Will Westender
Not really a Jedi
Attn: [member="Karma Jayne"]
Equipment: Lightsaber | KC-77N Hybrid Pistol
- Private Landing Pad
Capital City, Kuat
Clang. The familiar jolt reverberated through the ship as its landing gears came into contact with the hard duracrete surface below. Flicking a few switches, Will quieted down the hum of the powerful engines, then cut power to some the ship's various systems, though he left engines and navigation on standby. He was going to be here a few hours and it would be best to conserve fuel, as he wouldn't have time to deal with that if he suddenly had to make a quick getaway.
Jumping out of his chair, he retrieved his coat from the back rest of the empty copilot's chair, throwing it on him as he made his way out of the cockpit and into the armory on his left side. The Firebird was a well-stocked ship, as Will kept a sizable collection of blasters large and small, sniper rifles and more exotic pieces such as those manufactured by Kalidani conglomerate Karavin Concern. Pacing around the room, his eyes scanned the racks until he decided on an appropriate piece for the job. In the end, he settled on a single pistol, as he couldn't afford to attract undue attention by walking around with an arsenal on him. Clipping the worn leather holster onto his belt, along with his lightsaber, of course, the Padawan-turned-smuggler sharply pivoted, traversing the Firebird's corridors into the cargo hold, where several crates of random junk stood collecting dust, just something to throw off potential inspectors by making it seem like he was transporting legitimate freight.
The ramp came down with a gentle hiss, letting the air of Kuat into the ship for the first time, forcing Will to squint at the sudden intrusion of the sunlight. Descending the ramp in a few, quick steps, he took a few moments to survey the urban landscape around him. Suddenly, he was grateful for the private landing pad that had been reserved for his use, as the Firebird was an odd little ship, guaranteed to draw attention due to the X-Wing clamped underneath it, cockpit poking through into the freighter in an ingenious way, so as to allow its pilot to climb inside without having to take a spacewalk. An air seal was provided by a forcefield, of course, as putting together an additional airlock inside the already cramped space of the small vessel, would have been complicated.
Pressing the button that raised the loading ramp, he decided to leave the ship unlocked, as the landing pad was closed off from public access and a regular person wouldn't be able to find his ingeniously hidden switch that allowed one to persuade the ramp to lower itself again. If the job went south, he might not have the time to fiddle with security codes. And with this particular job, one could never really know for sure. Today, the contraband would be of a different kind, not cargo, but information. And the work he did for his more legitimate contacts, was always a risky business.
The sun was setting as he mounted the final flight of stairs which led from the turbolift back to the private landing pad where his ship awaited. Things had gone remarkably well, he hadn't been followed and despite the obvious and imminent annexation of the planet by the Silver Jedi, it seemed like their intelligence department hadn't yet caught on to his people's activities here on Kuat. Encrypted data chip safely stored inside a hidden pocket in the lining of his coat, he was busy contemplating whether or not he should take a detour to one of the local cantinas after transmitting the intel, when he noticed something out of place.
Several armed and uniformed individuals were busy tinkering with the Firebird, trying to get it to lower its ramp even as an engineer-looking type was fiddling with a plasma torch, setting it up for what was obviously going to be a forceful entry into his freighter, one which would leave a hole in the plating. Yes, something was definitely out of place.
Alarmed look on his face, he took a few steps forward. "Hey! Back away from my ship!" he called out to them. Taking their attention away from whatever they had been doing to try and get the freighter's ramp to lower itself, the law enforcement officers wasted no time striding up to him, blasters held at the ready. "Is this your ship, sir?" one of the guards asked.
"Well, aren't you a genius," he responded sarcastically, prompting frowns from the annoyed guards, who suddenly puffed their chests like a bunch of peacocks on parade. "Sir, we need you to open your ship and we also want to see your cargo manifest and landing permits," the annoyed guard continued.
"What? Why?" an annoyed Will replied. This time, there really wasn't any reason for local law enforcement to hassle him this way, as all of his paperwork was legit, courtesy of his secret friends. Had Silver Jedi intelligence finally caught up to them? Was this their doing?
"Sir, I am going to ask you one last time to comply with our instructions. Lower your loading ramp and show us your papers," the guard snapped, having had enough of the smuggler's antics. "We have reason to believe you are hiding a fugitive."
Fugitive? This was new. Ok, now something was definitely off about the whole thing.
"You've got to be kidding me," Will responded. "What fugitive? There is no one else aboard that ship, its my ship, I'm the only crew member."
The policemen, however, were not sympathetic. They had just about run out of patience. "Ok, that's enough. Put your hands behind your back," the one in charge said, just as the entire squad suddenly pointed their blasters at him.
The smuggler sighed, shoulders deflating slightly as he slowly shook his head. "You asked for it," he muttered under his breath. His left hand snapped forward and the policemen's blasters suddenly flew from their hands, a comical look on their faces as their minds tried to understand what happened. Will wasn't going to give them the time. His right hand snapped to his belt, drawing his blaster pistol and flicking the toggle to activate its stun setting in one fluid motion. Four quick pulls of the trigger and the law enforcement officers were all on the ground. "Idiots," the smuggler muttered as he dragged the sleeping bodies away to the side of the landing pad, hoping they'd all wake up with a headache from the wind and the cold duracrete. Would serve them right.
The unconscious police officers now safely out of the way where his ship wouldn't accidentally kill them when it took off, Will activated the hidden switch and walked up the ramp. Traversing the cargo compartments, he suddenly stopped at the entrance to the main corridor upon hearing a noise which couldn't possibly be his astromech droid, who should be safely recharging inside his X-Wing's improvised hangar bay, if one could call the small compartment that, as it was barely big enough to fit the starfighter's canopy.
Drawing his pistol from its holster, he took a few careful steps towards the direction of the noise, towards the front of the ship, though whoever was aboard had likely already heard the ramp opening and closing and would be aware of his arrival. "Ok. Come out now, before I run out of patience," he said, already fed up of the whole affair, after the trouble with the police. "I know you're in here and if you don't show yourself in the next three seconds, I swear by the Force I'll throw you off this ship and leave you to explain yourself to those policemen outside."
