Into the Galaxy

[Cen Tessek]

[member="Usa'ar Obath"]

For the first time in the past few minutes, Cen felt a rushing tide of relief wash over him. He was being put in a position of control, being given the ability to fully plan his next move. In control, Tessek could manage, here at the top, looking down at his future like one would a board game, he would play it piece by piece until the outcome was analyzed as perfection. He tapped a few thick buttons next to the wide screen laid before him and slowly it hummed to life. Swiping his finger along the glass he pulled up a large map of the galaxy, accurately represented on the 2-D screen.

"Civilized, south of the warzone," he muttered, eying the map intently. "I don't know if you know your galactic geography or not, but this is literally the worst plast to plan a pit stop. There's nothing here!" He sighed slumping forward against the screen, his nose brushing the glass and activating the pull-up description of some unfamiliar planet. "Huh," he muttered, a bit shocked by the chance discovery. "This may be a bit on the long route but a good stop might be Fondor. It's the capital of the Omega Protectorate..." Feth, he thought. "...but it's famous for its big, orbital shipyards that surround it. We could probably quickly drop by one, fuel up, and get on our way more quickly than if we were to land on some crime-ridden planet in neutral space."

 

[Usa'ar Obath]

"Fondor," Usa'ar thought. "Never been there. But I'd very much prefer refueling in space rather than going to the surface, espexially if you want to keep your mission secretive and such." Usa'ar entered the final coordinates into the computer. "I don't think you'll like light speed," he joked as in the back of his mind he hoped Cen wouldn't puke on his custom seats. "Here we go." He pushed the final lever and the hyperdrive started up, and with a sudden roar, the stars in the distant stretched into interminable lines reaching across the vast expanse of space. They traveled like this for only a minute or so until with a jolt they left light speed and studied their surroundings. With the sight of dozens and dozens of huge, black shipyards seemingly guarding the surface, Usa'ar knew rhey had made it to Fondor.

 

[Cen Tessek]

[member="Usa'ar Obath"]

Cen laughed at the starpilot. Trained by a Sith, raised in the broiling heat of Tattooine, fending off Tusken Raiders and rabid jawas, and now was at the peak of his physical skill. He will not like it, he acknowledged. No, he would love it. Then, as they jumped to lightspeed, he felt his face press into his skull. The sudden jolt suddenly twisting up his insides, which threatened to climb up his throat and rain down from above in an acidic downpour. When they popped out of hyperspace, he leaned forward attempting to conjure on Force for the first true time in his life to simply stifle a gag. It did not work, he heaved once then lurched back into his seat. "I'm good."

The shipyards of Fondor peppered the surface, occasionally webbing together over large capital ships half built or nearing completion. Beyond the network of warships and cruisers being constructed sat the blue planet of Fondor, lazily twirling about in the vacuum of space. Its surface was marred by great clouds of pale brown which gave way to the hint of large, illuminated settlements below. "Let's get the fuel and get out, we're in enemy territory for as far as I'm concerned. If they find out we intend to head to Sith space, I'm not sure they may let us leave."

 

[Usa'ar Obath]

Usa'ar steered the fighter to the nearest shipyard. His intercom crackled and a voice addressed the ship.
"Unidentified starfighter, state your business."
Usa'ar quickly and calmy answered. "Refueling only. We should only be here for only an hour, at most."
Silence for a moment. Then, "You may proceed to dock 41a. Marking it on your HUD."
A flashing symbol appeared at a nearby hangar. Usa'ar nudged his fighter in that direction and slowly decelerated, passed through the hangar shield, and landed the fighter smoothly. Several other ships were in this dock, but none so antique as Usa'ar's. He popped open the cockpit, removed his helmet, and sighed. "Artificial air is never quite the same. But it's better than nothing. I'll find an attendant so we can get this going. Stay in the ship, or walk around, I don't care, but I'm leaving when she's fueled up." Usa'ar hoisted himself down off the ship and his boots landed solidly on the floor.

 

[Cen Tessek]

[member="Usa'ar Obath"]

Tessek nodded, nervously flipping the cockpit switch and letting the stale artificial air wash over him like a tidal wave. He coughed, nearly doubling over at the toxic-tasting oxygen as he spoke, "You professional starpilots used to imbibing this kind of air? No wonder you all get a loopy in the long run, this stuff is probably killing my brain cells." He rolled from the cockpit, landing on the right turbine engine with a thunderous bang that earned him a nervous pause. Once he had assessed he had in fact not destroyed something fundamental he gently leaped to the ground below, hitting the earth with a crouch before bouncing upright.

"Alright, I'll go look around," he said, already beginning to make distance between himself and the pilot. He waved, slipping into a crowd of sullustan dockworkers and engineers, calling out through the monotonous babble, "I'll be back in an hour, I just need to go, uh... find the bathroom, yeah. Be back in two hour- No, three! I need three hours, I haven't used the bathroom in quite a long time."

 

[Usa'ar Obath]

This Toydarian was really getting on Usa'ar's nerves.
"No, I'm not going to pay for the deluxe wash, I don't want the S foils checked, I only want fuel!" Usa'ar nearly shouted.
"Alright, alright, my friend," the Toydarian wheezed. "But would you consider, perhaps, some nice gold paint on your lovely ship? Only 600 credits, a real deal!"
"For the last time, no." Usa'ar unbuckled his holster, revealing the DC 17. "Will I have to use this?"
The creature recoiled. "No, no, my friend, I will get you your fuel. 210 credits, please."
Usa'ar slowly began pulling out the pistol. "Earlier you said 180..."
"Ok ok! 180 for my favorite guest!" He immediately flew off to fetch the fuel.
Usa'ar sighed and leaned against a nearby support column. It always seemed like everyone was trying to cheat him. That thought sparked another. His Chiss passenger still hadn't payed him. I swear, thought Usa'ar, if he tries to cheat me...
Usa'ar started heading back to his ship and scanned the area for Cen. He had got out of the ship, he remembered, and Usa'ar thought he had headed towards the bathrooms, but he hadn't been really paying attention.
"I'm off my game... I NEED those seven thousand credits." Usa'ar mukbled to himself as he started jogging through the crowd, eyes searching for Cen.

 

[Cen Tessek]

[member="Usa'ar Obath"]

Cen was no thief, nor was he a gambler, but he had to think of something that can at least earn him enough credits to convince Usa'ar that he had absolutely no intention of cheating him. He guessed he could find a pilot, one that could accept payment post-trip. But Sith space was Sith space, no sane pilot would ever willingly fly straight into that hellhole intending to keep their head situated upon their shoulders. That's what made Obath so special, he realized. He must be insane or stupid, perhaps both, or maybe so hyper intelligent that he stands miles above Cen in thought process, already calculating the percentile possibilities of Sith bases, patrol routes, and locations and already planned the route around them.

Tessek, lost in this deep thought, walked straight forward into a wall with a loud bang, earning hysterical laughter from a nearby sullustan engineer. Shooting said worker a poisonous glance only a sith-trained man could ever muster, Cen set off on his adventure oblivious to the close proximity of his esteemed starpilot. Then he saw it, his salvation.

It was as if the nameless gods of the stars had descended from their heaven behind the heavens to plant this little holographic notice, hovering listlessly before a Huttese droid store.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

WANTED:​

MELAT S'KUN​

MUUN WANTED FOR MURDER​

DEAD OR ALIVE​

Reward: 4,000 Credits/chip​

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

And the best part? Standing before this divine and hallowed blessing was said muun provided in the picture, grimacing and angling his head, seemingly dissatisfied with the provided picture. "I don't like the hat," he said to himself, rather loudly and indiscreet. "It makes me look like some bantha poodoo-haulin' dredge! How did they even GET this picture!?" His shrill voice carried loudly over the hangar, earning a few odd glances. Cen glanced around warily, suspecting someone else to recognize the opportunity, yet no one paid it any mind. Thanking his fictional gods one final time, Cen began to move in for the kill.

 

[Usa'ar Obath]

Cen wasn't anywhere to be seen in the bathrooms. Usa'ar grimaced. Cen never intended to pay him. He just wanted to get dumped off at a station so he could dupe another pilot to fly him the next leg of the journey. Usa'ar pulled out his DC 17 and continued pushing his way through technicians and engineers, loiterers and pilots. He had never seen many Chiss before, how could he miss this one? And there was something about him, too, that made him seem... Different.
Usa'ar turned his head as he heard a shrill voice pierce the crowd. Stupid Muun, he thought. Always so obnoxious.
Usa'ar sighed, realizing it would be harder than he thought to catch this elusive ex farmer. He thought for a moment and decided to just head back to his ship when he heard a commotion in the crowd.

 

[Cen Tessek]

[member="Usa'ar Obath"]

He was unfamiliar with subtle subjugation techniques. He could probably choke the scrawny muun out, but no, that would be too loud, too obvious, and too simple. No, a plan of this magnitude required an execution of parallel complexity. He was a master of the game, every place and person a piece or pawn, nothing was beyond his infinite analytical mind, capable of executing in-depth operations with the most simplistic of effort. Nothing got past him, he was aware of everything.

"Sir? Sir- Oh, Oh, I am so sorry, I didn't know you were a vegetable," remarked the muun directly into Cen's ear. In the midst of Cen's daydreaming the muun had not only taken notice of his vacant staring but had managed to stealthily (or so it seemed) approach Tessek and seemed to be in the midst of a conversation involving the IG-86 Sentinel models on display. When Cen blinked to life once more the muun greeted him back to reality with a wry smile and continued, "I knew that exactly by the way you stared at me you knew who I was. It was like... I was like... destiny! The Force maybe? That's what a jedi would say. Hey, you aren't a jedi are you?" The muun began to pat him down for a lightsaber, getting dangerously close into Cen's personal bubble.

Cen stuttered, incapable of overcoming the sudden surprise invasion of his personal space until the muun Melat commented, "Oh, is that just a lightsaber or are you happy to see me?" This earned a very solid and a very genuine scowl from Tessek who quickly shoved the muun away, causing the gaunt creature to crash to the ground. Giving a short, shrill cry before he met the metal floor, Melat certainly gathered some attention. Bystanders quickly stopped going about their business, eying the pair as if expecting all hell to break loose in a moment's notice. However, the muun, understandably uninterested in garnering attention, quickly leaped to his feet and strolled back to the chiss, allowing his lanky arm to loll over his shoulder as if they were just the best of pals.

Slowly, Melat attempted to drag Cen into the store, and the chiss, also eager to avoid discovery by his unpaid pilot, was more than happy to follow. However, as luck tends to be, it soon ran out. "So what's your recommendations on purchasing the IG-86 model? What oil should I use on the swamfendor to energize its posture? I want my sentinels to look all springy and young-like, y'know, like in the good old days when everyone was just all, 'Hey Fasufet, want to go down to Clameshar and help me wade through the grease fields?' I need something with power, with punch! Like a wookie uncle woken from a mid afternoon nap. What do you recommend?" Cen, at this point had no idea how to respond. He had no idea what the hell a swamfendor was, much less what the hell the muun was talking about. He decided, as with all things involving the unknown, it would be best to wing it. "Yes."

 

[Usa'ar Obath]

Usa'ar tried to push his way through the crowd to see what it was all about. He shoved a wide eyed Bith to the ground. I swear, he thought, if I see Cen in the middle of this... Suddenly he was pushed to the ground by the angry, swearing Bith he had just hit. Usa'ar picked himself up off the ground slowly.
"Yeah, screw you," Usa'ar spat at the Bith and turned around back to the center of the crowd. But there was nothing there. Whoever had started the fight or was involved must have gotten away.
"Merde," Usa'ar swore under his breath. He had nothing to go on now.
"Can you believe it? I coulda sworn that blue guy would've crushed that little Muun," remarked a man in the crowd, gathering up packages he had dropped.
"Wait, there was a Chiss here?" Usa'ar stopped him. "Blue fellow, about yae high?" He motioned with his hand to show Cen's height.
"Sure was. They went running off somewhere. Some odd homosexual couple, maybe?" The man broke out laughing. "But that's not my business." He walked off, leaving Usa'ar alone with a scattering crowd and a storm of thoughts.

 

[Cen Tessek]

[member="Usa'ar Obath"]

One moment he had attempted to resolve the muun's oil crisis, the next he was on the ground, dazed and confused. As he propped himself up on his elbows, desperately attempting to recall how exactly he had ended up on the floor it came again. The muun, currently inspecting the IG-86 models, glanced over his shoulder, "I see you have awaken a moment too soon... BOUNTY HUNTER!" Cen raised his hand, desperately attempting to call upon his voice in a final plead for the muun to wait, but it was too late. Melat was already engaged in triple back flip, the chiss' jaw dropping in amazement as he landed with the grace of a ballerina.

"Fantastic flip," remarked Tessak, moments before the muun's leg spun around and struck him across the face with enough force to knock the blue clean out of him. Tessak was out cold again, likely suffering permanent brain damage courtesy of Melat S'kun's foot.

 

[StonewallJack]

So they had ran off... Usa'ar thought hard. What would Cen and a Muun from Fondor have in common? Was it some sort of elongated scheme? But that didn't make sense. They didn't get any money from him, it was just a hitched ride to a space station. Was that worth a large risk and an elaborate scheme? No, that couldn't be it.
Usa'ar sat on a nearby bench and tried to figure it all out. Maybe Cen wasn't the bad guy, maybe he was a victim. But someone, especially this gaunt Muun fellow, taking down Cen? Not likely.
Usa'ar looked down and noticed a holoscreen on the ground. He picked it up and the image of a Muun stared back at him. A Muun wanted for murder. This is new, he thought. This Melat fellow is a criminal, and Cen's mixed up in this. Somehow.
Usa'ar sighed and got up. They couldn't have gone far. He'd take a look around, and if he didn't find anything in the next few hours, he'd move on to another job.

 

[Cen Tessek]

[member="Usa'ar Obath"]

"Wakey wakey eggs n' bakey," Cen heard a distant and warped voice call out to him from seemingly miles away, deep within the darkness that swallowed him. Then the muun slapped him, knocking him straight from the chair into the floor. "Y'know, I'm actually a pretty good guy," commented the muun, walking over to Tessek and stuffing his hands under the bulky chiss' armpits. "It's just peop- Oh, hell, you're heavy. How did I even get you in the chair the first time?" He attempted to peel Cen from the floor, who could only groan in protest. Eventually his weight proved too much of a challenge and Melat gave up, dropping him once more face first into the floor.

"As I was saying," said the muun, brushing off the front of his shirt with his gangly hands. "I'm perfectly open to cooperation!" He sat down in the chair and crossed his legs, his eyes glinting with some deep, depraved humor. "I take it you want my bounty, so fine, have it!" He rose his hands into the air, as if expecting money to magically rain down from the ceiling and smother the bruised and beaten chiss. Alas, nothing happened, and he froze in place, expecting it to begin at any minute. Cen chimed in at this point, still attempting to overcome the dull throbbing that wracked his body and the extreme impatience he had begun to feel while listening to Melat talk, "Stop messing with me, we both know you won't go in willingly. Why would you be doing this then?"

The muun shrugged, straightening out his legs and stiffly rising from the chair. "That's the thing," he said, gingerly waltzing over to the crumpled Cen and kneeling down. "I need you to make me a promise, a very, very serious promise. Do that, I'll let you turn me in, and all of that money will be yours. Understand?"

 

[Usa'ar Obath]

Usa'ar poked around the station, asking bystanders and salesmen of all races and species about the incident. Unfortunately, he often came up empty. He didn't have much to add to his knowledge. So he returned to the scene where it had all happened.

The area was mainly deserted, with a few stragglers here and there. It seemed business was slowling down for they day, but were there evem days in space, really? Usa'ar shook his head and muttered to himself. He needed to focus.

In a way, he felt a bit responsible for Cen, and felt an obligation to find out what happened. Usa'ar sighed and walked into a neaeby store to check it out.

A monstrous wookie was at the counter, cleaning it with a rag. It looked up and roared at him. Its protocol droid gave a quick translation.
"I'm sorry, sir. But it seems we are closed."
Usa'ar gave a slight bow. "Sorry, I'm not here to buy. Just looking for a bathroom."

The wookie set his rag down and roared again. The protocol droid again hurried a response. "I'm sorry, sir, but you really must leave!"
Usa'ar knew he didn't have long, so he took a quick look around, trying to find a clue, or anything. He saw nothing, and turned to leave, when he saw a lightsaber on the ground by the door. A lightsaber? Usa'ar quickly reached down and grabbed it before turning back and offering a quick "Sorry, dropped this earlier," and bolting out and into a nearby alleyway.

He held up the saber. Was this Cen's? If Cen was a Jedi, or Sith, that would explain his different behavior and demeanor. Usa'ar found the switch and held the lightsaber out. It hissed and a red blade extended.

Usa'ar swallowed. He had been transporting a Sith this entire time.

 

[Cen Tessek]

[member="Usa'ar Obath"]

Tessek interrupted, "What did you do with my lightsabre?" The muun shrugged nonchalantly, taking a step back and waving his hand in a look-for-yourself manner as he said, "Well, as discreetly as you are at packing that thing into your pants I was careful enough to disarm you..." He rubbed the back of his elongated head, a slight blush rising to his cheeks as he offered a nervous laugh, "I guess I just misplaced it?" Cen had to physically restrain himself, his discolored eyes attempting to shoot physical lasers at the muun to no obvious effect.

"That lightsabre was a memento from someone very, very dear to me," he growled, taking a hunched step forward as he embraced himself tightly. The muun waved both hands in front of him defensively, attempting to ward off the tide of fury threatening to override the blue chiss, "Okay, okay, well let me finish what I'm going to say and then you can just go out there and get the son of a blaster, okay?" Sighing, Cen could only slump down against the wall, allowing himself to slide to the floor before glancing up with a disconcerting expression, "Hurry up and speak before I take your needle head and shove it up your shab hole."

Malto laughed nervously, adjusting the tight color of his shirt as he continued, "Well, as I said, you can turn me in so long as I have your word to do a small favor for me, that's it."

"And that is...?"

The muun sunk a slender hand into a deep pocket, fishing about its contents for a solid minute before producing a small datachip. "Deliver this to Coruscant." He nodded in his direction and tossed him the tiny card with a smile, which Cen caught.

"Now, wait where do I-"

He was cut off by the muun, "We're in a secret compartment to the back of the Huttese droid store, I often would use this as a safe house during my stays here." Cen frowned, now grasping the severe and grim change in the muun's behavior. "The room is small and dark, I know, but if you press against the wall behind me, it'll slide away and you'll be free to go." His hand stretched into the dark, reaching out into some unknown compartment. His voice was solemn and maybe even sad, "I trust you to take that chip there, I won't tell you where to bring it, but I know that if you go there it'll get where it needs to go." With that he withdrew a small blaster from the darkness, some unique model Cen was unfamiliar with.

The chiss rose his hands defensively, pressing his back against the wall and calling out to Melat, "H-Hey, I agr-"

But the muun rose the blaster to his head, placing the sleek black barrel against his narrow temple, and pulled the trigger. The blast rang out, then silence fell, seeming to flood the room as the muun's lifeless body crumpled to the floor.

 

[Usa'ar Obath]

After pacing back and forth, thoughts scrambling in his head, Usa'ar returned to the hangar with the found lightsaber hidden in his pack. He sighed and leaned against his ARC 170. Do I even want to find Cen, if he's some sort of Sith Lord? I don't think I've ever heard one good story about a Sith. Usaar thought to himself. He checked the time. Hours had passed; he had to decide if it was worth waiting on the station any longer.
"Hey, dumb droid," Usa'ar quipped to his astromech, which brought a flurry of beeps and qhistles back at him. "Be ready to fire up the systems. We might be leaving soon."

Scanning the hangar one last time and seeing no sign of Cen, Usa'ar sighed again and slid his helmet on, and climbed the service ladder up to his freshly fueled ship.

 

[Cen Tessek]

[member="Usa'ar Obath"]

Cen wormed his way through the crowd, pushing past a pair of skinny pau'ans. He didn't know how long he was out, it could have been minutes, hours, or even days. On top of that he had to drag the corpse, in open sight of the bystanders present, all the way to the warrant office on the other side of the station. He rubbed his forehead in distress, not only could his pilot be leaving without him at this point but Karr's lightsabre had been lost in the scuffle with Melat. He had desperately crawled across that store floor thrice times over but it seemed to him that it had been stolen, picked up by some unknown passersby out of curiosity, or had grown legs and walked away.

He swore under his breath, rage beginning to bubble up from the dark pits of his heart. He promised if he ever found that son of a blaster that stole his mentor's blade he would kill them, but there was no time for that. If someone found a Sith lightsabre on the station above the Omega Protectorate capital it was bound to go south very, very fast. The station would get locked down and he would undoubtedly be sniffed out one way or the other, so his main objective as of now was to escape the station hopefully by the way of Usa'ar's fantastically out-of-date ARC-170. As he broke into a full jog his bag jingled loudly, now freshly filled to the brim with credit chips. It was only 3,500 in total, rather than the promised 4,000, due to Melat's death, but it was enough to convince the starpilot he was in fact sincere about his promise to pay him.

He stormed into the hanger in a full sprint, the crowd about him quickly dispersing lest they be trampled by the rabid chiss. Tessek's heart nearly stopped with relief, the vessel, and her pilot Usa'ar Obath, were still there. He could have cried, but thankfully he was too exasperated from the day's wild events to even bother. Instead he waltzed to the ship and unhinged the bag from his belt, silently tossing it in the pilot's general direction. "That was one hell of a smoke break," he commented quietly, placing a hand on the bulky retro-thruster. "Ready to get going, my friend?

 

[Usa'ar Obath]

Usa'ar stopped at the sound of the familiar voice. He then spun and drew his pistol out and aimed it at Cen the very next second.
"You've got some explaining to do, Cen. I want to know what in oblivion is going on, and I want to know if you're a freakin' Sith." Usa'ar pulled the metal lightsaber handle out of his pack and showed it to Cen. I need some answers, here, Cen." Usa'ar never wavered the blaster from pointing at Cen's chest.
"Or you're not going anywhere."

 

[Cen Tessek]

[member="Usa'ar Obath"]

Cen had never thought it possible to experience relief and concern at the same time, but it was quite a reality for him now. His blade was found and perfectly fine, which alleviated his primary concern. However, living through the ordeal held a much higher priority, and now it seemed, if he did not play his cards correctly, he might not be living through this. He raised both hands into the air and shrugged, moving as slowly as possible to buy every second of Usa'ar's time and plan his next move. With the lightsabre out in the open it would be best not to make a scene, the moment some engineer notices the blaster drawn then attention is certainly going to be drawn between them like moths to a flame.

He did not have a minute to make a move, it seemed. Of course Usa'ar would be wary of piloting a Sith, not only do they declare themselves the general harbingers of all things bad and evil but they were renowned for treachery. He nodded to the bag to alleviate that fear, "I hired you to provide transport to Coruscant and there's the first half of your pay." Now, what else could be holding Obath to point the gun at him? Was he fearful of the powers of a Sith Lord? If Cen was indeed a Sith Lord chances are he would not need to fear some pilot pulling a blaster on him, but he decides against pointing this out. It would be too aggressive, he concluded. Instead he keeps his hands in the air and nods, "It's a memento, I'm incapable of wielding that and nor am I capable of wielding to the Force."

 

[Usa'ar Obath]

Usa'ar thought hard. How this played out could not only affect the trip but also his life. Now Cen said that he couldn't use the lightsaber or the Force, which frankly Usa'ar didn't know whether to believe or not. The trip was suddenly a lot more risky. As if piloting into Sith space wasn't bad enough.

Usa'ar sighed and lowered the blaster. He put the saber back into his pack. "I'm holding onto this for now," He said to Cen. "But I'll still take you to Coruscant." He holstered the blaster and hopped in the cockpit, settling in for the final leg of their journey.