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Old Sith Space
The dull hum that had been droning on for the last day and a half was silenced as the stolen M3-A Scyk dropped out of hyperspace. It was a fine little craft, well-cared for despite it's outdated design. Halkin supposed its previous owner had been some kind of Empire fanatic. It had been a month since he'd been freed. He had flashes of stealing the Woman's her lightsaber, raiding the food cabinets, and then accessing her holo records before stealing the very ship he piloted now. He was no expert by any means, but this was not his first time flying a ship. That had been a long time ago, when he was a boy. He shook his head, trying to clear the memory of trembling at a control yoke while his father screamed at him to take off, all the while exchanging zipping blaster fire with local police forces. The first time had been a mess.
Halkin looked down at the navigation panel in front of him, watching the little dot of his ship rapidly approach the designated location. He wasn't sure exactly what he was walking into, but something had been drawing him to it. It was subtle feeling at first, a nagging curiosity while he bartered with a trader, urging him not to sell the little datapad that he'd looted. After a while it had become unbearable, he just had to know what the Woman had been planning to uncover. He suspected (or hoped, but he couldn't tell the difference) that it was something of great value. She was supposed to meet with someone before descending to the planet below to recover whatever it was. The holo-message seemed like it had been sent after a conversation, confirmation and details of a vaguely established plan. Halkin hoped that whatever was meant to be claimed, would still be on the planet below, and that whoever the Woman was supposed to meet had moved on.
He pulled out the datapad and laid it on the console in front of him, reading the auto-transcription of the holo-message again. It was because of this that he failed to notice the appearance of another ship on his scanners until it was too late. He was being hailed. He swore, jerking his hand to the stick out of instinct, ready to veer off course and flee. But again, a little voice scratched at the inside of his skull, urging him not to turn away now. He looked down at his belt, where the stolen lightsaber hung. It was an pretty thing, a jet black hilt with purples and gold spiraling up the length of the weapon, twined beyond top of the emitter like interlocked vines. It felt like everything he was not. Pretty, regal, well-constructed. But it made him feel powerful. Everyone knew what a lightsaber meant. Don't screw around with the person holding it.
Halkin's hand moved off the control stick, finger hanging above the flashing communications system in front of him. If he answered, they'd be expecting the Woman. Or maybe they'd just be some random traveler saying hello.
No. Not out here. Not in sith space. Perhaps these are pirates. He thought to himself, he glanced at the trigger on the control yoke. That was the most likely answer. He checked the scanner again, it seemed like a single ship. I'll just answer. If they're pirates... If they're pirates... I'll worry about it if it becomes relevant I suppose. He accepted the hailing frequency and waited for the other ship to declare intention first, he had no desire to reveal his voice on the off chance they were expecting someone in particular.
Darth Osiris (I really gotta shake off some rust so forgive me if this is a little rough haha)
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