehead, and most of his body, was covered in sweat. He never noticed how hot in got in there until he was back out in the cool air. To help with the tight enclosure, and to reduce the chance of something getting pinched on the inside, he wore a skintight flight suit. It did not leave much to the imagination.

Stepping out into the adjacent corridor, he grabbed his jacket from it's hook and slipped it on. The cold of space was cooling the sweat on his body, and already he could feel the uncomfortable chill setting in. Continiuning to towel himself off as he walked, he headed for the bridge, filling the entrance with his bulk by leaning his arms against the doorframe. "What's our next target?"

[Denoel Quane]

Opening the datapad once more as they were underway, Denoel perused the next target and read over the information offered by their contact on Nar Shaddaa and hoped that it was as accurate as the last one. Hearing the footsteps approach the bridge, she glanced up and to the right, unsure initially if she should be impressed or repulsed by the sight and tried to keep her eyes on his. By Colin's reaction she could tell he was doing the same.

Turning her attention to the datapad, "The Saliso's another Action Four, but this one's got a lot more security and this report states that they're also upgraded a bit. Ten Weequay and four Gamorrean guards along with two droideka," she mused on that note as Colin's gaze shot to her. "DEMP gun or one of Amund's ion guns should take care of those."

"Great," her copilot exhaled and fell back into his chair.

"Two more droids are going to be taking this ship to Grym as well, but we're instructed to bind their guest and ensure they're out for the trip." Tapping to the next page, "Seems they're escorting the sister of Grobba the Hutt. Grym must be wanting to hold her for ransom or something." She glanced up to Colin, "Make sure Egil's got something to knock her ass out."

Nodding, he rose and moved toward the doorway though slowed until Xel moved before continuing downstairs.

Denoel grinned and then glanced toward Xel, again trying her best to keep her brown eyes focused on his milky blue. "Unless you had any ideas...?"

[Xel-Naga]

"A hutt?" Xel said as he dropped his arms and let the crewman step past before resuming his position in the doorway. "So in addition to shooting a bunch of laser jockeys in the face now we have to babysit a captive? Please tell me we are leaving her on the ship with the droids. I don't want her to see our faces, hear our voices, or whatever else Hutt's can do. That crazy asshole Grym is going to get us all killed."

This operations were already incredibly dangerous. Any shootout in space was. If they were stomping around on hard ground kicking in warehouse doors and stealing everything inside, then Xel might feel a bit more confident about all of this. It was so like Grym to send them on incredibly dangerous missions, and in this case not even tell Xel the full details. He had no idea there was kidnapping involved. Truly, it didn't concern him. He was there just to shoot everything that moves in the face. It was his specialty, after all.

"I'm going to need a lot of drinks after all this is over."

[Denoel Quane]

"No, she's going with the ship," Denoel assured, shaking her head. She had no desire to have a Hutt aboard her ship while they still had three more freighters to hit. "Not having some Hutt pollute the air on the Acula." The crew would all be arguing whose duty it would be to keep guard of the door to whichever room they decided to hold her on as well, so it was best this way. Xel's argument about her recognizing anyone on this crew was also a good point as she thought more about it. Having a list of ships to hit she hadn't had a lot of time to really think some of these things through.

His comment made her chuckle as she closed her datapad and replaced it into her jacket pocket. "You and me both." Leaning back in the chair, she finally had a moment to catch her breath. "How long does it take to gain Grym's trust," she asked, glancing back to the large mass of muscle in the doorway.

[Xel-Naga]

"Trust? I don't think Grym is the trustin' type." Xel replied, letting his arms fall from the doorframe, allowing him to put his shoulders through the opening and take one of the open seats in the cockpit. Operating the power suit was exhausting on his limbs, and he could really use a sit down. Especially considering he was going to have to be operating it several more times in the near future. Maybe it was time to get that neural link he had been putting off. He would have already if the side-effects weren't so frightening.

"Grym is the gamblin' type. He takes something promising looking and tosses it straight into the fire to see what comes out the other side. He respects power and intelligence, but I wouldn't go so far as to say he trusts anyone. I've heard rumors that he is developing his own drug, and gave it's exclusive selling rights to our small time rivals, the Tenloss Syndicate. That doesn't make any sense to you or me, but to Grym there is somethin' 'bout that he likes. I trust him about as far as I can throw his punk ass. If he wasn't a Vigo I'd probably accidental drop him down a grav-shaft for the shit he's pulled. Still, can't hate the guy completely. He does manage some impressive results. His methods are crazy, is all."

[Denoel Quane]

News of this new drug didn't surprise her in the least, now recalling the monster beneath that creepy mask that Grym wore, Denoel had no doubts that he wished for their rival gang to get strung out on whatever he was concocting in some private lab. One definite way to keep them subservient to him and Black Sun. Addicts were weird like that. Xel's personality prompted a grin from the human native of Deiko Nemoidia, her white teeth shining from between full lips. "Just haven't been around him long enough and definitely not someone that I'd want to cross. Though that pretty much goes for any of the vets in the Sun." Xel included, she mused.

"After we're done, the Hutts are going to be pretty pissed off, which means this area's going to be off limits for us for a while." She pondered what Grym or one of the other vigos may have in mind for the crew of the Acula after this, unless Grym was expecting them to pull their own weight in their preferred mode of making credits. "How'd someone like you get stuck baby sitting MILF's and their money?"

[Xel-Naga]

"The operation on Bespin was suffering a lot of failures and set backs, so they sent their best men to fix it. That doesn't just mean the eggheads at the top. They needed someone with muscle to chokehold Cloud City back into submission. When we were done rebuilding the whole shebang I should have been moved on to another project but I got left there." He shrugged his wide shoulders. It had been a big disappointment getting stuck on Cloud City, especially having to report to that asshole Prent. Xel would love nothing more than to put that man in his place.

"If I had to guess it was two-fold; one because I probably pissed off Vigo Reeouurra when I was working under her on Carshoulis. Was suppose to be watching this guy, Sanis Prent, and I got really drunk and tried calling hookers. Yeah. It wasn't my finest moment, but I got the job done. Then she gives control of the Cumulus Casino to that Prent guy. So I might be stuck there to keep an eye on him. I don't ask. I do what I'm told. I don't want to get banished somewhere worse than Bespin. At least Cloud City has a seedier side to indulge in. Porn stores, fetish shops, drug dens, and this one great deli. It's amazing what you can find in the lower levels mixed in between all the machinery. It's like a tiny Coruscant."

He shook his head. "If you know anything about Cizerack women it's that they like having a man on hand to belittle. It's their way. Sanis likes to push me at them. I'm about as close to a Cizerack man's physique as a human can be. Those dudes are huge." Xel made a show of puffing up his arms and sitting taller in his chair.

[Denoel Quane]

Names that she was now mentally logging for later when they returned to Cloud City. "Haven't met any of them yet, but I'm guessing he enjoys having some eye candy on hand," she chuckled, though realized afterward that Xel may not think it was that funny and curbed her humor into a grin. "Never knew that about their women, though I haven't hung around Cloud City long enough to get the lay of the land yet. That deli sounds interesting, have to get me the name when we get back. Always looking for somewhere else to hide from these nuts," her thumb jambed toward the bridge's doorway. "Have some peace and quiet for a while."

The more she thought about it, Denoel realized that having someone like Xel as an ally in the Sun was definitely a good thing to have. "Some rumors that I did hear about the Tenloss gang is they're more violent and crazy than we are. That true?"

[Xel-Naga]

"Gershpod's. Level one hundred and seven. Owned by a Lannick family. Money grabbin' little troglodytes, but they make a mean sandwich." He remembered first stumbling upon the place. They were having a bad month and owed money to Black Sun, who had helped them immigrate from Lannick safely to Bespin. His mission was simple; break their stuff and make it clear that payment was die immediately. Instead they met him head on. The whole family. Ready to fight. He had never seen so much fight in so small a package. Mr. Gershpod was five feet of fury ready to go. Xel respected that. Instead they made a compromise. Now he eats for free and they have never fallen behind in the rent since.

"There aren't a lot of Cizerack on Bespin. It's more a tourism hub for them than anything else. Pop in, see the sights, hit the slots, and head back to the Cluster. You would know if you had met one. All the sexual appetite of ten men crammed into a five foot six body. Completely entitled and bitchy. Their men are practically sex slaves that they only keep around because they want dick on demand. A disgusting society, that's for sure, but hey, at least their men are attractive slabs of meat." Once again not his type, but he could admire them for their physical beauty even if he had no desire to get intimate with them.

His mood changed when she mentioned Tenloss.

"Tenloss is small potatoes compared to Black Sun. They don't even register on our radar that's how small their operation is. It's just a collection of small illicit operations all operating under one flag for added protection. The only difference between them and the Sun is that they are willing to do the really shitty stuff that even Black Sun stays away from; like slave trade, sex trafficking, stuff like that. I wouldn't call them more violent; maybe more desperate. They have a lot more to prove, and you can't judge them as a whole neither. Each little operation is self contained. One might be sane and the next insane. The only danger they pose to us is that they are unpredictable, take risks, and do stupid stuff. I've ganked my fair share of them."

[Denoel Quane]

There had been moments when his description of how the Cizerack would've made her horny as hell, but it seemed that the life she led now curbed that desire quite a bit. Especially when there were now so many dangers out there looking to put her out of business. Permanently. More details on the Tenloss group also added more details to what she wanted to know about Cloud City's underbelly. Just when things were starting to look up, she mused. "Sounds like a party," she replied sarcastically, a wry grin on her face. "Grym's scary enough, so have to respect his way of keeping Tenloss on the payroll without them becoming a problem. At least for now anyway. With what I've seen of the business thus far, have to say that Black Sun's quite organized and I like that."

The playing field had now grown quite a bit and there was still a lot to learn.

[Xel-Naga]

"I have only seen a very small picture of Black Sun." He held up his hand and pinched his fingers close together. "Grym makes the third Vigo I've worked for, and I've been all over the galaxy from Coruscant to Ord Mantell, Carshoulis Cluster to Bespin. There is so much more to Black Sun than I could ever see as an Enforcer. We are the biggest organized crime family in the galaxy, and we grow bigger every single day. This cold war standoff between the Alliance and the Empire generates more profit than gunrunning during the war ever did. Everyone wants something from the other side.

And then there's Corellia. That's a whole new golden egg. The Resistance, or Rebels, whatever you want to call them, need weapons, and we are more than willing to supply them. For a cost, of course. I wish I could get in on that action. Bet it's a real show watching those assholes fight each other. Plenty of opportunity for looting and fighting. You could do whatever you want and blame it on the rebels. It's open season. That's... hot."

[Denoel Quane]

Denoel chuckled and knew now where some of the equipment and other cargo they were seizing may end up. "We're not smugglers, but that does sound profitable. Though like I mentioned earlier, I'm not looking of cutting out Grym right now. Just have to start researching ships transporting weapons and get a plan put together. Though I know at least one of the ships on our list today has a large shipment of weapons onboard." There may even be something within that cargo that she or the crew could use, she mused. "Grym said we could claim something from each of these ships, so if we happen to find something useful for the ship, I'm not going to complain. Of course, I know that's not on your list, so don't be afraid to grab something that strikes you."

She had a feeling that he still had some more toys in that large crate that he had brought with him that they hadn't seen yet, so no telling what he might be interested in.

[Xel-Naga]

"Yeah, maybe we'll get lucky and one of those ships will have a hold full of booze, spice, and whores. That's a ship I wouldn't mind knockin' off." He rubbed his hands together and then stood up, stretching his body a bit before heading for the door. "I'll be in the hold. Gotta stuff a few holes. Get the armor back to a hundred percent before we hit the next ship, and take a nap. If you need me you know where to find me." By the time he finished talking he was out of eyesight disappearing into the bowels of the ship.

His armor had taken a light beating in that engagement, mostly because he was drunk with power and letting himself take hits. Now there were a few nice scorch marks and a few deep cuts that needed to be reinforced and mended before he could use it again. Otherwise those points were a weakness that could be exploited intentionally or accidentally, and he would rather not lose hull integrity. Once that happened he'd probably have to scrap his suit until he could get it to a real mechanic. In the meantime he would do what he could with the engineer on board to make sure it was ready for a fight by the time the next target rolled around.

[Denoel Quane]

Chuckling, she shook her head and then watched Xel as he left the small bridge. He was starting to become predictable, she mused and turned her attention back to the navicomputer, ensuring that they were still on course to the next ambush point which wouldn't take them long to arrive at. Turning off the overhead lights, allowing the multicolored buttons and monitors on the horseshoe shaped console to create another mood setting, Denoel leaned back into the chair and kept a watch until relieved. Also, while there she caught a quick power nap.

Lids opened some time later as Colin was staring at her from his chair. "What," she asked, stretching.

"Ship's been taken while you were asleep," he told her, though his tone wasn't as concerned as it probably should have been. "Done everything I could to keep them from raping you, so this is our last strongpoint. I have my gun, but only half charged eclip in it, so after I'm gone you're on your own," he sighed. "Been fun."

Glancing toward the closed bridge door, she noted the red light on the panel to it's left wasn't lit like it should have been. "Well, sorry to hear that. Figured they'd find us sooner or later," brown eyes returned to him. "Sad to hear that your new boyfriend didn't make it to the bridge with you, might've been able to give him a goodbye kiss."

"Just wasn't time," he shrugged. "My loss."

Eyeing him longlingly, she sighed. "I could have, but since we're about to die, just no time. Guess you're just going to have to suck it up and die with some dignity. Go out in a blaze of glory, that's what dad would've told you."

His eyes widened a bit at the offer. "Well..... we still have a few minutes, I'm sure. These pirates didn't look like they had their shit together." Leaning forward, he smiled.

Denoel followed suit, leaning on the navicomputer, parting her full lips slightly and as he neared, she slapped him, then fell back again. "Yeah, right."

Hand to the wounded cheek, he smiled. "Damn, you're cold. Fated man with a dying wish and you go and smack him. Meany."

"Bite me."

"Yeah, that was the idea."

"Not in your wildest, buddy." Pushing herself up, she moved toward the bridge's sole entry point and pushed the button to open the door. "I'm going to grab something real quick, be back."

"Alright. Got just short of a half hour and it's game time again."

"Let everyone know." Descending the stair, she made her way into the galley and approached the autochef, punching in a cup of caf and a pastry.

"Alright ladies," Colin's voice came over the intercom. "Half hour before the next hit, so Dirk, whatever you're doing in the refresher, get it over with and get your shit together. That is all."

[Xel-Naga]

The voice came over the intercom, and Xel started awake, his eyes opening, his body tensed, and his hand searching for a weapon. It took a moment for his brain to catch up and remember where he was. By that time he was sitting up with the heavy DeathHammer in his hand, his gray eyes scanning for targets. Wiping the sleep from his face, he stood up. A few stretches relieved the discomfort in his body from sleeping on the ground. With every twist and stretch his body suit struggled to contain his muscular figure. The fabric stretched, and thinned, and showed every muscle curve.

He noticed the Engineer watching him with a disgusted look on his face. "Take a picture bro, it'll last longer." He said as he grabbed his crotch and shook it a bit to get his point across. Laughing to himself, Xel grabbed his half empty cup of cold caf and downed it. In the middle of the hold waited his armor, carefully tethered to the rack above to keep it from falling over and killing someone. He hated the body suit as much as people hated looking at him in it, but it was a necessity to keep from getting pinched inside the suit. He got stuck inside it once when his pants got caught in a seem, and there is no room to reach in there and cut yourself free. He had to pull until the fabric finally tore free. Not a fun situation to be in when you've already been inside the suit for hours at a time and need to piss real bad.

Climbing back up the suit he slipped his wide frame in through the head and torso hole and dropped down carefully. No sense in falling too hard and smashing the family jewels on the leg part. The crewmen helped seal him back in. One by one each piece went on; each one stealing away the light bit by bit until he was left in darkness. The suit powered back up. All systems were green. Damage detection was still reading a few weak points, but most of them had been fixed up or patched over with metal plates. Hardly out of place on his patchwork armor. Instead of waiting in the hallway he wedged himself in a corner of the bay and waited for the next attack. His suit was pressurized and had enough oxygen supply to handle the vacuum.

The beast was hungry.

[Denoel Quane]

Knowing they were up against stiffer odds this time, Denoel tensed as they waited, the Saliso's entry into the quiet sector of space should be any minute if their information was correct. Even though she trusted the Black Sun contact on all this, things could have changed and if that were to happen Grym would be without an avenue for ransom. Biting her nails as the Acula sat in the darkness, both within and without, Colin's incessant tapping on the console with his fingertips was becoming annoying.

"Could you stop that," she finally whispered, agitated.

"Sorry," the copilot replied and the rhythmic noise ceased. "Hate this waiting."

"Don't we all." Having already deployed two of Amund's droids, brown eyes constantly danced from the sensors to the outside through the cockpit's large window. Sighing, she knew her own impatience wasn't going to help matters, or get the Saliso to show up any faster. After what seemed like hours, the pulse in the hyperlane announced a ship and the droids went to work, bursting an intense circle of ion particles which not only brought the Action IV out of hyperspace, but ionized it's power source and engines. Firing up the sublights, Denoel sped the Acula toward their prey, now tumbling and rolling across their path. Amund would have to make two more droids, but they at least did their job, she mused.

"Game time," Colin announced over the intercom.

Speeding through the emptiness of space, the Action VI raced to it's prize no doubt now on alert and Denoel could already picture the Weequay and Gamorreans grabbing weapons and preparing to repel boarders. She assumed the droideka would be closer to the Hutt. "LFI giving us anything yet," the captain asked.

"Uh...," Colin glanced over to his right. "Yeah, everybody's home it seems. Five Rodian and Twi'lek crew, Weequay and Gamorreans all in attendance as well as a Hutt." He grinned as his eyes turned to the Saliso now approaching quickly, as Denoel began matching it's roll to line up the access tubeway to their own. "Have to give that infomerchant a big, wet sloppy kiss when we see him again."

Shaking her head, still trying to concentrate on the task at hand, Denoel grinned. "You really need a girlfriend."

Soon, they linked with the large freighter and Colin jumped up and headed for the cockpit's exit. "Think maybe this Hutt's got someone?"

Laughing, she shook her head as the link was made and the magnetic couplers all went green. "You need serious help." Jumping up herself, she grabbed her pistols and raced for the stair as Dirk and the rest of the group began their breach.

[Xel-Naga]

The docking procedure went smoother this time. Experience would make masters of them all. Stomping across the umbilical, data spike in hand, Xel was ready. The spike worked better this time, and the door immediately swooshed open and allowed him direct access into the hail of bullet. Instead of sitting like a duck eating lasers he rushed inside, the door closing behind him to protect the umbilical as his armor was showered in red light. He didn't even wait to spin up his rotary cannon. There was a big Gamorrean standing not far from the door, and he ran straight at him with all the speed and grace of a maglev train.

Dropping as low as his armor would allow him he drove his shoulder into the Gamorrean and pinned him against the cargo crate at his back. Gore splashed over his armor. Pushing off the crate he whipped about, swinging the barrel of his cannon around to clip a Rodian in torso and send him sprawling to the floor only to have his legs stomped on as he tried to get back up. The whirl of his cannon's spinning barrel filled the air, drowning out the hail of blaster fire. "Get some!" He yelled through his external comm as the repeater weapon began spitting return fire, once again cleaving through bodies. One by one the ship defenders were annihilated or ran for cover. Their defense was scattered. No sign of the Droidekas.

His weapon stopped spinning. The link to his HUD indicated it was overheating and locked. Oh fuck. Dropping what was now a very expensive, and heavy, paper weight, Xel piloted the armor behind the cover of a cargo crate and looked about. Spotting a dead Weequay he grabbed the dropped Vibro-axe. It was a common weapon among their kind. It was a long handle and a large axe head. More a polearm than an axe. The activation plate was hard to finger with his big hands, but he managed, and then came steaming out from behind his cover. A rodian was cleanly cut in half by the weapon, even as his bug eyes bulged and his finger continued to pull the trigger like his blaster could save him. Whipping around, he threw the weapon and pierced another guard.

That was when his armor integrity klaxon sounded off. He was very near a breach. There was too many combatants. Ducking back down, he ran a full diagnostic scan. Eyeing his fallen cannon, he knew it would be cool enough to fire again soon, but not yet.

"Careful entering the ship. We have heavy resistance. The door is clear. I killed a bunch of them but there are a still a few left. Haven't seen the droids yet. My armor is pretty beat up."

[Denoel Quane]

Running to the fight, Denoel could hear the distinctive staccato of Xel's weapons as well as the sporadic fire from a variety of blaster rifles. Knowing her crew were working together, she hoped that the defenders weren't as experienced as she feared they might be. Through the umbilical, she soon noticed the victims of the initial assault from the beast in power armor, the Gamorrean's lifeless corpse left against a near wall where he'd been dumped. Just beyond more Rodians and Weequay were found, some draining from a host of dark holes in their bodies, others whose wounds lightly smoked.

Dirk's voice soon cut in, "Damnit, Amund's down. Egil, get him out of here!"

"How bad," Denoel immediately queried as she moved toward the sound of battle.

"Shoulder and upper chest," Egil informed, his distracted tone frustrated of being interrupted as he did his best to save their engineer. "Heading back to the Acula now."

Approaching, brown eyes noticed Amund's concerned face as two darkened spots in his lighter grey body armor smoked, his left arm limp. Slowing her pace, adrenaline now pumped as she became angry. "Hurry him to the medbay and stay with him."

Nodding, Egil continued rushing his first patient from the freighter, giving Denoel the chance to continue rushing down the main hallway until a darkened doorway to her left suddenly disgorged a rushing Twi'lek male, a vibroblade in his hand. Cutting Denoel across her left bicep, she recoiled and aimed both pistols at him, firing with the right as her left hand lost it's strength and dropped that pistol. Firing two more times into the attacker's chest, she continued backing and watched him drop to his knees, then fall forward, dropping his shortsword. Glancing at her wound, blood began streaming in a wide swath down her arm.

"F***"

Keeping her eyes now between the doorway and corridor beyond, she ripped the medpac stored in her left thigh pocket and began treating the wound.

"Dee," Colin's voice cut in through the comlink. "What happened?"

"I'm fine, keep pushing to the guest room," she switched her focus as the pirate applied a gel to disinfect and accelerate the healing process. "Xel, can you fight outside that armor? May need another gunner for those droids. Two out of commission at the moment and I'll be there shortly."

[Xel-Naga]

It was a conundrum. Inside the armor he was a slow behemoth, but without it he was more agile. There were risks on both ends. Stay in the armor and slowly get whittled down by not being able to take advantage of cover, or get close and personal on his own. Droidekas were nothing to laugh at. Even as outdated military equipment they came equipped with shield generators standard. That was a tough order to fill.

"I'll see what I can do. Please tell me you brought ion grenades?"

Pulling his arm free of the control housing, he felt around inside the cramp space until he located the Oh Shit button, and pressed it. Every alarm and light went off inside his HUD. WARNING WARNING EMERGENCY JETTISON WARNING WARNING, flashed across the screen. Closing his eyes, tensing hard, he tried to make himself small, pulling his arms to his chest and tucking his head, but that was close as he could get inside this tin can. The suit stood up, placed it's leg wide apart, and then the entire upper body detonated and flew off in all directions, creating a shrapnel storm that sent the defenders scattering. It left half a man standing inside shaking the ringing out of his ears.

Reaching down by his crotch he pulled out the DeathHammer heavy blaster pistol from it's emergency hideout and pulled himself out of the smoking metal legs. He immediately cut to the side, moving around the cargo at a half-crouch. The defenders were still trying to figure out what just happened, wondering what kind of explosive had just gone off, and if they should be worried about a hull breach. It gave Xel the opportunity to sneak up behind a particularly ugly from behind looking Rodian and blow a soup bowl size hole through his upper torso. This caught the attention of the rest of the defenders, but not before Xel downed another and clipped the shoulder of a third before the return fire sent him diving for cover.

He was feeling very vulnerable in his skin tight pilot suit. Something hit the top of the crate he was hiding behind and bounced to the deck in front of him. It was a cylinder with a flashing light. "Shit!" He screamed as he got up and began running, ducking under laser fire as he made for the next closer crate, diving over the top as the incendiary grenade went off, bathing the surrounding deck in flames. He felt the heat and the fire on his skin. The flash of pain that made him grit his teeth before the nerves suddenly went dark. He cleared the top of the crate and landed on top of one of the dead defenders.

Xel's suit was a mess, melted and burned off in several places. Swearing loudly he rolled off the top of the dead goon and sat against the crate. He went to kick the goon in a fit of anger but stopped halfway when he noticed something. "Fuck 'em." he grabbed what was clearly a fragment grenade, primed it, held it for two seconds, and then threw it over the top of the crate while yelling "Grab your boots!" toward his teammates. Ducking back down he stuck a finger in each ear as the grenade went off within the defenders and sent them scattering. Unlike the flames the shrapnel of the frag grenade was impossible to outrun. Screams of pain soon followed the deafening explosion. They were likely all alive still, but in no condition to fight back after having their bodies torn apart.

Nice.

[Denoel Quane]

Wrapping her arm, Denoel continued listening to the chatter of voices calling out defenders and yelling obscenities which meant they were at least still alive. The important part of the conversation, as it was. Now ready to move again, Denoel replaced the remainder of the medpac into her pant's pocket and continued moving, now that her second pistol was stuffed in her belt. Hating being handicapped like this, she took it a bit slower as the cargo bay to her right was the scene of carnage. Passing the empty room that the Twi'lek had charged from, she noticed movement in the galley ahead. Being adjacent to the room's doorway, she slowed her pace and angled her approach to her own left, slicing the pie as she had been taught. Her pistol up, the noise of activity at the counter drew her on until she soon noticed the Human male frantically at work.

Slowing her pace, she wasn't sure of what she was watching as the man in dark leather jacket, black pants and fingerless gloves made himself a sandwich. Some people had strange rituals during combat and perhaps he was making his own last meal, she mused. Once he had capped the piece of art with another piece of bread, he grinned to himself, then turned to her.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I'm not hungry," Denoel stated, pistol aimed at his chest.

"It's not for you," his smooth voice reminded her a bit of Colin in a way. "Figured I'd need it once this fight was over."

Brow furrowed lightly, she then realized that a Human wasn't registered when Colin did his LFI check, so where did this guy come from all of a sudden. "What makes you think you're going to get that chance?"

He grinned lightly and shrugged as his left hand disappeared behind him which prompted her to fire immediately. Dodging, the blaster bolt scraped across his chest, burning his jacket. Following his movement with the gun, she continued firing as she moved toward the door and to the right, tracking him as the surprisingly agile, lightly bearded man dove behind a booth. A distant explosion from the cargo bay and continued shouting of the combatants let Denoel know she still wasn't alone as she moved into the galley's doorway. Crouching outside the doorway, she continued to aim at the corner of the booth, using the near wall as cover.

Then it happened, a grenade arced over the padded couch toward her and the moment she noticed it, Denoel backed recoiled and pressed the door's button to close it. Spinning around to the corner, she heard the door close just as the lone occupant cursed her in ways that she hadn't heard in a long time. A long moment of silence and then the horrendous explosion, being so as she was that close and thanked the wall and door for their presence. Sighing, she lowered her head and waited a long moment before opening it again. Standing, she turned and hoped that he hadn't survived that as she pushed the button. Smoke billowed out and she kept low, pistol aimed into the foggy room until it soon thinned enough to see her victim laying on the floor halfway between his hiding place and the doorway where he must've attempted to get to the grenade and door before it went off.

Oops.

"Galley clear."

[Xel-Naga]

Slowly pushing himself back on his feet, Xel gritted his teeth as the pain began to register. What was left of his skintight pilot suit barely maintained his dignity now. The flames had melted the material to his skin in some places and burned it away completely in most. The revealed flesh was crusty and black with burns, and his feet were already bleeding as each step cracked the burns. That pain did not stop him. He was moving, even if at a slow walk. Blaster in hand, at his side, he moved around his cover, peering through the smoke and flames. There were cries of pain and the sound of shuffling.

Moving directly toward where the defenders had been he found the blackened ring where his grenade detonated. Around it was littered the last of the crew. They were bleeding heavily, clearly dazed, and feebly attempting to crawl to safety. Xel was not about to let them do that. Stepping up behind the first he pressed the blaster against the back of his head and fired. The heavy blaster left a smoking ruin where his face had been. Letting that body drop to the ground he moved on to the next. This one got the reverse treatment. After flipping him over and swatting his hands out of the way, Xel shoved the barrel of his blaster as far into his mouth as he could, and over the sound of him choking on the hot metal, he pulled the trigger.

"Only one more left, and you're gonna get it." He cooed as he stalked toward the last. All sense of caution to the wind. The twilek tried to crawl faster but it was no good. Xel grabbed his bloodied leg and tugged him back before rolling him over and grabbing his chin with his hand. "You know, for having some of the prettiest females in the entire galaxy, you fuckers sure are ugly." The twilek tried to fight back, but that only got him punched in the face so hard it knocked his head back into the floor and left him more dazed. A quick search of his torn and blooded clothing revealed a knife. Taking on lektu at a time, Xel began sawing through the orange flesh while ignoring the screams of agony from his victim. One after other until only two bloody stumped remained. He left him like that, standing up and tossing the severed appendages back at him. Sometimes it was more harming to let them live. Death was too easy.

And judging by the severe blood loss pooling on to the deckplates, he wasn't long for this world regardless.

"Docking bay clear. I'm... I'm gonna need a new pair of pants." He mumbled into his comm as he stumbled back toward his armor suit. A whirling sound could be heard. It was faint. Metallic. Droidekas. "I think the party poopers are here." His pace quickened as he moved toward the smoldering armor. It was useless to him now, but the rotary cannon was cooled down now. Picking up the heavy weapon, he slung it over the top of a crate, aimed it toward the opposite side of the ship, and let the barrel spin up.

The first Droideka was immediately cut in half as it rolled, unshielded, into the bay. The heavy fire of the cannon was too much for it to withstand. The second one, coming in from the other side, came to a stop, it's shiny energy shield springing into place at the same time it's blaster arms folded into position. The cannon belched fire at it, causing the shields to ripple. It fired back, sending Xel diving for cover as his crate was blaster out of place and the cannon knocked from his hands. He felt fingers break, but that hardly stopped him from army crawling away like his life depended on it.

Because it did.

[Denoel Quane]

Moving from the galley, Denoel heard Xel's warning and she immediately called for the team. "Dirk, you got the DEMP gun?"

"Yeah, on it." Panting, the ex-mercenary rushed from the nearby doorway, leaving the others to now tend to the Hutt captive and she moved to trail him as he carried the heavy weapon to the cargo bay. Knowing the droideka would make quick work of their Black Sun ally if they didn't hurry, she kept her pistol at the ready though knew it would do her no good against a shielded war droid. Adrenaline pumped as they moved and soon the gangly looking droid's back was seen, still tracing Xel's near half-naked body through the cargo bay as he dodged from one crate to the next. Aiming center mass, Dirk let out a breath and fired. The pulse of ion rings slammed into the back of the droid, shutting down it's shield first and then ionized the droid itself. Blue lightning danced around it's rust colored body as it convulsed and then dropped to the ground with a resounding metal on metal crash.

"Xel, you alright," Denoel called out as Dirk then rose and moved to return to the rest of the group as they now sedated their prize.

[Xel-Naga]

From behind the smoking remains a crate rose a single hand, pointing upward, thumb up. The hand limply fell back out of sight. Cursing and grumbling could be heard on the other side for several minutes before Xel finally popped back up into sight, on his knees, leaning against the torn crate. A cut on his head had left blood dripping down his face. The rest of his body was as worse for wear. Cuts and burns dotted his body all over, and there was more than a few foreign bodies embedded in the surface of his skin. His eyes were unfocused and glazed.

"I could really use a drink, and a doctor."

[Denoel Quane]

Relaxing a bit, Denoel straightened as Dirk and Baldor left them alone. "Egil, man down in the cargo bay. Shot up pretty bad," her voice sounding concerned as she moved toward the discarded armor suit knowing they were going to have to figure out a way to get this back aboard the Acula.

"On my way," the team medic relayed.

Brown eyes turned to the large mass of muscle, bleeding and beaten. "Won't be a minute, though you may have to hold on for the drink." She needed one too. "Amund, when you're able to move, we need to get Xel's armor back to the ship and maybe these droideka, if you think you can repair and reprogram them."

A grunt sounded in the common frequency they used as the engineer was apparently pushing himself up. "Yeah.... good idea. See what I can put together for his armor," he sighed. "The frame's not mobile, but maybe one of the droids here can tow it back."

Nodding, she moved then through the mass of crates and bodies to the bald mercenary, taking out her own medpac and set it on the dull grey box behind him. Crouching, she began working on the more serious wounds knowing Egil was going to have his hands full with everyone today. "Relax, we'll get you looked after," the pirate grinned lightly as she began working. "Think we're all going to need a vacation after this run," the captain stated, her own left arm in a sling.

[Xel-Naga]

"I've heard Vaynai is nice this time of year." He said as he stared at the empty wall, his eyes unfocused. Something dawn on him and his eyes narrowed back into focus. "I have. Some combat stims. In my bag. That'll get. Everyone back on. Their feet. Maybe not the best. Idea. They are strong stims. Designed for regular users like me. It might keep you up. For days. It's not so bad. If you have something. To do with those days. I like pop a few. And go. Carousing. You know, really tear up the night. You ever shot up booster blue? Aww yeah. It makes everything better."

The reaction time enhancing effects of booster blue almost made it feel like time was slowing down for the user. That meant that all sensations lasted that much longer. It made good food last longer, drinks taste better, and make your senses all tingly and receptive. It was great, even if it made you sicker than a rotting bantha the next day. It was all worth it. Especially if you were already on battle stims. Those would help offset the side effects and keep you up for days of straight partying. Then you slept for twenty four hours and everything by the time you woke up everything was out of your system and you could go back to reality. It was the best way to spend a weekend off work.

It was what he really wished was doing instead of being torn on the floor of a cargo hold.

"We should get out of here before anyone comes back to check on this ship."

[Denoel Quane]

Applying pain killers to the wounds as well as disinfectant, Denoel half listened to the otherwise delirious mercenary and knew that his life was much more interesting than she had imagined. As Egil ran up, she backed and let him take over, though remained within the small destroyed area of toppled cargo containers and debris. "They never got any SOS's out, so we've got a day before she was supposed to arrive. But, yeah," brown eyes scanned the cargo area, "We do need to get things rolling."

"He'll be ready to move here in a minute," the medic relayed as he feverishly worked to keep Xel alive. "Going to be my guest in the medbay for a bit as well," he grinned.

"Lucky you," Denoel glanced to Xel and smiled. "At least he's got the best bedside manner of anyone else aboard."

"Only bedside manner," Egil countered.

"Well," Denoel sighed as she pushed herself up and moved toward the wrecked armor suit. "I'll leave you to it. Need to do a quick look around before we let the droids take this ship and our guest to Grym."

[Xel-Naga]

"'bout time you got here, Doc. Could you prescribe me. One alcohol, please." The different functions of his body were forming minds of their own as the network known as a body began to fall apart. Already he could feel his mind falling away, or floating away. He wasn't sure. His mouth was operating on it's own now, happy to be free from that oppressive mind, and conscience his buzzkill friend. His body was badly injured and going into a numb, sleep-like state. It was only vaguely aware of the medic's treatment. Wounds were wiped down, cuts glued shut, and any grievous wound was filled with medifoam and patched over like a hole in the wall.

Finally the medic moved under his arm and lifted him on to his uncoordinated feet. The mind watched from afar as it's body was half carried, half dragged toward the airlock. Back on board the Acula the body was taken to the medbay, and the entire time the mouth ran it's own race. It argued with the medic's diagnosis, he begged for alcohol and sexual favors, and threatened physical violence, all before chuckling like he had heard a joke from an old friend. At last the Black Sun Enforcer fell asleep, with the help of a hypo injected into the large man's neck.

[Denoel Quane]

Two hours later.

Denoel walked into the cockpit, feeling as good as was to be expected and noticed Colin at the navicomputer, kneeling. "Well, your chance for a girlfriend just left us."

"Yeah, don't remind me."

Moving past him, she sat gingerly into her pilot's seat and gazed at the area he was looking at on the starchart. "Going to need a day or two for everyone to heal up again."

Nodding, the copilot pointed to a selected world. "Randon looks good, only a day away from us and on a major trade route. Not far from the next target, so."

"Good idea. Let's get out of here."

As Colin set the coordinates, Denoel engaged the sublights and moved the Acula from the scene of their most recent hit. Having baffles on the ship, their route would be a bit harder to track and she knew there was going to be a bounty hunter or five tasked with finding the Hutt's daughter within a few days. Getting away from here as fast as possible was going to be their saving grace. Glancing to Colin, she noticed him still kneeling before the navicomputer. "Why don't you sit down?"

"I'm fine," he deflected.

Scanning his body, she knew that they had all been wounded in some manner, but hadn't heard what happened to him yet and was starting to get an idea. Smiling, "You get shot in the ass?"

Glancing to her, his brow furrowed defensively. "No, just more comfortable this way."

"Liar," she chuckled. "It's fine, I can fly there. Get some rest once we're away."

Rising slowly, he sighed. "I said, I'm fine." Turning, he limped to the bank of computers on the cockpit's wall behind his chair and tapped three switches and waited, then turned to her. "Ready to go. Plotted a couple misjumps as well."

"Okay," she turned and flew the frieghter to the assigned jump point, then pulled on the levers and they were away. Her left arm still in a sling, she pushed herself up with her right and moved toward the entrance. "I'm going to get a shower, then a stiff drink."

"Sounds good."

[Xel-Naga]

Light invaded the empty darkness, pulling his consciousness from it's sleep. With a start and a loud intake of breath, the sleeping giant rose in his bed. His gray eyes searched the room. There was a craze in them. They looked for enemies and weapons, and found neither. The brain caught up with the body, and memories fell in like a blanket of snow. The ship. The raids. His armor; destroyed. Letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding, he tried to relax. His body was patched up; cuts stitched and bacta applied. A tank treatment would be preferred, but a ship like this did not have that sort of medical capabilities. A change of clothes had been left in the room.

Swinging his legs off the bed he tested his feet on the cold floor. Pain was beginning to flare up all over his body as movement aggravated his injuries. He paid it no mind. He pulled free the IV from his arm and the sensor patches from all over his body. The clothing was slowly pulled over a bruise and battered body. It was almost enough to make him feel useless, but he soldiered on. Warmly dressed in cargo pants and a wooly long sleeve shirt he left the medbay and limped out into the corridor beyond. He had a singular destination in mind, and made his way to the common space he had visited when he first came on board.

There were other crewman already gathered there, including the Captain. He gave her a nod and began hobbling around. Reaching behind the caf machine he pulled a silver flask out as if by magic from where he had hid it earlier. Leaning against the counter, he slowly twisted the cap off and lifted it to his lips; taking a long pull of the sweet Corellian Whiskey. When he came back up for breath he looked across at the captain and raised his flask is a toasting fashion.