Where the Wild Space Grows

[Rathalesh Sheegoth]

Byblos

The office was spacious, well furnished with the very best from the Peridox catalog, with a window that ran the entire length of the back wall with a view of Byblos City that would be considered stunning due to only have two towers in view. Beyond those you could just make out the green foliage beyond. At least, until the next city expansion blocked out the view. That was no issue, what with modern hologram technology he could project any landscape he desired on to his windows. The dunes of Tatooine, the skyline of Coruscant, or perhaps even the Oceans of Dac.

And yet, despite all this extravagance and luxury, he still felt like he was missing something. It was not enough. It was never enough.

"Gentle, Asimir."

His stern look over his shoulder was met apologies from the dark skinned, lithe humanoid positioned behind him on a stool. The brief lapse in service soon resumed, the human's hands carefully dragging a microfiber cloth up and down the lengths of the man horns and spikes that protruded from the head of Rathalesh Sheegoth. With each stroke and spiral the keratin structures glistened brighter in the bright lights. Small hands navigated around his face, polishing scales and fangs as they traveled toward the jagged chin and pointed nose.

Yes. This was making him feel better about his office, and distracted him from finding just what it was he couldn't put his finger on; the thing that was wrong with it. Instead he let Asimir's gifted hands take him somewhere far away. A peaceful and abstract place where nothing else existed except for him and the sensation of his scales being brushed gently.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you sir, but your four o'clock is here."

With a heavy sigh, the great dragon waved off his masseur who went scampering for his took chest before heading for the door. With great reluctance Rathelesh grabbed his suit jacket and pulled it back into place, tightening his tie around his thick neck, and otherwise making himself presentable; or as presentable as a person made of horns and scales can be while crammed into a tailored OKwear suit. If this interview was not so very important he would have cancelled it in a heartbeat to continue his massage. But business should come first, and there was a great deal of business to deal with.

Sheegoth Technologies did much more than produce top of the line communication equipment it was famous for. He owned so many subsidiaries and shadow companies that sometimes he forgot what his full catalog contained. There was always a new company, a new start up, for him to buy up and strong arm to a profitable success. He was going to get to the big leagues. Some day. His ventures into Wild Space promised that much. Now he just needed someone with the tenacity to tame the wild from the space.

"Send up Commander Avery."

[Rayfe_Avery]

"What a bust." the near-middle aged human said to himself as he sat upon a lounge chair under a shady tree at the beach on one of Lorta's tens of thousands of islands. Now if he was talking about some of the women enjoying the sun and surf around him, the description of a young Spacer woman in the romance holonovel he had open in his hand, or the circumstances that found him marooned on this slice of paradise, this was up to the interruption of whom ever might be eavesdropping.
Rayfe sighed for the fifth time in five minutes. He was tired of trying to find a way off planet for the time being and that was why he was enjoying the beach. Only his fun was cut short by the knowledge that a failed job had left him with not enough money to get off the planet and what money he did have was being whittled down day by day.
Closing his novel he took a sip of cheap beer and thought about why he was in this mess. He'd originally come to Lorta due to a prospective patron contacting him about a possible resurgence of the Lortan Fanatics. Twenty years ago, a group the Empire had called the Lortan Fanatics, or as the locals rememebered them Kopa Khan cultists, started a genocidal campaign across 12 star systems and lasting four years until the Empire got involved and wiped them out.

Now his possible employer thought that the Empire had missed a few cultists who were now rearming and could start trouble in the future. It was a good offer of work and fanatics were awful when their ideology pushed them to exterminate other beings. So with no moral quandaries it should have been an easy contract. The problem was it was too easy. He'd signed a contract for dealing with a large number of armed individuals and possible extensions to hunt down what other cells they might find information on. But when they found where the cultists were hiding, they found three old men trying to indoctrinate less than a dozen children into their beliefs. The old men gave up without a fight and the children were taken to be reunited with their next of kin or put into a suitable foster home if necessary. All evidence showed this was all that was left of the Kopa Khan cultists. A few elderly beings holding on to a dead ideal and trying to pass it on to a create a new generation of hate.

Sadly, as his contract had been written with the expectation of more hazardous work being done and with the relative ease of the job he was paid a pittance for his efforts. So here he sat on the beach of a beautiful island, on a planet dotted with them, beings of all shapes and sizes frolicking in the sand and swimming in the waters, and he had a hard time enjoying any of it due to the impending debt he'd likely have to take on to get a ride off this soggy rock.
Thinking over his options he knew he could contact his old friend Smithy, a fellow Corellian who was the head mechanic of the pro Cloud Car racing team of Cloud City on Bespin but based on the things he'd heard about the mining operation lately, he wasn't sure he'd have much better luck there, even if he could work security for the Cloud Car team while they were on the racing circuit and find his way from there. Or he could call his old friend Kaarl, the smooth talking smuggler could give him a ride back to civilization. Only problem was Kaarl's potato wife, Allison. The Merc didn't always get along with his best friend's better half and she might force Kaarl to leave him stranded.

There was more he needed to consider. Would Rayfe run back to Corellia or go to the AT-TE he had as a second home on Ryndellia? Either way he'd be spending his time looking at job sheets, putting out feelers, and letting the Hired Gun community know he was looking for a job.
A loud groan emanated from his mouth. He hadn't thought until right then how the mercenary community might look at this latest job. He could spin it to be that he essentially got a free vacation but others could paint it as a failure to do research before jumping on a transport. Hopefully a mistake he wouldn't make again.
"Mr. Avery, a message came for you." said a droid as it hovered above the sand in the direction of the wary mercenary. Not about to question his first bit of good luck since he got here, Rayfe took the datapad the droid held in it's manipulator. He looked it over and it appeared to be about a job, someone high up at Sheegoth Technologies was requesting his presence and it included a ticket off Lorta if he accepted. Not much else was included, the specifics of the job to be discussed in-person if he decided to take the interview. Immediately Rayfe forgot about his earlier thought to not taking jobs without proper research. It was a ride of Lorta before he was broke and he was going to take it. Telling the droid to respond to the message in affirmative and schedule him transport on the next flight star ward, Rayfe chugged the remainder of his beer, grabbed his book, and made his way to his cabin to get his belongings.

In the fashion of a trained soldier, he was packed and ready to go in under 3 minutes. That left him with plenty of time to wait for the transport and he filled that time by going back to his romance novel. The lead characters adventures and sexual tension kept him entertained until he boarded his transport and began his journey to Byblos. The trip took several days with a slow hyperdrive that at times sounded like it was about to give up mid-flight. Between reading, resting, and having food, Rayfe wondered what someone in the colonies could want with him? There wasn't any fighting going on that close to the Core, the Imps made sure of it. Maybe they were having trouble elsewhere in the Galaxy?

After four long days and 4 romance holonovels finished, the experienced Mercenary arrived on Byblos. As he made his way down the gangplank and back onto terra firma, he saw a young man in a nice suit holding a sign that read, "Commander Avery".
The Sergeant couldn't suppress the grumble at seeing the wrong rank. He hated being compared to an officer. For one, Rayfe had no higher learning, which most militaries required to be a commissioned officer. And secondly, officers rarely would do what they would tell their men to do.
With his duffle slung over his shoulder he made his way over to the man who introduced himself as Asimir.
The old soldier couldn't help but notice the critical eye Asimir looked him over with before declaring that it best if Rayfe clean himself up after his travels before he meet Mr. Sheegoth. After getting into a nice speeder, Rayfe was taken to an even nicer hotel where he was shown to a private suite.

Without the... whatever the hell Asimir was, hovering around him, he took his first shower in 5 days, changed into as nice of a suit as he had, put his field revolver in a holster in his jacket and made his way down to the lobby where Asimir was waiting for him. The look he got from the other man was better than it had been on their first meeting and Rayfe was whisked away to Sheegoth Technologies corporate headquarters. The Mercenary was ushered through a lobby, in to an elevator, through a bigger more expensive looking lobby, down some hallways, another lobby and before the final hallway a security checkpoint. There had been scanners here and there that he noticed as he made his way through the building but his slugthrower revolver hadn't set of a single alarm yet. It was sad. The vast majority of civilized galactic society saw slugthrowers and other solid projectile weapons as something that wasn't any more dangerous than a child's slingshot. As his weapon wasn't putting off an energy signature and the chemical sensors would be picking up the gunpower as nothing more threatening then a firecracker, he was waved through.

Asimir asked how he wanted to be introduced, and Rayfe informed him as Staff Sergeant Rayfe Avery, "Not 'Commander'." he made perfectly clear for the vassal. As the doors were opened and Rayfe walked in, he briefly thought about pulling his revolver to show how overly lax the security was but as Asimir introduced him and he saw who had invited him to speak about a job he saw that all shooting at his being would do was mess up his clothes and make him angry. Standing behind an equally large desk was a Saurian. In his travels from one side of the galaxy to the other, the Soldier had met many beings but none as impressive as Saurians.

Gathering his wits, he cleared his throat and made introductions, "Hello, it's nice to meet you. What kind of problem can I help you with?"

[Rathalesh Sheegoth]

It was not long before the massive door to his office slid open; a monstrosity of rare woods layered over the hardened durasteel blast resistant core. Golden eyes flowed from one end of the human to the other. He would be loath to admit that he was disappointed in what he saw. The expectation from reputation was of a grizzled war veteran in dirty fatigues and a presence that demanded respect. What he got instead was just another little human in a casual suit. Nothing fancy. The attempt was almost insulting. Sheegoth's own ensemble was worth hundreds of thousands of credits. However, he had not invited Avery here to compare fashion.

"Come in, Staff Sergeant. Please, have a seat." He said, his voice a hissing growl that escaped from between his fangs. The talons on his fingertips tapped a quick note into a handy datapad; where he made a note to punish whomever had listed Avery under the title of Commander on his dossier. Heads would roll, and not just figuratively.

"You come highly recommended by my head of security. He was quite insistent that you are the man for the job. However, before I continue, are you comfortable with operating inside of Wild Space?"

Avery was not the first person to step through that door, not the first to apply for this very job, and would not be the first to accept it should it come to that. Many balked at the idea of operating in Wild Space; a place beyond the jurisdictions, beyond the protection of either the Empire or the Alliance. A lawless place were more often than not Warlords carved their own empires and insidious cultures bloomed independently. There were many known elements within the boundaries, a few named planets but little else. It was also rife with pirates, private militias, and monsters. It was also the last bastion of undiscovered potential, and many entrepreneurs were staking their claims.

[Rayfe_Avery]

The pleasantries exchanged were a bit awkward, neither individual seeming to realize they'd attempted introductions at the same time. Rayfe sighed as he took a seat, after several days on a transport ship he'd rather be on his feet but he knew better than to possibly offend a client by refusing to sit. The quality of the chair helped to make sitting down more comfortable then it would have been otherwise but after the moments reflection he concluded he'd still rather be standing.
A rye grin graced his face when he heard it was the head of security who'd recommended him. It hadn't escaped Rayfe's notice that he was being measured up when he entered and the Old Soldier had considered showing that he was armed to prove that the security lapse was enough to let a trained assassin in.
If such an individual made it this far they might be skilled enough to put a bullet through each of the Saurian's eyes. killing him stone dead. But that little display of his ability and knowledge was off the table. The Head of Security would likely be exterminated for such incompetence and he was nice enough to recommend him.

This line of thinking took but a moment and the following moment he was asked if he could work in Wild Space. Rayfe was immediately conflicted. He could work anywhere but a job in Wild Space might end up as a multiple year contract, and he didn't want to end up the Sheriff of some backwater colony for the rest of his days.
"I can operate anywhere and almost have, that includes a proxy conflict two years ago between a secretly Imperial funded 'expedition' and a colony that was supplied by the Alliance under the table, within Wild Space. The Imps won that conflict." there was pride in his voice with the last statement. If Sheegoth looked as his dossier regarding this instance he'd see it had been hard but the expedition had managed to cut supply lines and put pressure on the colony from all sides. Death by a thousand cuts. Without resources they capitulated quickly and the Alliance officially sent in colony ships to relocate the residence. The win was impressive due to the lack of casualties on both sides once the supplies were halted. A few wounds here, food storage blown up there, armory sabotaged over there. They just lost the will to fight as they weren't invested in the colony to begin with.

"One thing I need to know, what are you looking for me to do? Wild Space is mostly a place to get away from things or people for any number of reasons. There are plenty of resource rich worlds in the Mid Rim and Outer Rim, hell even the Expansion Region has uncharted planets due to issues with navigation or no one showing interest. So are you contracting me for something with a definable objective or are you looking for someone to be on guard for something?" he asked the questions plainly. The opportunity for a well playing contract was right in front of him, but until he knew more his conclusions were left to his own imagination.

[Rathalesh Sheegoth]

The man seemed willing, but hesitant. Understandable, considering the dangers that can come with Wild Space. There were a not of unknown variables not yet divulged, and many more that would remain secret. The full history of the situation would take far too long to discuss. There were numerous angles, back room deals, property changing hands, and some under the table less than legal interactions that had made it all possible. Greasing of hands, scratching of backs. None of which was on his books, nor would it ever be. Everything was going through shell and subsidiary companies. Even Avery's paycheck, should he agree to the contract, would not have Sheegoth's name on it. The paper trail starts and stops right here.

"I would never waste a man of your talents guarding some bobble. I have a facility on Dartmuth that I would like you to inspect; to make sure it is as secure as I am told. I also would like you to train the security team. Dartmuth is located in Wild Space just beyond the reach of Terminus. It is a horrid planet of swamps and jungles. I purchased a share of land from a Hutt businessman and have built an extensive compound. It's a water harvesting plant, to be exact. My claim is legal, and respected by what accounts for the local government. However, the locals have been... unhappy with my operation and there have been several altercations. I fear it is only a matter of time before they try something, shall we say, drastic. Most of the security team is hired from the planet's populace and they are less than stellar soldiers. I need a force that can repel an attack, should it happen.

It is a low tech world. The locals are little more than bumpkins. They could still cause considerable damage to the facility, and I cannot stand any more disruptions to my operation. The contract is for three months on site, with provisions for negotiable extensions should more time be needed."

[Rayfe_Avery]

Visibly relaxing when his concerns were laid to rest, Rayfe took note of the ego stroking that went along with it in regard to his 'talents'. He listened with his curiosity peaked. These were all new names of places but the important thing for the moment was 'swamps and jungles'. It was good that he liked his old fashioned slugthrower revolver. Those environments each had a well earned reputation for killing most blasters. It made sense he'd been recommended. Rayfe had already spent a large amount of his professional career in the humid, vegetation filled areas that Sheegoth had named.
The Hired Gun frown when he heard that he might be contending with locals. Ethically, he had no problems with it. But you try to fight locals in swamp/jungle type settings that they are use to. It was an uphill fight. Listening to the rest he factored in that his men would also be locals. That nullified that advantage so maybe he wouldn't have to start worrying about his backup plan.

Most difficult of all would be securing things while he trained his subordinates up to his standards. That would take almost the full contract to get them to where he needed them and in that time he'd but splitting his between making sure nothing went wrong and managing the security team's training. It would be hard and would require a good deal of luck. If he negotiated a good rate then the risk would be worth the reward. Staff Sergeant Avery rubbed the stubble on his chin.
"Training your security into proper soldiers and defending your facility at the same time. It won't be easy. Depending on the number of men I'm training and their willingness to learn it's doable. As you can understand both of those tasks are full assignments in of themselves." he paused as he thought over things one last time before making his decision.
I'll do it but I will need more information before you ship me off." he said frankly. What Sheegoth saw as 'bumpkins' from a low tech world could bring his force to its knees if they ended up with the proper equipment. Sadly said equipment wasn't even that hard to get. Enough rifles to arm their could be all it took. At least he liked a challenge.

[Rathalesh Sheegoth]

"You are not the only freelance operative I am sending to Dartmuth. You will have the expertise of Abaddon; a mercenary who fancies himself as a bounty hunter. I'm sure you know the type. What he lacks in conversation he makes up with sheer tenacity. I have employed him, oh several times now and he has not let me down once. Do not misunderstand, after an hour with him I want to throw him out an airlock, but I cannot dismiss his penchant for success. Extremely destructive, violent success. That boy gets about as many holes in him as he puts in others."

Leaning back in his padded executive chair, Sheegoth allowed himself the luxury to reminisce momentarily over the many times he had hired the eccentric, and oftentimes annoying Abaddon. Hell, he had even sent the brat on a mission designed to get him killed and he still pulled through. Barely, by the skin of his teeth. He remembered seeing the holos of the broken armor and bleeding holes. He had seen less holes kill greater men. Reliability was a strange characteristic to assign to someone so vane, but there it is.

"Abaddon will provide additional firepower and keep an eye out while you work the facility. Bare in mind that I have had several contractors out to the compound to inspect and implement additional defenses. I have not had any issues in months, but I am a firm believer in that there is always room for improvement. All I ask is a quick once over, prod a few angles for vulnerabilities, report anything you find, and focus primarily on training the security team. I'm not asking you to create Stormtroopers, simply a more well rounded unit. I feel that time frame is more than adequate for that, and we can negotiate for additional time should it be needed. I would, of course, be willing to pay a premium for that additional time."

Sheegoth was also a believer in spending money to make money. This was an investment that he had already sunk millions of credits into. What was a few thousand more? Harvesting water from a planet that was mostly water was a goldmine already. And if this did not pan out the way he wanted, there was always plan B. Plan B had been the original Plan A, but the board of directors were not comfortable with subjugating an entire planet. Something about it being a PR nightmare should it ever be discovered. Hardly. Nothing rebranding the company would not fix. Companies did it all the time. It was not like there was anyone on Dartmuth that could stop them.

"If you have any questions feel free to ask them."

[Rayfe_Avery]

With a deep seeded dislike of Bounty Hunters, the Sergeant probably thought less of Abaddon then Sheegoth did. Bounty Hunters were not soldiers but for reasons Rayfe couldn't fathom they continued to be hired for work better suited to a mercenary soldier. They weren't professional, held grudges, and took any job. In short, they were scum. By the end of his new employers description the one thing he took away from it all was that it wouldn't be frowned upon to shoot the Bounty Hunter if he had to.
Some assistance was better then none but the more the Old Soldier heard about his Bounty Hunting co-worker, the more he wondered if the guy was worth the trouble. The mention of 'additional defenses' did perk him up, he imagined automated lights, programmable defense turrets, force field fences. Everything he could as for to make his job possible. When the name 'stormtroopers' came up he rolled his eyes.
"I intend to make them better then Stormtroopers. Stormtroopers have the qualities of good soldiers but aren't. They will follow any order without hesitation, stepping over the dead and dying without slowing down until they meet the same fate. You don't win by dying for your cause, you win by making the other poor bastard die for his." he huffed at the end, seemingly satisfied with himself.

Within three months, with the additional support you already said I'd have, I'll have your security team trained to be some of the best fighters in your employ. Present company excluded, of course. As far as my questions, what can you tell me about the locals? Are the colonists or native inhabitants? What find of trouble were they causing previously? Is Abaddon already on site? Do you have any reason to believe there will be any visitors from other worlds that might be a problem?"
Rayfe asked his questions and listened intently. He'd already decided to go and could leave right then if ordered to do so but when someone offers intel, you take it.

[Rathalesh Sheegoth]

Ah, yes. Better than Stormtroopers. That was all well and good but he had no use for such. Stormtroopers is what he wanted. Faceless soldiers following orders without question, and capable of holding their own in battle. Sheegoth was certain that given enough time Sergeant Avery could mold even the worst of his guards into something admirable. Like something out of one of those cheesy propaganda posters. The ones with Baastian Cain on them. Truth, Justice, and the Imperial Way. Sheegoth wanted thugs, and he had only given Avery enough time to make proficient soldiers because that was all that was needed. The offer of renewals was a lie. There would be no extensions in the end.

And the moment Avery was on the transport out those troops he just trained will march into the nearest village and burn it to the ground. Good soldiers would question such orders. Thugs will not.

"It's a backwater world with no value to most. At one point a Hutt Kajidic ruled over parts of Dartmuth, but they long ago lost interest. It was from them that I purchased the land. If there were ever native species than they are long gone and all that remains is stupid, inbred colonists who have been long forgotten by whichever government or company sent them there. Disorganized family units living in the swamps. Poor and bitter. From what I've gathered they were rather unhappy with the Hutts and have decided to levy their ill will toward my operation. They don't have much in the way of technology or weapons. Maybe a few waterlogged blasters between the lot of them. All they've managed to do is gather outside the walls and yell at us, and occasionally find a way inside where they tend to smash things until something breaks. They throw rocks over the wall, which sometimes fall into the air turbines for the power generators, or strike one of my employees. On one occasion there was a massive explosive in the facility but the cause was never found. Thankfully nobody was hurt. I truly do not expect them to do much. Better safe than sorry."

"I dispatched Abaddon this morning. He will be there waiting for you. He can show you around. It is not his first visit to the compound. I know you are a soldier, looking out for every angle for dangers. Believe me, Dartmuth is a forgotten world that no one cares about. The Empire or Alliance is not going to come swooping in and making a ruckus. There are no environmentalists protesting the operation, not that they would need to. The facility is quite up to the standards expected here in the civilized galaxy. This should be as easy and straight forward as it sounds, Staff Sergeant. If I was knowingly sending you into danger I would be offering you a lot more credits."

[Rayfe_Avery]

Listening to what his patron had to say, he was quiet and contemplative. Most of what he was being told lined up with that he surmised from the tid-bits of information the Saurian had already revealed during their conversation. This meant. at least as far as the situation at hand, Sheegoth wasn't lying. He did wonder briefly about the explosion that had been mentioned off hand. There were many things that could be easily made to explode but the fact that the cause was never found. Well, that was just shoddy work and showed a lack of care for details.

Rayfe's expression soured at hearing that the Bounty Hunter was already on station. If he had things his way he would have been there first, it helped to establish himself as not answering to any orders that Abaddon may find himself wanting to dole out. The Sergeant felt bitter experience remind him how rarely in his line of work operations were 'easy and straight forward' and he knew Sheegoth was more of a liar then he had first appeared when he said he'd be offering more credits.
"I guess if Abaddon is already there I should get going, too. I accept your job, Sheegoth. As soon as I have my things I'll be ready to depart."

[Rathalesh Sheegoth]

"Very good."

Pushing his chair back the pale dragon stood up the first time during their meeting, rising to his full height and towering above the human. A leathery hand was extended in the most hallowed tradition practiced by civil businessmen. The hand shake. It was one of the few things that separated them from the many savages that filled the far reaches of the galaxy. This was a civil agreement forged by sophisticated individuals. That meant paperwork.

From a desk drawer a flimsi was withdrawn and slid across the polished desktop toward the Mercenary. It was a fairly standard contract, and included all the things they had discussed along with the other standard protections and blocks of text indicating just which party was entitled to what. It was hardly the first contract Sheegoth had ever offered, and the tight legalese was reflective of a company that could afford a small army of lawyers. This one was remarkably clean and straightforward compared to the contracts he used on a regular basis. He had no need for traps or barbs when the Sergeant had agreed to everything.

"Feel free to read it in full. I can provide a lawyer if anything need be explained. A shuttle will be prepped for your departure. I'll have a copy of the contract ready for you, along with the signing bonus. Line E4. Oh, and a complimentary meal. It is a long trip."

[Rayfe_Avery]

Something he'd been dreading was about to happen, the Hand Shake. This formality normally didn't bother the Staff Sergeant. It was an opportunity to show his strength as he overly squeezed someone's hand, but Sheegoth wasn't your average being. He stood up and buttoned his dress jacket before extending his hand to the gentleman across from him, dwarfed by his size completely. When Rayfe put his hand to his employer's, it was like an adult shaking hands with a child. Thankfully, it was only a momentary thing and was over quickly.

Seeing the contract that had been slid across the table to him, he picked it up and started to give it a first glance. One didn't manage to be a successful mercenary for as long as Rayfe Avery had without learning to understand how to read a contract. Most of it was the types of legal language he'd seen countless times in his professional career. There wasn't anything that was written in such a way to confuse, ensnare, or entrap anyone lacking a proper law school degree.
Nodding in agreement he held onto his copy.
Thank you, Sheegoth. I'll read everything on the ride back to the suite my belongs are at and your... valet can return the signed copy to you. I better get going, you'll forgive me for not trusting your other man before I've met him but I don't want him teaching my students any bad habits." He said before giving his employer a final nod and walking out of the office.

Rayfe found Asimir waiting on the other side of the large doors to the Boss's office and the man started to lead the Soldier back through the complex and outside to where a landspeeder was waiting for him. Sitting in the back, Rayfe used the ride to go over the contract in full, the signing bonus was a nice touch. The complimentary meal felt a little silly but he couldn't find it in himself to complain. It might be the last real meal he got for at least three months, best to enjoy it while he could.

Once in the suite he changed out of his business clothes and into something more becoming a man like him. Plain shirt, his holstered revolver under a jacket, pants, and boots. Before walking out of the suite, Rayfe took a pen from the desk and signed the contract. He made his way down the lift and the valet was where Rayfe had left him, next to the speeder. Upon being handed the contract he was wished luck by the servant and they went their separate ways. Rayfe back in the speeder, on the way to the spaceport and Asimir back to Sheegoth.
During the ride to the spaceport, the Merc had a chance to ponder something that had been bothering him, why did a Hutt sell a swampy world?
The Hutts had literally destroyed the ecosystem of other worlds to turn them into swamps more reminiscent of the slugs stinking homeworld. So why would a Hutt sell his rights to this planet to Sheegoth? It was a question that Rayfe wouldn't mind the answer to but he hoped it wasn't an answer that meant he was being put into a bad situation. Maybe he'd find out during his job, but he doubted it.

The ride to the spaceport was short and the ship was departing shortly. Rayfe took the opportunity to grab a new romance novel from the gift shop.
Shadowport Seduction, a story about a merchant on a shadowport and his many conquests until a new female smugger captain catches his attention and he is desperate to woo her.
Boarding the ship, he started to open his book when the complimentary meal was placed before him. It smelled wonderful and tasted even better. He enjoyed his food and book as the ship launched into space and jumped to lightspeed. Next stop: Dartmuth.

[Codename: Abaddon]

Fuck. This. Planet.

What little earth that was not under grimy swamp water was moist and slimy. The mud clung to your boots and took an industrial sonic cleaner to chip off. The humidity felt like a physical thing trying to choke you to death, and if the smell didn't get you then the flies certainly would. There was a warmth to the air that while not exactly hot, when it combined with the humidity it turned your whole world into a warm, festering soup. No one looked comfortable. Not the security team, not the workers, not even the locals. Everyone was hot, miserable, and sickly.

It was only through the miracles of technology that he could even stand this horrible place at all. While everyone else at the facility was dressed in appropriately light and thin clothing, Abaddon stood out from the rest in armor that ran from the tips of his mud encrusted boots all the way to the top of his glossy helmet. The armor was clearly state of the art... two years ago. It was well cared for but had clearly visible signs of degradation; such as blaster holes in the chest that had been re-sealed and patched, carbon scoring along the edges that could just not be scrubbed off, along with many chips and cuts. The armor had been through hell, and yet it gleamed in the hazy sunlight.

The armor suite included climate control, which was working overtime filtering out the disgusting air and moisture and keeping it's occupant cool. If his armor was not impressive, and you would be a fool to not think so, than the child sized blaster in his hand certainly was. The Lastech V2 Hadron Destroyer (http://conceptartworld.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/DUST_514_Concept_Art_11a.jpg) was a monster of a weapon system. It was just. So. Goddamn. Cool. Currently it was being pointed over the top of the wall that surrounded the facility. Abaddon made high pitch laser sounds under his breath as he pointed it at various targets; birds, animals, locals in the distance, a shuttle approaching. A shuttle approaching?

Looks like the Sergeant was arriving. Rayfe Avery, was what Sheegoth's message had said. Supposed to be some kind of big shot here to train the security team. Waste of time, but it was Sheegoth's credits on the line not his. The guys here were worthless. Couldn't tell their own ass from a hole in the ground. Not that a team was even needed. Abaddon was certain he could defend this whole installation on his own, but he wasn't about to offer that deal. He wanted off this planet just as soon as he could. His instructions were clear, protect the facility while Avery is there. As if something was going to happen. This job was a boring cakewalk. Not his style at all, but he needed the credits. Badly.

The reflective face plate of his helmet followed the shuttle at it passed overhead, turning around to watch it land in the center of the facility. The facility itself wasn't anything special. It lacked style. It had the big pump building where they extracted the water straight out of the planet. It was noisy as fuck. Then there's the mess hall, barracks, power station, and a few other support structures, and then surrounding it all is a twenty foot wall with watch towers at the corners. There was a front gate, but it was rarely used. They flew in and out for everything. It was the safest, since the locals don't have anything much less a shuttle, and there was nothing worth driving to anyways. The gate had a visible force field across it.

As Abaddon sauntered down from the watch tower the security team was assembling by the landing pad. Clearly the captain was trying to make a good impression. Asslicker.

[Rayfe_Avery]

Looking up from his book as the main characters had escaped an imperial patrol that was after the smuggler captain's cargo, he'd felt the transition from hyperspace to real space and he looked down at the planet through his window. Dartmuth wasn't a mono ecosystem like Tatootine, Dantooine, or Hoth, but it was trying. At the poles the swamps dried out into thick forests of hardy trees that survived the cold easily, there were lush jungles on the high points of the planet. The vegetation thinned out as mountains rose up as close to the edge of the atmosphere as they could. Where the planet lacked in oceans, and only a few seas, it made up with vast swampland. The swamp was the majority of the planets surface and it made sense why they would only try to use that resource.
Maybe the fact that the planet wasn't a complete mono-system was why a Hutt had been willing to sell the swampy world in the first place.

The Shuttle started its final approach and he started to get ready for departure, he put his book into one of his duffels, hit the refresher and relieved himself, gave himself a quick once over in the mirror to make sure he was inspection ready.
Not that anyone would be judging him but he had standards.
The Sergeant was happy with himself, he shouldered his bags and put on his cover, and stood in front of the boarding ramp. Once the shuttle hit the deck and the ramp lowered he was hit by a wave of misery, the humidity was like a blanket trying to smother him. He'd only been exposed to the atmosphere for thirty seconds and his sweat was already starting to sweat. He sighed as he made his way down the ramp and was immediately approached by the security team who got into a sloppy formation with their leader at the front.
They showed some promise. The Staff Sergeant had been expecting to find the lot of them playing sabbac but they were actually performing their duties. He nodded to the men in the formation.

At ease! I am Staff Sergeant Rayfe Avery. I will be training you men to be a force to be reckoned with. When I'm done you'll be able to defend this place from an all out assault if need be and win. I will also be making sure this facility is secure. We won't be starting training until tomorrow morning so you best enjoy today because you're gonna hate tomorrow. Dismissed! Except for you two." he said pointing at the Captain of the security team and one of his men.
"You can take my duffels to my bunk." he stated as he tossed the two duffel bags to the security team member. Thankfully for the team member he didn't drop them, or else he'd been doing push-ups in the mud.
"And you will show me around... but first.." he trailed off as he caught sight of someone stupid enough to be wearing a full battle armor suite in this environment.

In stark contrast, Rayfe had on a special issue set of water tight boots, fatigue pants in a dull green to blend in with the mud and vegetation, his revolver holstered on his thigh, a belt with a few different pieces of kit on it, a short sleeve fatigue jacket that matched the color of the pants, and his cover which matched the jacket and pants.
The jacket itself had more then met the eye, it had thin plast-steel plates woven into it to offer some coverage of the vital areas, and the collar had the microphone of a mini-comlink that was also a part of the jacket.
He didn't bother with introductions right away. Instead he walked around the Bounty Hunter sizing him up and his conclusion, the Hunter was a moron.
"What kind of dumb-ass goes into a swamp wearing a full combat armor suite for an extended period of time?" he didn't bother waiting for a reply and launched into his assessment. How much does that can weigh? 45 or 50 kilos? In this soft mud you wouldn't even have to be shot to die, if you fall over in the wrong place your armor will drag you under before anyone notices. And is it fully sealed?" he roughly grabbed the back shoulder and pulled to confirm what he knew.
"Yes it is, so you'd sink into the mud and have to wait until your air ran out to die and your body be entombed in this plastoid shell."

If Abaddon was trying to talk back, Rayfe was ignoring him and continuing on with his assessment.
"And what is with that weapon?! It is impressive to be sure but can it stand up to this environment? I doubt it, but this would." he pulled his field revolver from its holster and took a shot at a target that was painted on the inside of the walls that surrounded them. It wasn't a bad shot, inside the targets inner ring.
At the sound of thunder from his weapon all the security personnel jumped up and started fumbling with their weapons. This got a chuckle out of Rayfe before he shouted, "AT EASE! Just taking a little target practice." It was funny when they were spooked but he wouldn't be able to enjoy getting his kicks like that for along. Soon they'd know the difference between explosion noises and won't fall for that gag.

Rayfe looked back at Abaddon, the reflective face plate giving away nothing of what the man beneath was thinking. "I was tempted to tell you to ditch that armor but I think I'll let you keep it. You make a nice big shiny target in case anything happens."

With that he motioned to the Security Captain who started to give Rayfe a tour of the facility. It was pretty much what you'd imagine. There was a hard duracrete foundation to keep the facility stable while the machines that were noisily doing their job worked tirelessly earning Sheegoth enough credits to make this venture worth while. He saw the pump building, the support buildings with things like machine shops and part storage, the mess hall, the power station, the guard towers, and finally the barracks. The Mercenary had been making notes about things worth mentioning, the tree line was too close to the outer wall for the towers to do their best and would need to be cleared out at least another 30 meters, the power station needed a guard around the back side of it in case someone managed to sneak past the wall and guard towers, the armory, or what passed for one, needed to be relocated to one of the part rooms. It was too close to the barracks and could lead to disaster. It would also need some kind of monitoring. He had his work cut out for him.

[Codename: Abaddon]

What ended up stepping off the shuttle was hardly what was expected. The way Sheegoth talked about the Staff Sergeant had left Abaddon imagining some crusty old coot pining after the good old days when he was in his prime. A well maintained but threadbare uniform, some old service sidearm. Maybe even a matching hat. Old war metals polished to a shine; won for the heroic deaths of the men under his station. Abaddon had seen those types again and again in the many Guild Halls of the dozens of houses that pledged allegiance to the Bounty Hunters Guild.

And each and every one of them had turned him away.

What stepped off was a middle aged man who lacked all that false bravado and shiny medals. For the briefest moment Abaddon was intrigued, and then immediately lost all interest as the Staff Sergeant fell into the expected patterns of any overtly military type he'd ever seen. Just like those blowhards in the Guild he started barking orders, telling people off, running them around, and destroying what little soul they had left. If this was what a career mercenary looks like, than Abaddon sure was glad he was only doing this for the quick credits. He would take being just a hired gun if it meant retaining his individuality.

Besides, it's not like his big Guild break wasn't right around the corner. They had to let him in sooner or later.

His eyes were rolling so hard behind the anonymity of his helmet that he didn't even notice that the Sergeant was speaking in his direction. Whatever he was saying was impossible to hear clearly over the Heavy Isotope music playing on the internal speakers. No sooner has he turned off the heavy drumline and screaming lyrics then the schutta made a grab for him, getting a fistful of his shoulder plate before Abaddon could force him away.

"Don't touch me. Ever."

The guy never stopped talking. You'd think he would start turning blue from the lack of oxygen. There was no room to get a word in edgewise, not that he had anything in particular to say other than the expected retorts of "Nah-uh!". Instead, he lit a stim in silent defiance and stuck into one of the air vents in his helmet. The chemical rush was enough to take the edge off the growing rage that was building as this guy continued to pick and prod at his kit. Like that was something he had not heard before. Every Guild entrance exam went just like this. People complaining that he relied too much on his armor, that his blaster was too big, that he was too reckless. Bunch of whiny bitches. The results speak for themselves, and the name Abaddon has a reputation for success. Sure, he gets hurt a lot, and the bounties lose a lot of blood or limbs, but they still get delivered.

Even if a week late.

Her highness the Queen of Naboo finally finished and Abaddon gave his turned back a very uncivilized gesture involving two rising fingers and a raspberry before adding. "You're not in charge of me, Hutthole!" Goddamn, the nerve of that guy! If he did not have strict instructions woven into his contract requiring that he be alive in order to collect the payout he would have put a hole in the guy right then and there; and with a weapon system like the Hadron Destroyer that hole would have been huge, and also the collateral would have demolished the building behind him and probably killed a few of the assembled Security Team. BUT IT WOULD BE WORTH IT. Goddamn.

Trudging back to his spot on the wall he began his therapy immediately by shouldering his blaster and firing into the nearest tree top, sending flying lizards scattering to the skies in a splash of crispy tree bits and gore. Yeah. That felt better, and now he had flying targets to practice on.