The Start of a Very Bad Day (Open)

[Sorin Vanado]

The static of the receiver drowned out the silence, but it could not hold back the tension felt by all that would later listen to its recordings. The blood, sweat, tears of all the men and women he killed would be left as a testimony to all those who live and die, for in his waking eyes, he would never forgive himself, and never would he forget. Not one face; not one name. In one day, his life was changed, and in one day, so shall it again. The static ceased, and the holocron sprang to life.

"When did it start? When did I feel like I died?" said the voice, solid, secure, and thoughtful in its resolute demeanor. Even the fool knows how to play the game, and a fool he knew he was, for the wisest of all could not teach the dead. "I speak now before you...to deliver my own perdition...morality is a false concept, but justice is far from mortal. We often think of punishment as an equalization, something to fit the crime committed, but justice is not a linear perspective. If it was, then I should die a thousand times over for the lives I have taken, and tortured for the flesh I have scarred. No...justice is far crueler. This...is the justice I give, for the voices who cannot speak."

"Be all my sins remembered."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Sorin! Wake up! SORIN!'

Consciousness slowly crept into his mind, and for what seemed like a very long time, became aware of the lights around him. And the smoke...is something burning? A loud roar of fire could be felt nearby, and a low rubble vibrated all the way to his bones. An explosion had just occurred nearby. "Ahh!" His throat hurt, his muscles were sore, and when he rolled, he fell off a medic table. He hit the solid ground with a dull thud, and could now feel every ache of his body, but it surprisingly drowned the pain he felt from hitting his ass on the cold floor.

'Sorin, get out of there! I did not just revive you so you can be roasted alive!'

Then he became aware of the heat nearby, and it made him feel like he was being cooked in an oven...or something, not as if he knew how that felt, but he wasn't about to find out either. With his muscles screaming to stop, he got up and ran straight out the nearby door. Everything was spinning, the light of the fire like a pounding in his head, but he could make out the general shape of where he was going...which was not toward any fire nearby, and there was a lot of it. A deep voice suddenly echoed through the hall he was in. "Thermal Shielding Failing. Power now at 56 percent."

'Damn it, Sorin, get the hell out of here!'

A woman's voice...he didn't know if that was comforting, or another regret from another heavy night of drinking people under the table. Wouldn't be the first time, but this was a first for appearing up somewhere that has a fire going. With his awareness and vision slowly returning, he knew he was in a hallway, more specifically in a ship. Most of the interior was busted to hell, fires spread out, but he had enough room to run and get out of there. So, he did. Avoiding the fire was easy enough, so long as it wasn't a million degrees in here. He became aware he was in a bacta suit, skin fit over his toned frame, but modesty was not entirely a high priority at the moment. He was more concerned of where the voices were coming from. He already had one in his head before; he didn't need another one.

'Turn left up here.' Sorin skidded to a halt as he turned around. There was no one behind him, or in front, and it wasn't like the other voice in the hall, so what... 'Trust me, you're not going crazy. I'm speaking to you through your neural schematics.'

"In my mind, then?"

'Specifically your nerves, and it's being processed as a voice, just like a hallucination, only this one is real. Now, I would love to continue talking, but there are pirates trying to board us.'

"WHAT?!?! Now you tell me!" Bolting down the hallway, he continues down, taking the left he was told, and hoped that wherever he was going, it was to get the hell out of here. After a few more passages, he comes to a hall door, but when he tries the panel, it remains closed.

'The hallway's override is-'

"I know!" He was already two steps ahead of her as he tore off a nearby panel, and started to sort through wires. He hoped he didn't get shocked in the process, but in a situation like this, dying from an electric shock seemed to be the least of his worries. "While I'm doing this, who are you?"

'I don't have a name.' What? Odd for someone in his head, but he didn't get many visitors in there anyway. His confusion must have been apparent, for she continued. 'In your terms, I am like an AI, but created through a process I do not understand. I was made to help you, but I do not know for what purpose.'

"Who made you?"

'I don't know. They never told me who they were, but from my understanding, you have been in suspended animation for the past eight years.'

"WHAT!?" Just as he exhaled, the door opened, and he ceased his task, his head turned to see down the hallway, but saw nothing. It was just as weird, because he hadn't found the right configuration for the door yet, so what opened it? It didn't matter at this point, because he was already on the move, each stride taking him closer to wherever he was going next. "You mean to tell me I have been asleep for eight years?! How?!"

'I do not know. I was only instructed to revive you in the case of an attack, and to help escape from this place.'

"This place being...?" Just as he turned a corner, he took a few steps down a glass hallway, and saw exactly where he was. Metal floated everywhere in the vacuum of space as he saw parts of the station seem to be tore apart by random, minature explosions. In the background, a star was nearby, and more nearby than he had wanted it to be. Thanks to the energy shielding of the station, the sun was tolerable to see, and not be blinded by its radiation. Bad news was that it was getting closer, much too quickly. "You mean we're near a sun?!" He started running before she could begin talking.

'Yes, in an abandoned station left here long ago to study the decay of stars. The ones who created me repaired its essential functions, including shields, and weaponry. This weaponry, however, was outdated and could not stop the pirates who came here.' With a glance to the side, he could see a freighter docked with one of the hangers, and unfortunately in the direction of where he was going. 'Even the shields failed against them. There are many docking hangers, but I do not know of any ships that are still operational.'

"Which means you don't know where the weapons are either."

'I am afraid so.'

"At the very least, am I the only one who can hear you?"

'Yes, currently.'

"Great, so that means if I die from a damn pirate, I'm going to look like a crazy person talking to himself."

'At least if you die, you won't care afterward.' As weird as everything was starting to be, he could not find any fault in her reasoning. He reached the end of the hallway, the doorway half-way closed, but he was able to squeeze his way through without much difficulty. Still no sign of anyone else, but the more he looked, the more he realized that this place was definitely older than the usual places. If he had to guess, this was an old Confederate Station back during the Civil War, making it over 800 years old. Speaking of age...if he had been in animation for eight years...that would make the current date 844 ABY. So for all purposes, he should be 28, maybe even 29, yet he doesn't feel a day older than when he remembered. Speaking of which...what does he remember? He was at the battle of Korriban...but the Sith were losing, badly. Next thing he could remember, he woke up here. What happened?

As Sorin walked the halls, he hoped he could find answers...and soon...preferably without any pirates if that was possible.

 

[Triter Zone]

[member="Sorin Vanado"]

It was all just so stupid, the young Amaran lamented to himself.
Triter Zone had signed on with one of the Galaxy's lesser pirate gangs, one of the first real opportunities he had been presented with in some time, though it was turning out to be nothing if not a colossal waste of time on his part. The pirates were a small band; a handful of armed bulk freighters and third-hand starfighters comprising one of the most pitiful assemblages the young vulpinoid had ever heard referred to as a fleet.
Triter had been hired on as a pilot for the gang, promised a share of untold loot from a series of big raids the group had planned in advance. So far, their success rate for these had been appalling; the Amaran was a good pilot by himself, but his skills were next to useless when he was forced to support a collection of snub jockeys whose average skill level could be described as similar to a monkey lizard high on spice. Payday after payday had fallen through based on his squadron's ineptitude, and the young pirate wasn't having it anymore.
This latest job - his last, he swore to himself - took the cake, though.
Flushed out from their home asteroid by local law enforcement, the gang had struck out to find a new base of operations, and had apparently discovered one.
It was simple enough on paper; an abandoned stellar research station orbiting a dying star, apparently forgotten, though occupying a decaying orbit which would have to be corrected. Not a problem; it would only be a matter of boarding the station and having it fire its orbit correction thrusters, or if that was out of order, towing it onto a safer trajectory. Triter's squadron had been dispatched to oversee the landing, just in case.
As it turned out, the station was far from an easy target.
As soon as the small pirate fleet was within range, dated but formidable automated weapons had come into play, destroying one of the fleet's ships before the group could even raise their shields. Triter and his pilots had made several passes at the station, trying to knock out its weapon emplacements, though there were a great many. They had succeeded to a certain extent, but every so often Triter's comlink squawked with the voice of the irate pirate "commodore" as his ship maneuvered to avoid turbolaser fire. Triter, for his part, had given up on strafing the emplacements with starfighters, and had come up with a new plan.
He had landed in an open hangar bay just a few minutes before, and was now trying to locate the defense controls to the station. He wondered if he ever would; such constructs were big places, and Triter had heard of beings aboard old kilometers-long Star Destroyers getting lost in the endless corridors and dying of starvation.
Not much chance of that here. Triter mused, glancing down at his datapad. Not only was the station much smaller than that, but the commodore had pulled his weight for once, finding a more or less - Triter was inclined to think less - complete schematic of the station. It was slightly vague on the placement of systems, but Triter could at least use it to find his way back out again.
He sighed, pausing to consult the datapad for a long moment.
"KARK this..." He muttered, shaking his head at the samey-looking passage behind and in front of him. "If the commodore wants this place so badly, he can take it himself!"
Continuing to walk along, Triter blinked, swiveling his ears to the sound of... footsteps?
He paused, listening to a far away, more or less one sided conversation.
"Hey!" He called, holding up the glowrod he was carrying. Just who was that, another pirate?

 

[Sorin Vanado]

[member="Triter Zone"]

"Huh?" Sorin turned his head, glancing down a hallway that was mostly dark, but still had scattered lights that flickered in random bursts. He could have sworn someone had hollered something, but could not see anything move; just empty space and silence.

'Maybe an echo?'

"Maybe..." he breathed, barely a whisper as he tried to listen to the environment around, hoping to hear something more than just the station saying it was failing.

"Shielding now at 50% and declining."

"Roger, roger."

And f*ck...just as he thought it couldn't get worse, it just did. At the other end of the hallway, the distinctive clank of metal footsteps could be heard as B1 battle droids, still somehow functioning, marched in unison, at the beat of their own...whatever the hell rhythm they felt like going at. Sorin didn't bother staying either, sprinting the opposite direction of where he heard them, and just narrowly avoiding blaster fire as he turned the corner. And then he collides right into something resembling a giant fox, at the very least knocking himself over as he tumbled to the ground, but luckily landed on his feet. Who said training didn't pay off?

 

[Triter Zone]

[member="Sorin Vanado"]

Triter cocked an ear as he listened for a reply. What he heard instead were more footsteps, running this time, and they sounded like they were coming closer, followed by-
"Oh kriff!"
Triter heard blaster fire and the electronic tone of droid voices calling "You there! Halt!" as a much larger being rounded the corner, piling into him at full speed. Triter, being much smaller than the other being, let out a vulpine yelp and was sent bouncing against a nearby wall, seeing the other sentient - a human, he assumed from his looks - stumble but catch himself.
Whoever it was, this being was not part of the pirate crew.
Climbing to his feet unsteadily, the back of his head throbbing where it had cracked on the durasteel, Triter fumbled to draw his antique hand blaster, his teeth gritted as he aimed. "Huttslime- watch where you're going!" The little Amaran snapped, rubbing his head and looking over the human male who had collided with him. "And what in space are you doing here?!"
The man, Triter noted, looked haggard and disoriented. Clothed in what looked like some kind of full-body medseal, he had long red hair and looked intelligent, though obviously something was wrong.
Before he could think about it too much, however, Triter's large ears swiveled to the sound of metal footsteps clanking toward them.
"Kriff, nevermind!"
Triter's aim shifted, and a jagged bolt of green energy flashed over the human's shoulder, taking the head off a B1 battle droid which had appeared around the corner. The droid toppled backward, its blaster firing wildly into the air as it fell; Triter could hear the sound of more droids running to catch up to their fellow, however.
"You'll tell me about this later. Let's go!"

 

[Sorin Vanado]

[member="Triter Zone"]

"Huttslime- watch where you're going!!" The voice from the fox was unfamiliar, as Sorin turned his head to look, seeing the hand blaster being pointed in his direction. While slightly uneasy about having it in his direction, if the being wanted him dead, he would have already fired by now. "And what in space are you doing here?!" Purposely avoiding the question, Sorin scanned the being over; he wasn't sure what species they were, other than that it seemed like a fox. It wore a flight suit, so that meant the freighter currently docked must be his...her...whatever, the voice sounded male, so let's assume male. This was also under the assumption the ship was his...hopefully. The clank of metal got closer, and caused him to be more on edge. This was not the best time to be shot...or rather, at all! "Kriff, nevermind!" The bolt fired from the blaster swept past Sorin's shoulder, and took off the head of the B1 battle droid behind them. At first, he wasn't sure what to think, but this was not the time to question how or why.

"You'll tell me about this later. Let's go!"

"Don't have to tell me twice!" exhaled Sorin, as he dashed to the droid to grab its armaments. Unfortunately, it was only armed with its E-5 Blaster Rifle, but it was better than not having one, and it remained intact. Sweeping it up, he sprinted down the hallway, no doubt with the other being in toe with him as the sounds of battle droids could be heard behind them.

'Take the third left, there shouldn't be any droid down that way!' As much as he wished he didn't have these other voices in his head, this female was far more useful than the last one he had...still has...or something, but now wasn't the time to contemplate the mysteries of how he got here. Now he just needed to get the hell out of here. One corner...two corners....three! He turned and immediately had to stop, barely colliding with the now closed door in front of them.

"Damn it!" Think Sorin...think...ah ha! The control panel was still operational, still showing signs of life. Slinging the strap of the blaster over his shoulder, his fingers went to work on the screen, going from one command prompt to the next. Then a permission screen, asking for a password. He hit the door briefly in frustration, cursing at himself. "I hope you're good with that blaster. This will take a minute!" If he had a datapad with a slicer, this wouldn't need to be so direct, but this would have to do. Without knowing much about the door, each one has an emergency command that forces them open if they're capable, ex: if they're not broken. He needed to access that particular command, but it's passworded, of course. He can get around it, but it will take time, time that they might not have. And if the door won't open...well, let's just hope that this doesn't go bad...too quickly.

'And if he isn't?'

'Then I hope this place doesn't have a few hundred thousand of those damn battle droids.' As he worked, he couldn't help wonder something...the hallway door a while back had opened before he could do it manually, and now these droids are suddenly operational? Someone else is here...but who?

"Shielding now at 45%"

"Damn piece of sh*t."

 

[Eddie]

Prea was on top of one of the battle droids, how she wound up there could be anyone's guess, but a male voice could be heard from a good distance away "Damn it, Prea, get off of that droid!" The energy vampire then attempted to drain it of it's energy, but failed. "Dammit, I can't drain it!" Prea shouted then jumped off the droid and back into the area where the male voice came from.

(Couldn't think of another way to join in xD)

 

[Triter Zone]

[member="Prea Victoriss"]
[member="Sorin Vanado"]

Triter skidded slightly on the durasteel floor as the bigger human rounded a corner seemingly at random, the little Amaran scrambling to keep with him. He was half tempted to leave the larger being behind, as the droids pursuing them would likely see him as the bigger threat, but he knew that if it came down to a straight fight against legions of battle droids, two would be better than one.
Maybe we could even hold out until my worthless excuse for a fleet outside can batter down the shields and back us up! He mused, following the human and nearly smacking into the door himself. Looking up at it, he cursed loudly and in several language, looking behind him and turning to aim with his pistol back the way they had come.
"Better be only a minute!" He replied, hearing the clanking footsteps get closer. "We might not even have that long!"
Just what was going on here? Who was this human, and what was he doing on an abandoned space station?
Also, now that Triter noticed it, what were the droids shooting at back in the hallway?

 

[Eddie]

Prea and Post took out their guns and started shooting at the droids that saw them as a threat, and left the ones targeting Sorin alone. Either this is a good last stand or a good settling down point for the two of them... either way, they just kept on shooting, some of the shots missing the droids.

 

[Sorin Vanado]

[member="Triter Zone"] || [member="Prea Victoriss"]

"Better be only a minute! We might not even have that long!" Sorin knew as well, but at the same time, he wish he didn't. The screen flashed from screen to screen, and slowly, but surely, he was getting around the security system of the station. He could hear blaster fire, and though he resisted the urge to look behind him, he couldn't help himself. With a glance, he could see that they had more company: a man in Imperial garments, and woman in a red uniform, but both were firing their blasters at the droids down the hall. He wasn't sure who they were, but at this point, he didn't care. The more blasters, the better, and especially if there were droids coming after them. Sorin returned his focus on the screen in front of him, and continued to do what he did best: get himself out of bad situations. Just a little bit longer...

(Hey Prea, you using both Prea and your NPC, Post?)

 

[Eddie]

[member="Sorin Vanado"]

Prea and Post kept on shooting at the droids, trying to stay alive. Despite the craziness of them even being in this situation, Prea liked it.

 

[Triter Zone]

[member="Sorin Vanado"]
[member="Prea Victoriss"]

Triter gritted his teeth, firing his blaster methodically as droids continued to round the corner. His VV9 Buccaneer hand blaster crackled, reducing parts of the casings of some of the closer droids to ash as they came.
He blinked in surprise when two more humanoids joined the fray, blasting other droids left and right. Continuing to fire, Triter shouted over his shoulder to the big human working on the door, wishing he would hurry up.
"Hey! These friends of yours by any chance?!"

 

[Sorin Vanado]

[member="Triter Zone"]

"Hey! These friends of yours by any chance?!"

"I wish!" Come on...just a little bit more...yes! "Found it!" As mechanical gears turn and twist, the door swept back into their recesses, opened up the hallway, and their way to getting the hell out of there. Sorin didn't waste any time, bolted forward and stepped beyond the door frame. He stood momentarily, waited for the other three to go past, and as soon as the last went through, he turned his rifle on the computer screen across and fired, destroying it, and caused the door to shut behind them, keeping the droids a long way away from them, at least for the moment. "Let's get out of here." With a steady jog, he made his way down the hallway.

"Is the ship docked here yours?" Sorin asked as he kept pace with the fox dude, his question directed at him, but when he turned his head to ask, he noticed the other two from before weren't there. Did they take a different hallway by accident? Sorin hoped that the ship was his, because if not, they'd need to find another way off this station...and fast.

 

[Triter Zone]

[member="Sorin Vanado"]

Triter bolted through the door after the mysterious human, temporary relief washing over him as the heavy blast panel descended behind him with a swish-bang and his companion blasted the access panel, sealing it at least for a while.
"I came here in a one-being fighter, so... no, I don't think so." The Amaran replied, pointing his blaster into every open door along the corridor as they passed. "If you want, I can help you hot-wire the one you saw, and you can give me a lift to where I parked mine?"
Triter wouldn't have included the request, by the Scrimshaw was almost all the young space pirate could claim to be his. He would be loathe to abandon it on some anonymous space station, either to be left to rot or, more likely, appropriated by the pirates trying to take the place.

 

[Sorin Vanado]

[member="Triter Zone"]

"I came here in a one-being fighter, so... no, I don't think so." A fighter? No, this one was definitely a freighter. So there were others here, but where? More questions, and the more he wondered, the more Sorin got a sickening feeling about the entire thing.

'I have a bad feeling about this.'

'You and me both.'

"If you want, I can help you hot-wire the one you saw, and you can give me a lift to where I parked mine?" This brought a smile to his face. He hadn't thought of going to the thing and stealing it from the owners. Seemed like a better idea than just randomly searching the damn station.

"You have yourself a deal. I'll owe you one for this." Not the first time he would be in debt to someone, but he wouldn't be here in one piece if this guy hadn't helped. Sorin owed him as much, at least. "Name's Sorin, by the way. Sorin Vanado." As they continued, their search of the corridors of the station was not turning up much in the way of other droids, but the woman inside Sorin's head kept giving him directions to get to the hanger they were looking for. One left...then a right...few more hallways later, and...

"Damn piece of crap..." Sorin cursed under his breath as he forcefully opened a door. Their short journey lead them to a room connecting to the hanger, and it was packed! Lockers and boxes everywhere. With a quick glance around, he wondered, and proceeded to open one of the nearby storage bins. "I thought as much. This was used to store the weapons munitions." Inside were blasters, rifles, power cells, grenades, and others for the droids meant to be housed and stationed here. This was likely a station used in combination as a research center and storage for anything not used in the war. Maybe these were among the last built before the war ended, and left here because of other, more pressing concerns. Could have been anything at this point, but what Sorin wanted more was clothes. This damn suit was starting to itch! "Just a second, I'll find the door to the hanger." With everything in there, it was hard to move around and see anything else, especially the door. With a bit of work, Sorin found it at the other end of the room. "Found it!" he called out, and with a quick few button presses, the door opened.

And then he wished he didn't. No sooner had he done that then did four blaster rifles were suddenly pointing at his head. Son of a...not again...

"Boss! We found someone!" Eh? Not droids? No, they were Twi'leks, but they weren't friendly from the looks of it either. Armed with rifles, four stood in front of him, and six others were in the hanger beyond. Each had three other blasters, and enough explosives on each to blow a chuck out of the station, just based on Sorin's approximation from what he could see. Who the hell were these guys? If they were pirates, they were not small fry.

"Then bring him here!" So much for stealing the ship from the looks of it. Sorin was dragged forward, and without much choice in the matter, he walked in the direction they wanted, keeping himself as calm as he could be. The one rifle from the droid earlier was taken from him and discarded aside; so much for weapons either. "Is there anyone else with him?" called out the Boss, Sorin assumed, as he was the only one who stood a foot taller than everyone else, and wore Mandalorian battle armor. Behind him was an YT-2000 freighter, and it wasn't run down either.

"No, sir. Just the storage room."

"Good, makes things easier." Wait, what? They didn't see the fox dude? Good for him, of course, because this way, he can get out of there. Sorin only hoped he could get to safety long before any droids showed up.

"Shields at 35 percent." The echo of the station's voice recording was starting to grate on Sorin's nerves.

"The station is in decline, but the pirates can have the place. We got what we came for." This puzzled Sorin, and this must have been apparent, for the Mandalorian smirked at his expression. Brought within a distance of a few feet of them, the ten of them surrounded Sorin, and kept their guns pointed up. This seemed excessive for one man...what gives?

"What do you mean?"

"We mean you, Sorin Vanado." They knew who he was? Sorin wasn't sure whether to be flattered, or concerned. This explained why they were behaving the way they were, always pointing their guns at him, keeping their distance; they knew how quickly Sorin could kill them...assuming the suspended animation didn't mess something up. "We're here to take you to our employer. We would like it if we didn't have to kill you first."

"Then who hired you?"

"Didn't ask, wasn't told, and not my problem."

"And what about the other ship here?" The constant questions must have been annoying him, because the guy's eye twitched, unsure of whether to hit Sorin, or continue answering twenty questions. Forced the man on edge, something that Sorin wanted, and to see how he'd react.

"You mean the wimpy starfighter? Pirates for all I care. Now shut up. Men, let's move. Time to get out of here."

 

[Triter Zone]

[member="Sorin Vanado"]

"Name's Triter. Triter Zone." The Amaran replied, keeping an eye out as the two of them wandered through the corridors of the station. So far, no more droids had shown up, but Triter wasn't ready to let his guard down just yet. "And who knows; I may have to collect on that favor before we get out of here."
The young space pirate glanced at the big human every so often as they traveled; for someone so obviously confused about his situation, this Sorin seemed to know quite well just where he was going. Triter wondered what to make of that; he was usually good at telling when someone was lying to him, but if Sorin was withholding the truth, he was an excellent actor to boot. There was more to this than Triter guessed, and he pondered whether he actually wanted to find everything out.
When the two of them reached the station's armory, Triter began poking through some of the boxes himself, watching as Sorin worked on the door.
The Amaran possessed no appreciable sensitivity to the Force, but he did have finely honed instincts developed over decades of piracy and survival in the underbelly of Galactic society. Thus, when the door swished open, Triter had ducked for cover behind the boxes at the first glimpse of blaster muzzles. It was quickly apparent that he had been fast enough to evade the notice of whoever held the weapons, and he remained in his hiding place, listening with confusion to the exchange taking place between the armed men and Sorin.
So, someone was after Sorin; no great surprise he supposed, lots of people with mysterious pasts had people after them. That Sorin didn't have any guesses as to who these men were working for was slightly troubling; someone who liked to name-drop he could generally handle. Someone who wished to be anonymous...
The Amaran doubted things would be pleasant for his new friend.
When the beings dismissed his prized starfighter as "wimpy," however, he gritted his teeth.
Nope. Don't think I'm gonna let these clowns live.
When the group turned away to head back to their ship, Triter took the opportunity to move up, darting stealthily between containers, grabbing a few items from them as he went, keeping to the shadows just beyond his quarry's peripheral vision. He would sneak aboard their ship; they could take off, but once they did, the pirate was trapped inside with them, or rather, they were trapped with him.
And there would be nowhere they could run and strike from later.
Very neat...

 

[Sorin Vanado]

[member="Triter Zone"]

A "whimpy" starfighter, eh? If it was Triter's ship, Sorin had the suspicion that it was far from "whimpy." Small, maybe...considering he did say that it was a one-being ship, but Sorin had learned that the smallest of things can have far greater reach than the most mighty of them. Take him for example: in a bacta suit, unarmed, surrounded by Twi'leks who would gun him down if he so much as twitched, and without any backup. Yet, he already knew how to get out of this mess. He knew exactly where it would hurt. As they boarded the ship, and the Mandalorian shouted orders to lock him up in the brig, he already knew the blueprint design of the place, at least of the general location and some of the circuitry. Let's just say that he had to kill someone on a YT series before; even had a scar or two still from it.

'How are you getting out of this?'

'Trust me...I know what I'm doing.'

With the banter from back before, and now, Sorin could probably make the safe assumption they could communicate using thoughts; to what extent, however, remained to be seen. A thought experiment...for another day. Going from one deck to the next required the use of the central ladder in the middle of the ship, a location that would bottle-neck their movements, and one they were already very well aware of as they watched him closely. Getting to the top wasn't so much the problem, as it was afterward; they moved him to one of the cargo bays, keeping three of the men on him at all times, while the other seven, including the Mandalorian, went off to do who knows what. The cargo bay itself was, for the most part, filled with food supplies, and other units. One particular crate must have been where they stored more valuable items, because it had the most locks on it. With a glance back at them as they stood in front of the door way to the rest of the ship, Sorin smirked.

"So...where do we begin?"

At the cockpit, the Mandalorian began going through systems diagnostics, checking the conditions of the engines from his systems monitor, and as he went through his usual routine, the lights went out. "Son of a nerf-herder!" cursed the man, opening a nearby compartment and getting out a light, shining the beam down the hallway towards the back. "Nate, Reco, what're your positions?" Even as he spoke into the comm-link, there was no answer. Again he asked, and no response given. "Sith-spit, Travis, is the prisoner still in the cargo hold?" Silence was his only reward. "You've got to be kidding me..." Grabbing his blaster, he made his way towards the back, slow and stead and wondering what was going on. He began to sweat the further he went, for no sound could be heard through the rest of the ship. With each step, he felt himself grow more and more unnerved. Each thud of his boots felt like a vibration through his spine. He opened the door to the back room, the engine monitor indicating that the lights had been turned off. He scanned the room, and found little to see, to his thankful opinion. With a breath of relief, he went to the monitor, tabbed a few controls on the screen, and the lights were brought back on. And then a blaster muzzle was pressed against the back of his skull.

"Sith-spit..."

"I don't think your buddies are going to join us any time soon...or ever." The gulp of a nervous, anxious man became very audible through the room. With the lights now on, he could see out of the corner of his eye two bodies against the wall...very much not moving.

"What did you do to my team?"

"Oh, I only killed five of them." The man's eyes widened, clearly afraid now at this point."The other four are upstairs, probably having already met a similar fate."

"You had help?!" Panic now settled into his voice.

"Yes...now, I'll ask you again...who...hired...you?" Sorin put emphasis on each word, and the effect was very interesting. In moments, he was hyperventilating, and it was then that Sorin learned something else. The man's behavior was unlike that of a Mandalorian...this guy wasn't one; he must have gotten his suit from someone else, maybe an actual Mandalorian that died elsewhere, or something. All of this was starting to become depressing, because if this was the extent of what was sent, then who hired them? They knew enough to find this station, and that Sorin was here. Resourceful, but not a good choice in mercenaries; who does that?

"I-I d-d-don't know...paid credits at a drop site on Coruscant...left instructions to pick you up. That's all we know, I swear!"

"...okay." The muzzle flared and the man dropped to the ground, eyes wide open, and very much dead. A sigh escaped Sorin's lips, and he brought his eyes back to the central ladder, unsure about something. Where were those other four mercenaries anyway?

 

[Triter Zone]

[member="Sorin Vanado"]

((Imagine the fight scene which preceded this set to this music.))

Triter, at that moment, was standing over a man who was rapidly bleeding out through the shins, leering down with all the menace his Amaran features could muster. It always amazed him how getting a being physically larger than himself down below his level like this made him seem so much more intimidating.
"Th-That's all I know! Kriff, I swear that's all the captain told us!"
The young pirate sighed, glancing back at the three other bodies strewn across the upper deck concourse. He should've left at least one other alive; there would have been a better chance of someone knowing something. As it was, he had no reason to distrust the testimony of the man before him; having ones' Achilles tendons slashed out from under you and then being at the mercy of a molecular stiletto-wielding fox tended to inspire honesty.
"Alright, alright, I believe you." Triter replied, running a hand down his face in frustration. "Guess I'll have to take it up with your captain."
The Amaran walked away from his helpless victim, searching the concourse until he discovered what he was looking for. He returned to the man, tossing a small box down beside him. He then made for the connecting well to the lower deck.
"Seal up those wounds, you're bleeding all over this nice deck plating. I'll be back, not as if you're going anywhere." The Amaran started to head down as he spoke, then paused, poking back up to add: "Oh, and if you try anything, I'll be taking those hands of yours as well."
Triter descended the ladder cautiously, expecting a repeat of his last encounter with the ship's crew; it was oddly quiet, however.
Clearing the lip of the hatchway, he blinked, staring at an armed Sorin, standing amid a scattering of bodies.
"Well, kriff! You didn't actually need my help, did you."
Triter dropped to the deck, holstering the blaster he had drawn before descending, looking over the carnage. He sighed when he saw the man directly at his new friend's feet, shaking his head.
"That was the captain, wasn't it. Well, did you at least get some useful information out of him?"

 

[Sorin Vanado]

"Well, kriff!" Triter cleared the hatchway, just in time as Sorin glanced over to see him. Good, then he had made the correction assumption that the fox would be there. It was a gamble, to be honest, because if Sorin had guessed wrong, then there would be four others on the ship that he would have to deal with. "You didn't actually need my help, did you?"

"It made both of our lives easier, none the less." As he spoke, he cleared his rifle, checking over its condition as he stood. Based on the design and structure, it was a fairly common weapon used throughout the galaxy, especially in the infantry of the Republic. There were, however, a few illegal modifications: for one, the power cell was of an enhanced design common on the Black Market (though since it had been eight years, who knew how outdated now); and two, the barrel was modified to allow for a long range with the same power due to the power cell, but at the cost of a reduce life span of the weapon itself. Over the long term, the weapon wouldn't last.

"That was the captain, wasn't it? Well, did you at least get some useful information out of him?"

"Not as much as I would have liked." Reassembling the rifle back, he holstered it across his back, and turned to the engine monitor. From what little he knew of engineering, the current vitals of the ship seemed to be operating smoothly, but unlike the rifles, the ship had not been modified. Let's hope the crates they have held more than just weapons, if anything at all. "Ship seems to be in working order, and if my suspicions are correct, he left the navigational controls ups. I do owe you a trip, don't I?" With a smirk on his face, he made his way to the front; just as he had thought, once he had laid eyes on the screen, he knew he was right. The idiot had left everything up, and with that, Sorin had full control over all the systems of the ship. Within moments, after taking the seat, he started up the engines, and made preparation for them to get out of there.

"Shields now at 20 percent."

'That voice is really starting to get on my nerves.'

 

[Triter Zone]

[member="Sorin Vanado"]

Triter nodded, smirking a little as well as he followed Sorin into the ship's cockpit. Glancing behind him, he had another look at the carnage the big human had left in his wake; a mixture of admiration and trepidation went through him at the sight of it.
How did he do this? The young pirate thought to himself, taking the copilot's chair beside Sorin. I got four by myself, but I had a blaster and a mono-edge; this guy started with his bare hands!
"Just a quick hop across the station, if you please." The Amaran replied, looking around at the indicators glowing on the various control panels; everything had indeed been left running, which Triter thought quite sloppy. "My fighter is parked in this docking back here."
Triter indicated another bay further down along the curvature of the station. He frowned.
"Tell you what; I'll escort you out past the pirates when you leave. They'll certainly try to take you otherwise, but I should be able to keep them off us."
He grinned.
"Trust me, they're nothing special. I've decided I'm done working with their lot anyway."

 

[Sorin Vanado]

[member="Triter Zone"]

"Just a quick hop across the station, if you please. My fighter is parked in this docking back here."

"Will do." Pushing a few buttons and with a few switches later, after he retracted the loading ramp that was still down, he gripped the fly wheel, and slowly turned the ship and piloted out the bay hanger doors. When Triter pointed out where he would need to go next, he nodded, and smoothly entered the next bay. With everything going on, he wondered about where he would need to go next. Coruscant is one such destination, but he didn't know yet where he was in the galaxy. The navi-computer will be able to tell him more once he has the time to do so.

"Tell you what; I'll escort you out past the pirates when you leave. They'll certainly try to take you otherwise, but I should be able to keep them off us. Trust me, they're nothing special. I've decided I'm done working with their lot anyway."

Sorin, in his routine of trying to get the ship running, had wondered how he would get past the pirates. They might have their attention on the station, and while the star would make sensors go to hell, they wouldn't miss his departure of the station. The help would very much be needed.

"Thanks. I might be good, but I'm not that good." With the ship now with its landing gears down, he eased it into position with little to no trouble. It had been eight years, but he still knew his way around a ship. Twitch...twitch...the bacta suit was starting to itch again, and he couldn't help but scratch his back for a moment, annoyed at himself. "I hope these guys have clothes that will fit me. The suit is getting on my nerves."