Bohatei Chorva
Elroodian Escapee
Location // Middle Rim
Participants //
Ijam'cahi
With the smell of burning electronics in his nose and the whining chirps of his controls ringing against his eardrums, Bohatei curses his luck.
With his employers having gone under, there wasn't a surplus of reputable work for him anymore. Instead, he had taken to doing work in the Middle Rim with various different colonies. It wasn't too different to what he did before, ferrying resources and supplies from one city to another. Of course, no longer having any real reputation with a company that exists had complicated the matter slightly.
Especially when it came to security.
Having been midway through his journey to Corellia with a supply of Durasteel for a manufacturer, the Zabrak had the misfortune of being caught by surprise by a group of pirates. What shortly followed was nothing short of a one-sided beatdown, the group having been sufficiently beat back to warrant a retreat.
Not without making off with a good third of the shipment, however.
The Contact V floats through empty space, it's previously radiant engines now darkened and smoking. The top left of the hull is ripped open, twisted and sparking metal revealing the magnetically locked cargo within. The rotating turret on the top of the vessel had only one cannon remaining, the other having been damaged and blown apart.
Sitting in the cockpit of his vessel, Bohatei fiddles with the controls before him. Various red lights are flashing, alerting him to numerous malfunctions and damage reports across the Ghtroc freighter that now drifts. Taking care of his damaged reactor first, the Zabrak flicks a couple safety switches to kill all ongoing reactions and to switch to his batteries.
He then makes an effort to seal all ruptured rooms, sealing off the first cargo bay and rear of the vessel. His side of the ship, thankfully, remains secure and pressurized.
Now, for the hard part.
A distress beacon comes to life, transmitting on what channels Bohatei could manage to reach.
"This is the Contact V. Requesting any --ai----e vessels to respond. I am cu--entl- dead in space. Requesting immed-at- assistance. Please respond."
The message repeats.
The message eventually reaches a certain Twi'lek's freighter.
Participants //

With the smell of burning electronics in his nose and the whining chirps of his controls ringing against his eardrums, Bohatei curses his luck.
With his employers having gone under, there wasn't a surplus of reputable work for him anymore. Instead, he had taken to doing work in the Middle Rim with various different colonies. It wasn't too different to what he did before, ferrying resources and supplies from one city to another. Of course, no longer having any real reputation with a company that exists had complicated the matter slightly.
Especially when it came to security.
Having been midway through his journey to Corellia with a supply of Durasteel for a manufacturer, the Zabrak had the misfortune of being caught by surprise by a group of pirates. What shortly followed was nothing short of a one-sided beatdown, the group having been sufficiently beat back to warrant a retreat.
Not without making off with a good third of the shipment, however.
The Contact V floats through empty space, it's previously radiant engines now darkened and smoking. The top left of the hull is ripped open, twisted and sparking metal revealing the magnetically locked cargo within. The rotating turret on the top of the vessel had only one cannon remaining, the other having been damaged and blown apart.
Sitting in the cockpit of his vessel, Bohatei fiddles with the controls before him. Various red lights are flashing, alerting him to numerous malfunctions and damage reports across the Ghtroc freighter that now drifts. Taking care of his damaged reactor first, the Zabrak flicks a couple safety switches to kill all ongoing reactions and to switch to his batteries.
He then makes an effort to seal all ruptured rooms, sealing off the first cargo bay and rear of the vessel. His side of the ship, thankfully, remains secure and pressurized.
Now, for the hard part.
A distress beacon comes to life, transmitting on what channels Bohatei could manage to reach.
"This is the Contact V. Requesting any --ai----e vessels to respond. I am cu--entl- dead in space. Requesting immed-at- assistance. Please respond."
The message repeats.
The message eventually reaches a certain Twi'lek's freighter.