Welcome to the Wretched Hive [Location Thread]

[Rekha Kaarde]

[member="Jorus Merrill"] | [member="Loto Afu"]

Rekha finally got serious when she began her approach to the The Hive, you know you won't find a more wretched hive of scum and villany...or was that Tatooine...hmmm..Rekha shook her head didn't matter.

This Wretched Hive though it wasn't really pretty in the way that the baudo was, but it has it's own place among ships. Rekha guided the Midnight Star around getting a better look.

After a few there was clearance to bring her in. With a small little nod off she went throttling back and making ready to find out just what they were going to be up to next.

 

[Cortana Jade]

"Where the hell is that old man?" Rebel looked over his shoulder; Nothing. He turned his head in the other direction at the others. Pacing around he couldn't help but listen in, his hearing was something he couldn't turn off. Rebel smirked when Krevaaki poked his head out, then his head jolted back to [member="Jorus Merrill"]

"New hands?" He thought to himself, He made his way down. The whole time he'd be talking under his breath, "I don't know a damn thing about this poodoo but...aye anything to get off that Moon."

Rebel ducked under the same pipe, almost running into it, but stopped slight behind the guy and the other male with the tatts. He'd let the convo happen before he interjected whatever it was he wanted to say. "Clan Rekali huh?" he said under his breath, it struck a nerve, but not in a bad way. Just made him pay attention seeing as...well...he was sort of apart of it.

"Your looking for more hands huh?" he said walking up behind the group, nodding to them both.

[member="Loto Afu"] | [member="Rekha Kaarde"]

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Rekha Kaarde"] [member="Rebel Sunka"]

Jorus glanced away from Loto. "Why, you looking to hire on, Reb? Tell you what. Let's start at day rate, hundred a day, see how you click and what you can do. You know your stuff and pick it up, I'll pay you what you're worth, maybe take you on permanent if that suits both of us. Right now I've got a metric fethton of folks to manage, and there's another one coming in."

He fished out a basic datapack and tossed it over.

"That's the current list of the parts we've got aboard. A few exotics, low on weapons, but otherwise we're well stocked. There's a ship about to dock. Pilot's called Rekha, that's Captain Karrde to you. Find out what mods she needs and see if we've got anything that might suit her needs."

He turned back to Loto. "Okay, bud, I've got your particulars. I'll take care of it from here. Might as well grab a drink or a nap while you can. Have a good one."

That done, he headed back through the busy hangar to [member="Sarge Potteiger"]. "Busy fething day," he said. "Anyways. Tell me where you're hanging your hat these days. Still Rimward in old OP space?"

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

Sarge had found himself a crate and sat himself upon it, a bulky tactical datapad in hand as he perused some files or another. It was hard to say what it was, though, considering the screen's brightness was so dim as to be nearly impossible to see. Turning the pad off as Jorus approached, he stood carefully and let his hands drop to his sides, his visor depolarizing so that Jorus could see the exhausted black eyes of his old friend. "Naboo." He says flatly.

"Same place I've been living for quite some time. I'd ask the same of you, but I'm fairly certain I already know the answer. How's the wife?"

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

Jorus snorted. "And you'd be right: apart from an old low-profile place or two, this ship's it. Alna's doing great. Happens that you just missed her: she's doing a little quiet consulting work for an Outer Rim shipyard startup. These days she's the one that's in and out. Got her life back, you could say."

He eyed the bustling hangar, then put his back against the bulkhead and slid down to sit on the deck facing Sarge. "So you're still on Naboo. Not gonna lie, I never thought it'd last. That place is all peace and tranquility and real nice waterfalls. I've camped out in my share of paradises, and I've always got that itch to move on, go somewhere that I'd run into resistance. I always figured the same of you. Didn't think finding...well, peace...was an option." Another snort. "Maybe the kind of retirement where you just run around shooting things when the mood strikes."

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

"You would, perhaps, be surprised." He muses aloud, eyes drifting downward, those midnight pools of liquid set beneath his brow studying a metal plate behind Jorus. He's thinking, that much is obvious, but finally his cheeks raise to the tune of the smile that ghosts across his lips. "I enjoy the tranquility. Cira needs it anyway, given her attempted genocide. It's been hard to come to terms with, but she's adjusted fairly well. Spends most of her time buried in books."

His head tips, as though that was really situation normal for her. "I get the itch to travel, but I always return home. I guess it's just the loyal streak in me; once my heart is settled, it's hard to dislodge."

 

[Loto Afu]

A nap sounded good to Loto, hey when you work you work hard but when it is time to rest then...

"I like it Brotha, I'll leave her in your hands. Just wake me up in a bit when you need me to check something or got a question."

Now the questions was where, his still unnamed ship was out, with all the work and all. Should try to look around this old bucket a bit. May find a nice shady place, or at least something resembling a bed...

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

 

[Rekha Kaarde]

[member="Rebel Sunka"]

She made it in and settled with a bit of a clunk on the deck. She kept hearing the word interesting over and over in her mind. Stretching her legs would be a good thing right now so she would find out why interesting was the word of the day.

She headed out and down the ramp looking for a familiar face. There were one or two salvagers who nodded their hello while she looked from the ceiling to the deck. "Well now, isn't this a fine kettle of womp rats."

She laughed, she only needed a few things right now. Too many upgrades to her ship and there would be questions. Low profile and keep her fast that was all Rekha wanted.

So now she knew that Jorus knew she was enroute, she had a feeling he was sending someone down to help her out. Tender foot maybe?

Grayson Mack came over and shook her hand, the old salvager had helped her out a few times. This was good opportunity to catch up.

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

"Not sure I heard the attempted genocide part of the story," Jorus admitted. "I was neck-deep in the Neutral Zone when most of that went down, if I remember right. Afterwards all anyone wanted to talk about was the rescue op, the body count on both sides -- it hit Rave hard. Rave. That was just before she, uh, tried to erase herself out of time, and that's a long fething story. Bottom line, that mission screwed up a lot of folks. Not that I'm not glad it worked and all, and from what I hear getting Cira back tipped some scales..."

A shrug. "Anyways, it's not something I ever wanted to poke into all that much, since I had the option. Easier to remember Cira as the boss, you know? The one and only, the ideal - she was the Protectorate. Force knows I didn't always agree with her but she was worth following. She was the real deal."

And a grin. "She ever decides to come out of retirement and take a swing at the galaxy again, you let me know and I'll be there with bells on. Those were good days, bud. Bloody but good, and I can't say the same of many others."

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

He was unable to promise anything when it came to that brilliant, academic woman who'd so vexed his mind and heart over the years. It was the simple elegance of her gait, and the reserved nature of her smile that so captured his heart, on the rare occasions they were shown to the galaxy, but it was her admittedly ferocious intellect that kept him around. She was a woman of unparalleled intelligence, and her demons matched his own, and perhaps, it was the burning fires of Hell that bound them as tight as a hangman's noose.

"Such is the life of Vong," he begins, "you seek to eradicate everything else."

There was no humor in his tone, but one couldn't change the past. "She was, and I was enamored with her since the day I met her. She'll never be the force she once was, but she maintains the mind and sense of purpose she once had. I hope she regains her confidence, one day."

Beyond the ship, another, ugly creation emerged from hyperspace. It was a foundry set on it's keel and thrust into space, a mass of metal and communications arrays that looked like it was cobbled together from derelict ships. There was no finesse in it's creation; it was simply an ugly mass of metal. "I know you've questions as to what I've given you, but if you'll indulge me a little more... all will be revealed, if only you know where to look."

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

"Boss?"

Jorus blinked and looked away from Sarge, train of thought still boarding at the station. "Yeah, Shenna?"

The green, tiger-striped Twi'lek wiped her forehead with her arm, smearing hyperdrive coolant up one lekku. "Take a look outside to starboard. You're gonna want to see this."

Jorus glanced at Sarge again, then stood and peered out a nearby viewport. His eyes went wide. "Now that's a boat I'd like to pick apart. The feth even is that?"

"Stang if I know," said Shenna.

He found he couldn't look away from the monstrosity. "Sarge, you gotta see this. We're getting visited by the ghost of Raxus Prime. Like, holy feth, how is that junk heap even flying?"

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge looked to Shennna, and his smile shifted from genial to knowing, becoming a near smirk as Jorus turned his head to the viewport. Of course his old friend couldn't resist the apparent hunk of scrap drifting before them; for all the stars it looked like a hyperspace remnant just drifting it's way through the galaxy. It came in on oversized engines, great furnaces the shade of Mustafar lava flows propelled it closer to Sarge's vessel, and before long dropships were crossing the space between them, their own engines pushing out tight cones of blue.

"The Acheron."

It was a simple declaration, and of course, Sarge would know what it was. A Ilyria vectored in towards Jorus' ship, swinging wide from the traffic passing between the two bulky frigates. "It's flying because that's how it was designed, and it's crew live in the gaps between the intrepid explorers attempting to eke out a living on colonies most will never hear of, and that will likely never succeed."

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

"Dramatically put." Jorus chuckled, still peering out the porthole. "The Acheron, eh? Seems to me that's an old name -- something about the Netherworld and a river. Heck of a ship."

Shenna grunted. "Once it's done swapping spit with your boat, where's it off to? Or will it be sticking around? Akala knows I've built my share of junkers. Bet those folks could use some tender loving care."

Jorus tore his eyes away and leaned against the bulkhead by the porthole, so Shenna could have a better view. "She's got a point. Ship like that is ten thousand malfunctions waiting to happen. I'd be happy to lend a hand with some of the patchwork, just to get a look through here. Heck, it'd be downright educational for some of my folks. What's its mission profile? Trader, transport, pathfinding, refuel-refit?"

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"The only dramatic part about that ship is when it sends it's soldier's planetside." He retorts calmly, the old Pyre dropship connecting with Jorus' vessel. His head panned to the void again, where the Acheron sat, bloated and covered in communication spines like some sort of deep sea creature.

He frowned, palm coming to rest on the lip of the viewport. There was a low murmur, and then his midnight eyes returned to [member="Jorus Merrill"]. "They'll let you in, have a look around. I believe you'll find the interior a sight better cared for than the outside."

A smile creased his features, pulling at the shrapnel scars that chewed at his right cheek. "It's job is to investigate when colonies go dark, and repel attacks if possible. Pirate raid? They're the cavalry, provided there's anyone left to save. They're too late, more often than not, but even a single victory in ten is better than letting the fringe die."

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

“That’s some dedication right there, and a cause worth the work. Gotta say I’m impressed. Acheron -- I’ll have to remember these folks. Depending where their stomping ground is, I might be able to put’em in touch with Underground cells. Might help’em get forewarning a little quicker, line’em up with resupply at cost, that kind of thing. I don’t know what their supply lines look like, but I’m imagining them crookeder than Circe Savan in a room full of shaved Ewoks.”

“Tangled up like a Jedi’s love life,” said Shanna.

“Broken like an Ovmar promise,” said Jorus.

“Snarled like a Croa with a hairball.”

“Deader than an Imperial Remnant.”

“Stalled like a Subach-Innes.”

“Nice.”

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

"Their supply lines aren't awful, so long as they don't stray too far." He remarks casually, waving a hand at the pair. "I believe it's time we head over. That dropship is waiting on us." He smiled at them, and took them to the docking collar, visor polarizing now that he was moving again. Provided Jorus intended to come along like he'd said, he'd find a squad of soldiers in what appeared to be ancient Pyre gear; woodland patterned, mottled browns and greens, personalized in white stencil with various phrases and drawings.

They all looked like the last time they'd seen a good shower was a few months back, and it wasn't a stretch to think they'd likely not had a chance to really clean up before arriving here. That didn't stop them from raising their forearms so that Sarge could bump his to theirs in greeting. All of them were young, too, with the oldest in his early thirties. Their weapons were clearly slugthrowers, but there was heavy repeater of the energy variety in the hands of one.

"Say hello to the men of the Acheron, Jorus." He says, taking his seat and strapping himself in for the puddle jump over to the ship.

 

[Jorus Merrill]

MUCH TIME LATER​

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C3PB1jWO3_E​

Sparks threw corrosion flakes to rattle in the worklamps. Life and tools crammed the Wretched Hive's hangar. Rustbuckets dangled from suspension frames while pit droids ripped into their guts. Spacers huddled over a workbench and turned scrap salvage into mismatched modules. Ugly ships took form in beautiful ways. Now and then, customers came aboard or called in, looking for a good chop shop to tweak a hull.