Private A Different Venue

[Niysha]

The Dancer in Green, Wild Space
Cont: This Venue is Overbooked​

If Niysha had a credit for every time she'd personally piloted In Rhan's beat up old Besaid-class bulk freighter out of a catastrophic fireball, then she would just have the one credit. The impressive explosion that had become of Lrungo the Hutt's private superyacht was still sending debris scattering into a storm of shrapnel just behind the aging cargo truck's powerful Garuda engines, and all that Niysha was strictly required to do was steady the helm so they didn't hit any of the other escape craft or, worse, injure any of slaves they'd liberated who were still shacked up in the cargo hold. Accomodating them would be a task for them to handle after they'd escaped immediate collateral zone.

As would handing over the controls to In, who was still... doing something in the back. Niysha didn't know, and she hadn't asked. Frankly, she was too busy with her own mild inconveniences to make a big fuss about it either way, and handling the Dancer wasn't a huge imposition. It was a slightly greater imposition when she was covered in enough silly string that it might take her days to get it all out of her hair, and slightly more again with two loth-cats climbing her like a tree. Her fancy new suit was absolutely covered in four kinds of cake, and apparently the animals had a bit of a sweet tooth.

None of that was enough to stop the Dancer from making it to hyperspace. As she locked in coordinates and hit the engines, Niysha allowed herself a quiet sigh of relief before she walked back through the ship to check on their new passengers.

Significantly larger than a classic two-man Corellian freighter, the Dancer in Green could easily have held almost two dozen passengers comfortably if it was fitted for it. Since it was fitted for cargo and the thugs who'd stolen it had cleared out most expensive parts of the haul, that'd been a nice excuse to squeeze another half-dozen people in. Neither Niysha nor In had saw need to let any of the newly-freed passengers about the smuggling comparment in the far rear of the cargo bay, hidden snugly behind the maglocked crate that In used as a storage shed.

Up the hatch to the main deck, the ship spontaneously transformed from a long-haul truck into a floating botany bay. The walls from cockpit to engine room were covered in hydroponics pots wherever there was room to stick one. Most terrestrial botanical gardens could sport greater variety, but out here in the black, the Dancer didn't have many peers. It also gave the common area, main deck, mess, and crew quarters all a wonderful, vibrant color palette... or so Niysha had been told.

Nestled along the main deck's sides were auxiliary rooms for engineering, medical, Niysha and In's private quarters, and-

Niysha made a point to seal her private private quarters when she noticed the door was open, locking it tight. Thirty-odd scared people might get a little too curious and the last place she wanted them peeking was into the room where she kept her Very Dangerous Scary Old Rocks. With that taken care of, she made her way to the hatch down into cargo and dropped both loth-cats unceremoniously down the escape. Her careless action immediately earned an unhinged beep of protest from the psychotic mouse droid that was, apparently, trying very hard to make its way up the ladder at that exact moment.

And, with that take care of, it was off to clean up. They'd need to worry about providing their passengers with food, comfort, and hygeine soon, but that was something they could deal with when they'd had a moment to stop being shot at.

In Rhan Vikai Caznä

 

[Vikai Caznä]

Vikai came striding - or more aptly, shambling in the Dancer's Cargo Hold as if she was some sort of decayed ghoul; which, truthfully, she may as well have been one, after what they had been through. Her mask was shattered in half, hair frazzled and ends burnt, her clothing ripped apart, and skin covered in a smattering of ash, soot, and some questionable jelly liquid and mushy bits of cake. With her was a ripped up sack of expensive blasters, bangles of jewelry, expensive tech, and bottles of the finest booze; all of it freshly stolen, of course. It was more bountiful than the intended bounty she came from - though perhaps she may still be able to claim that. What was there to say that her target didn't explode into a thousand little pieces? It was a big pay day for Vikai, which made her inwardly ecstatic and giddy, though her expression outwardly remain as a viper's stoicism as she regarded the saved slaves in passing with muted indifference.

When she reached where Niysha was, her eyes trailed away from the freed slaves and onto the blind Sith. The sack in her hands dropped to the floor with a light thud as her other free hand reached upwards to remove her shattered mask.

Then, she offered a inquiry, a strange one at that. Unexpected. Unbefitting.

"Is killing hundreds worth it, if it means saving a dozen?"

The question hanged for a few seconds in silence, but Vikai abruptly altered both her tone, and the direction of her words - or at least, attempted.

"Pfth. Not like it matters- not to me, at least. I have acquired what I needed. I just need to get all of this pawned off, now. I can upload the coordinates of where I need to be dropped off."