Catching Trouble

[Ortava Zakaz]

The Injustice sat silently along a branch of a common well used Hyperlane. The only object in the infinite black this side of anywhere. The ragtag crew watched the scanners and waited for orders from their Captain, a big man riddled with tattoos and by most standards the worst kind of scum.

He sat quietly in his chair as one of his paramours snorted giggledust from the chair arm. His stony grey-green eyes bore a hole in the view port as he waited for his gut to tell him it was time. The woman beside him began laughing and leaned over to kiss his cheek but was met by a huge hand that pushed her back into her own chair. She began to curse loudly but he stood as if not hearing a word.

"Activate the interdiction fields." He said as he began pacing the bridge like a caged Nexu.

"Aye, Sir." Came the reply from the crewman at the controls and the two gravity well projectors hummed to life.

The well was not as large as a bigger ship but it was large enough to suck ships out of hyperspace, and that's all he needed.

"First one to bring me a prize gets an extra ten percent in their cut." He said loudly and had it relayed over the intercom. Today would bring riches. He could feel it.

[member="Tryp West"]

 

[Tryp West]

Tryp sat in the pilot's seat of her shiny new ship. New enough that she hadn't pulled all of the stickers off of everything. New enough she hadn't named it yet (she was still mulling over that, despite insistence that it was bad luck to fly an unnamed ship). Despite the newness and the shininess, she had her feet up on the dash, ankles crossed. Fingers threaded behind her head, she leaned back, eyes closed, whistling with a small smile.

Sad song, but Tryp was happy. Life was good. She'd finally gotten enough money thrown together to replace the ship that had gone down on Utapau. Could get out of doing some frankly fairly unpleasant work and focus on music again for a bit if she wanted to. They'd survived Black Star Station, her and [member="Jackson Singh"]. Despite the actual ring on her finger now (a plain aurodium band), she kept that little scrap of lint he'd proposed to her with in that maw awful place. They survived again on Corellia. Married proper, at least to his standards. She'd been perfectly happy with the make shift 'I do's'. She'd tease him about that for the rest of their lives, she decided with a bit of a smirk. Could have avoided a whole parcel of trouble if he'd just been too.

Life was good.

Course, that didn't mean that they both didn't still have work to do. Frequently his and hers took them in separate directions. But this time, well.

This time she knew what she was going home to at the end.

She'd kept it simple. Delivery into the Mid-Rim. Nothing dangerous. Just move some goods from point A to point B. All legal. All above board (not that Tryp was the smuggling type anyway). Her hold was full of a combination of electronics and luxury goods from a planet right at the edge of Sith-Imperial space, one less than thrilled by the encroaching lines of that particular set of law and order. Simple job, boring job, but lucrative in a way that would give her the wiggle room to relax for a long while after, even if she didn't sell a single song. A well deserved break, certainly.

With a stretch and a sigh, she settled a bit deeper into the pilot's seat, head tipping forward and considering napping right there-

The ship jolted and she almost spilled out of the chair and onto the floor as the cockpit lit up the brilliant red and orange of warning lights. Flushed entirely out of the pleasant drowse, she looked up as her ship was pulled out of hyperspace. Right into the face of a larger ship, practically bristling with weapons.

"Chit chit CHIT!"

Her hands flew across the controls- not yet familiar which made her slower to start bringing up shields than she would have been in her old ship.

"CHIT!"

[member="Ortava Zakaz"]

 

[Ortava Zakaz]

The privateer ship hung silently for a moment as if holding it's collective breath. The gravity well projectors hummed through the decks and bulkhead as they waited for proof that the captain they signed on with was worth his salt.

And then, as if on cue they got their first chance of the day.

"Ion cannons ready!" He called to the crew as he moved to the tactical display, "Come about, get into tractor beam range! Fire those Ions at will!"

He watched the display as he began running scans for cargo on the other ship. A ship that pretty probably could probably be sold as is and not even need to be gutted for parts. Oh, but there was cargo. His scanners couldn't tell what but it was running full. What a good day.

The ion cannons began to fire as the ship lurched forward toward the new freighter. He wanted it.


[member="Tryp West"]

 

[Tryp West]

"Son of a hutt I JUS' bought dis ship!"

Tryp had managed to start a quick lifeform scan (too fast for accuracy, but a general idea would be helpful) and pull up an open comm channel intent on sending a burst to [member="Jackson Singh"] when the first pair of ion blasts hit the ship. She yelped, jumping back as electricity crackled and then died, her pilot's dash dark and quiet now. She'd gotten a glimpse of the partial scan- dozens of individuals.

Too many.

"MAW TAKE IT!"

Tryp was at her core, a realist. She was pragmatic from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. Going out guns blazing out of the principal of the thing was not appealing in the slightest. Meeting them with guns drawn was basically a guaranteed way to end up dead. Maybe in her old ship, where she knew it better than the back of her hand and had hidden caches and tricks up her sleeve.

But this ship?

It was fresh off the factory floor. She had nothing set up yet that would give her an edge. Before it had been a slow accumulation of things she'd set up over a course of several years. She wasn't the paranoid sort- she hadn't deliberately set it up from the beginning here and now.

Next time.

Assuming there was one.

*****

The pirates would find Tryp standing in the cargo bay, hands empty and out. Sure she didn't remove the gun belt from around her waist, cause there was a chance they were going to open fire *anyway*. But if starting out guns blazing promised death, this at least was a gamble worth taking. No reason to kill her. Most pirates would rather take a ship easily than take it with a fight after all. Sure, they'd kill someone who fought back, but it was in their best interest to leave folks alive. One, a story to tell that increased their notoriety, and two.... well, she wasn't sure what two was, but she figured she'd give it a shot.

"Ey folks, kin I getcha ta wipe yer feet on da way in? New ship an' all."

[member="Ortava Zakaz"]

 

[Ortava Zakaz]

[member="Tryp West"]

The crew of the big corvette was only in the thirties but they had a few captives still in the holding cells. Just the ones they hadn't been able to sell yet. That said, they knew their trade well and they were ready to prove it.

Ortava grabbed his vibro axe on the way out of the bridge and turned to his first mate, the tall human woman that had been one of the longest standing crew members.

"You have the bridge." He said simply before he set off down the corridor toward the docking airlock.

His heavy armored greaves and boots made for an odd contrast to his bare chest as he stomped along ax in hand. A small team had already assembled as they moved in to dock with the ship. His hard grey-green eyes watched for the lights on the docking port console to turn green and one of the rag tag band of multiple species opened the doors.

They headed through in a wave of boisterous undisciplined bodies and rushed in to surround the one being in the cargo hold. Ortava looked from the woman to the ship and mockingly wiped his heavy boots on the deck before flexing his pectoral muscles back and forth. He stepped forward from the hooting pirate scum he called a crew and looked into the small woman's face.

"You heard her, boys." He said not looking away, "Wipe your nasty feet. This ship is new."

The crew laughed and made a show of wiping their feet wherever they saw fit as the big man watched the woman humorlessly.

"Search the ship." He said in a tone that screamed alpha male, "Damage anything and I'll take out the value from your backsides."

He took a step closer and looked the woman over as if checking livestock at an auction.

"Keep those hands real high, missy." He said as he moved closer and reached for her belt buckle to undo it, "We wouldn't want you lose one now would we?"

 

[Tryp West]

Tryp kept smiling, inclining her head slightly despite the obvious mockery and jeers.

"Much obliged, t'ank ye kindly."

She wasn't quite as relaxed as she forced herself to look from the outside. This was a situation that could get real ugly, real fast.

Speaking of ugly.

It was the stance. The attitude. The look in his eye and the swagger. Didn't matter what he looked like, there was ugliness written all over him. This was a person Tryp didn't need to touch to get a read off of. Good thing her gloves were on and she was wearing long sleeves as was her habit. No accidental contact. The question just was if he'd keep his distance.

She wasn't about to put money on that.

"'Ey, we're all friends 'ere, ain't we?" She replied, raising her arms a bit higher- not full over her head but about level with her shoulders, hands and fingers still spread.

"Dun supposed you'd let me take dat off my self, eh?" She asked, still smiling. The way he looked at her made her skin crawl. "If'n I was gonna shot ya I woulda opened up wit dat. I jes like my personal space is all."

[member="Ortava Zakaz"]

 

[Ortava Zakaz]

He looked her in the eyes. His cold grey-green stare filled with a deep seated malice that even he could never explain. His hard features suddenly passive as if carved from stone and not flesh and blood.

He took a step back, vibro axe hanging from a meaty hand as the thick corded muscle of his bull neck tensed for a fraction of a second.

"Ok, friend." He said with a calm tine that never touched his eyes, "Pull off the belt real slow like and dump it."

He watched and waited as his crew men shouted to eachother through the ship to one another like unruly children on a scavenger hunt.

"Try keeping that pretty mouth closed unless you want it ill used, savvy?" He added feigning a pleasant tone. "We wouldn't want to injure our friendship, would we?"

He waited for the majority of the men and women of his noxious crew to filter back toward the ship with whatever they could carry that wasn't bolted down. He watched them from the corner of his eye to see if they damaged anything so he could make good on his earlier promise.

"Time for a walk, missy." He said as he motioned toward his ship with the head of his vibroaxe, "Nice and slow so we don't have to breech your personal space. Until, we get properly acquainted that is."

His tone was pleasant on the surface but even so there was an undercurrent of malcontent that he made no real intention of masking. He wanted her worried. He wanted her to make a bad decision. It would give him an excuse to be unpleasant. He moved behind her and waited for her to walk on, fully intending to give her the space she wanted for now. But later, he would break her for his amusment and she would join the crew or get dumped on the closest convenient spot. Unless, he decided he needed a new mouthy pet. Time would tell.

[member="Tryp West"]

 

[Tryp West]

Tryp took this opportunity to challenge herself in just how polite she could be.

Considering she was normally pretty polite, it was impressive.

She made not a single move toward the holsters on each hip, keeping elbows out and carefully, deliberately unbuckling and letting the belt drop. She had absolutely no desire to make this man angry. Nor, for that matter, for him to touch her again if she could avoid it. For now, covered with fabric down to the gloves, it wouldn't be a matter of psychometry, it was just the sheer animus radiating off of the man. She didn't need to be an empath like Jack to pick it up. She'd seen enough people with that look in their eye in general....

But it was the words a moment later and a shift in the glint that particularly made her want to risk grabbing her gun and running.

She'd seen that look before. On Dagobah. He'd gotten eaten by a swamp monster which was really the best consolation anyone could ask for. But she'd seen it. Every time she did, she'd hoped it'd be the last. So far it had never gone beyond the weight of intent.

Tryp had no intention of her own in ever letting it get heavier than that.

Rather than answer with words at his comment about her mouth, she offered him a cheerful salute, though there was tension at the edges of that smile. How could there not be?

She wasn't stupid. This wasn't a game.

She also wasn't giving up. She had back up blade in her boot- not ideal but it was there and she was perfectly happy to leave that unmentioned for the moment.

For now, be nice, be inoffensive. Be nonthreatening.

Whatever happened, make sure she could walk out of it. There were worse things than.... anyway. If she could avoid that she would too.

"Nice ship," she commented easily as she stepped into it.

Gods she hoped she didn't have to touch anything here. She kept it slow, hands settled at the back of her head as she walked. She avoided eye contact with the crew for the most part, as much as it was possible to.

"Dun suppose ya'd drop me off somewhere? Ship's yours if'n ya want 'er, barely 'ad time ta git acquainted anyway. So take 'er, ya go yer way, I'll go mine, an' we'll part as da most unlikely a friends, yah?"

[member="Ortava Zakaz"]

 

[Ortava Zakaz]

He stalked behind like a jungle cat, muscles tensed and coiled like torsion springs. He paused as they entered and looked around. His ship was well maintained but the corridor had piles of stolen items pushed against the unfinished bulkhead as if forgotten. They had obviously been busy and long overdue for a shadowport to offload at.

"My ship looks like a Hutt's shebs." He said using old slang he thought he had weeded out of his vocabulary. "And I warned you about talking."

He looked to the side as a tall brutish woman who looked for all the galaxy like a feminine version of Zakaz, just with more grace and no tattoos.

"Ru," he said as she approached and looked Tryp up and down with a slight flash of sympathy, "Take this chirping bird to our quarters and get her cleaned and dressed in something...fitting."

The woman looked at him hard, her dark eyes filled with unveiled flames for a moment before something passed between them unsaid. She moved beside Tryp and drapped a long arm over her shoulder lightly.

"C'mon missus," she said in a voice almost too musical for her frame, "Let's get you a wash and change, be a while 'for we make port."

He watched them walk away and gave orders to tow the other ship to closest port.

Thirty minutes later he walked into his cabin and set his axe by the door. Heavy hands pulled off his blaster belt as he gave a glance toward Tryp. He locked his cabin and limped toward his oversized bed and sat.

"You can relax girl." He said as he bent to roll up his pant legs passed the knees to reveal heavy metallic machinery from the knees down. "It's just a fething show. And all I want he a wet drink not your...whatever."

He pulled off one leg and rubbed a smooth stump gently as Ru walked from the anointed room with a platter of food.

"Sit, eat, pretend you weren't ship jacked for a minute." He said as the former malice turned to plainly worn fatigue and slight pain, "Sing a song, I don't fethin care."

"See, lass?" The tall angular woman said, "All roar, that one is."

The woman laid the food on a round real wood table and went to sit by the big man and helped with the other leg before he pushed his back against the bulkhead and sighed.

"Grab me a drink someone, please." He said as he looked at the lavishly decorated room and then to Tyrp. "Quick as ya can please."


[member="Tryp West"]