Salvaging a Slaved Existence

Somewhere in the Outer Rim

"Interjesting majterials on thisss one captane."


The words were spoken by his chief secondary, a Cizerack that goes by the name of Marshoul. She was one of his main cohorts during the time of the Great Breakout and had remained one of his most steadfast followers even since then.


Her story was one of interest and sorrow. She and a group of her fellow denmates had been kidnapped while on leave while their trade ship was in port. All would be sold into slavery and dispersed around the Hutt Empire. Most of her former companions were half breeds that were used by several of the Hutt Crime lords as feed for their personal pets. She was more valued as both a pure bred Cizerack and was only at his slave camp because of her refusal to willingly mate with interested business associates of the particular Hutt that "owned" her.


In the end she had choked the Hutt with a chain before he had brought down his mighty Vibromaul down upon the Hutt's bloated head, ending his tyrannical reign of terror and anguish. They had taken the Hutt's personal flagship as their own along with other survivors from the slave camp and set about liberating others from the Hutt's personal holdings before setting off to make their own living in the newly widened horizons of their galaxy.


Snorting softly from being interrupted from his datapad once more, Sharzon pivoted his red eyes up without moving his furred head to read a list of the loot from the destroyed warship's primary hold. The old Imperial Dreadnought that they were digging into at the moment had died some thirty years ago, a victim of one of the final campaigns between the Empire and the New Republic. Her wreck location had been little more then a footnote in the logs of the two starfighter squadrons that had found her transiting in between systems here before putting her down with several torpedo volleys.


But digging back from that using fragmented Imperial records showed her probable point of origin and that indicated a possible good haul that was untouched. Now that good haul was coming to light.


"Hmm, that's most interesting. The T-7's we'll have to destroy, we can't have those falling into the wrong hands. But the Magh Pulse Torpedohes and Ihon Cannons will fetch a good price in the right mahrket," grunted out Sharzon.


"A shhhame about the Disssuptorrrs Captane but I ahhggreee," replied Marshoul.


"Housh, have the autobots head in that dihrection," ordered Sharzon.


"Already on it Kapitan."


His story was somewhat less interesting. Housh was a Weequay who belonged to a family that fell into disfavor with a Hutt after their father failed miserably as a guard. He was fed to the Hutt's main pet and his family sold into slavery. Fighting for his father's honor during the Great Breakout, he had held off a dozen guards while Sharzon and Marshoul dealt with the Hutt himself. He was nearly overwhelmed but after killing the Hutt Sharzon had joined in side by side with him and slew half a dozen guards with the 'Pain of Woe' as he called his beloved Vibromaul.


Alarm klaxons sounded on the bridge at about that moment. Swiftly shutting them off, Marshoul tapped a few buttons on her console before she suddenly starting hissing with her fangs and claws extending outwards. Dropping his datapad onto his lap with knowing anticipation, he glanced in her direction.


"Report Marshoul."


"Captaain, sensorsss indennntify enemy cruiser apppproacchhing. It is the Dissssdainnn," she hissed back at him.


For several moments he said nothing as a variety of dark emotions ran through him. He gripped the sides of his captain's chair tightly enough to leave small dents as his own fangs were bared and his fur stood up on end. His eyes began to glow softly before he suddenly roared in fury as his mouth caught up to his mind.


During the modernization of the New Republic Fleet many older Alliance ships that been converted for military purposes were converted back to their original configurations. This had included early generation Mon Calamari Star Cruisers, which went back to being passenger and cruise liners. One such ship, a type MC80A had been hijacked while serving as a cruise liner by Thalassian Slavers and reconverted into a military vessel. Calling their new prize the Disdain, she was every bit as dangerous a warship now as she was back in her heyday and with a full complement of gunboats and uglies she heftily outgunned their little Kaloth Battlecruiser by a considerable margin.


"Timme to interceppt?" asked Sharzon as he rose out of his chair.


"Sixxxx minnuteessss, mayybea lessss," hissed Marshoul.


"We run. Like cowards, but cowards who will live another day for their revenge. Recall what you can, destroy what you can't. Turbolasers," snarled Sharzon as he stalked the bridge, "Tarnish the storage bays of that Dreadnought. I don't want the slaverrs to get a single hand on those weapohns."


In three minutes the Willwreck was on the the move, firing several broadsides into the exposed bays of the wrecked Dreadnought that triggered several large secondary explosions. The Disdain launched a squadron of Tri-Fighters and three Skipray Blastboats to head off their scuttling efforts but it was too late. Moments afterwards, their Kaloth Battlecruiser had made the jump into hyperspace.