First Reply Smuggling Heinite Across the Republic

[Omenon]

Dark Jedi of Mirial
" Wᴇ ʟɪᴠᴇ ᴏʀ ᴡᴇ ᴅɪᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪs ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ "

"Tell the senator his shipment will arrive smelling like bantha piss if you don't shut that damn compressor." Omenon's voice was a blade, sharp enough to slice through the rattling hum of the freighter's failing life support. Her green fingers tightened around the ship's yoke, knuckles pale beneath the intricate black tattoos that coiled up her arms.

The cockpit smelled of burnt wiring and the metallic tang of Heinite serum leaking somewhere in the cargo hold.

Outside the viewport, the hyperspace tunnel bled into streaks of blue-white nausea, the only light in the cramped interior. The freighter, old, unmarked, and held together by spite, shuddered as it fought the pull of realspace. Tynna's orbital control would be hailing them soon, and Omenon had no intention of sounding polite.

The Mirialan's golden eyes flicked to the navigation console, where a single red light pulsed like a dying heartbeat. Someone had tampered with the stabilizers. The copilot's seat creaked as her companion, a scarred Duros with a perpetually sour expression, leaned forward to smack the dashboard.

"If we burn up on entry, I'm billing the senator for my funeral." His voice was dry, but his long fingers moved fast over the controls, rerouting power from nonessentials. The ship groaned in protest, its hull plates vibrating like a struck gong.

Omenon didn't answer. Her attention was on the weight pressing against her ribs, not fear, but the coiled presence of the dark side, waiting. The serum in the hold wasn't just cargo. It was a slow knife aimed at the spine of some unlucky planet's government, with the intention of spreading it across the High Republic while they were distracted with other matters.

Senator Monaray Dod had chosen her to wield this weapon, though she might have to ask for a refund given the state of her damaged freighter. Granted she had stolen it from some poor sap on Nar Shaddaa but that was beside the point, it wasn't easy for a Dark Jedi to get paid in the galaxy's current climate.

The freighter lurched violently as it hit atmosphere, and Omenon bared her teeth. Let Tynna or the High Republic try to stop her.

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[Arcadian]

SMUGGLING HEINITE ACROSS THE REPUBLIC

Flooding the High Republic with a deadly, hyper-addictive narcotic while their eyes and ears were focused elsewhere was not a plan of Arcadian's, but it was so grimy a move that it may as well have been.

As he aged, the withering Ubese found it increasingly tedious to fight with his hands. The recoil from a blaster ached his knuckles in a way that only a few lines of spice could numb for the rest of the evening. His damaged lungs struggled to breathe when he drew a blade. He was once a feared pirate, the scourge of League space and a threat to Jedi and Sith alike. He still was, he supposed. Just a threat of a different kind.

The kind that moved mountains with a few good words aimed at the right ears. That was Arcadian's calling now, as majordomo to the Underlord of Black Sun.

Though, his duties rarely dragged him outside of Hutt Space.

On Tynna, Cade's task was simple: make contact with a Dark Jedi by the name of Omenon , ensure the product had survived its journey, and lay groundwork for what would become a very lucrative—and vengeful—plot against the Republic. He awaited she and her crew at a forested dead drop not far from Lutris, along with a small cadre of Black Sun Guard and pirated battle droids.

Through his mono-lens, Cade's eyes were trained on the sky. He watched carefully for a sign of Omenon's arrival.

Tags: Omenon​

 

[Omenon]

Dark Jedi of Mirial
" Wᴇ ʟɪᴠᴇ ᴏʀ ᴡᴇ ᴅɪᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪs ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ "
Arcadian

She had tempted fate and fate had answered it seemed.

The Duros cursed beside her as the stabilizers gave out entirely, and suddenly the ship wasn't flying so much as falling, its nose tipping towards the planet's surface with the groan of protesting metal.

Through the viewport, the sky bled from the sickly yellow of Tynna's upper atmosphere, then deepened into the murky greens and browns of the surface. Trees whipped past in a blur, close enough that both of them could smell the damp rot of the forest through the ship's failing filters.

The scent mingled with the acrid sting of burning circuits and the sweet, cloying musk of Heinite serum, thick enough now to coat the back of her throat. Impact came quicker than expected as the ship crumpled around them, the hull shrieking as it tore through the canopy and then silence or near enough. The distant hiss of escaping coolant, the groan of settling wreckage.

She spat a mouthful of blood onto the cracked console and shoved herself free of the pilot's chair, her armored attire snagging on twisted metal. The Duros was already moving, kicking open the warped hatch with a grunt.

Sunlight speared through the opening, harsh and unfiltered, painting the mangled interior in stripes of gold and shadow. Outside, the air was thick with the scent of crushed foliage and wet earth. The freighter had carved a ragged scar through the forest, its hull half-buried in the mud of a shallow riverbank.

Somewhere beyond the trees, the distant hum of speeder traffic suggested that Lutris wasn't far. Her gaze shifted from the ship's wreckage to the damaged crates containing the shipment, prying one open to assess the state of the goods. "Luckily, we received half of our payment upfront. These tubes are utterly ruined, leaking like a wet wookiee on Scarif."

Omenon inhaled deeply and stretched her neck, feeling the aftermath of the crash weigh heavily on her. The Duros, his blue skin smeared with grime, tossed a bent panel aside with a loud clatter. "The contact is supposed to meet us somewhere in this damp forest. Let's hope they're still interested in making a deal after this disaster."

She remained silent, stepping over the debris toward the riverbank with programmed Hoversled following behind. The water flowed dark and murky, filled with silt from the crash, its surface occasionally disturbed by swirling sediment. The air was thick with the scent of wet moss and crushed ferns, mixed with the acrid smell of leaking fuel. Above, a flock of winged creatures erupted from the treetops, their cries sharp and frantic.

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[Arcadian]

SMUGGLING HEINITE ACROSS THE REPUBLIC

Case saw the ship, but his lips had no time to smile before he noticed it was approaching Tynna’s canopies far too quickly for a proper landing. It was difficult to say from the ground, but the majordomo was confident they’d lost control of the vessel.

“That’s… not good,” he grumbled. The voice modulator in his helmet did its best to convey what was naturally a very deep, scratchy voice that cracked like salt flats when hear aloud.

A pair of enforcers exchanged glances behind their own closed-face helmets, before one dared to ask, “Think they’ll make it?”

A half-moment later, Omenon’s ship tore through the trees and filled the forest with the sound of metal bending and breaking. There was no explosion or plumes of smoke, but neither observation instilled Arcadian with much confidence. He sighed, turned, and stepped by the guards. They rotated themselves to see where he was going; toward the syndicate shuttle, with its landing ramp still extended.

“What’s the plan?” one asked.

“No way they survived,” the other dismissed.

Cade waved them both off with a frustrated hand.

“Both of you, shut up and take a bike,” the Ubese ordered. The rack had enough Quickfires for a small patrol to run scouting missions.

He didn’t need them to be alive. He needed that serum to be intact. His helmeted head turned the direction of the capital, eyes locked on the forest that separated the dead drop from society. Considering their proximity, it’d only be a matter of time before a few badges or some nosy locals came looking for the ship.

Dead or alive, the clock was ticking.

Tags: Omenon​

 

[Omenon]

Dark Jedi of Mirial
" Wᴇ ʟɪᴠᴇ ᴏʀ ᴡᴇ ᴅɪᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪs ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ "
Arcadian

Omenon spotted a fallen log, half-submerged near the bank with its bark slick with some form of unknown algae. She climbed onto it with effortless grace, balancing on the damp surface despite her boots sliding slightly. Closing her golden eyes, she reached out to access the currents of the Force on the planet or tried to.

A dull ache pulsed behind her temples, the crash of the freighter still pounding her senses like taking a full beating from a professional shock boxer. The world around her remained stubbornly silent, no flicker of a person's presence nor whispers of intent. Just the rustle of leaves and the distant hum of Lutris increasingly expanding speeder population.

"Well?" The Duros crossed his arms, leaning against the Hoversled beside him with a vacant expression. "Any grand revelations, Master Jedi? Or are we just admiring the scenery?" His tone was enough to dry up the river they were currently standing on. Her fingers twitched with mild irritation at the title of Jedi Master.

The last thing she wanted was to don a ridiculous robe and be compelled to perform Jedi Rocks for an captivating audience of Padawans. Without opening her eyes, she stretched out a hand towards him. The Force responded sluggishly, but it was enough.

A sharp push was all that was needed to send him stumbling forward from the hoversled with a startled curse. He hit the raging water with a satisfying splash, his blue head surfacing a moment later, dripping river filth and beyond irritated at having to spend credits on buying another outfit once they completed this particular exchange.

"You kriffing," He hauled himself onto the bank, shaking water from his sleeves. "Real mature."

Omenon finally opened her eyes, watching him with detached amusement. "If you're going to question my credentials," she said, flicking a droplet of river water off her sleeve, "do it from a safe distance." Her gaze drifted back to the treeline. The shipment was half-ruined, the contacts were nowhere to be sensed, and her head still throbbed.

But the Duros' scowl was almost worth it.

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[Arcadian]

SMUGGLING HEINITE ACROSS THE REPUBLIC

Quickfires were anything but subtle. They were meant to be quick, after all. Luckily for Cade and his men, there was a greater need for expediency than discretion now. His boot pressed the pedal nearly as far as it could go and only let up when a thicket or large tree blocked his path. With a flick of the bike’s handlebars, he weaved around the natural landscape like a serpent writhing through the forest.

Arcadian’s sensors were struggling to discern forest life from the crew he sought, so he used the thin plume of smoke from the distant wreckage to educate his path. Eventually, they came upon a river. Omenon would hear the Quickfires approaching before Cade could spot her, but when he did, he raised his hand in a symbolic gesture to identify himself as friendly. Hopefully she was versed enough in the rituals of the Underworld to understand his meaning.

Assuming they do not open fire or flee, Cade’s team would cross the river a short distance away, then approach. He noted the hoversled and felt a small amount of relief wash over his mind. There was always the possibility that the sled was missing part of the shipment—or that there was no shipment and he were being ambushed.

He remained stoic, visibly unbothered by the possibilities as he drew nearer to the Mirialan and Duros.

“Greetings,” Cade finally rasped.

“Welcome to Tynna.”

Tags: Omenon​

 

[Omenon]

Dark Jedi of Mirial
" Wᴇ ʟɪᴠᴇ ᴏʀ ᴡᴇ ᴅɪᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪs ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ "
Arcadian

The distant roar of engines cut through the forest's rather ambient noise, a sound like tearing metal with just an afterthought of backburner injecting from the repulsorlifts. Omenon was moving before the first syllable left her companion's mouth, her boots slipping off the algae-slick log as she dropped low beside the hoversled.

Mud squelched under her knees, the riverbank's dampness seeping through her protective robes. The Duros was already pressed behind a fallen tree, blaster drawn, his blue fingers tense around the grip.

"Great. If crashing here wasn't bad enough. Here comes the equivalent of a swoop circuit judging by that noise. I could blast the youngsters as they come by." Omenon ignored him for the moment as her senses strained against the throbbing pressure in her skull, forcing herself to parse the approaching sound through her eyes as they were drawn to something moving rapidly between the trees.

Sunlight shimmered on the chrome finish as the leader's speeder, transporting Arcadian , gradually decelerated to a slow crawl by the riverbank on the opposite side, flanked by what appeared to be guardsmen. They looked like a tough crowd, heavily armed with those speeders, clearly not the local riffraff from this area.

Smoke from the wreckage spiraled upward like a beacon, and it was obvious that it had attracted their attention. She was on the verge of grabbing her heavy blaster pistol at her side, but the Ubese, wearing a reinforced breather mask, raised a hand in a universal Underworld sign to indicate they should stand down.

Omenon remained in her crouched position.

"Fine greeting, you might as well have alerted the planetary police with those rat-rods." she spat, her voice cutting through the noise of the engines, laced with annoyance. The tattoos on her arms darkened in response to her irritation. "We're engaged in smuggling, not running a swoop rally."

 

[Arcadian]

SMUGGLING HEINITE ACROSS THE REPUBLIC

“Yes,” the Ubese chortled, “because crashing a freighter outside the capital is far less conspicuous.”

He helmeted head tilted toward the hoversled as he eyed its cargo, wondering how much had survived the smuggler’s graceful descent.

“You have what we came for?” Cade asked. He swung his legs off the idling speederbike, which sat much quieter than running at full speed.

He approached with modest caution, still unsure of Omenon’s crew yet eager to make the exchange and bid farewell to the Tynnan wilderness. A brave hand reached for the sled and patted a crate. The syndicate would soon enjoy a quiet victory, of all went according to plan.

Tags: Omenon​

 

[Omenon]

Dark Jedi of Mirial
" Wᴇ ʟɪᴠᴇ ᴏʀ ᴡᴇ ᴅɪᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪs ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ "
Arcadian

Her Duros companion remained behind cover, blaster still in hand but pointed downwards in a non-threatening manner now that there was some assurance that these low-lifes were friendly. However, one could never be too cautious, as Omenon sensed his own doubt, aware that he didn't trust the guardsmen surrounding the speeders and definitely had no faith in the Ubese's relaxed demeanor regarding their crashed operation here.

Omenon gradually stood up from her crouch, mud sticking to her knees as she straightened herself. Each movement was deliberate as her boots secured their grip on the mossy ground of the forest. Her hand stayed close to her blaster, fingers tapping lightly against the well-worn grip before finally coming to rest.

"From what I've heard, starships crashing is normal in this chaotic galaxy" she responded, her face appearing to slightly twist with a blend of annoyance and caution, expecting the arrival of the planetary police at any moment. As entertaining as it might be to dash through the forest shouting curses as blaster bolts whizzed by, she preferred to keep a low profile in the smuggling business.

"Touch it again without permission and you'll be counting fingers on one hand." As if crashing on this high and mighty Republic Planet wasn't bad enough, now they had to contend with a criminal whose fingers were smudging his prints all over the shipment. Had this man or what they presumed to be a man ever heard of analysis droids?

A single data-swipe of those fingerprints could easily reveal their identities, and it didn't require a genius to realize that some individuals here had bounties and with the city not that far away, easy payday. The headache still throbbed behind her eyes, which explained her less than pleasant mood at the moment.

"Half the shipment burned in the crash when the nav system decided to throw a tantrum. What's left is intact, but you're getting maybe sixty percent of what was promised." She moved toward the hoversled with deliberate steps, each footfall squelching in the soft earth. She positioned herself between Arcadian and the cargo, her shadow falling across the nearest crate.

Her fingers found the release mechanism, the magnetic lock disengaging with a sharp click that seemed too loud in the forest's humid stillness. The lid popped open with a hiss of pressurized air. Inside, nestled in impact foam that had turned slightly gray from heat exposure, rows of sealed cylinders filled with Heinite serum glinted in the filtered forest light.