The Swarm Initiative

[Darth Abyss]

Malachor V - The Blessing

If someone came looking for capable mercenaries or bounty hunters on Malachor the path would lead inevitable to the Tainted City at some point. But Darth Abyss was not looking for more goons to throw at his enemies, no he had enough of them already. Recent events had shown that his new empire was vulnerable from space, and he did intend to change that as soon as possible. When the imperial remnant showed up, all he had to keep them in and out of the system had been a random gathering of pirates, smugglers and pilots, many of them already at the end of the skills once their ships meet the vacuum of space.

So he had traveled to the smallest of the free cities, The Blessing, or Genesis as the inhabitants called it jokingly, which always stood a bit out between the others. Not only revolved most their efforts not around crime, but around terraforming and farming in an attempt to make Malachor into more than just a collection of dead stones some day. But that was not all that made this town special. It was the most common gathering spot for smugglers and pilots on the planet, and exactly those Abyss sought out today.

Through his contacts he had called for the assistance of a young man called [member="Myles Vylumnar"], a smuggler that already had assisted him with a job on Nar Shaddaa. There were many things that Abyss was more than capable in, but besides the simple act of flying his sip from one world to another the art of spacetravel had always eluded him. And it was expertise in this field that he needed to raise a orbital defense force that would stand between the sky and this cities below.

Shrouded in his full sith attire, composed of a black robe, amulets and a mask on his face, he stood besides a small channel of water that crossed through the whole city, waiting for the man to arrive, so they could get down to business.

 

[Myles Vylumnar]

Myles exhaled from the cockpit of his ship as The Stargazer floated in orbit. He looked on at the rocky planet below, which had much history behind it dating as far back as the Knights of Old. Now, the planet sprung with new and budding life. It would not be long until Malachor V once again came into its own.

He took a spin in his swivel chair as he contemplated what awaited him. He'd been contacted by one of his former employers and associates, [member="Darth Abyss"] for a certain reason. Myles not only knew his way around the underground, but he was also a damn good pilot. He once made the Kessel Run in under 12 parsecs carrying a huge load of Glitterstim. But bragging aside, he felt that his skills as a pilot were not the only reason he was contacted by his associate. Of course, Myles was quite familiar with the sorts of things people would call 'illegal'. His mind almost functioned like a database for all things criminal. He had connections all throughout the criminal underground, which often proved to be a useful resource during his many endeavors.

Myles spun around once again in his swivel chair in the cockpit of the ship. This time, he stopped halfway to take a look at an armor stand across the room. Encased within was a set of the TC-777 armor model, a gift from his friend [member="Kami Meran"]. Nearby was a table on which a half-stitched garment lay across. He figured he wouldn't need any of that for this job, seeing as it was diplomatic rather than any combat situation. It wasn't like he'd ever really used it much at that point anyway. He was saving it for some special occasion. He turned back around and brought his ship to the planet below.

He flew over down to Genesis, which was known to be a small gathering for smugglers and scoundrels alike. There were many of these kinds of places around the galaxy. Myles brought The Stargazer down to a small clearing near a channel of water. Spurts of exhaust spouted out of the ship as it landed. The landing ramp lowered, and out stepped Myles wearing his regular attire consisting of a plain black shirt, black pants, and of course his signature brown-leather padded jacket. He zipped it up in an attempt to appear more professional. It was rare that he met for business that didn't involve shooting and blowing things up, so he didn't really have any clothing that resounded 'formal'.

A few meters away was his associate, watching water flow down the stream with his back turned to Myles. Myles came lightly packed, carrying only his K-16 Bryar pistol and vibroknife. They probably wouldn't see much use, but it was always good to stay prepared. He approached Abyss, saying nothing as he waited for his presence to be acknowledged by the Sith Lord.

 

[Darth Abyss]

"Mr. Vylumnar, I am glad to finally meet you in face to face. Come, walk with me."

Well mask to face, but in Abyss case that was one and the same, for everyone but a very small group of people in this galaxy. The words were spoken in the tone of a experienced businessman, relaxed yet filled with confidence. [member="Myles Vylumnar"] had already worked for him once, but back then he had used a surrogate to give his commands from the shadows. To him it was more important to invest his money into talented people then in goods and property. And it was clearly talent he could saw when he looked at the man, or rather he felt it. Many of the best pilots had a latent connection to the force, as that was what made them good pilots in the first place.

"I am not one for smalltalk, so let us talk business."

That was the good thing about being both a sith lord and a notorious criminal: No one ever expected him to waste his time with words about the weather or the newest vids on the holonet. Abyss lead the smuggler through the city, following the stream of water besides them. The Blessing was a place with almost tropical temperatures, but the sommer flair was diminished by the dim light which tainted Malachor. There was no sun to shine brightly down at the people, so even a town like this had synthetic light sources everywhere.

"The cities of Malachor need protection, both on the ground and in the sky. But everything beyond flying from one world to another always eluded my mind."

Not to far away a bar would come in sight, a small establishment called the dropout. It was a place frequented by smugglers and scavengers, and even by a few bounty hunters that had strict policies when it came to killing: Only when necessary, or when the pay is really, really good. All in all it was a rather tame place compared to the dark holes one could stumble into in the tainted city.

"So I have decided to create a team of people that posses the skills that I do not. But for that I need an expert, a advisor and overseer so to speak. See this as a test, one that earns you 15000 credits. 5000 upfront."

Abyss reached for a pouch filled with credit chips, and chugged it over to the smuggler. Money was a good motivation, and he wanted him as motivated as possible.

 

[Myles Vylumnar]

"As always." he replied.

Myles' own words came out with a flat tone. While he was used to dealing with the galaxy's most powerful crime lords, a Sith Lord was much different. They held power beyond wealth and influence, and often had little tolerance for annoyance. Thus, Myles remained reserved. He only spoke when he needed to, but that was just him being guarded. Once he felt more comfortable, he'd probably speak up a bit more. It was difficult to really trust any powerful Force-user, Jedi or Sith. That didn't mean, however, that he was unwilling to do business. If [member="Darth Abyss"] paid well, then Myles' loyalty would be sworn. Simple as that.

"I am not one for smalltalk, so let us talk business."

Myles followed Abyss down the stream. There was something admirable about the city's synthetic feel. It gave off a certain atmosphere; One that Myles was sort of used to from his childhood. In a way, it almost felt like they were in a zoo; Fake habitats designed to simulate nature.

"The cities of Malachor need protection, both on the ground and in the sky. But everything beyond flying from one world to another always eluded my mind."

Myles would nod slightly, staying relatively quiet. Nearby was a bar named 'The Dropout'. An ironic name, seeing as the place appeared to be one for the classic shady-criminal type. Of course, Myles couldn't be one to really judge.

"So I have decided to create a team of people that posses the skills that I do not. But for that I need an expert, a advisor and overseer so to speak. See this as a test, one that earns you 15000 credits. 5000 upfront."

Myles smiled as he caught the pouch of credits. It was certainly a way to break the tensions. Now that he had a few more credits in his pocket, Myles felt a lot more comfortable. It was clear that this man talked a big game, and that he had plans for the future of his emerging empire. Myles felt as if he were a bounty hunter being hired to assist an army, something that the larger powers were not shy of committing during war-times. Finally, he opened his mouth after hearing his employer's explanations.

"I see what you're getting at. So... What, you want me to help you build a militia?"

He thought for a moment about his own group, which really was just an idea in his mind. After his several adventures across the galaxy, Myles had encountered a number of people, all of which had their own set of skills. Since he was a kid, he dreamed of commanding his own fighter squadron, just like he saw in the movies. He remembered that they always had cool names, like 'Red Squadron' or the 'Crimson Aces'. He often fantasized that he were the head of such squadrons. He'd one day like to lead one himself, and call it something like the 'Fury' or 'Valkyrie' Squadron, whatever sounded badass to him. Maybe this was the right place to start.

 

[Darth Abyss]

"Something along that line, yes."

The closed in on the dropout, and the sith was able to get a glimpse of the various freighters that rest still on the landing pad behind the bar. From the inside he could hear the muffled sound of music being played, mixed with almost inaudible fragments of words and stories being shared. It wasn't exactly a milita, that was just not the way the cities worked, but at least it was close enough to know that [member="Myles Vylumnar"] had understood the core idea.

"Right now it runs under the code name "Swarm Initiative", a loose alliance between individual smuggler, scavenger and pirat crews that will rise together in case of an attack."

When the sith Lord opened the door of the drop out, and his dark figure entered inside the small establishment, the sound of voices died down for a moment, and all eyes rested on Abyss. But nothing followed. When they realized that the sith had no intention of making a statement or doing something else that required their attention, they reluctantly turned their heads back and the voices returned. He made his way to the barkeeper, the man staring at Abyss with a clear hint of fear, but hidden behind a well trained mask of professionalism. With his right the barkeeper tapped on a shield hanging on the wall which said "no killing on dropout property."

"One Corellian Whisky, no ice."

He gestured the smuggler on his side to order a drink for himself, on the house obviously, while he made his way to a free table and took place at it.

"I have arranged a meeting with multiple possible parties, and they will arrive soon. You will judge their ships, and their achievements, and also help me with my final decision. Understood?"

 

[Myles Vylumnar]

Myles followed the Sith Lord into the cantina. It wasn't often that he operated under Force-users, but at least this job was a step up from the usual 'steal this' or 'kill that'. As soon as the two stepped inside, the room quieted and faces turned. He couldn't tell if they were looking at him or [member="Darth Abyss"]. He'd occasionally get 'the stare' from someone who happened to recognize him. In the criminal underworld, it was both dangerous and profitable to have a familiar face.

He was starting to get the big picture now. It wasn't uncommon for groups of pirates and smugglers to form coalitions. Some would even come to form dominant forces in the galaxy, or at least the underground. Myles thought about things for a moment. This job had definitely piqued his interest, but he wondered if it'd give him a bad rap or if it would even be worth the effort in the end. He'd at least have to see things through.

"Corellian... Good taste. But I don't really drink, thanks."

Myles flicked his wrist at the bartender to dismiss him. He'd had bad experiences with alcohol before. It was like he became a totally different person when he was under the influence. A person he really didn't like. Myles was rather young, anyway. It's not like he should be drinking in the first place. In fact, he'd probably just look like some random kid to the outsider who didn't know who he was. Luckily he'd already proven himself in some way to Abyss, and he assumed that his employer did some research on him beforehand.

"Of course, loud and clear."

He still remained slightly guarded. Myles felt himself getting more and more comfortable, but he had to remind himself who he was dealing with. He knew that most Sith-types would have little patience when they didn't get what they wanted. They usually weren't afraid to drop someone if they weren't performing. Thus, Myles knew he'd have to step his game up a little as to not disappoint. He had a knack for getting lazy at times.

 

[Darth Abyss]

"There is still a short period of time left before they will arrive, so if you have any concerns or questions about this job you should voice them now."

Abyss knew that the sith were notorious for killing their own men when enraged, but he had never belonged to that kind of sith. Mistakes did happen, and even the best of the best were not above making them, so throwing away good assets for nothing had never appealed to him. While the sith of old held great influence on him, there was only one man in the history books that truly inspired his style when it came to leading his people: Grandadmiral Thrawn, who rather inspired his men to greatness instead of breaking them with fear.

"Money is not all that you can gain if you perform well. If you impress me, I mean. Having a sith lord as your ally can prove very useful."

He took a small sip from his drink, which the barkeeper had just placed on the table that divided the two man from each other. The smuggler looked far younger than Abyss himself, but that was only partly because of his actual facial features. His pale skin made it rather hard to guess his age, and with the mask it was almost impossible to see that he was still in his early twenties.

The door opened and a group of rather strange looking men and women, which proceeded to move towards Abyss once their eyes caught the sith's mask. With a sign of his left he motioned them top stop. He wanted to give the smuggler time to finish this little chat before getting down to business.

[member="Myles Vylumnar"]

 

[Myles Vylumnar]

"I'll let you know if anything comes up."

Myles was about to comment on having a Sith Lord as an ally, but refrained just as it had slipped his mind. It occurred to him that this man didn't seem to be like your typical Sith. After all, they were here on some rocky backwater planet in a run-down cantina surrounded by criminals. While it wasn't uncommon for Sith Lords to enlist the work of criminals, they usually only did it for their own personal gain. This Sith Lord wanted to protect a planet.

He abruptly stood from his seat and turned around. After revealing his rather young face to the others, a couple of them whispered quietly between themselves. Myles noticed such, though he couldn't possibly hear what they were saying over the loud noises of the cantina. He was almost certain they were talking about him. He appeared at least ten years younger than anyone there, which was bound to strike some sort of peculiarity.

"So this is what we're working with, huh?"

[member="Darth Abyss"]

 

[Darth Abyss]

When the siths left descended back into a more natural position, the group that had just entered finally made their way over to Abyss and [member="Myles Vylumnar"]. They were a number of the most well connected pilots on Malachor, and each of them would bring more on the table than just their ship and crew. Their word held a bit of weight in the whole community of professional spacetravlers here. But there was still a problem: Prominence was not equal to trustworthiness, and each and any of them could rip him of if he didn't watched out closely.

"Ayy, you're the Prophet right?"

Even without the information that this man was a pirate, it was still painfully obvious that he was a pirate. The cloths, the behavior, the accent, everything basically screamed pirate. With a bit of confusion he glanced over the very young looking smuggler that sat on the same table as Abyss, but he knew that making a wrong comment in the presence of the sith lord was a pretty dangerous idea.

"Who are you, mate?"

The pirate picked the slightly saver option, addressing the smuggler himself. Abyss simply allowed it to happen. If Myles would become part of his team, the he had to have a tounge as sharp as his knife. After all the underworld was ruled by fear and respect, not by being nice.

 

[Myles Vylumnar]

"I could ask you the same thing."

He put emphasis on the word 'same'. Myles found it amusing to respond to such things with vagueness and ambiguity. He knew that this pirate-hillbilly was just trying to act tough. He'd seen it so many times before that it was just getting cliche. It was hilarious to just say something confusing to someone where they couldn't tell if it was an insult or not. Myles smirked to himself and decided to move on. He just liked to toy with people.

After a couple seconds of confused silence, Myles finally spoke up. "Well, you're all pilots, right? Where are your ships?"

Myles figured that each of these personnel were more than just pilots. If [member="Darth Abyss"] chose them, it was probably for some reason or another. While Myles couldn't outright recognize anybody there, he was sure he'd pick up a few names once they got down to business. Speaking of which, he wanted to get right to it. It was his way of showing his employer that he wasn't messing around and that he was up for the task.

After he initially spoke, the crew looked and whispered between themselves as if not sure what to do next. They'd just gotten there and already they were being asked to step out. Meanwhile, Abyss seemed to be a quiet watchful eye; a fly on the ceiling. Myles just wanted to see what sort of ships they were flying. You could tell a lot about a pilot by their ship; something Myles picked up as a young Corellian. He wanted to dig into the kinds of people they were rather than interviewing them. That was just boring, and he wanted to truly figure these people out.

"You wanna get paid, don't you?"

They collectively shuffled out of the cantina. After exchanging a look with Abyss, Myles followed.

 

[Darth Abyss]

With the smallest hint of satisfaction on his face the sith lord rose from his chair, keeping himself behind [member="Myles Vylumnar"] and the group of pirates and smugglers. Myles was doing fairly well for now, and while such a short interaction couldn't be used for more than just a guess, he was still optimistic that the young smuggler was a good fit for the job. Silently he followed, every step marked by the lack of sound they left when they touched the ground. Myles was the one to do the talking now that he had seen that he could do it, while Abyss would stay in the background and listen. That was what he normally did anyway, a dark, watchful eye that waited in every corner, a ghost that listened to every word spoken without being seen.

Behind the bar was a small landing pad, littered with ships of any size and type, from freighters to shuttles over to small starfighters, many of them clearly highly modified or even custom made out of the scrap that could be found everywhere on Malachor. The group began to spread out, each of them walking to their respective ships. As one could've anticipated the most prominent were corellain freighters, ships that had been already a staple of smuggling long before either Abyss or Myles had been born. A few walked to starfighters, mostly starvipers, ships formally used by the Zann Consortium, that still were passed on through the underworld to this day, but also modified tie fighters, X-and Y-Wings and a few more obscure models.

One man still stood in the middle of the landing pad, looking a bit lost. With confusion his eyes jumped between the smuggler and the sith lord, clearly unsure who of the two to address. Finally he decided to aim his words at Myles:

"My ship n crew are in space right now. Frigate from the old Republic, still in good shape."

 

[Myles Vylumnar]

Myles felt a small sensation of pride as he recognized the cluster of Corellian-made freighters. While he wasn't the biggest patriot, every Corellian-raised man and woman took pride in their culture, even if all that remained of their beloved homeworld was a broken husk of what it once was. Myles wandered to the middle of the collection of ships. His eyes shifted between each of them, examining them carefully like a judge. It wasn't necessary to find out any specifics; Myles was knowledgeable enough to recognize a good ship. However, a truly good ship was not always the fastest or toughest, but a ship that perfectly complimented its pilot's needs. Myles reminded himself that.

While most of the ships would be considered to be stand-out, only a couple in particular really caught his eye. One was a simple starfighter, by the looks of it an old Delta-7B. The ship itself appeared to be scavenged. It was rather heavily modified, most likely past its intended modularity. What made it most interesting was the young pilot that accompanied it. While Myles himself was usually considered to be young, this young spacer looked to be no older than 13. He kept to himself, reserved and quiet. He reminded Myles of himself when he was younger.

The other ship that had caught his eye was a YT-1500 with apparently a stock... everything. Its simplicity stood out compared to the other extravagants. Some were painted black, others a shiny silver, and a couple were even painted all over with complex markings and designs. This one, however, seemed untouched since its manufacturing. Its pilot sat on the ground underneath it, smoking a familiar rankweed aroma. Myles' examination was cut short after being interrupted by a man who appeared rather lost.

"Well, I'm sure it's not a problem for you to call them back... You do want this job, right?"

Myles chose his words carefully. He didn't want to appear soft, yet he knew he had to maintain what little respect these people had for him. He could tell; by their looks and whispers. All of them were obviously older than Myles by at least a few years, save for a couple. It didn't really help that Myles was acting like some big boss. He figured that they felt uncomfortable working under someone who looked like they were barely legal. Hopefully he'd gain their trust in some way or another.

And speaking of jobs, he was rather unsure if these people were getting paid or not. It was probably a given, but usually militia weren't paid. He assumed they'd get some sort of wage, or something like that. He looked back to [member="Darth Abyss"], who'd been quietly watching for the past while. The Sith Lord was being rather cryptic, Myles thought. Though usually that's how they were.

 

[Darth Abyss]

The man [member="Myles Vylumnar"] spoke to shuffled his head nervously before nodding towards the smuggler and pressing a few buttons on his comm. His eyes narrowed, as he pushed on his comm time and time again, without receiving any answer. From a distance Abyss watched, his judgment already made. He had only invited the pirate to see how the smuggler would handle the situation, as he had known that the mans crew had planned mutiny for more than a few days, and that he only came here in hopes of making money before anyone heard the news. It was ridiculous that he really thought that the sith lord would miss something so obvious.

"Look mate, I think there is something wrong with their comm. I'm sure they will be here soon."

The pirate tried to overplay his fear with a fake, winning smile, something all to common in his profession. He would probably do and say anything to save his head, and it was important that Myles wouldn't be easily manipulated even by someone with charisma, which against all odds this pirate did posses. Seeing as the sith lord was still keeping himself in the background, his smile grew and with more confidence that he should have he walked close to the smuggler.

"Ay Mate, don't make a big thing out of this. My men really would like this gig, so what would you say if I pass you a few credits later, and you tell the boss that I'm in?"

He kept his voice low, but Abyss was able the read the lips with ease. Credits were what made the galaxy move, so how easy would it be to change the loyalty of the man that aspired to fill a key position in Abyss new little empire?

 

[Myles Vylumnar]

Myles chuckled to himself upon hearing this guy's excuses. In his line of work, excuses were just reasons for people not to hire you. People had little patience for this sort of thing, so neither would Myles. He needed to make an impression on [member="Darth Abyss"] and the rest of the crew to solidify his place among them. That, and it was just plain stupid to show up to this sort of thing without a ship.

"Oh, I'm sure they would, pal... Tell you what, why don't you take those credits and go buy yourself a drink while you wait for your crew? 'Till then, I'd suggest getting out of my sight."

Upon his last sentence, his voice lowered slightly. He patted at the blaster holstered on his side, giving the man a sort of glare that, while not essentially threatening, got his point across. Either stop wasting my time, or get out of here.

Though, Myles always appreciated a handful of extra credits. Credits won loyalty. It's just how the galaxy worked. In the end, he figured whatever this guy was offering probably wasn't even worth it anyway. Abyss promised the benefits of having a Sith Lord as an ally and Myles was willing to take him up on that. After all, he had a reputation to hold for consistency and trust on every single job he took. After all, how was he gonna get another job with a bad track record?

"Okay, everybody. I can see you're all very unique... Oh, and qualified."

Well, probably. He played out the phrase 'very unique', making it seem like he was being sarcastic. He was, just a little. It was his way of toying with them. He hoped such subtlety would get under their skin.

"But I want you to prove it to me. As I'm sure you all know, you're here to protect this rocky little planet from any Imperials or Republic forces trying to stamp out our businesses. I know you all hate that. I do too. So if we, being the hard-working, honest individuals we are want to protect what little safe haven we have, we're gonna need the best and brightest, trustworthy pilots to gun down anyone who says we can't do... whatever it is we... do."

He tried to reach out to them on a personal level. Everybody here had at least one thing in common, and that was that they were all brought here as people willing to do dirty work for a living, for their families... maybe. He was hesitant to use the word 'criminal', but either way his intentions were to relate to them. That way, he'd gain their respect and trust. Their skills were not in question, after all. It was their ability to form a cohesive fighting force.

"That being said, I have the upmost respect for every single one of you. In order to keep everything stable, we need to be able to trust each other. That means if you even think about shying away just for a measly lump of credits, you're getting your eyes spooned out. So, if you're not up for the task, back out now and you'll have nothing lost, nothing gained."

No one budged at all.

His attempts to solidify his spot as their... leader, seemed to have worked. Myles didn't see himself as a leader, but he was being put in charge of this little operation. Now, all that was left was... He didn't know quite yet. Perhaps test their loyalty? Yeah, that seemed like the right way to go. But how?

"Okay... Now, I think we sh-"

He was interrupted by the speech of the pirate from before. He stood nearby from the group, detached though not yet gone.

"This is a bunch of bantha poodoo. I'm not taking orders from some stupid kid! Who cares about this dumb rock? Because I sure don't... Bet this job ain't even-"

*PEW*

A blaster bolt pierced through the man's skull, originating from Myles' smoking blaster. The lifeless corpse collapsed to the ground. A burning hole sizzled just between the pirate's eyes.It was not an easy decision, but he had to prove his point. Now they knew that he was being serious, but for a moment he thought that maybe he took things too far?

Myles sighed. "I think we should put our... loyalties to the test."

 

[Darth Abyss]

The Sith Lord watched the smuggler shoot down the pirate with a level of interest that was far to casual for a situation like this, moving from his position as a background watcher back into the foreground to inspect the corpse on the ground. A thin veil of smoke danced into the air, starting right where the mans brain had been only seconds before. The rest of those that attended this little meeting showed signs of fear in their faces, but it was unclear if it was about the shooting or the presence of the sith lord.

"You should never forget that in the end, beyond all the chaos and anarchy, Malachor still belongs to me, and with it all of you."

The speech that [member="Myles Vylumnar"] had given to them was a good one. They all came form different worlds, spoke in different tounges and accents, and yet the smuggler spoke their language perfectly. As one of them he understood how to address them, even better than Abyss himself who was neither a stranger to the underworld nor slow to adapt to social rules and constructs inside of different groups. After his little show he had their respect, maybe even their fear, but his words also earned a bit of their trust. As their new leader he needed both, but fear, true fear, was something that belonged to Abyss. He had to be more cruel, more terrifing than the smuggler could ever be, so they would follow Myles with a certain level of comfort.

"Wrong him, and you end with a hole in your head. Wrong me, and you will wish to have a hole in your head."

His black robe drifted slightly in the hint of wind that blew over the wastelands of Malachor, as he stepped besides the smuggler, a dark figure barley recognizable as a human due to the mask and his pale skin that was more reminiscent of a decaying corpse than of a living, breathing being. Normally only those gifted in the ways of the force could sense the dark aura that surrounded him, but in this moment he made an effort to let the all feel what he was below the surface. The shift in their expressions showed him that they clearly felt something they couldn't really describe, but it came with a unnatural uneasiness.

"This world is more to me than scrap and junk piled up on dead stones. This is our home, our haven, the world of the free and my blade finds anyone who threatens it, be it due to disloyalty or due to incompetence. Now, Mr. Vylumnar, time to see who will meet my blade first."

 

[Myles Vylumnar]

Myles himself couldn't help but feel a little bit of unease being near the Sith-lord. Myles reached around his back. He pulled something that appeared to be like some sort of remote switch. All the while, he tried to keep his expression stoic as his eyes met that of every individual.

"I've got around seven-thousand credits on me right now."

He paused.

"There's a small detonator planted on each and every one of your ships... If anyone's willing to flip the switch, I'll gladly hand over these credits."

The crowd of pilots looked among each other. There were whispers of confusion, and even fear. The money was tempting- very tempting. But perhaps most of them realized it was only a test. They realized they would gain more if they had only cooperated instead of taking the easy route. It was this sole fact that showed all these people were smart enough to make wise decisions.

Nobody stepped forth. There were no detonators, no explosives. The switch was simply the remote for his holo-projector on The Stargazer. After a while, Myles finally spoke up. He nodded in contentment.

"...You all have crews, you know what it's like to work alongside others. This is your new crew. This is your new home."

He felt like he was getting a little carried away with all this. After all, he was still just another man. He didn't feel like it was in his nature to be a commanding voice, a leader. It made him feel a little uncomfortable, but he could only hope that people would get his message. Not know what to do next, he looked to [member="Darth Abyss"]. It seemed like the day was done, but it felt like this was only the beginning.