Dangerous Covenants

[Xin Boa]

The Slow Dawn, Vagrant Fleet, Relgim sector​

[member="Gorba the Hutt"] [member="Aveka Naevo"]

Xin looked at the drink that had been placed in front of him. He'd asked for beer, but this was a distinctly greeny yellow hue. His eyes stared at it with mistrust all the way to his lips. He swilled it around his mouth before swallowing it. The togrutan bartender had been watching him carefully. A refugee whose people had been decimated by war, like most on the Fleet. Right now, however, he looked as if he could explode in rage if Xin made a disparaging comment about his home brew. Xin offered a weak smile and shrug. The bartender went back to wiping glasses.

This was apparently one of the joints to visit on the Fleet. The Ithorians had been here. Almost every corridor and patch of free space was growing plants. The atmosphere was warm and humid. It suited Xin nicely, but it was different to the typical stale, cool air he was used to on ships and Xin had spent more time on ships than he ever had the oceans of his homeworld. He still didn't feel as if he fit in here. Certainly he had, like most of them, lost his home and family to disaster. The Clockwork Rebellion in fact. They've given him somewhere to live after being released from prison and kept the crime lord he had previously worked for from skinning him alive. Yulon was still out there, with a nice stack of credits put aside for Xin's bounty.

"This tastes like piss," he murmured to those who had joined him for a drink.

"Heard that," snarled the bartender. Xin bit down on his front teeth and grimaced.

"I've had worse beers?" he offered. The togruta just fixed Xin with a stare, narrowed his eyes and continued to very deliberately wipe a glass.

 

[Aeshi Tillian]

Aeshi strode through the corridors, gliding between the other sentient beings that crowded the corridors, even overgrown as they were. She pushed aside a vine and stepped into the bar, cantina, whatever it was called, aboard one of the larger vessels. Her own ship was tethered alongside- unloading cargo and refueling. She appreciated this fleet. They were her kinds of people- smugglers, outlaws, vagabonds. Vagrant, as the name entailed. She could connect with these folks easily enough. Stay in touch, travel some with them. Perhaps not too much, as their hyperdrives were slow. Far slower than her own, so she could go back and forth and still catch up to them. Her pistols hung low at her hips, but she had strapped them down. Nobody was pulling them out quickly here.

She slid up to the bar and gave the Togrutan a nod.

"Whiskey."

He nodded and poured a glass before he slid to her. She handed him a credit and took a seat along the wall. The glass, she held in her hand, tracing one finger along its rim before taking a shot. It was strong, but she appreciated it.

 

[Formorta]

Formota just gave an indifferent stare the whole time [member="Xin Boa"] sampled his peculiar beer. The drink did indeed look very suspicious, though if she was in Boa's situation she would have just outright said how it taste, and if the bartender got angry, she'd just clobber him over the head.

"This is one of the main reasons I do not drink as much". The expert sniper lend against the bar sipping her Jawa Juice, nothing speical but just something to stay hydrated. Looking around the room she noted each individual present, a habit she had developed due to her field of expertise. Most present were just other mercs, smuggler or no-good-dooers, but one person seemed different, a woman red/brown hair and robe like attire, more refined and clean for a simple mercenary.

Formortas red eye followed the woman to her seat at the bar, listening in slightly on her ask fro whisky, "That person looks out of place, or at the very least not your normal smuggler".

 

[Kinsey Starchaser]

"Brak, this ain't charity. I owed [member="Xin Boa"]. Last job ended well so I got to keep some of the extra juju fruits."

The giant lizard man snerked.

"I gave you one too didn't I? Who knew a certain kind of fruit was so valuable and needed smuggling?" A hand wiped along her brow as she adjusted the leather satchel that seemed to be constantly attached to her shoulder.

Brak muttered with a toothy grin on his face.

"No, you can't have his and I know wearing less would've been a good idea on this ship. I bet you're loving this."

He fired off another.

"OH. You'd love it more if I wore THAT. Aren't you married?" Last question rang out as they entered the bar with Xin and a few other mercs, smugglers, and an angry looking bartender.

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

Those onboard the ships of the Vagrant Fleet suddenly felt a violent lurching as the refugee vessels were ripped out of hyperspace. The cause became readily apparent.

A cluster of small warships encircled the fleet, weapons armed and targeting systems giving a clear indication of who they were aiming at. A glance at the raucous paintjobs of the warships - each a violent array of color, as if a painter had taken several buckets and splashed them across the hulls - would tell anyone with a modicum of experience that these were not military vessels.

This was no customs stop.

One of the warships transmitted a broadcast to the fleet. Those who accepted would find a wild-eyed Ebranite standing at what was clearly the helm, all six arms crossed, and sporting an impressive pair of backscabbards.

"Attention Migrant Fleet I- what?" He glanced away. There was some incoherent mumbling offscreen. He looked back, frowning, chest puffing out. "Attention Vagrant Fleet, I am the dread pirate Raze. Surrender, or by the bloody bones I'll vape you all to the last woman and child!"

A short distance away, in a ship of Hutt design, Gorba the Hutt watched events unfold with growing irritation.

[member="Xin Boa"] | [member="Kinsey Starchaser"] | [member="Formorta"] | [member="Aeshi Tillian"]

 

[Xin Boa]

[member="Aeshi Tillian"] [member="Formorta"] [member="Kinsey Starchaser"] [member="Gorba the Hutt"]

Xin watched Aeshi and her whiskey carefully. That didn't look like piss. In fact the bottle had looked decidedly fancy. He looked down forlornly at his own beer.

A Corellian chuckled beside him. "Order an ale," he whispered.

Xin's brow creased in confusion but he called the togrutan over and ordered an ale. This time he was poured a drink that was a deep ruby. Xin gave it a taste. This time it tasted like beer. This was clearly a Corellian thing, he decided. Most of the fleet was from the shattered world so they catered to their tastes in ale and whiskey.

"Corellian thing," he said to Formata with a shrug. He turned as he heard the discussion between Brak and Kinsey cross into the bar. He offered them a wide smile glad of some more company. This was what he enjoyed and had missed deeply in prison. Some conversation and a few drinks. Simple pleasures that could be had in any corner of the Galaxy.

"What can I get you both to drink? I recommend the ale. Not the beer."

A togrutan growled softly.

The ship have a sudden lurch. The smile vanished. His eyes shifted from inky black to faintly clouded. The Fleet wasn't due to leave hyperspace and that hadn't been a smooth transition.

---

In space events moved swiftly. A few weeks ago the pirate vessels would have had the edge, but a Bothan contingent fleeing the imperial occupation had joined the fleet. Their Bothan frigate and angular Nebulon K spearheaded the formation that moved to block off access to the unarmed ships.

The Adrogaddo flanked the Atlas-class carrier - the only carrier their still had in operation. The other had become living quarters. Freighters, Headhunters and the odd Y-Wing formed the screen of fighters. A Nebulon D hung back to watch for any assault from the rear.

"We fight," came the simple response. "Unless you deactivate the gravity wells." And fight they would. There was a difference between taking on someone who could afford to lose the fight and a wounded enemy with their back to the wall.

https://shoguneagle.deviantart.com/art/Kuat-Drive-Yards-Nebulon-D-Escort-Frigate-683031296

https://shoguneagle.deviantart.com/art/Star-Wars-Nebulon-K-Frigate-689166574

https://glennclovis.deviantart.com/art/Atlas-Carrier-Concept-MK5-593037927

http://img11.deviantart.net/d2a1/i/2012/088/c/e/star_wars_nebulon_a_frigate_fleet_by_adamkop-d4uafs7.jpg

 

[Aeshi Tillian]

Aeshi pressed herself back against the seat as the ship lurched to a halt, with the message broadcast through the small fleet. She listened, a frown across her face. She threw back her drink, grinning as the alcohol burned down her throat. She slammed the glass down and stood, unstrapping the blasters she wore on her hip, and with a quick flick, deactivated the safety.

"Well," she said after another a moment, grabbing the bottle of whiskey. "Looks like this is going to be a fun stopover." She tapped her comlink, adjusting the channels to speak with the Vagrant Fleet.

"Captain Aeshi Tillian of the StarDream," she paused at the doorway, "What do you need? Not got a lot of guns, but we've got speed."

 

[Fyl Terrano]

The jerk of realspace reversion nearly threw Fyl Terrano from his seat. It did slam his forehead into the durasteel table, sending his hat flying.

The ex-rebel awoke with a string of curses already on his lips. Shaking his head to throw off the dizziness of impact - and the lingering fuzziness of heavy drinking - he slowly regained his bearings. He'd fallen asleep at one of the booths in this starship bar - kriff him if he could even remember the name - after downing half a dozen cometdusters. His tongue still tingled, and was probably a bizarre shade of blue. Well, at least he hadn't pissed himself. And it was lucky that someone had cleared the glasses away after he'd passed out; otherwise they would be in pieces on the floor. Sliding upright, he felt along the deck plating with one booted foot, scooting his hat back toward him until he could pick it up.

With a gentle finger he brushed the grime away, then reverently sat it back on his head. Beyond a few half-corrupted holopics, it was his last connection to Ranger Squad Esh and the Twelfth Freedom Battalion, and as much as those memories tortured him, he wasn't ready to let them all go. Glancing around as his awareness came back to him, like breaking the surface after being held down by a crushing wave, Fyl saw unease painted on the faces of the bar's other occupants. That wasn't entirely unusual, to be fair - tensions between the factions in this nomadic starship conglomerate had run high the whole time he'd been aboard. But he was probably the only Barkheshi, and went largely unnoticed.

This time was different, though. It wasn't another Bothan-Togorian scrap or some Amaran stealing Ithorian vegetables again. Something big was up, something that required the ships to move into defensive positions. Fyl felt the last vestiges of half-pleasant oblivion slip from his mind as he considered the possibilities. He was hardly a veteran starfarer, but he could think of only three things that would make them drop out of hyperspace early: an accident, a navigational error, or a pirate attack. Given the movements of the ship, he was putting his money (not that he actually had any) on the last. He cursed again, his words low but fierce. He'd joined this dysfunctional floating circus to get away from war.

But he knew how to fight. The Southwestern Insurrection had lasted only about six months before they were decisively put down at Sheol Fen, but in surviving that long he'd learned more about combat - and, more importantly, staying alive - than just about anyone else of his young age. He'd memorized the locations of armories and gunnery stations as he'd familiarized himself with the ship, and he was ready to spring into action if that was what it took. He was entirely sure that the fleet wouldn't cave to any kind of demands - too many proud people, and too many who were broken enough that they couldn't afford to break any further. So he watched the others. If they sprang into action, he would too.

 

[Kinsey Starchaser]

[member="Xin Boa"] [member="Fyl Terrano"] [member="Gorba the Hutt"] @Formorta

When a tremor went through the ship her first thought was: oh kark, that gorram sith lord found me.

Second thought was: Brak was really strong and those scales of his were making her skin itch in that small patch of exposed flesh between the lip of her pants and toolbelt and the slightly pulled up shirt as he caught her from sprawling on her face from the ship's lurch. Booted feet swung through the air as auburn hair swung wildly across her face. "Alright. Alright. Good catch. Down now please."

The merc grunted and set her back on her feet.

If it was the sith lord, Kinsey wanted nothing more than to bolt and haul karking arse out of here. But if it wasn't? If it wasn't....

Fingers traveled to the blaster at her hip. Xin's exotic fruit could wait. "Dragoons got word of what's going on yet?" Alabaster face seemed to pale slightly, worried about the worst but hoping for the best.

 

[Xin Boa]

[member="Aeshi Tillian"] [member="Aeshi Tillian"] [member="Formorta"] [member="Kinsey Starchaser"] [member="Gorba the Hutt"] [member="Fyl Terrano"]

Xin knew the subtle difference between a smooth and deliberate transition to realspace and a deliberate one. Either the ship had made an emergency stop or been dragged out by a gravity well.

Aeshi would receive a very Bothan sounding response. The Stardream was requested in the fighter screen spreading out ahead of the civilian vessels.

Xin turned to Kinsey. As if on cue something buzzed on his belt. He slipped a small disk free from his belt and slapped it on the bar. It cast a holographic image of a duros. Wesseq Tarn turned towards Xin.

"Where are you?" He asked.

"Slow Dawn. Got Brak and Starchaser here," he replied. Was he going to get in trouble for taking a moment for a drink he wondered.

"Good. Are you in public?" Tarn asked. He likely couldn't see anything beyond Xin.

"Yes."

"We might have some trouble. Get armed and await further orders." The hologram winked out and Xin slipped the disk away. He only had a single power pack on him. "Gonna get more guns," he said before abandoning his beer with some regret.

 

[Fyl Terrano]

In the fifth month of the war - Fyl still thought of it as "The War", though the First Order probably called it something like "The Brief Inconvenience" - Ranger Squad Esh had dug in along the Pennechota Trail, trying to cover the retreat of the rest of the Twelfth. Fyl's squadmate Jaryn "Jokes" Lesher had described it in her pithy way as "long hours of boredom interspersed with brief moments of terror." They'd spend most of a week sitting on their hands, trying not to think about how cold and hungry they were and getting drunk on fermented nerf milk, and then some FO scout force would stumble over their position and they'd be thrown into a frantic fight for their lives.

Fyl wasn't sure if there was a moral to the story, but those skirmishes had taught him to sober up quickly and fight through a hangover - skills that were about to come in handy. He shook his head one more time, like a Tattooine massiff shedding sand after a storm, and stood on his own two relatively steady feet. Many of the people in the bar still seemed uncertain, but others were springing into action; the ex-rebel overheard several talking about getting armed. He wondered if any of them were among the ranks of the semi-legendary Dragoons, the paramilitary arm of this roving collection of rustbuckets. Hopefully they had some kind of plan, wherever they were.

Drawing his latest blaster, which he kept carefully leveled at the floor, Fyl checked the power pack. He'd been losing the weapons at a prodigious rate lately, and the gun wasn't exactly his first choice, but at least it had enough juice left that he wouldn't just have to smile and wave at a boarding party. Assuming there was one - maybe whoever was confronting them would just try and turn them into slag. Wasn't like they had much worth stealing beyond the metal in their hulls anyway. Unless and until some breach alarm heralded a pirate invasion, the ex-rebel was probably more useful at a gunnery station. He was pretty sure there was a quad cannon he could man a few hallways back.

He started to head that way, drawing a hand across his chin to clear it - he'd drooled a little in his inelegant sleep. This day had just gotten overly interesting.

[member="Gorba the Hutt"] | [member="Xin Boa"] | [member="Kinsey Starchaser"] | [member="Aeshi Tillian"] | [member="Formorta"]​

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

Raze frowned. They weren't standing down. They were powering up their weapons and moving toward him. Why? They were refugees. He was a pirate. They should be cowering in their boots begging him for mercy. This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't part of the plan at all.

"Uh, captain?"

"Shut up, JonJon, I'm thinking."

"They're still moving toward us."

Yes. Raze could see that. He too had functioning eyes. "Get- get them back on the line."

The Ebranite cleared his throat and held out all six of his hands in a placating gesture. "Uh, now now, no need for violence," he chuckled. "We weren't actually going to... you know. Look, why don't you just power your weapons down and we'll power down ours and we can work this all out, no?"

Aboard the Hutt ship, watching the feed, Gorba literally burst a blood vessel.

[member="Xin Boa"] | [member="Kinsey Starchaser"] | [member="Fyl Terrano"]

 

[Aeshi Tillian]

[member="Xin Boa"] [member="Gorba the Hutt"] [member="Kinsey Starchaser"] [member="Fyl Terrano"] [member="Formorta"]
--------------------------

Aeshi nodded and strode from the cantina, rolling her neck to get it loosened up. She tapped some keys on her gauntlet, and in the hangar, the StarDream began to power up the engines, a low rumble echoing across the durasteel deck. Crowds surged back and forth around her. Some were panicked, but others were calm as they hurried about their business, each set on reaching their goals- be it gun stations or medbays or evacuation shuttles. They hardly spared her a glance as she passed.

Her boots echoed off the hangar deck as she entered and ran through the hatch into her ship. Its engines pulsed beneath her feet as the scattered complement of fighters lifted off and shot outside the ship. Aeshi settled herself into her seat and buckled the straps, pushing the throttle forward and the freighter burst into the vacuum, arcing around to join the fighter screen.

"I fly. You gun," she called to her co-pilot, who nodded and moved his avian frame to better handle the gun controls. They weren't heavily armed, but their shield was good, and they were fast. Faster than those hunks of junk that the pirates called ships. A smirk pulled at her lips as the most recent message came through. They weren't expecting this, were they? It wasn't wise to add tension to a wire that was pushed to the breaking point. it could snap back and hurt somebody faster than you might mange.

She waited for an official response from the fleet, but kept her guns warm and locked on the nearest pirate ship as the fleet moved closer and closer. It was a game of chicken. Who would stop first? Who would take the gamble?

 

[Xin Boa]

[member="Aeshi Tillian"] [member="Gorba the Hutt"] [member="Fyl Terrano"] [member="Kinsey Starchaser"]

The response to the pirate fleet was simple: "Start with powering down the interdictors." For now the armed vessels in the Fleet decelerate to hold their positions relative to the pirates. Hopefully the pirates would back out and find a softer corporate target on the hyperlanes. They had no interest in dispensing justice, just moving on.

---

Xin made his way quickly to a nearby intercom. He slipped another small disk from his belt. This was similar to the code cylinders used by imperial officers. It marked him as a Dragoon. He tapped it to the intercom and dialled 1 for the bridge.

"Xin Boa here. Got a handful of Dragoons and mercs who just got interrupted drinking. Where do you want us?"

There was a pause. "Captain says help open the armoury and get some weapons in hand then head to the hangar. Set some people up at the reactor. We've got the bridge covered. We're tapping your comm in now and will keep you up to date."

 

[RC 212]

[member="Xin Boa"] [member="Aeshi Tillian"] [member="Gorba the Hutt"] [member="Fyl Terrano"]

Some of the most hated folks in the Galaxy were hutts, and she still owed one. Which made her eyes go wide as hell when a Pirate crew appeared. So far she'd managed to maintain her cover, a month behind on payments to a certain someone back on Nar Shaada. Things kicked of and she leaned in, double checking the pannels of her YT-1300.

"Uh Control, this is Cap'n Jones of the Drifter Queen. I was about to launch for my next run. Now the hangars on lock down. What the hell is going on out there?"

From her position in the cockpit she could see some folks running back and forth, Captains gathering their crews and what not. She was no Dragoon nor dogfighter, but she enough animal in her to put up a good scuffle.

"I think the fleets about to get scuffed up."

It was Terrence, her Rodian Co-Pilot.

Cathering growled and radjusted her small red cloth over her bosooms.

"Not with us hangin' around. Start up the guns."

 

[Formorta]

(sorry for not posting for a while)

The sudden jolt from the ship exciting hyperspace caused her to face smack into the bar, blacking the sniper out for a bit, missing some of the early commotion set out, it didn't take a genuine to know they had just been pulled from hyper space. Looking over the drinks and other things of the bar had spilled over and onto her person, making Formorta VERY, pisses off, "What the fuck is going on, and who's responsible".

She was just up in time to hear [member="Xin Boa"] go on about opening up the armory, "We fighting some one"?, she brought her Kisteer out and loaded a new round, a bit confused on what was going on, but knew that a battle of some sort was about to break out. "Just tell me who I need to kill".

 

[Kinsey Starchaser]

[member="Xin Boa"] [member="Gorba the Hutt"] @Formorta [member="Fyl Terrano"]

Tarn was still scary as feth. Just had that gaze about him. She still remembered how ticked the commander had been when he first laid eyes on her. She'd convinced Xin to go to a captain in the Vagrant Fleet's ship to look for a missing amulet. Not against orders but not with orders either.

Brak said something smart-mouthed to Xin about the nautolan's unfinished beer.

Kinsey smirked before his smart-mouth turned to Kinsey about joining the Dragoons.

"Hey, hey. No pressure, remember?" A hot puff of air left his snout. "Plus Xin's way more fun to pick on." Brak had no problem agreeing with that. Kinsey was walking already, jogging lightly to keep up with the reptilian. "Yes, I can still handle weapons," she shot back. "Oh so you're picking me over Xin to guard the reactor?"

She grinned, blues traveling briefly to Xin as they headed toward the armory. Shoulder bumped against [member="Fyl Terrano"]'s. Head snapped to the side about to tell someone off. She managed to hold herself back as she caught the look on the stranger.

Looked like he just woke up from a nap.

Kinsey shrugged. "Tight quarters," she mumbled to him instead. Brak snuffled that sounded like a laugh beneath that snout of his.

 

[Fyl Terrano]

Halfway out the door, Fyl stumbled as a shoulder caught his. He'd probably have been fine if he'd been a bit more sober, but even if he was in more or less fighting shape, there wasn't much about him that was graceful at the moment. He turned to look at who was in such a hurry, half irritated and half amused - that was one place the liquor helped, as he was more the happy drunk than the angry one. "Liable to sweep a man off his..." He stopped short as he caught sight of the offender, realizing too far into the sentence to abort just how awkward his words would sound. "... feet." He swallowed, tipped his hat. "Sorry, miss. Not at my best at the moment. Clumsy of me, taking up the whole door."

Shut up, Terrano. She gets the idea.

She was cute, but the kind of cute that looked like she knew how to handle herself. Younger than him, if he'd guessed right, but he'd met plenty who'd done a lot more with their years than he'd managed. And she had big friends, he reflected, raising the brim of his hat so he could look up far enough to meet her scaly companion's eyes. They were both moving purposefully in the direction of the armory, and Fyl figured that meant they were either Dragoons or just generally capable people who were ready to stick up for themselves if whatever this mess was came down to a fight. "Reckon we're headed to the same place," he said, gesturing at his blaster. "Best get better armed if there's trouble."

He stared up the corridor, trying to remember which fork to take in spite of the splitting headache that was brewing. "But I'm a little new around here. I'd appreciate it if you'd lead the way."

[member="Kinsey Starchaser"] | [member="Formorta"] | [member="Catherine Jones"] | [member="Xin Boa"] | [member="Aeshi Tillian"] | [member="Gorba the Hutt"]​

 

[Kinsey Starchaser]

[member="Fyl Terrano"]

The explorer and savager snuck a sideways glance at the stranger. Another one. Hat was an interesting style.

"Name's Kinsey. You been with the fleet long? And yeah. I'll lead as best I know. First time on this particular ship. Lots of plants."

They were actually walking on patches of grass now. Ithorian stuff. As long as there weren't mosquitoes or worse bugs she'd be just fine. Brak seemed to be loving it. There was a hint of humidity in the air while most ships were dry and stale.

She pointed ahead.

"Gotta take that lift down a level for weapons. Maybe thinsuits too. Then down again for the hangars."

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

"Where'd he go?"

"He's talkin' to the Hutt on the holo. Shh, listen."

The two pirates put their ears against the door. They could hear Raze's voice, but the Hutt's intonations were too deep to make out.

"What? That won't be- you don't have to- I won't-... Yes, great Gorba. I- N-n-no, great Gorba... Of course, your eminence."

The door slid open and the two pirates jumped backward. Raze stormed out of the room, waving all six hands wildly. "Blasted Hutt and his blasted schemes, just blasted. Blast. Blasting." He reached the command chair and slammed his fists against the armrests.

Sighing defeatedly, he gestured. "Back on the line." He cleared his throat.

"Vagrant Fleet. We powered down our weapons. No need to shoot. My backer wants to talk business. A deal. Can we agree to that?"

[member="Xin Boa"] | [member="Kinsey Starchaser"] | [member="Formorta"] | [member="Fyl Terrano"] | [member="Aeshi Tillian"]