It was a **looks outside** dark and stormy night...

[Galdaart]

Sate Sorenn was several hours into his tenure at the "Monk's Fist," which in no way, shape or form could be considered the best cantina on 'Shaddaa. In fact, it might well have been nearly the worst. But quality of clientele had little to do with his presence here. Proximity to where the commercial freighter he had paid for passage aboard had touched down, did. His throat desired whiskey, and this place (as long as one didn't care about the cleanliness of the glasses) could slake his thirst. Three weeks aboard a dry freighter was too long without a drink, even for the Dustie.

This is how it came to be that Sate Sorenn had four empty tumblers in front of him, as the bar began to fill up. Even though he had good reason to be on the Smugglers' Moon, he wasn't so conceited to believe he would find a solution to his troubles on his first night on the Moon. Even as lubricated as he was, he knew his luck wasn't that good.

Still, no harm in hanging out his shingle. He had been in just such a position many times before, and he knew of no better way to attract a like mind and a level head. Approaching the barkeep, an extra 50 credits pressed into the Gran's hand, and a few words in his ear saw a small nod in affirmation, and Sate began to move slowly through the gathering crowd, toward the small, 8X10 platform at the front of the bar which served triple-duty: dancer / stripper stage (as evidenced by the greased pole at its centre,) impromptu town crier / soapbox (as evidenced by the broken glass and marred walls behind,) and occasionally, as performance space. To the side of the stage, looking worse for wear, sat an ancient instrument. Sate blew the dust off, and noted it was missing a string. Nothing to be done about that. Producing a thin tube of unremarkable, dense ore, Sate placed it on his third finger and sat of the edge of the stage, narrowly missing a pool of something nobody would want to sit in. He played at tuning the instrument for a few minutes, before breaking into an easy blues. After the first tune, he fished a contraption out of a pocket, and connected it to the instrument's jack. This allowed him to broadcast short-range, directly to passerby via their broadband comm units, which 90% of folks carried nowadays.

If they didn't want to listen, they could just as easily tune out or turn off. But enough would allow the tune to play that it would permeate the bar, and out onto the street, just in the background. After the next number, he leaned down, close to the instrument's pickup, and spoke plainly into the microphonic piezo:

Looking for a pilot. If you think you're flyin' the right bird, come find me. Whiskey optional.

And then he launched into another song. Maybe people were listening, maybe not. Didn't really matter. He was doing it mostly to amuse himself. Maybe he got a lift out of the deal, maybe someone bought him a round. Win-win, really.

'long as they didn't start throwing bottles.

 

[Vee]

Vee was an absolute wreck.

One moment she was sleeping peacefully in a swank, high-rise hotel in one of Coruscant's wealthiest districts with Don by her side, the next she was laying at the doorstep of the small unit she shared with Drika and Todon on Keldabe, completely disoriented and half blind. She panicked, screaming out for Don in confusion and running her hands over the unit's door before realizing where she was, even though she couldn't understand why. Drika and Todon both cried with relief when they finally found her. A doctor was fetched and it was ascertained that Vee was suffering the side effects of carbonite poisoning. Why, however, Vee couldn't say. Her aunt and uncle explained that when they didn't hear from her after the Coruscant job, they worried. They did what they could to try to reach her or Don, but to no avail. When it was reported on the mainstream news of a terrorist attack on 'Shaddaa where Don V'hett was listed among the dead, they tailspun into panic of what may have happened to her.

But the red head couldn't say. Vee couldn't remember anything. She shut herself in her room, the phrase 'Don is dead.' resounding over and over again through her mind. She tried with all her might to remember something, anything about what happened, but she couldn't. All she knew was that one moment she was on Coruscant living it up after a job, and the next she was here. And Don was dead. Don was dead. She did as much research as she could on the terrorist attack, but nothing made sense. It appeared Don had simply been at the wrong place at the wrong time. But why he had been there at all was not apparent, nor why or how they had been separated. There were no clues to be found. Vee obssessed over it for a month before giving in to the despair. Did it really matter how he died? Don was dead. There wasn't even a body to mourn over.

She didn't eat. She didn't drink anything but whiskey and tihaar. She couldn't sleep. Vee stared at the wall in her closet-sized room with dead eyes as she laid upon her meager bed. Her aunt and uncle were concerned, but felt it best to let her grieve in her own way. When their son, grandchild, and Taung had died, Vee reacted the same way. After another month of this behavior with no sign of respite, however, they knew something must be done. Vee needed some kind of purpose in order to refocus herself. They complained to her about how difficult times had been and how they were barely skating by on the credits her uncle was bringing in. A ship mechanic, he now turned to construction work to make extra income. Drika was too frail to work, so she remained at home cooking, cleaning, and sewing. Without a word, Vee got up, showered, pushed food between her lips and found a freelance piloting job.

After one run, she hung up her title as 'pilot' or 'captain'. Everywhere she turned, she expected Don to be there. She called her new co-pilot by his name several times, then promptly burst into hot, embarrassing tears when she realized again he was gone. Vee began to have nightmares of not just Don's death, but the deaths of Todon and Taung once more also. Their ghosts hung heavy upon her every moment both waking and asleep, her wounds being torn open again by Don's death and the inability to explain what happened to both of them after Coruscant. Her erratic behavior got her cut from the gig and let go by the company. Instead of returning home to Mandalore, she made a beeline to 'Shaddaa where the attack happened and Don died. She used what credits she had to stay and obsess over the events, trying to find answers of any kind, but she once more came up empty handed.

Despite the fact, Vee remained upon the moon. Instead of flying, she took odd jobs to pay for her humble lodging and sent whatever extra credits she had back to Mandalore to Drika and Todon. It was mostly construction work that no one else wanted to do. While working with her hands gave her a purpose and did help take her mind off reality, she hated the work. She belonged in the sky, not the dirt. Yet she couldn't bear to fly anymore, not after Don. And so she spent her days working and her evenings drinking until she felt absolutely nothing. She spoke to no one, went no where, and remained in a drunken stupor to keep the ghosts away...

...until work dried up. She made a huge mistake on a site that resulted in an explosion that saw her out of the construction business permanently on the moon. She was lucky that no one was killed, but the company was suing her for the damages. She toyed with the idea of selling her ship, but she just couldn't bring herself to. Instead, she decided to try piloting again. She did a few runs that weren't horrible, but it was no where near the former quality she was known for. Because of it, she didn't have many offers of employment. Desperate, she frequented cantinas every day and night, taking whatever jobs she could, even if it meant acting as a mechanic.

It's that desperation that drove her to jump at the arutii musician's mention of needing a pilot. She quickly made her way to the 'stage', elbowing several patrons to get there before someone else offered their services. Fortunately, no one else seemed to be interested in the man. Vee couldn't really blame them. She had tuned out the music as soon he started (who honestly liked that kind of nonsense?) and by the look of the man, he needed a shower, a shave, and a fresh change of clothes. Men like him were a dime a dozen on a planet such as this, but the more well-known and skilled pilots avoided such cliental. Vee, however, couldn't afford to be picky.

"Hey," Vee said, waving a rigid hand across her slender throat to signal for him to stop playing as he started his next number. "You said you need a pilot? I can take you wherever you're going."

When a small Rodian stepped up, clearly to offer his services too, Vee shot him a glare. "Get lost, Bo-Bo." she snarled, placing her hands upon her hips. Her right hand caressed the blaster it found there. "He's mine, I got here first."

<You should let the man decide, Mando trash.> Bo-Bo retorted in Huttese. His voice was combative, but there was a hint of fear.

Vee snorted. "I'm better looking than you are Bo-Bo...who do you think he's going to pick? Fuck off."

With an angry, yet relenting, mumble the Rodian decided to do just that...although he plopped himself down at a nearby table and kept an eye on Vee and the potential client, just in case he saw a chance of swooping in.

Tossing her long braid behind her, Vee turned back to the man, crossing her arms. "What's the job?"

 

[Galdaart]

Sate remained on the edge of the platform, absently plucking at the odd instrument. Well -- wasn't this one a peach? Most of the patrons hadn't really been bothered one way or the other with the music, and so a lack of it filtering through the background was neither missed nor lamented.

"Depends, Red. What's the ship?" to Bo-Bo: "what about you, little man? what're you flying?"

There was no hint of fear in his voice, and no note of disdain when he used nick-names for those he didn't know. No fear of her weapon or her overtly aggressive stance. Just an acceptance of what was, and what was yet to come.

[member="Vee"]

 

[Vee]

Vee clenched her teeth at the man's nickname for her. 'Red' was what Don called her. It ended up being a term of endearment more than a nickname. She could feel her throat tightening as she shot a warning glance at Bo-Bo who was firmly planted at a table nearby. The Rodian's mouth open as if he was about to speak, but he shut it and shrunk back at the look on the redhead's face.

While Bo-Bo was a decent pilot and didn't mind running his mouth, he wasn't much of a fighter. Especially with Mandos. He had an unusual fear of them, and Vee especially scared him. Let her have this one, he could always take the next. He didn't put it past her to shoot him, even though he didn't have a shred of evidence that she would.

Satisfied that Bo-Bo wouldn't interfere, Vee turned back to the man with narrowed eyes. "My name is Vee." she clarified, hoping he would drop the nickname. "I'm flying a YT-1300. Interested?" His nonchalant attitude was starting to annoy her.

 

[Galdaart]

Sate looked from Rodian to Human, Human to Rodian. Neither of these was the choice he would make, if he had his way. And he did have his way. He had nothing but time, and a decent cred-disc in his pocket that could likely keep him afloat for a couple of weeks worth of being picky about who he chose to potentially save his life. That pilot had better be pretty damn good. Better than that -- better than the very best. When next he spoke, it was after he had looked into the eyes of each to see what was hidden there. His gaze was fell to the Human woman's eyes, and could not depart. Though he spoke to the Rodian, his eyes never left Vee's.

Beat it, BoBo.

Whether the alien left or not, Sate never paid him another thought. He wanted this woman to fail. He needed her to not be the one. He needed something to be wrong, aside from the obvious. And thus, he was likely harsher than he could have been.

1300's too damn big. Too damn slow. Humans, too. Can be gifted pilots, but usually nothing special... Let me see your hands.

If one or both were offered up, Sate would examine them closely, turning them over in his own cracked, calloused, scarred, rough hands. She would see the beginnings of arthritis, evidence of a badly reset thumb at some point in his past, two blackened fingernails on his right hand, and an aged ring that was so tarnished she could barely make out a faint inscription.

There was something behind her eyes. But he tore away his gaze and relaxed his posture -- he only just realized he had been sitting up, inclining his head to meet hers eye-to-eye -- and looked back to the old instrument, re-tuning and noodling away once more.

You'd get us both killed, Red. Run along...

 

[Vee]

Vee's brow furrowed in annoyed confusion as the man's eyes bored into her. His stench became more poignant as he leaned toward her, invading her personal space. It took everything within her not to wrinkle her nose and shy away. The fact his intense gaze did not waver made her uncomfortable. The Mando's temper flared when he announced his poor assessment of her and her ship. She jerked away from him, staunchly refusing her hands as their eye contact broke.

"Fine." she growled out tersely through clenched teeth. "But if you think you can hire better, you're in for a rude awakening. No one else here is going to want to cart your sorry ass around. You smell like bantha shit."

With that hushed declaration, Vee turned on her heel, purposefully passing Bo-Bo on her way back to the bar. The Rodian had been keeping a wary eye on the situation, despite the man's order to kark off. "The guy's an undercover suit." Vee muttered to him, only loud enough for him and a few others nearby to hear. "No way I'm working for him."

It took several minutes for word to get around, but pretty soon all in the bar were shunning the man. They didn't need much proof...no one was willing to risk seeing if the rumor were true or not. When the news reached the owner's ears, he even made a few calls to some of his pals at other establishments to warn them before striding up to the man.

"Time to leave, buddy." the Bothan said with a sneer. Two armed aliens of undetermined species stood behind him menacingly.

Smirking to herself, Vee drowned the rest of her whiskey in one shot and strode out the door. She would wait for the man outside to give her the good news that he changed his mind.

 

[Galdaart]

Sate looked past the Bothan to the two friends he had brought with him. They weren't particularly big, but one had bony protrusions along the outside of his arms and up onto his shoulders, and the other was reptilian of some sort. Sate could not guarantee his chances against either of them. He glanced past the Bothan and his two toughs, looking out to the rest of the bar, and saw a panel of scowls and open hatred.

He sat heavily back on the impromptu stage, setting the old instrument against the wall in a corner within reach. Resignedly, wearily straightening back up to engage with the Bothan, the outlander held his hands out, palms open in a gesture of neutrality and surrender.

Right.

The Bothan was a tall bloke, around six feet, and at Sate's currently seated height, the being's midsection was at about shoulder height, and as the Bothan twisted the hair on his muzzle and opened his mouth to make another suggestion, Sate punched the creature as hard as he could in the genitals, a straight shot from the shoulder. The bar owner doubled over with a silent grimace of pain, and in that instant Sate smashed his head up into the creature's nose. After that...

Outside, it sounded like a small invasion force was moving on the 'Monk's Fist.' There was crashing, splintering, the sound of something wet hitting something heavy, or vice-versa, and glass... so much glass smashing. There were a multitude of sounds that simply made one cringe, like 'Oooh... THAT hurt.' and then, after more than four minutes of this, the front door to the 'Monk's Fist' opened, and Sate Sorenn was bodily thrown into the street. He was not shot, nor was he followed, nor did it even seem a second thought was given to his condition or the trouble that was caused. It was merely over.

He lay in the street for a good few seconds before stirring, rolling over onto his stomach in the gutter, and finally sitting up on his knees. Laying a hand each side of his nose, he made a sudden motion outside of her field of vision, and groaned aloud. He was bloodied, and there was a good gash on his upper left arm that bled freely. At least four people walked past him in the street, paying him no mind.

A minute later, he levered himself up, and started unsteadily down the street, having taken no note of Vee.

 

[Vee]

Vee couldn't help the smirk from growing wider upon her scarred face as she exited Monk's Fist and stepped out into the cool, early evening of Hutta Town. She leaned comfortably against the cantina-front, running her hands over her hips to assure herself of her weapons - a slug on either side of her belt, with her father's energy whip behind the slug on the right - as well as pluck up her package of cigs with the last one contained inside. No sooner had she propped the slender stick between her full lips and slightly tipped her chin down to light up than she heard a ruckus suddenly explode from within Monk's.

The Mando hummed a dark chuckle around her cig before inhaling a long draw, then leisurely expelling a lazy, steady stream of smoke as she pulled the stick away. Just as she expected, the man was tossed out of the cantina, looking worse for wear. Perfect. Vee continued to watch, studying the man as he rallied himself and stood before sauntering like a drunk down the street. Only Vee knew he wasn't drunk. He was injured and, even though he didn't know it, he was without options and in danger.

"You, music man!" Vee called out to him. When she didn't get a response, she sped up until she was by his side, but a little more than a yard away in case he felt better than he looked. "Oy...are you crazy? You should be hiding right about now. Don't you know Grakkus' men will be coming after you? You need to get off world, aruetii."

She casually took another long draw and blew it out while flicking the half-used cig to the side. She had pulled this stunt twice in the past, when she was really desperate for creds. No one was going to touch him now...everyone was too afraid to take on a potential rat or undercover uniform. Once the client realized this, they also realized that staying on the moon might get them killed. If it wasn't Grakkus, it would be someone else. To be accused of such a thing was a kiss of death. Vee was always more than willing to fly them off planet...for double what she would normally charge.

"You also need someone to patch you up...you don't look too good." Vee continued, as if discussing the weather.

 

[Galdaart]

He turned to see her walking marching into frame, his bruised and swollen eye magnifying the effect of the slightly-out-of-focus viewfinder. She was all business, masquerading as concern. She was good... he'd have to hand it to her. If he wasn't just slightly more stubborn (stupid?) than she was giving him credit for, he'd gladly accept her offer, as his ribs were almost certainly bruised, maybe broken. He almost chuckled in spite of himself. Didn't take her long to ruin his chances in this city... maybe this hemisphere of 'Shaddaa... he didn't know local politics well enough to know exactly how wide-spread the word would travel, but he assumed that, at least for the short term, he was dead in the water hereabouts.

And he had a distinct feeling he had her to thank for it. Didn't take rocket science. He had spoken to three beings since arriving, and Bobo didn't seem the type to wield the ban-hammer with such authority. Hellfire and Mother Sun -- it wasn't even a woman scorned... he just told her how it was.

That a fact, Red? Grakkus somebody I should concern myself with, is he? spitting blood at her feet, making her step awkwardly around the crimson projectile Grakkus know where I'm bedding down, or haven't you mentioned that to him yet? Me -- I'm not much for hiding. And I'd have to think twice before having you see to my hurts... generally, I tend to seek out a 'body less inclined to stab me (in the back) when I go lookin' for healing. The stabbing, the healing... don't mix too well. Now... I'd 'ppreciate it if you'd do an about-face and go back to wherever you came from, so I don't have to stab you in the throat.

 

[Vee]

Vee merely shrugged, unphased by his attitude. "Fine by me..." she responded nonchalantly. "I'll be at docking bay 204-5C if you change your mind." She offered a weighted pause. "Well, if you have time to change it, that is." For Vee knew that no one was going to help patch him up, and no one would be driving or flying him anywhere. A bounty had probably already been put out on him, to bring him before the Hutt who ruled the town. Also the Hutt who very likely put the rest of the moon on notice.

With that she turned on her booted heel and made her way to 'Traycn', the ship that the man deemed was too slow for him. If he came, he came...if he didn't, he didn't. She didn't have anything to lose by smearing his name. He, on the other hand, would most likely be dead or captured by the time morning came. It was no skin off her nose.

As she sat down heavily in the pilots seat, Vee stared out into the empty docking bay. How long had she been upon this miserable moon now? Two years. Two long, thankless years. With a sigh, she leaned her head back upon the seat, staring upward. She knew she should leave, go be with Drika and Todon, find better work, live a better life that was waiting for her on Mandalore. But every time she felt she could leave, she just couldn't bring herself to. It felt too much like leaving Don behind, like leaving the unknown of what happened behind. She had been missing for an entire year, as had Don. What happened?

It was a question that constantly haunted her, and perhaps always would.

 

[Galdaart]

He watched her go, the pain in his ribs nearly doubling him over. He stood there in the street a moment, a thin string of bile from the pain in his guts dangling from his split bottom lip. queen. Wasn't good enough he told her the truth, she had to mark him. Not that he was overly afraid of the death mark or a hit. He'd talked his way out of worse. And he'd been bested by far better than her before. She'd get hers... certainly not today. Maybe not tomorrow... but it was coming.

Seven hours later...

He hadn't made it far. He wasn't even sure what their names were, but they'd caught him -- four of 'em, beat him down (again -- not that it took much to beat him to submission, the state he was already in) and brought him before a local under-boss, by the looks of it. Twi going by the name of Komar. After a while, you forget about bones breaking, and all the small things. They're going to take the small things. You just hold tight to that little piece at the centre.

Who was I working for? Where was I heading? Ties to other rival gangs, hutts, syndicates, organizations... most of whom Sate had never heard of.

After a while (no telling really how long...) unconsciousness was a welcome shroud. Another indeterminate time later, he was brought around for a second battery of questions, which seemed to be going along the same lines as the first. Gaining no traction and taking the same beatings, for the same unanswered, impossible to answer questions was quite literally going to be the death of him, and so finally, in a voice almost inaudible through busted lips and broken teeth, he croaked a single word.

Tydirium.

The latest salvo of blows paused before it began. For a moment all Sate could hear was the plat, plat, plat of blood dripping freely on the floor, and then the Trando, not fully comprehending what he had said the first time, hissed a threat. Sate repeated.

Tydirium. Your master on the lookout for quick cash? I'm your meal ticket, boys. Tydirium. Loads of it. You let me see your boss, I can get it to him. And only him.

 

[Vee]

Vee ran. He was just ahead of her, she knew it. The fog would part only enough to catch a glimpse of him. It was barely enough to know which direction to pursue. Sweat poured down her face as she ran as fast as she could, lungs burning, mind in a frenzy to reach him. Her hand whipped out to grab his arm, it was close, so close...yet she caught nothing but air...

Vee gasped as she flew up to a vertical, seated position in the pilot's seat. Her heart raced wildly and a sweat had broken out upon her skin. Mind still panicked, slowly she realized where she was. Shit, when did she fall asleep?

The dreams were so real. They started shortly after she realized Don was missing and, while they didn't occur every evening as they used to, were still jarring. Jarring and realistic. If only she could catch him, catch him just once...

Vee ran her hands down her face, stretching her features out almost comically with a groan before cracking her neck. What time was it? Very early morning. With a heavy sigh, she forced herself to stand and rolled her shoulders back. She avoided closing her eyes, even though the fatigue beckoned to do so. She was too afraid of what she might see if she did.

She scoured her ship over once, but there was no sign of the injured, potential client, nor was there any sign that he had dropped by. That genuinely surprised her. Was it possible that someone else was willing to take him off planet? She had gone undetected by the power that be twice before, she supposed it wasn't too crazy that someone else could have a similar idea or be desperate enough and go unnoticed hauling around a marked man.

Standing on the open ramp of her ship, looking out into the empty bay, the redhead sighed again as she reached for a cig from her back pocket. Cursing with the realization that she was out, she ran her slender fingers through her now-messy braid, anger flaring with the reminder of her poor situation. She needed to eat soon and she had just enough for perhaps one meager meal before she was reduced to the simple, tasteless shit of rations she kept onboard for emergencies.

Go home. the voice in her head pressured her. Stop fighting this and get on with your life.

It was so tempting to give into that voice. She could go home. Find a decent job, not have to worry about when she'd be able to eat next, or living out of her ship. Even the thought was comforting. She could meet someone, someone simple who did unexciting, simple work. Someone who wasn't in immediate danger of being killed.

But then she thought of how boring that would be. Vee thought about how she would always wonder what would have happened if she'd stuck around 'Shadda.

Get yourself killed, that's what. the voice persisted. It's not like you're making any headway on-

"Shut the fuck up." Vee muttered under her breath.

Mercifully, the voice did.

Teeth clenched, Vee turned on her heel and strode back up the ramp, punching one of the walls uselessly in frustration as she made her way back to the cockpit..

 

[Galdaart]

It wasn't long after her return to the flight deck of the 'Tracyn' that Vee received a wave on her personal comm unit. T'oran the Hutt's henchman / lap dog, Reeken. In the scant moments she might take to consider answering such a vile call (Ree is a known -- though 'legal' sex offender and unrepentant creep) there is a loud, metallic banging at her landing ramp. Exterior cameras would reveal Ree -- a Rodian -- holding his comm unit to his ear, accompanied by a Red Nikto, and a male Duros. Moments after she checks the exterior viewer, the viewfinder is filled with Ree's segmented eye, looking back at her in minute detail. He pulls back to wave at the camera, seemingly knowing that she's aboard (though that's impossible, isn't it?)

Reeken is wearing his usual assortment of knives and too-large-for-his-frame heavy blaster pistol, worn low on the right hip. His detachment of thuggery were likewise well-equipped, the Duros carrying no less than four blasters of varying sizes and makes -- three in proper holsters, on stuffed into a belt, and the Nikto carrying some sort of pole-arm, and a blaster rifle she couldn't identify slung behind his back. It seemed they were here for business, not pleasure.

Anybody hooooome?

 

[Vee]

Vee nonchalently glanced at her video feed as she poised herself to fall back into the pilot chair. A flash of movement on the feed made her do a double-take. She leaned into the screen, blue-green eyes squinting at the video for several heartbeats before realizing who it was.

Fuck.

Though Vee had never met Ree, she knew who he was. Everyone in town did. A quick study of what they were packing gave her the uneasy feeling that their visit wasn't meant to be pleasant. Her mind raced as to why he and his posse would visit her. She had made it a point to stay out of Hutt business. She saw what happened to those who dealt with the heavy-hitting cartels and she wanted none of it. Her face rearranged into a scowl at the banging noise from the ramp as she asked herself, what would Don do?

Don would go out there and hand them their asses, she was positive. Or charm the pants off them. Neither of those were her strong suit. She was a good shot and she could wield her father's neuronic whip against dragons like no one's business, but she never had to pull the whip out otherwise; it simply rested on her hip as a precaution in parts like these.

She briefly considered flying off, but that would only encourage pursuit. The mando would have to leave the moon permanently and that wasn't feasible in her mind. Taking a deep breath, she decided to treat them like she would anyone else. Carefully and with a certain amount of greedy naivete. If that didn't work, well...

She bound to the entrance and halfway down the ramp with what she hoped looked like an easy, eager smile. "Hey there fellas, looking for a ride? Best pilot on the moon right here, I can take you anywhere you wanna go." She casually placed her hands upon her hips, hoping to looked relaxed while keeping her weapons within reach. "If it's in system, I can give you a discount." she continued. She half-shrugged. "I'm the only one I know who'll do that." She forced her smile to boarden. "Who sent you? It was Dean, wasn't it? Damn motherfucker..." She laughed, but it came off darker than she intended.

 

[Galdaart]

The Rodian looked her up and down lasciviously, not even bothering to hide his obvious intent. Long fingers clenched into fists involuntarily, and he took a single step toward her, before some directive or reminder asserted itself and he regained a form of composure.

I am Reeken. This indicating the Nikto is Farun, and this indicating the Duros is Fallun. No relation... hehehe. Yes... a ride. We are looking for a ride... and I have no doubt you are the best. You will accompany us to see Lord T'oran. He has a job for you, pilot.

In the back of his mind, the Rodian has only the information given him by Sate to go on: docking bay number and simple description of the humanoid. But this is undoubtedly the one he spoke of, and if she gave any resistance, well... Lord T'oran didn't specify what condition she should arrive in.

 

[Vee]

Vee was so nervous, she failed to comprehend what Ree's expression and hand motions meant. At his words, however, relief momentarily washed over her. Suspicion followed. At first she thought this might be a trap, but why? If they wanted to take her out, they could easily attempt to do so right then and there. Why try to lure her away? But if it truly was a job the Hutt wanted, why come to her? She was nobody, surely there must be others more reputible than herself.

She glanced over every single one of them in cautious disbelief, the pause heavy in the air. "Alright then..." she said slowly, after noticing their expressions didn't change. "Let me lock down the ship and we'll be on our way. You're welcome to come on board to wait if you like."

Before anyone could answer, she turned on her heel and strode purposefully back up the ramp. She kept the cameras rolling and set them to record the feed...just in case. Ensuring everything was as it should be, she made her way back, nodding at Ree stiffly in confirmation. "I'll follow you."

Vee noticed Ree's twitching again and, this time, realized what it meant. With a sigh and eye roll, she put up the ramp and locked it before following them out into the early morning, the pale pink, yellow and orange light already struggling to break through the darkness. She'd almost forgotten Ree's reputation among the female population. The fact he wasn't trying to molest her was further proof in her mind that the job was genuine.

 

[Galdaart]

She needn't have gone to all the trouble of tidying up... these guests didn't mind if the place was a little messy. After walking back into the ship to button things up, the first time she turned around she'd find Reeken directly behind her, the other two a few paces behind. As was his usual, unnerving habit, his eyes bored into her, undressing her visually.

in heavily-accented basic you should show me your cabin sometime... I'm certain you'd never see it the same afterwards... he reached up and took hold of her left arm, pulling her toward him, his strength unexpected for such a slight being.

Over his shoulder, Fallun coughed, and Reeken immediately spun and dressed him down with a stream of angry Rodese, before turning back, slightly more formally, to face Vee. When next he spoke, there was disappointment in his voice, as if he had been denied. Lord T'oran says you should bring your ship. The job begins immediately, and will involve your piloting skills, and your vessel, for which you'll be well-paid. I have the coordinates... though you likely already know where the Lord's palace is.

A heavy, awkward silence descended, and Reeken broke it by ordering the other two out of the room. The Nikto immediately complied, but Fallun hesitated, resulting in an immediate, violent outburst from Reeken. He lashed out, striking the Duros across the face and drawing the mammoth pistol, brandishing it menacingly (though a practiced eye would note this was mostly for show.) At length, the Duros relented and left the room. At this, the Rodian turned, all 'charm' once more, to face Vee.

Alone at last...

 

[Vee]

Vee's brows shot up at Ree's behavior as her mind raced to find a solution and she fought against her body's desire to assault the Rodian. Thankfully, the Duros didn't approve. That was interesting. If she was going to find support against Ree, it would be Fallun. That was important. When Ree switched back to business, the Mandalorian was hopeful that the dispute was resolved and he would stick to the matter at hand. She had taken a few steps back from Ree after he released her and she was glad she had due to the next series of events.

At Ree backhanding the Duros, Vee immediately unholstered her slug off her right hip and aimed it at Ree's back while he brandished his own weapon. She briefly caught Falluns eye who clearly noticed Vee behind Ree with her own weapon ready to fire...yet he did nothing to warn the Rodian. While she didn't want to cause problems with the Hutts, she knew that as soon as she and Reeken were alone, she would be sexually (and probably violently) assaulted. That wouldn't do. She had the upper hand at this moment, she may not have another chance.

So before the Duros could leave, she pulled the trigger. With a dull thud, Reekens body fell to the floor. Falluns own brows rose, looking first down at his comrades body, then up to Vee. The redhead froze momentarily in shock of her own actions, despite knowing the necessity. The Duros movement startled her back to reality as he took a step back towards the exit. She re-positioned the gun to point at Fallun, her face hardening slightly. "Reeken was bad news. You and I both know it." she said, surprised with how deadly calm her voice sounded. "T'oran doesn't need to know exactly what happened here. We all win."

Fallun said nothing, continuing to inch towards the exit instead. It was in that moment Vee realized she would have to kill him too. It was naive to think that he would support her to this extent. He was a loose end.

Farun, alerted at the sound of gun-fire, was just reentering when Vee pulled the trigger on the Duros, quickly aiming it at the bewildered Niko as the Falluns body hit the floor. "What the-" But he didn't get to finish his sentence, or pull out his weapon. His body quickly dropped to the floor beside his buddies as Vee pulled the trigger a third time. By that point, Reeken had begun to stir.

Clenching her jaw, Vee stepped forward, slug now pointed at Reeken's head. She had already committed herself, she couldn't turn back now. Standing over him, she put a bullet in his skull before moving onto the Duros and Nikto to give them the same treatment. She stood still as a statue for several moments in the deafening silence that followed, gazing down at her victims in shock at how quickly the encounter had escalated.

Don would have done it. Don would have wanted you alive. Drika and Todon too. You did the right thing. You defended yourself. the voice said. Dump the bodies and pretend they left you with the coordinates and job offer.

With a deep breath, Vee sprung into action. She would take the Tracyn and dump the bodies in a remote location. Destroy her gun. Wipe down the room. Go to T'orans. An hour later, she had completed her first four tasks and was standing under a scalding hot shower, amazed at how little she felt. She had seen people be killed many times, but had never killed anything other than a dragon before herself. Had she been that desensitized by the life on this planet? She pushed the darkened, wet hair out of her eyes. It was self defense. she told herself. It was self defense, and they were bad guys.

But would she still go to T'orans? She and the Hutts posse couldn't go missing. She had to go. Less than 30 minutes later, she was landing at the Hutts palace.

 

[Galdaart]

There were two beings who met her on the expansive landing pad -- big enough to land a bulk freighter, or a dozen other YT-1300's. The first was a PD-series protocol droid, heavily weather-beaten and its joints nearly frozen with atrophy. The other was a humanoid man in black from head to toe. He approached as the craft was still settling on the pad.

The structure behind the pair moving toward the nose of her ship was grand, but shabby. Certainly, someone well-shod had spent a significant amount of money and time in its construction... several centuries ago. Now, the structure seems fortress-like, but shabby. There appear to be areas without electricity, and whole areas appear possibly disused, judging from broken windows, and in more than one place, what appears to be fire damage. Maybe they just throw a hall of a party...

As the landing platform lowered, the pair waited at the base of the ramp for the occupants to show themselves. When Vee appeared, there was a momentary pause of uncertainty, as if the man had expected more (Ree?)

Greetings. I am Mirrac Iltec, translator and administrator for Lord T'oran Yash. This is PB-076, my adjutant. You must be the pilot we have been expecting... I'm afraid I don't know your name, Ms... ?

He glanced back up the ramp expectantly. The question is spoken partly to the pilot, but also hangs in the air, as if no answer could possibly explain, and he knows it.

Did Mr. Reeken and his associates not... accompany you? There were explicit instructions...

 

[Vee]

Vee found the palace without any trouble and immediately landed where directed. Her palms were cold and clammy with anxiety, her heart racing in fear that they would somehow find out what she did to Reeken and the others. It didn't happen, it never happened. Vee told herself as she landed the Tracyn. They came, told me about the job, then they left. I came straight here. That's what happened...that's all that happened.

The Tracyn landed gracefully, in spite of its pilots nerves. Outside the cockpit window the Mando could see a protocol droid and a humanoid emerge from the nearly ruinous building the Hutt Lord called his palace. The early morning sunlight hardly reflected off the droid's seemingly dirty plating as it puttered stiffly forward, further emphasizing the lack of care of T'oran gave his belongings. But no guards, and no weapons that she could discern. That was good...

She took a deep breath and exhaled with a mumble as she stood, straightening her fresh, dark green tunic. "Here goes nothing..." With a confidence and calm she didn't feel, Vee sauntered down the ramp.

"Vee...just Vee." she said stiffly in response to Mirrac as she reached the bottom of the ramp. She rested her gloved hands on her hips and jut out her left hip as she sized up the administrator. "And no, all Reeken told me was that Lord T'oran needed me to pilot and told me to come over. I offered them a ride with me, but they said they had somewhere else to be."