It's a Nice Day for a Phrik Wedding

[Omag Don]

"99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of beer." The tune echoed down the shafts, corridors and maintenance passages that lined the small ship. For all intents and purposes, it was empty. Only the solitary Omag Don was aboard the ship, and from the croaky. A thickly tone that reverberated off the walls around the Y-8 mining vessel. "Take one down, pass it around, 98 bottles of beer on the wall." The singing was cut by the sudden intermediate gulps of Omag somewhere in the cockpit of the ship. His feet lounged onto the dashboard, squashing communication buttons. Anyone out in the Roche asteroid field chipping in on the open comm array would be the unfortunate recipient of a terrible singer.

"98 bottles of beer on the wall, 98 bottles of beer." Omag was in his late fifties, with a deep beard flecked with grey and literal dead eyes, he was an imposing sight. Rather, it was one dead eye, the other was still working fine after recent surgery to fix the skin growth that had accumulated over the eyeball. The cybernetic eye rolled around, observing the drift of the ship as it neared another asteroid, beams of molten plasma began to reduce the rock and tractor beam turrets vacuumed the remains. "Take one down, pass it around, 97 bottles of beer on the wall."

"97 bottles of beer on the wall, 97 bottles of beer." Typically requiring a minimal crew of two, with a preference of three, Omag had spent two dozen years at the cockpit of this ship that he could pilot this ship with his eyes closed, and without a co-pilot to boot. Though it got lonely sometimes, so he played music, browsed the holonet or tried the open channels to see if any other miners were up for a late-night discussion about girls, alcohol and alcohol. He wasn't an alcoholic, per se, but he certainly got bored, and being intoxicated and listening to music was a sure-fire way to spend his time. "Take one down, pass it around, 96 bottles of beer on the wall."

 

[Xalus]

It wasn't everyday that a hulking wall of metal and muscle got hired to accompany someone who was merely heading off to help fetch some resources. He hadn't exactly been hired per se, but the man in this little vessel offered some rewards to those who would come with him and assist him in anyway needed. It could've been a trap set up by rival bounty hunters and it could have been a legitimate request for company.

Xalus wasn't one to shy away from any kind of work - be it menial or dangerous. So, the Gen'Dai took up his offer and sat silently in the co-pilot's seat, listening to the man sing a little tune that was beginning to grate down on his nerves. If Xalus had known that phrik mining was this boring, he would've opted for just stealing some of the fething stuff from somewhere else. Be that as it may, he was already here and was hoping this man could at least turn to some conversation or entertainment rather than singing.

[member="Omag Don"]

 

[Omag Don]

"67 bottles of beer on the wall, 67 bottles of beer," Omag kept singing. He had for some time, and whilst the tune sounded as though he had finished off a plethora of alcoholic beverages, he was only on his second drink. He was just sipping the bottles rather than skilling and slamming them back down. He liked alcoholic, but he wasn't a blubbering moron like some pilots out there who downed alcohol. It made him wonder though, some of them could down stacks of them and seemingly not feel the effects of alcohol. They could swing just as hard as he. Something innately unnatural about that, as though someone was pulling the strings for them, and that someone didn't know the effects of alcohol.

He realised how deep in thought he had become, and murmured, "Woah." He looked to Xalus in amazement but clearly, the Gen'Dai had no idea what he was thinking. Then someone screeched over the comms, "Can you shut the kark up before I throw one of these asteroids at you!?" Omag burst into a roar of laughter, leaning forward in his chair and slapping his knee, the man on the other side of the comm growling and disconnecting from the open communication array. Omag flicked a switch and likewise turned off. He leaned forward, knowing he still had work to do. The ship had finished churning up that asteroid and he moved to the next.

The ship glided, tractor beams pulling in another meaty asteroid. He checked the ships hold, 31% full. He looked to the Gen'Dai, and they had barely spoken a word since he arrived a few hours ago, to the point he had forgotten he was here several times along their journey. "So, how do you know the Ravens?" Omag started, "Lysle contracted me out - independent contractor I am - I mine him the Phrik, he pays my bills." He motioned to his drinks, or in other words, his bills.

[member="Xalus"]

 

[Xalus]

Perhaps that prayer for conversation wasn't something he should've done. He wasn't really one for talking anyways. This particular mercenary and bounty hunter respected anyone who could hold their own in a fight much more than someone who fought with words. Apparently politicking and all of this galactic drama nonsense was becoming a fad - and he wanted it to last, for a long time. War was always good for business and as long as it existed, people would need soldiers to fight for them.

Xalus looked up from the durasteel bulkhead once Omag started. At first he merely spoke a word of astonishment, from something that Xalus had no idea before a crackle over the com network instructed him to shut up. The Gen'Dai snorted a laugh and adjusted his position in the chair and sent a glance to his rifle leaning against the bulkhead next to him. It was only then did he realize the man's attention had turned toward him, seemingly able to do his work without even focusing on controlling this giant chunk of machinery.

"I just saw an ad," he admitted, "and I work for whoever pays the most, though not all the time." The mercenary almost looked solemn for a moment in his scarred armor and thousand yard gaze. "I've seen much and have done much."

[member="Omag Don"]

 

[Omag Don]

There came a loud slap on the viewport, then another and another. Omag turned, bewildered. On the glass was a Wynock, mouth wide as it sucked. It was attaching itself to the ship. "Ah hell, mynocks," he said. They were too close for him to shoot at with the turrets. Either way, they weren't meant for shooting annoying pests, they were mean't for blasting and melting asteroids so that he could soak up their rich minerals. Omag stood and pointed towards a locker, "There's a few thinsuits in there, they'll protect you from vacuum. I'm not paying you for nothing, so go and blast 'em. I'll keep an eye on your oxygen levels."

Omag moved to sit back down before remembering, "Oh yeah, don't forget this," he said. He reached under the dashboard and pulled out a long piece of fibrecord that would be used to attach to the ship, then oneself so that no one would float away and find themselves stuck in the vast emptiness of space, and inevitably die. What a horrible way to go out. Don checked the controls, the asteroid was melting just fine without him having to cater for its every need. The tractor beam did its job of holding the asteroid in place and pulling in the molten piece of rock. The hold was at 42%. "You'd think some pirates would be at here making a living, but not a single one in sight."

[member="Xalus"]

 

[Chaf’anta’natrano]

"Cheespa bo coopa!" Dasha the Hutt howled at her miners over the Holomessage, startling them. Chuckling heartily, she watched little blue Holograms of miners scatter this way and that, bouncing around on their fibercords like space beans. She continued to berate her miners for a good ten minutes, vacillating between Basic and Huttese.

"You need to get Dasha more Phrik and you are not mining fast enough!" she continued in Basic. "Do I have to come out there and show you how it's done?! LYSLE WANTS HIS PRHIK! I am out here all by myself to get some rocks for the Red Ravens, the least you can do is pretend you know what you're doing!" The Hutt flashed her feline eyes as she snapped off the Holocam and angrily muttered staccato curses to herself, settling her large hauches down into her hoversled.

Dasha was not technically out here on this mining ship by herself. She was here with the crew and a couple of her own Gamorean minions. But Dasha liked to be dramatic. The lady Hutt was trying to secure some contracts with the Red Ravens leader and she had heard that phrik was the commodity he sought. And hell, if she could keep some of the phrik for herself, well, that would be fine too. Lysle didn't need to know.

She flipped back on the Holocam and watched her miners toiling away out there, laughing as a couple of them scrabbled away from a rogue Mynock.

[member="Omag Don"] [member="Xalus"]

 

[Omag Don]

Omag was watching out the viewport, admiring the field of asteroids he was slowly tearing through. It would take thousands, no, eons for him to mine these asteroids alone. Unfortunately, Phrik mining was a wealthy but extremely dangerous business. Wealthy mean't a lot of miners often travelled out here to make a fortune. Dangerous due to the pirates, but as of now, there were none in sight. Then he noticed something, a speck in the distance. Another ship, but they weren't boiling the asteroids down, they were floating beside it for all he could tell. Omag flicked a comm to Xalus, "Hold your helmet, kid, I'm moving 'er."

It didn't pay to be a sticky peek out here, it usually mean't a blaster through your skull, but he was alone, bored and curious. Ah the life of a miner. He gripped the controls and began to slowly make acceleration, all the while keeping the tracking beams on the asteroid. It slowed him down immensely, but at least he was half-working, half-investigating. If Xalus was outside by this time, he would find himself in the unfortunate circumstance of being dragged along on a fibrecord behind the ship. If it wasn't for the fact he was Gen'Dai, he would probably get whiplash at the sudden acceleration.

The ship bobbed its way through the asteroid field, all the while soaking up the precious ores into its hull. The T-shape ship spun as debris from the other ships mining efforts came hurtling towards him. When he was only a kilometre away from the ship, he could make out tiny figures. "Well, that.. that is something else," Omag muttered. He peered and squinted his eyes against the viewport, watching the tiny creatures afar manually mining the asteroid, and the only way back to their ship was by the fibrecords wrapped around them. They looked like bait on a fishing line as they bounced around.


[member="Dasha the Hutt"] [member="Xalus"]

 

[Chaf’anta’natrano]

"Ugh, why is mining so boring!?" Dasha asked no one in particular. The Gamoreans shrugged, accustomed to rhetorical questions such as these from the impatient Hutt. "You!" she bellowed at an unlucky Twi'lek boy toy. "Play Dejarik with Dasha!" The Twi'lek nervously started up a game, well aware that Dasha didn't like to lose, but also didn't like for someone to let her win. And the penalty for either was usually a death sentence.

She moved the Holo pieces around on the board, clapping her hands enthusiastically together whenever she bested the Twi'lek, every now and then stopping the game to bark to her Gamoreans.

"Call up those miners and get them to move their lazy butts! And tell them if I catch them skimming me, I'm gonna make them mine their way out of their graves!"

As the ship's navigator tried to warn the Hutt about a nearby ship heading perilously close to theirs, Dasha just waved him away. She was just about to checkmate her slave and she wanted to savor every bit of it.

[member="Xalus"] [member="Omag Don"]

 

[Omag Don]

Something buzzed down in the reactor core. It shook the entire vessel like a rag doll and when the groaning of metal subsided, and the vibrations in the floor ceased, Omag's frown had deepened. "Ah kark," he muttered under his breath. He stood from his chair and picked up an earpiece, sliding it into the drum of his ear. Moving from cockpit cabin and into the corridors, there was smoke clouding his view. The entire interior hadn't been painted over with the sheets of titanium, durasteel and countless other ores displayed varying degrees of grey and silver. He dove under a pipe that had burst, shooting out oxygen into the cabin. "A little breathing don't hurt anyone," he convinced himself.

Approaching a drop in the floor was two rods of metal that shot upwards, with bars every arms length. He gripped the sides and slid down the later, past the hold where the belly of the beast was growing full with the molten Phrik he had been mining. Shooting down he landed on the bottom floor, the lowest floor of the T-shaped mining vessel. Looking around it was chaos, a fire had broken out, and the sublight drive was busted. He would have sworn but a blast of ash wafted into his face, blackening his appearance. His cybernetic eye had the ash over it, and could no longer see. When he opened his other organic eye, it was but a white orb that hovered in a face of pure black.

"Eh, this is an emergency, to-whoever-the-hell-you-are, please help," he called over the earpiece, trying to hail the Hutt vessel. "This ship is fried, and I don't think I'm getting her out alone. I need someone to tug me to Antecedent." He gripped the closest fire extinguisher and went to work, the flumes turning into smouldering pieces of crusted metals and wires. He checked his Nas-Tech datapad, seeing that the hull was nearing full of the Phrik, but now he had no way to get it off.

[member="Xalus"] [member="Dasha the Hutt"]

 

[Jen]

A bright red warning light flashed inside the little one person cockpit accompanied by a shrieking from the navi-computer. Blurry lights was seen zooming past the tiny fighter spacecraft, but this shriek could only mean one thing, it was even spelled out for her on the Holo Canopy Display that was her cockpit: WARNING, OBSTRUCTION AHEAD.

Jennifer was almost launched forward in her otherwise comfortable seat as the Stargoddess Fighter came to an abrupt halt. For Ravens sake, had she entered the wrong coordinates again? Getting properly seated and glancing up out of the canopy she could confirm this. Unless Coruscant had turned into a giant pile of asteroids while she was gone, that was. But reckoning it hadn't wrong coords was the only option.

She sighed deeply, leaning back into the seat, rubbing her forehead in clear fustration. Alright, now she wouldn't make it, that was certain: Jennifer had planned on helping her rodian friend, Cindo, with finishing a custom speeder job. It was tough traveling from the far edge of the galaxy all the way to the middle of it. And Jennifer wasn't the best pilot in the galaxy.

Well one couldn't stay here forever, so as Jennifer got seated properly she went to adjust the com channels in the ship a bit. Suddenly a distress bursted across her speakers, a rough voice definitely belonging to a man heard: "Ss an-... Mergency, to-whoever-theGRRRrrrr...-Lease help." She was just on the edge of where she could properly catch the distress call it seemed, but even Jennifer could decipher such a call.

Slowly going to fire up her engines she attempted to get closer to the source, starting to ping her location in hope that this person in need would spot her. She was getting closer.

[member="Omag Don"] :: [member="Dasha the Hutt"] :: [member="Xalus"]​

 

[Chaf’anta’natrano]

Dasha blinked her enormous feline eyes, when her Trandoshan pilot gave her the news of the other ship's distress call, and then her large lipless mouth broke into a scowl.

"What is this nonsense?" She sputtered. "It's a trap, you moron! Pirates want to steal Dasha's Phrik! Go away!" The paranoid Hutt waved the pilot away and drove her hoversled over to the ship's front window. The T-shaped mining vessel in view did look like it was stalled and perhaps on fire. Dasha just laughed and pointed at them.

"That's what you get, greedy pirates! That's what you get for trying to get your hands on Dasha's Phrik! It's kriffing karma!"

She squinted and saw another ship off in the distance. Another pirate, probably. Dasha ordered her crew to ready up her ship's defenses. Let them just try and board her ship now, she huffed to herself, riding back over to her Twi'lek whose life she had spared. After all, if she killed him who was going to play Dejarik with while she was stuck out here in space. The pirates? She guffawed and started up a new game with him while her miners continued their thankless jobs.

[member="Xalus"]
[member="Jen"]
[member="Omag Don"]