How to Bribe a Droid [Invite]

[Dashal Vance]

Overly long and slender blue hued digits grasped the hydrospanner with a lack of confidence causing the digits and tool itself to shake. Angling themselves in ways that a human just couldn't do, or even a Hapan for that matter. Still it was wrong, and the closer the tool got to the set of wires that needed to be seen to, the worse the situation was looking. In a word, it was bleak, and it was already causing a slew of exasperated sighs to be huffed out by the young Hapan watching this tragedy.

"I think something got lost in translation. When I said be careful of cutting the wrong wire, what I meant to say was....if you screw this up because you can't keep your hands from shaking like an over-active beek monkey on glitterstim, you're gonna explode." Dash retorted as he watched the live feed of his pupil's progress (or lack thereof) in attempting to disarm a device several light years away from his current position. "Now with that word from our sponsor, let's get back to not turning this lesson into the next viral holo-vid on how -not- to strip the feed sensor off a containment field generator." His condescending tone didn't exactly thrill the Duros he was trying to tutor over the vid-com connection. That much was evident when the blue-skinned man turned back to look at the holo-cam and say something unremarkable. "Mute. And back to the show."

Seated in Junkfort Station, a smuggler's landing port for all these seedy and illegal in the term of ship upgrades and Cantina gossip. Specifically he was situated in one of the engineering rooms, kicking back on a bundle of cables that normally ran in nearly straight lines from one end of the room to the other. For now though it was a makeshift hammock for the relaxed slicer. He was busy though, and not just on a molecular level. A holo-feed being projected from each gauntlet on each arm. One was keeping track of the Duros behavior and his attempt at trying to remove the sensor strip so there was no security feed on a containment field on Mustafar - while the other was actually tapping into a data-stream and log file of all the ships that had docked and done business in the last three months. Despite the Duros being far more animated than a laundry list of cargo shipment logs, Dash seemed to be a bit more interested in the manifest than his tutoring.

Neither however was the aforementioned 'show'. No, that was said in reference to one of the video monitors hoisted up in the engineering room that was normally reserved for the readouts of the various holo-servers running under moderate load in the adjacent room. Instead of a diagnostic response for cooling systems and overclocked processors - it was currently hosting the would-be antics of his favorite news anchor [member="Jek Floggerty"]. That man could stare down a Bantha and win. Actually he had, and it was a grand time of amusement. While he generally didn't care for the people whose intellect registered far below his own - Jek pulled it off with a flair of blissful ignorance that he found to be comedy gold.

"That is one fantastic mustache." Dash commented, reaching for his glass of jawa juice and taking another sip. He'd already raided the Cantina earlier, and was just about done here, wrapping up the log download. Most, if not all of the smugglers who came here would of loved to get their hands on Dash if they knew what he was doing here, stealing information that they thought was secure (or at least not even recorded) in the station's data records. Someone though had wanted a piece of the pie, and was paying a good bit of coin for the slicer to do this thing.

[member="Brill"]

 

[Malik Rodarch]

“OI OI!”

That is not the sound you want to hear erupting from the mouth of an perturbed Gamorrean.

“YOU SCROGGIN' THEIF!”

The scroggin' theif in question was one Brill, also known as Brilliant (but only by himself). Standing at a chunk under three feet tall he certainly looked like a thief. Perfect pocket height. Just slip them furry little paws in and make off with the credit chits. Yeah, you can see it now. Busy street, little cat man just harmlessly bumping into people. Yeah? You dig it?

Well don't! Because that, good sir, is discrimination! Brill was not in fact a thief. He was a salesman. He had a trade and everything. Sure, sure. Demolitions isn't exactly the most above-board profession but everybody should be packing a least a few explosives for sticky situations. Hey, hey, calm down! You don't have to be a killer! Knock-out gas, cryoban. From non-lethal to gen'ev'ika convention breaking, Brill had it all. Cheep and cheerful.

But sometimes cheap and cheerful goes wrong. Reactions don't occur like they should, or maybe they occur a little too soon and blam! Suddenly you've got Gamorrean (one with decidedly less fingers than the other) bounty hunters chasing you through Junkfort Station brandishing their Thogks.

“Hey hey hey! Did'ya not read the warranty, pal?!” screeched the fleeing Cantrosian, tail so very clearly between his legs.

Unfortunately Gamorreans don't actually know what warranties are.

“KLOG SKIN LITTLE KITTY!”

“KLAG BREAK HIS BONES!”

They were like villains in a children's nursery rhyme, thundering along the spaceport's corridors like furious giants. Brill, in a stroke of genius went from scampering upon all fours to two legs, un-clipping a gun-metal grey orb from his sporty (yet adorable) waistcoat. Like an egg-timer he twisted the device and threw it back.

One. Two.

SAY CHEESE!

The flash that the device emitted completely blinded the pair, sending them snorting, squealing and stumbling, giving Brill the perfect chance to get through the doorway and onto the control panel. The blast doors swished to a close and there was and audible clunk, as one of the brothers sent good vibrations through the door with his head.

It wouldn't take long for the effects of his grenade to wear off and even Gamorreans can figure out how to use control panels. The Cantrosian needed somewhere to hide, and fast.

[member="Dashal Vance"]

 

[Dashal Vance]

While well ensconced in the maintenance room, it was decidedly not soundproof for the rest of the floating station. The ambient din however was not bothering the slicer as he lounged in a carefree status while allowing the amusing antics of his favorite on-air news anchor to satiate the comic relief requirement of the last hour. That is however until the ambient din had become a bellowing ruckus. That, coupled with the thundering of Gamorrean hooves and slack jawed insults bellowing down a corridor nearly caused him to spill his jawa juice. Keeping a deathlock on the glass his eyes turned back and forth within the small yet comfortable room before he made the decision to look into such a fuss. With a quick change of venue, Dash changed the frequency on his over-ride to the holo-screen before him to move away from the stylish anchor to the security feed for the station. Six screens took the place of one, as he attempted to pin-point the situation. It had to be close, but that could mean either above or below his current location.

"Sorry Jek, bit of local color happening, and it might concern my snackage." That was Dash, thinking with his stomach as he apologized to said news anchor. "Let's see whose blowing out the decibels." He had to be on point here, he wasn't invited into this room, nor was what he was up to actually legal. Spotting trouble before it came was a business he'd been in a for a bit, and he'd become quite good at making sure things like sabotage to his perfectly crafted scenarios didn't happen but once in a blue milk run. "No....No....No...there!" Dash swiped through the air, transmitting his tech wishes to the security feed before he saw the cause of such a commotion. His teal eyes lit up with intrigue as a rather adorable creature was skittering it's way from two large brutish pig-like thugs trying to get the drop on him. Getting a few seconds of feed from the past before the thundering started in his sector. "I swear I've seen this cat before....what cereal box was he on?" Dash mused to himself while he kept tracking through the feeds and finally found the blast door separating tweedle-dee and tweedle-kark for brains from a Cantrosian stew.

"Well that's a completely unfair match-up, whose rigging this game anyways?" He commented as he glanced over at his pupil was had successfully pulled the security feed out without ya know...dying. "Hey congrats on not becoming lava fodder. There's hope for you yet. I'll hit you back for another addition of 'slicing with vyse', and now a message from my good friend tone." The holo-cam call went dead followed by a low beep that lasted for about six seconds. "Now, back to holo-toon central." Dash freed up one tech glove to tap into the security system through on the of many wires he laid on and began to navigate the grid to help out the little furry pal. He may be intelligent, but brains smash easy when big stupid fists get in the way. There was not much time to do anything as the pair of Gamorreans were already coming to from their dazed and confused state, pounding on the blast door repeatedly. That is until one of them checked the control panel and began to madly jab the open button with all the surgical precision of Mandalorian head-butt.

"Will our furry friend escape the clutches of the twin enforcers barreling down to rip him in two? Will the Gamorrean brute force overcome their technological obstacle and push through to hunt another day? And will pressure links ever come in a quantity to match their steam-bread counterparts?" Dash narrated with his best holo-net pirate radio voice while he worked the security system. Every time the large green digit pressed and stabbed the open button, the console politely responded with 'No', which was not a native option. It just kept beeping at him, and the Gamorrean figured pressing harder, and then beating on the console with his tri-digit fist would be the appropriate response. "Stay tuned kids of the Galaxy, for these answers and more on the next edition of...some random cat thing person!" The console stopped saying no at this point, and began to ask if he wanted to reset his password. Now Dash was just completely screwing with them.

A separate feed was brought up on the monitor to track the prey on this chase and isolate his location. A holo-panel adjacent from the critter lit up, with Dash's mug plastered pleasantly on the screen. There were however no speakers on the panel, so it was just a game of pantomime as he pointed to an exhaust vent that he knew routed directly to the engineering room where he was safe and sound. A jerk of his thumb pointing to the access panel about three or four times was given before a wink and then a thumbs up. The screen cut our shortly after. And while his ruse with the control panel would work fairly well, a blaster bolt to it's facing display wouldn't keep up the charade.

[member="Brill"]

 

[Malik Rodarch]

Resuming his four-legged scampering, Brill went down corridor after corridor only finding a mess of dead ends and maintenance closets that would only guarantee his safety for what, five, ten minutes. He had unwittingly scampered into dead-end valley. What did he expect? Space stations didn't go round in a loop, this wasn't a planet.

Panic. Dread. How many lives could Gamorrean fists pound out of him?

He scurried back, having long since lost his way in the maze of no escape. Left. Right. Left. Left again, what is this, a cheat code? Coming to a new dead end Brill was beginning to wish that he'd brought some breadcrumbs to make himself a trail and that was when the holo-panel burst into lights, camera, action.

“WAAAAGH!”

The Cantrosian rolled backwards at the very sudden (and rather bright) appearance of the face until he realised that it was at the very least, a friendly face...well okay, that was speculation but this guy wasn't a large space pig so he was probably on the level. Catching the mime's drift Brill's goggled gaze tilted upwards to the, ah, vent. The perks of being small. He might have frowned at the prospect had it not been life saving.

There was a furious victory squeal in the background as the control panel was finally beaten destroyed. Oh rats! There's no time! Go!

With claws out and a determination to live he scrabbled up the wall, leaving a set of unsightly scratch marks in the process and with a tablespoon of gusto rammed his larger-than-life cranium into the vent shutters which had the good decency to be made out of plastic.

He scrabbled in just as two pairs of enraged feet trundled around the corner.

“WERE DID 'E GO?”

With all of his faith poured into the mysterious face Brill began his journey through the vents. Perfect for a wee bugger of his size and stature. It wasn't actually a long journey, more of short jaunt through abandoned spider webs and rat droppings. Real pleasant, but much better than being pounded into furry mulch.

Eventually he came to the exit point, above a room so heavily illuminated it could have only been housing an tech-savvy shut-in. The kind of person that could say, display his face upon a vacant holo-panel with relative ease.

He knocked upon the shutter, glowing green goggles peering through rampant with curiosity.

“Might I come in?”

[member="Dashal Vance"]

 

[Dashal Vance]

As anticipated the large burly semi-sentient pigs finally got the damaged console to release the blast door, allowing them to barrel through. Never underestimate the power of stupid and clumsy when brute force is always an option. To their annoyed surprise and shock, the dead ended corridor saw no signs of their furry vigilante. Ignorance became outrage as they began to sniff around the hallways looking for their miniature feline bomb crafter to no avail. The security feeds amused Dash to no end as they snorted and grunted looking every bit as dim-witted and confused as he would expect from the Gamorrean charm. He certainly wouldn't want to be on the business end of their sharp tusks, battle axes or breath, but he was safe in engineering, watching the hilarity and tossing a few kernels of starch-corn into his awaiting mouth, using the other hand to track his data backup process. A rattling of paws on metal stirred his attention up to the alcove where the ventilation shaft ended, and where the current creature he'd rescued from the clutches of ugly on steroids resided.

Ceiling cat -- he does exist!

"Join the party, we've got snacks, we've got drinks...we've got eighty-five hundred holonet news and sitcom stations to rifle through and enjoy!" The slicer looked up with giddy mirth and flagged the adorable ball of fluff and explosives to scramble into the engineer room. His makeshift cable hammock swayed back and forth with the motion. He'd already raided the Cantina on this deck earlier and he had a stockpile of snacks should the job have taken him longer, but he was already wrapping up. Dash had a new diversion now for his highly fast-paced attention span, and it was a live one. He'd not met this species before, but if the holonet was anything to go by, his species were riddled with hilarity and amusement. And this one talked! Once the little critter would weasel his way into the engineering room, Dash punched up a few commands onto the larger view screen before him, bringing up the pair of pigs into main view. Their stumbling and disgruntled selves were still milling about the corridors. Scratching their thick skull heads and trying to discover the cat's vanishing act.

"Looks like the bantha for brain twins are still trying to sort out the logic of playing....well...cat and mouse if you'll excuse the pun." He offered with a smirk and swung his legs over the side of the cables to get a good look at his new furry friend. "So what's their deal...bounty, chew toy, mascot? You sell them snake-oil deodorant?" He asked with a smirk resting on his face. Dash was a friendly guy, but he often was a talker to the point of speaking sarcastic as his native tongue.

[member="Brill"]

 

[Malik Rodarch]

With his official invite given Brill dropped down from the vent, naturally he landed on those tiny booted feet. You can't shatter that illusion, imagine the outrage. Cantrosians don't land on their feet! Egads! The public backlash! They'd feel hurt, betrayed, devastated even!

Well, they would if anybody knew anything about the small feline species. When you're this small, and this furry you've got to keep it on the down-low. Have you ever been squeezed by a five year old girl? Yeah. The name of the game is mystery, intrigue and staying away from little children and their damned vice-like grips.

His eyes moved onto one of the larger screens, observing as the Gamorreans became increasingly frustrated (if such was possible) by Brill's disappearing act. Good. He flashed a grin, Cheshire in nature at his brand new friend and savour.

“Gamorreans, pal,” he started, pulling his goggles up and revealing those yellow eyes beneath, “I say to myself, don't do business with 'em! They don't got the finesse for demolitions, ya know? It ain't my fault they've got them great clumsy mitts!”

The goggles were slipped back on and Brill looked up at his savour, “The name's Brill, demolitions expert at your service, and they,” a small paw pointed at the smash brothers on the display, “they are reason that the customer ain't always right.”

The adrenaline that kept him scampering through the system still coursed through his being, but on an emotional level the Cantrosian had began to relax, taking a moment to survey the room that he now found himself in.

“...say pal, do you live in here?”

[member="Dashal Vance"]

 

[Dashal Vance]

A muted thud rang as boots touched the durasteel tiled floor below, after he swung out from the bundle of cables. They now sagged a bit, keeping a loose shape of his former makeshift hammock, but that was hardly any of his current concern. The Hapan stood now at a towering height overlooking his new furry companion - and the duo seemed to be quite the Mutt and Jeff pair with their vastly different statures and physical traits. Still, Dash didn't discriminate - he valued intelligence, cunning and above all a sense of humor that would mesh with his random assortment of hat tricks, bad puns, and native sarcasm. The engineering room wasn't entirely cramped, but it wasn't spacious either - and it was never meant for people to live in, which is why he was just a visitor on this station. He appreciated the way Brill talked - finding a lot of jaded similarity between having to deal with the nerf-herder types of the Galaxy. The slicer normally struggled with those of lower intellect, the dim and ignorant were a constant pain in his side. This is generally why his price increased as their I.Q. dipped below sub-par and kept dropping.

"I hear that, they rarely are." He commented as he flipped open a spare container of supplies and tossed a bottle of blue-milk to the Cantrosian to his right. "That's why I generally charge interest, or as I like to call it 'the laser-brain tax'." He finished his comment, giving air quotes around the patent-pending title of his extra surcharge for services rendered. His own choice for the time being was a selection of Jawa Juice in pressurized bottle form. The lid was flipped closed and he took a seat on the top, offering a clink of glasses to Brill for a muted cheers before taking the first swig after breaking the seal. "Making things go boom sounds like a fun run, nice calling card too. Lemme guess, smoking crater as your holo-ID?" Dash mused, reminding himself mentally to check up on the name and profession in the holo-net records that he could get his sticky virtual fingers into. The boy had reach.

"You can call me Daaren though..." While it wasn't his real name, he always wasn't about to tell Brill that his name actually was that. For now he played it safe, which was a default response for the Hapan. Coincidentally that name was simply an anagram response to the Hapan word for Superior Technology. "..and feth no, this place is far too small for my tastes. Plus the snack selection is only sub-par. I make my bed elsewhere, this is just for a job." He replied as he accessed the holo-feed of the display on the main screen and flipped it back to the current status reports of the holo-servers it was monitoring in the room to their right. The dual tech gauntlets on each arm glowing a feint blue. Anyone worth their salt would figure his profession in a matter of minutes. "So, you have a plan of escape, or were you banking on losing one of those nine lives with snouts for brains?" Dash knew he wasn't just a regular cat, but the puns came anyway - it was a knee-jerk reaction for the kid.

Personally he would simply arrange a pick-up, once he was out of here. That was another task he'd yet to solve though, as the docks at the station were controlled by droids, instead of people. It cut down on labor costs, and people were suspicious. Droids didn't care, they just did what the program told them. While a smooth-talking ace could seduce a patrol to do their dirty work, or look the other way for a fist full of credits, droids were and entirely different issue. Dash still had a few ideas however, and he was already attempting to incorporate Brill into his many schemes, that might just benefit both of them.

[member="Brill"]​

 

[Malik Rodarch]

Free blue milk? Yes please, Louise!

There's a great advantage about being very small in a galaxy where the average height is probably around six foot. Food portions. They're great. A bottle of blue milk is nothing more than refreshment to those of the average statue but to the vertically challenged it's a veritable fountain of refreshment. Bantha burger? No! Try bantha challenge! Like a mountain of meat and bun. Beautiful. Could keep a guy like Brill fed for a couple of days. Easy on the credits.

Not without it's own issues mind you, obesity among the smaller species was an increasing problem in more populous metropolitan areas. You're getting rotund Jawas lining up for heart bypasses, but does it get any press? No. Even in space there's no relief from the fervour of the tabloids.

He nodded almost feverishly at the notion of the laser-brain tax. “Now that, that is a fantastic idea. I'm usin' that from now on, ya know?” Clink clink. Taking a swig of his newly acquired beverage he offered a thumbs up to this Daaren, a token of appreciation.

Hey, a room too small for one man was the perfect size for one Cantrosian, but enough about size.

“Pretty much,” he conceded, swirling the bottle around casually, “never had an interaction with a pig go in my favour, ya know? Sometimes you just gotta run an' hope yer feet carry you somewhere more fortunate.”

A grin.

“An' here I am.”

Just as casual as the day Brill retired himself to the floor, sitting cross-legged in front of his newly acquired friend like the most adorable plushy on this side of the galaxy, sippin' on his bottle of blue.

[member="Dashal Vance"]

“So what brings you to Junkfort Station, pal? 'Sides savin' my life.”

 

[Dashal Vance]

Native heritage of the Hapan had granted Dash quite the charming visage. Grand as his mug was, there was no contest when it came to an adorable ball of fur and explosives. That only meant one thing - instant wingman! Perhaps an attractive Cathar kitty for the goggle wearing feline, and a Zeltron for the slicer. Oh Zeltrons, Dash had to really try to not spend every waking minute on that world of hedonistic abandon. Galaxy Girls was fun and all, but that planet just oozed allure. The collective pheromones excreted from the natives was enough to turn even the Yuzzhang Vong into babbling love-struck idiots. Couple with that spice addiction, gambling in every bar, dive, and alleyway, and an entire planet full of tasty's. That was dangerous territory for the Hapan, as he barely recalled how he left that planet the first time he accidentally took port there. He knew one thing, it wasn't by conscious choice.

"If nothing else, keeping one step from trouble is an excellent cardio regiment, and one hell of a dietary supplement." Kicking his feet up to admire the worn boots on his feet, he cast a sidelong glance to his new furry friend and tipped back the bottle for a swig of the cool liquid coating his throat. "More people should do it, but then I think we'd be outta work. They best stick to being lazy slugs while we beat feet." He liked his life, like the adventure of outrunning the law types, and everyone else that at times got to hot to trot on the slicer's tail. It served him well, even got him a few dates with just a quick free-running escapade. It certainly abated the need to be active - all the perks of a sport, and the only downside was the risk of a broken bone here and there. But ya live and learn. "I've got two speeds; jumping jack flash and dead stop. There's no in between, except when it comes to the ladies." He offered a cheesy grin and a wink before hopping down off the crate, turning to press his back up against one of the walls. He was already getting restless.

"Never been up a creek with Sir tusks'a'lot, but I'm betting it takes more than a paddle to get that ugly green butt outta your way." He didn't like dealing direct most of the time. Virtual was nice, and cozy. He could conduct affairs in his flamboyant pajamas and still manage to out-wit a crime lord through a holo-transfer. Anonymity - possibly his one true love. The one idea he didn't actually chat on. Dash was a ladies man, but also a womanizer. He spread his love everywhere, and while he was honest about being a charmer, and having legitimate fun - there was no depth. What you saw was what you got. He didn't let people peek behind the curtain, likely because he was afraid that they'd find just more shallow waters. Another swig was taken before he emptied the bottle and tossed into the compactor to his right.

"Had a job, and pretty much hit it outta the smashcourt." Dash said, calling up a schematic on his right tech vambrace. The blue light shone bright now as it linked up with the monitor above him. It was detailed scrolling log that filled the entire screen in bright blue test. It was jumbled and encrypted already by his own design, but it was clearly a manifest log. "Credit for the data. It's really a wonderful system. I exchange data for money - data I can control and write if the need came down to it. Something virtual for all the comforts of a physical pay off." He smirked as he killed the feed and gave a second glance for anything else he might of had laying around. "Though I'm sure playing demo-cat has it's advantages."

[member="Brill"]

 

[Malik Rodarch]

Now that was a bright train of thought.

Let me tell you about Brill and the ladies. They loved him. Soft and fuzzy in all the right places, the ladies loved to touch. Of course, not in a sexually deviant way, no,he was just so damned cute, or, 'cayoot' as it found itself to be pronounced (much to the galaxy's chagrin). The ladies couldn't resist strolling over to the bar to talk to the man who kept such an adorable companion, they just can't get enough. The beebleberry shampoo didn't hurt either.

Then again, being so darling had drawbacks. Ever caught the eye of a Hutt? Because there are only two things that they want from a cute and cuddly Cantrosian. A snack, or to sell to the highest bidding socialite. Pink accessories and a handbag to sit in, no thank you.

“You'd think, huh?” Brill smirked, responding to the last statement, “Sometimes I just think of packin' it all in, y'know? Goin' back to Tattooine and just scavenging with the Jawas.”

He knocked back another swig of sweet blue, yeah he liked scavenging, found it cathartic. There was something about junk and scrap, finding diamonds in the rough that just tickled his fancy.

“But the credits, pal. The credits in the demo business,” he snickered, scratching the back of his ear casually, “cha-ching.”

True story. 'Nades were costly, even the garden variety ones, and there were only so many that could be carried at a time. Not to mention the fun-factor. Who doesn't like a little boom boom bang to mix up the regular grind of life? Exactly.

“Wish I didn't have to face-to-face it though,” he admitted, “must be a dream...”

[member="Dashal Vance"]

 

[Dashal Vance]

The two lines of services offered by these experts were certainly in stark contrast - though had the possibility of being mutually beneficial. Dash's clientele were more apt to staying on the other side of the holonet, and often preferred discretion and anonymity - whereas the Cantrosian's arm removal devices were prone to the meet and greet variety. He was fairly certain they'd also had their own mix of the opposite, at least Dash knew he had done that on more than one occasion. While he didn't mind meeting the clients, he often preferred to be able to be on the job running solo, so as not to have watchful eyes on his process, or his methods. There was an even higher stakes price-tag put on his wares if they decided to tag along for the ride. It was however so ludicrous that no one had yet forced his hand in the regard. He could sympathize with the little bomber in the regard that business was sometimes not what you bargained for. A grass is always greener mentality seemed to be where Brill was heading though with his pseudo lament.

"Tatooine?" The Hapan asked as a visible shudder rode up and down his spine, causing his shoulders and arms to translate the reverb through his form. Dash hated Tatooine, and any planet like it. For a would be technomancer, the idea of a barren world devoid of some of the most basic tech was a nightmare all too real. It ranked right up there with tales of the Corellian hells as a child. "Your a braver one than me, dust bowls are not my style. Can't take the braze - and the lack of decent tech. I'd have to high-jack the Jawa transports just to get me to the nearest star-port." He thought about it for a moment, and only a moment before his teal eyes widened with a bit of clarity. Tatooine. Sandbox. Playground of the feline species. "If I'm gonna go the way of the vulture though, I'll ride in cyber-style and go data mining." Vance was all about the code - that endless stream of characters, and digits compiled into a beautiful and often elegant language. He knew several dozen code languages, even some that he wrote himself. The boy may be young, but his mind raced faster than Pod-racing on Malastare.

"Being the faceless supply of S-thread decryption has its perks, no doubt." The slicer offered as he pushed off of the cabinet to his rear and checked one of the bins again, sliding some protein bars into empty slots on his utility belt. He couldn't stay there much longer, he had some more work to do, and he preferred if he'd do it in his own bunker. Getting out of Junkfort station wasn't going to be too much of a bother, but he felt it necessary to ensure that Brill didn't lost one of his nine lives in trying to get off the floating star-port either. Snacks for the ride were essential, it was often a qualification that he checked off before deciding to string along a second date. "Besides, wouldn't want to waste this mug on a Trandoshan when it could be put to much better uses." Dash offered a side glance to the seated kitty before he pulled up a schematic of the station on his right arm, plotting a course from their current position to one of the ports. He merged that data quickly with security feeds that he still had remote access to. "Though we've got time for all that talk later, seems now is our golden window of getting off this durasteel dock."

"You up for learning how to bribe a droid?" Dash said with a sly smile riding over his visage. He had a plan in mind, and if all went well he might just get to see how good Brill was with the custom boom boom orbs he toted around and apparently made.

[member="Brill"]

 

[Malik Rodarch]

Brill smirked, Tatooine wasn't the most pleasant dustbowl in the galaxy, actually it was probably one of the least pleasant dustbowls in the galaxy. Scum, villainy, tusken raiders and days upon days of blinding sands, made only brighter by those unrelenting twin suns. Low-tech, low-intelligence, welcome to the borderlands, buddy.

“Oh, it's not so bad...” he started, voice coy, almost sing-song in nature as his sharp little fangs glinted somewhat. Talk about your sparkling dental hygiene.

“Okay, it's kinda bad.”

But it was home. He had survived the swirling sands, the scavenger wars, learned how to barter and banter. Not to mention the valuable lesson that all swoop races are definitely fixed and throwing your credits in that direction was the biggest waste of time ever and totally not worth getting your furry little kneecaps broken over.

Seriously. It's a fix.

Talk of leaving came up, causing Brill's ears to prickle with excitement. I mean, he knew he was safe in this tech box of a room but getting off of the station? That's, how do you say it, that's a-bingo! His smirk spread further, wider and full of mirth. A swig of the blue milk, refreshment central. By gum, there is nothing like quenching a thirst, like chugging a pint of milk when the hangover hits. Cold. Like an oasis on the throat.

His reply was short and sweet, “Let's blow this junksicle stand, buddy.”

[member="Dashal Vance"]

 

[Dashal Vance]

Originally, the plan of exodus from Junkfort was going to be provided by a nice leisurely meander through the corridors, and an appointment ferry that he'd either stow away on, or get some credits from a nearby vendor and toss to a shuttle. That plan though had a few too many holes to make it viable with his current explosives expert on deck and also needing safe passage from the tusk and pig-skin brothers. No doubt there was an alert on them now, in fact there was - he'd already seen it on the feed. That meant that every single droid taking the docking rights of every passenger on and off this durasteel floating fortress was privy to that and would immediately use and ident scan and would hand him over to the authorities. Cats don't always land on their feet, and he was sure they'd experiment enough to try and test that theory on Brill. Dash had a new plan forming in his noggin by the time his furred friend had chugged the last of the blue milk. Pacing away from the wall, Dash's vambrace lit up again as he did a quick check on the droid rotation at the entrance to one of the cargo freighter drops. It was below deck, below heavy foot-traffic giving them an edge. What he had to get around was the air-lock, the droids on patrol, and the ship logs that weighed every shipment in and out of junkfort precisely.

"We're gonna be moving at a pretty good clip, so strap whatever bits of explosive precious you got good and tight." Dash mused while moving towards a panel on the opposite wall and dropping the handle to the polar position, which in turn let out a hiss of noise as the hydraulics of the floor shifted and a panel slid out at an angle. The chute was large enough for both of them to ride down single file, and was normally used to throw garbage from the tech room into the storage detention area to be processed for recyclables. "Tally ho!" The Hapan shouted and leapt forward, his hands wrapped around his chest, his head tucked forward and his legs pressed together in mid air. His limber frame hit the slide with a thud and shot down the chute letting the artificial gravity take him the rest of the way. A muffled yell echoed through the metallic slide that skewed the side and then off at an angle to take him and whoever followed directly down to the sub-levels where they'd need to make good time in order to meet the next shipment. "Bonzai!"

Junkfort wasn't built to be a resort station, or anything remotely glamorous, it was rather dull to be honest, and made for the lower lives of those that wanted an illegal upgrade or a repair job on a ship they couldn't exactly afford or had stolen. Despite the criminal activity here, it was also secured and policed to keep unwanted types out and appear to be legitimate. You had to know which wheels to grease, (or servos for that matter) in order to stay ahead and get what you wanted at a fair price. Normally they'd hand out bounties or make someone work off their debt by some other nefarious means. Dash opted for a less conventional route and had decided to simply up and re-purpose a droid to get them shuttled off the station and to their next great adventure. The chute veered right and then ended abruptly with a metallic grate barring passage, but it swing right open with the force of his boots making purchase, and letting Dash fly right out of the passage and onto a cloth like catch-all which he immediately somersaulted off of and onto the durasteel corridor lined in various ways with crates of unknown cargo littered with layers of dust from their continual un-moved presence.

"Second hallway to the right and straight on to the air-lock. This is where things get fun." He commented assuming his Cantrosian partner in crime was right at his six. A flip of his goggles onto his eyes gave him the enhanced night vision he needed to see in the near pitch black of the corridor, only barely illuminated by a few dim lines of light. He assumed that Brill had good enough eye-sight to make his way through while Dash needed the assistance of the tech goggles. For a moment he paused, while he edged back and forth on the balls of his feet silently counting down the time he needed, calculating their chance at getting through the air locks while the system was still filtering the atmosphere and creating a breathable climate for them. He certainly didn't want to run out into the void of space. "Now!" Dash exclaimed as he rubbed his hands together, took and deep breath, and took off, running straight for the corridor and towards their destination.

[media]https://soundcloud.com/cortiz10/pumping-blood[/media]

A flavorful blend of fast moving legs and arms drove the Hapan slicer forward, maneuvering obstacles in his personalized form of free running that he'd used time and time again to escape from authorities, angry boyfriends, and jealous lovers. He certainly had a knack for getting under certain people's skin, and falling into others. Palm press against a durasteel crate as both feet ran across the opposite in a miniature crate run, vaulting over another and increasing in speed. A beautiful and well timed form of movement that treated the obstacles like playground equipment. Forward flip turned into a slide below a stack of uneven storage cargo. Every move entwined into the next while vaulting the hazards of un-washed floor panels. Stray cords and cables were avoided with another wall run, banking off in a jump that had his hands grasping the edge of a durasteel rafter beam, which he pulled himself up to. Large strides bounded from beam to beam as he kept timing his jumps and making headway. The readout on his goggles giving him second by second statistics on the time and direction he needed to go. The grin on his face told the story, he was greatly pleased when he got to race the clock and beat feet in order to secure his dealings.

Leaping off the last beam, his hands clutched a danging chain that was hooked to a pulley system routing to the opposite corridor he wanted to go down. The chain sang while he rode it around and kept the pressure to swing him back on course and drop the Hapan onto a stair-case like stack of crates. A double hand plant at the top had his legs sailing through and down a makeshift ramp which turned into a full sprint afterwards. Brill was far shorter than he was, but he was also feline, he had no doubts the little fellow could keep up, and probably even pass him as their joint running excursion had them closing in on the first of their destinations. The airlock door ahead was flashing yellow indicating about a minute window before it's doors were close and the vacuum of space would interfere for a five minute time period. They had to time this right.

[member="Brill"]