Jorus took up a loose, looping station that never brought him near the firing arcs of [member="Yusan Fenn"]'s crippled starfighter. [member="Tycho Shorn"]'s transmission came in, and his sensors picked up a shiny, powerful Confederate interceptor, the kind that mounted a self-destruct. He'd torn apart a few of those in his time. Nice ship. Ordo had told him he wouldn't interfere, and Miles was off racing for that cache -- a cache that was certainly worth more than the bounty on the dude cradling a lightsabre inside his cockpit. And Mia wouldn't wreck someone else's claim without good reason. [member="Turin Val Kur"]'s ship provoked a little worry, but mostly because Jorus didn't know right now that Val Kur, a fellow Levantine patroller, was flying it. Which left Shorn, and his polite, precise upperclass greeting. Jorus keyed the comm.
"Afternoon t'you too."
Wasn't much more to be said. The situation was pretty self-explanatory. Jorus was guarding his catch, and the others were racing through the asteroid field for the Corusca cache. A class-one engine with a precog specialist at the helm would still, at this range, be able to join in easily enough.
No telling what'd go down.
He commed Yusan Fenn. "Just surrender, son. Black Sun's in no mood to tick off the Republic. They'll pay it an' turn you over, simple simple. No torture, no nothin'."
