Public Blood on the Manifest

[Vask]

Dromund Kaas - Kaas City Docks

A Besalisk walked along the outer Piers of the Kaas City Docks. His footsteps echoed with the heavy thud of considerable weight, one of his four arms occupied by a large datapad. His face was the mask of a grouch, a man who had just been told he was supposed to do a job that actually belonged to someone else. When others walked by him, they almost immediately shied away, sensing the air of aggravation coming off the alien in droves.

"Uh oh." A voice rang out from just ahead of him, one of the other dockworkers leaning against a large cargo crate. "Whats got in your graw Frok? Niles not doing his job again?"

The other man chuckled, and the Besalisk let out a grunt. "Useless shit as he always is. Forgot to load up something on the The Hunger."

Vask said the words through the voice-modulator in his helmets, the Besalisk's voice sounding alien to his ears, but close enough to the real thing that his coworker didn't even seem to notice. Instead the man just laughed, shaking his head as he motioned with one thumb towards Docking Bay 13. "Best hurry then, ships about to take off. Don't want Darth Whateverthefuck biting your nuts off because you forgot their perfume."

The Beslaisk let out a groan, head dramatically tilting towards the air.

"Always picking up the slack." His head shook in disappointment, the coworker letting out a laugh and mentioning something about 'same shit, different day'. Vask only nodded in affirmation of the statement, and then continued on towards Docking Bay 13th. As he moved through the cargo-containers, the Freighter within came into view. She was a beast of a thing, a hauler meant for carrying all sorts of goods. From the manifest Vask had stolen her cargo mostly consisted of various artifacts, trinkets, and pieces of art being shipped from Kaas City to different Sith World's. Probably some pompous ass' private collection being distributed to his fifty seven houses.

Not that Vask really had any room to judge, and not that it mattered all that much anyway.

None of those goods would ever be reaching their destination.

Continuing to lumber forward in his Besalisk disguise, Vask headed towards one of the smaller stacks of crates in the back of the docking bay. His gaze flickered back towards the freighter for a moment, noting it's engines were already spooled up. Slipping the datapad onto the small of his back, the Besalisk picked up one of the smaller crates in the stack. "Hold up!"

He shouted, making his way directly towards The Quiet Hunger.

 

[Kole Eckttor]

Vask​

His spine cracked with an unpleasant pop.

The aging man knelt down behind a stack of crates. He should not be out in the field like this. He had interns who could be doing this type of thing. Yet he couldn't bear the thought of a discovery being made without being there. And so that is why he was here, behind a stack of crates, on the Sith-occupied world of Dromund Kaas, by himself. Wonderful.

Being the lead historian at the Museum of Coruscant had its perks. Ever since the Sith Covenant moved in and started ruling the place, the whole planet had been a little tense. Careful about what you are saying, because you never know when a dark warrior was listening. However, with a false allegiance to the Sith, the museum had been kept relatively safe. Funded too. That is why Kole was able to go out on collection missions such as this. To bring more artifacts to put on display.

The fact that the artifacts were stolen from other Sith, however, was kept a secret. The man despised the Sith with every cell in his body. But, putting on a front kept him alive...for now.

With a blaster pistol at his left hip and a radio on his right, Kole sent a check-in ping to his ship, The Ark. Onboard was his droid Henry, a personal assistant on these types of journeys. He had acquired the droid not very long ago and he had proven himself to be quite useful. The shuttle sat idly at a nearby docking bay. If they wanted to recover those artifacts and make it home safely, they would need a quick escape.

"You doin' alright, Henry?"

"Right as rain, sir."

Just as the connection ended, the box above Kole's head was raised into the air. The historian froze, staring directly into the face of a towering Besalisk. An audible gulp broke the silence.

 

[Vask]

Vask stared down at the man hiding behind the crates. Fuck.

Was the only thought which echoed through his mind.

He had absolutely no idea who this man was, what he was doing here, or why he was hiding behind a set of crates. Though, none of that really mattered. From the man's face it was obvious he wasn't supposed to be here, and from the way he was hiding behind these crates it probably meant he was here for something similar to Vask.

Meaning he was interested in The Hunger.

"What the fuck are you doi-" His voice still modulated rang out from the visage of the Besalisk, but he found his words dying as suddenly someone called out from behind him. The shout loud enough to catch his attention, though really it was the sound of tromping boots that drew his eye more than anything else.

A cadre of Sith troopers came marching around the corner, at their head some sort of officer. "You there!"

The man shouted, pointing his finger directly to Vask.

"These goods were to already be loaded! What do you think you're doing!" His voice left little room for question about who he was talking about, and Vask found himself turning. Freezing in place as he debated half a dozen different ways this could all go in the next few seconds. "Stay down."

He hissed at the stranger, the Besalisk's face not moving as Vask spoke in his real voice.

 

[Kole Eckttor]

Vask​

A shaky hand instinctively reached for his blaster pistol.

Kole's fingers stopped just before the holster buckle as a shout from a newcomer stopped both of these individuals in their tracks. From the sound of it, the Besalisk maybe was not supposed to be here either. This turned an already bad situation into something worse. Nothing was stopping the alien from selling the historian out to try and buy some time.

Eyes still raised towards the hulking figure, the man slowly pressed the button on the side of his raid three times, signaling to Henry and The Ark that something was wrong. That quick escape might be coming sooner than he had anticipated. It would only be a matter of minutes before the shuttle fired up and made its way over to Kole. But in a better scenario, the man would create some distance between the dock workers, allowing a safer exit.

Yet Kole was not going to test his luck as the voice whispered to stay down. Strangely enough, the alien's voice seemed to change, a more human sounding tone decorating the words. Wiping away a bead of sweat on his forehead, the historian chalked it up to a possible anxiety attack causing him to not think straight. Regardless, the cargo bay was soon to be lit up in an array of blaster bolts from The Ark or the dock workers, and he would rather not stick around to figure out which came first.

Turning his head once again, Kole made a plan to bolt to the next stack of crates...