A nearly powered down freighter slowly unloaded crate after crate out of a cargo bay door that seemed to occasionally... twitch. Things were not going as planned, or at least hoped. A half a dozen silent alarms were going off and on in front of the pilot as three computers of different origin attempted talk to each other and give orders. Three separate salvaged freighters wielded together like a jigsaw puzzle in which the pieces did not want to fit together. A quick visual inspection was enough to make any real merchant or fighter patrol go puzzled, but it was all well disguised by completely legitimate licensing attached to the pilot's computer.
All in all it was ugly, messy and very, very dangerous. However the pay day? That was making the risk worth taking.
Normally he'd have used his own ship with a false registration on a job like this, but the risks were too great. Instead they'd quite literally taken parts from three separate ships floating in space that couldn't be traced back to anyone but some shipping company who'd lost their freighter somewhere in the darkness of space about a month ago. Likely enough they didn't even know the ship had been hit by an electrical failure and vented out into space.
Something it as still continuously trying to tell one of the cargo lifts to do. Luckily it didn't speak the same programming language as the cargo hold's system so instead of dying they'd just dealt with a dozen off and on audible alarms. It had shaken, shimmied and stuttered all the way to Korriban but they were here now and the job basically complete.
Now they just needed to get off the damn planet alive.
"Alright, Pops, can we get this engine fired back up t-"
His words froze in his mouth as the screams of a TIE fighters' engines came in from the distance. He wanted to panic for a moment but stopped himself short. It's a Sith world, they could simply be a patrol. No reason to panic. Yet.
"Pops, engines?"The crisp old voice came in clear from his communicator, calm and sure despite the devastating news it delivered. "I'm not sure, Skipper, I think, yes, I think the Nav computer is under attack by one of the other systems. I can't seem to get anything fired up through the system. I'll need you to do it manually." A long pause came across as Crow dropped one of his last cases and began to turn back into the ship. "I wouldn't start it now though. The first one to lift off is going to look mighty suspicious to those fighters."Feth. The old man was right of course, but Crow didn't have to like it. Looking back at the three crates left in his hold he pointed them out to the prisoners and their organizers who's eyes were now twitching towards the sky. "Alright, friends, last three are there, feel free to grab them!" With that he began his scramble towards the interior of the ship when he heard the first sounds of fighting in the air followed by the explosion of a TIE fighter turning into a fireball.
So much for just dropping cargo and leaving, this place was already turning into a battlefield.
It changed nothing but the urgency of his task though as he ran into guts of the ship and began manually activating systems. After a few moments he felt the ship shudder into life the audible alarms again with their annoying nag that now was almost a relief. Now he just had to close the cargo bay and they could get out of there.
That was the plan at least.
The plan itself though was largely interrupted as about both organizers and workers began to take up positions inside of the cargo bay with their rifles and blasters calling on even more workers to get on board as the cargo hold began to fill with the living. This was not the plan. Get in deliver some goods and leave alive. It had been such a simple plan.
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