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."

 

[In Rhan]

Wow. What an adventure.

Thrill a minute, with lots of twists and turns. The sort of thing that In would have loved to read about, but hated to be at the center of. Reading such a story would have, undoubtedly, been peak literature.

Especially the part where she'd wound up yet again finding herself wearing a dancing girl outfit, covered head to toe in cake. Strawberry cream, from the tastes of it. In had had just about enough cake to satisfy her for three lifetimes, or just one if she managed to locate Lrongo the Hutt's personal baker. The first thing In had done after The Dancer had made it to safety was hit the refresher - less for a shower, more for a hosing off. Days of travelling on Planet Weasel followed by the desperate chase across space for her ship back only to culminate in a week working as undercover arm candy/cocktail waitress at the galaxy's least stable casino had meant that In arrived home in such a state that she wanted to crawl out of her skin, scuttle under her bed, and die. And she couldn't even do that, because of the stupid mob of poor, unfortunate souls they'd rescued!

So In had allowed herself exactly one five minute shower, trying very hard to ignore the fact that all of her cider was gone and somebody had gone through her clothes and re-arranged them in between the time the ship had been stolen and it'd been reclaimed. At least three flowers had been mangled, too. Exactly one minute to powerblast all of the cake off of her and four to break down a little. She didn't want to stay longer anyway. There was no hot water.

In eventually emerged from her quarters in loose white harem pants and a tank top, toweling her hair off.

"If you're implying we played a part in getting those people killed, you're not allowed to use my shower." In replied flatly, almost sternly. "Like a dozen different parties rigged that place to blow. We saved as many as we could." It was rationale more for herself than anyone else, to quell the burning guilt she felt. They'd saved as many as they could. If only they could have saved more. If only she'd been better.

"Niysha, where are we heading?" In asked, raising her voice to towards the direction of the cockpit. "We got a nice, central location we can drop all these poor people off to, hopefully somewhere with an embassy or something?"

Niysha Vikai Caznä

 

[Niysha]

Both In and Vikai seemed to be more torn up about the whole "a bunch of gangsters, thugs, and generally miserable individuals just got blown up" thing than Niysha was. She could handle In's portion of that particular emotional load - have her go down to the cargo bay, learn names and hear stories - but she had no idea how to handle this new (temporary?) addition to the crew. In general, she'd been a relatively reliable but emotionally turbulent and very loud sort of person. The Dancer was a quiet place; that energy was going to cause some friction.

Leaning against the bulkhead leading from the cockpit to the main deck, Niysha crossed her somewhat cakey arms over her extremely fancy and utterly ruined suit. "We weren't the ones who set baradium charges under the casino floor, we weren't the ones who rewired the fuel computer to ignite the whole rear of the ship, and we weren't the ones using thermal charges to breach the upper VIP lounge." As she listed each catastrophe off, Niysha held up a finger. "Even if we tripped over it, we didn't arrange for a packing crate of commando droids to spill over right next to the auction stage. And we dragged people with us until our cargo hold was full to bursting. We didn't 'kill hundreds' by basically any stretch of the imagination, so I'd say we did a pretty good job."

As always, it lurked in the back of Niysha's mind that, had she needed to kill hundreds to make sure she and In made it off that barge, she wouldn't have lost a wink of sleep over it. Normally it was just In she had to compare her morals against; the fact that there was now a second person on the ship without real Sith training eroding their value for human life was something she'd need to take into account for the rest of their voyage.

Fortunately, there were other things to focus on. Their next stop, for instance. "Right now I've got us charted for the corner of Alliance and Republic territory. The fuel computer still lists Empress Teta, so it'd be as easy as setting a repeat trip to get us there. Nabboo's pretty far away and way too busy. Rodia and Sanza are nearby and both are pretty decently civilized. It won't be hard to find jobs or passage off-world." She shrugged slightly. "Denon might be a good or very bad idea. It's one ecumenopolis I'm not particularly knowledgeable about."

After a moment, Niysha cocked her head to one side and slightly faced towards Vikai. "Of course, if you have a particular destination in mind, that might change the plan."

Vikai Caznä In Rhan

 

[Vikai Caznä]

Vikai's expression altered little, revealing not a touch of what she may or may not have been feeling. Not quite dour and sour, though. It seemed as though she had little emotional investment in her own inquiry, strangely enough - though, who would be invested in the care of knaves, gamblers, and slavers? Vikai certainly wasn't one to care for those ilk of filth. Her arms crossed over her chest loosely, head canting back some as she spoke once more.

"I think you are right. Mostly. Most of them were strife ridden mutts who deserved little more than death, isn't that right?" She paused, as if pondering her own words. In that time her eyes shifting between the pair, sickly yellow on full display. "There was a saying that.. Somebody who trained me used to say, it was 'That the strong decide the fate of the weak'. Isn't that a strange saying? I wonder if that applies here. I wonder if it's murder, if one elects to not help those in need..." And yet, another pause, her eyes wandering off. Vikai seemed surprisingly introspective for what was a raging, seething Sith before. Her words seemed to be more so musings, that trying to press any sort of direct line of thought or belief. A mere idle thought. "- I bet a Jedi would have said we are horrible people. Pfehehh." Though, some habits die hard.

After another passing moment, her focus went back upon Niysha. "Well, isn't that perfect. Sanza is where I have my ship stowed at. My real one. Also where I need to collect my bounty." She glanced downwards to the pile of valuables beside her. "And, a good place to pawn all of this off. Ehhheh... Pay day has come, at last." With a wistful little snicker between amused huffs, Vikai's boot pressed down as she whipped around, moving with a pep in her step towards the room where the shower was. "I am taking a shower. I have earned that much, I think!" She paused half-way though, briefly turning back. "Make sure none of those slaves touch my valuables too - oh, and I forgot. I am Vikai. Nice to meet." And with that, she turned about and strides off. Only the Force knows how long she'll be taking in the shower.

 

[In Rhan]

Everything was going apace, in the best ways that they could be expected to go given the circumstances. They'd reclaimed The Dancer, they'd managed to save as many people as they could, and they were essentially home free. She had her ship, her girl, and no more cake anywhere on her person. She'd probably be able to sleep in her own bed tonight with nary a weasel or a casino chip in sight!

And boy didn't Vikai Caznä just have a way of making her really frakking upset about it. She'd had the tiniest balloon of growing self-worth and comfort, and the roach had just knocked a hole in it.

In waited until Vikai was off in the refresher to angrily light a cigarette and glare uselessly at the wall. "Weird little sleemo." The Pantoran woman complained bleakly at Niysha , trying to keep from using stronger language. "Gonna put her junk in the unused quarters. We probably don't want her sleepin' with the crowd... and she did fight with us." In was angrier about that than she had any right to be, honestly. Mostly at herself. Having a spastic, twitchy saber jocky in your corner was a fine thing in combat, but it was just callous to spurn them the minute the fighting stopped.

In rubbed the bridge of her nose and groaned. "I'll try to not let her get in my head. Thanks for plotting the course, frizz." She murmured, stealing a quick kiss. "I'm gonna go see if we still have that big box of donk packets down in the smuggling hole, probably distribute 'em down in the cargo bay to tide everyone over until we arrive. I'll do the talky-talky, keep everyone calm. You take a few minutes to get settled in? For me?"

 

[Niysha]

Far more tiring than dealing with Sith Lords was dealing with petulant kids who thought they were destined to be Sith Lords one day. Anyone who'd survived the Sith hierarchy for any measure of time more than a year or two learned very quickly that gloating about how EVIL you were and how WEAK and fundamentally deserving of death everyone else was was a very short trip to shock trooper duty. Ominous cackling was reserved for special occasions and tended to make for very poor first impressions.

When Vikai left Niysha with In, the Miraluka gave an awkward smile and a helpless shrug. "Lapdogs yap the loudest, In. I don't know what to tell you." It was absolutely In that would bear the brunt of Vikai's unpleasantness. Niysha was completely inured to it, and the passengers down in the bay were isolated and trying to lick their wounds. In was the only one on the ship who hadn't been a beaten manservant, a psychotic cultist, or both.

Any of her peers would have scorned her for the weakness of a relationship, and failing that, Niysha's refusal to "toughen up" her partner. As per usual, Niysha gave them exactly as much consideration as they deserved.

"Yeah, alright," Niysha replied quietly to In, turning back to the cockpit to put in coordinates for Sanza; it was near enough to Rodia that they could make a pit stop without burning fuel. With that done, she wandered off to her and In's cabin to relieve herself of her utterly ruined fancy white suit and find a towel to wrap in while she waited for Vikai to be done with the refresher. In the space of her own ship, Niysha was - as always - tempted to just pull off her blindfold and walk around with her sockets out. This time, she absolutely curbed that reflex. Chances were, their twitchy, self-important guest would take her appearance as an offense and draw her weapon.

She'd shouted some kind of silly name about it. Destined Death? No, wait... Death's Herald. The Miraluka made a quiet note to herself as she wandered off towards the refresher to never, evre name any of her weapons. Her blaster was a blaster, her lightsaber was a lightsaber... Bogan, her ship only had a name because it needed one for legal reasons. Crypto-materialism was for slugs and cultists.

As Vikai made it out of the shower, Niysha greeted her outside with a silent raise of her chin and politely waited for her to move out of the way. She expressly didn't push past, no matter how much cake and champagne was ruining her hair.

Vikai Caznä In Rhan