Smuggling Woes

[Kairon Rees]

OOC/

The newfound Galactic Alliance has been transporting weaponry to its main bases of operation. However, the Techno Union, One Sith, and Final Order have been intercepting shipments. Even though they are legal the Techno Union has used bureaucracy to increase costs and delay shipments.

The GA is using smugglers to travel less known hyperspace routes to avoid naval patrols. The Wicked Grace and Quintessence attempt to pass cleanly through TU space. Even though the worst they can be charged with is a fee for straying outside of maintained hyperspace lanes, Spynet have come up with several novel techniques to extract confessions without crossing the line into the legal definition of torture.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/19_uWaS3cJ1s5YRbeFk1ecOlv9YRBKDeDDlwhvWm0O1I/edit?usp=sharing

Kairon passed his hand across the surface of the datapad, swiping between several local news articles. Jarrick walked across the living area to the fridge, unclasped the solid door and removed a beer. The Quin had one large living area behind the cockpit. There was a kitchen, a seating area and a holomap. A ladder extended above and below the centre of the room to reach the weapon turrets.

Jarrick sauntered back to the seating area and placed his bottle in the table. Kairon noticed a mischievous glint in his eye.

"You called her yet?" he asked suddenly.

"Nope."

"You know we need another ship for this. Quin doesn't have the capacity."

"I know."

"So call her."

"Sure."

"... Now."

Kairon sighed and shot his second a withering stare. "I'm reading something," he replied.

"Still? That was your excuse this morning," Jarrick ed replied quickly before taking a swig of beer.

"Fine, let's get this organised," Kairon replied, switching his data pad to a general holonet voice dialling service. The screen indicated the call was being connected and then it rang a couple of times. Kairon's hand hovered over the cancel button. "See they're not in."

[member="Rusty"]
[member="Malia Afredane"]
[member="Tmoxin Temi"]

 

[Malia Afredane]

Mal nearly tripped getting into the cockpit, as the comlink chimed an incoming call. She slid into the pilot seat, her hair messily pulled back and a smudge of grease on her cheek from where she had been working on the hydraulic arms that raise the cargo ramp. She was slightly out of breath, but looking pretty cheerful for being relatively sober.

"This is Mal." She grinned a little when she saw the caller ID. "Captain Rees, this is a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?"

Captain Rees? Really, Mal? The little voice in her head was starting up already but she locked it down, keeping her attention on the call and her sabacc face on.

[member='Kairon Rees']|[member="Tmoxin Temi"]|[member="Rusty"]

 

[Kairon Rees]

[member="Malia Afredane"]

“Told you she’d be in!” Jarrick said unnecessarily loudly from off-screen. Some choice and rather rude words went through Kairon’s head. The old veteran retrieved his bottle from the table and headed for the stairs down to the cabins, his work done. They were too old for playing games like this, but clearly work had been boring for the veteran.


“Sorry, we weren’t sure what time-zone you’d be in,” Kairon covered. “Good to see you too,” he said. Then, deciding that wasn’t really what Mal’s rather formal response had been, he panicked and blurted out: “We’ve got a job, interested?”

 

[Malia Afredane]

She was praying that he couldn't see her blush through the holovid, as she chuckled rather nervously at Jarrick's comment. It felt like someone turned a dryer on her ears, and she cleared her throat because there was suddenly a knot in it that didn't want to move.

Lock it down. Take a breath. Ask about the job.

The voice of reason in her head sounded like a mix of her drill sergeant from basic and Rusty.

"Depends on the job, I guess and where it is. We're back on Shaddaa for spell. You got some details to send me or are you buying a round?"

It was the subtlest way she could think of to ask if he wanted to meet for drinks to talk about it. Never mind that 'Do you want to have a drink?' was far easier. It was also way more direct than she felt like being at the moment.

[member="Kairon Rees"]

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

The finishing touches on the Monarch Research Center, Tmoxin Temi's newest venture, were going well. Most everything could be procured in the Allied Tion Sector, except for some chemicals developed by her flagship company, Morpho Pharmaceuticals, which were quite expensive, fragile, hazardous and very illegal.

The combination of such warrented the Blood Monarch's time and energy. Therefore Tmoxin found herself being picked up by a Pillar-Class Cruiser in Techno Union space overseeing this special delivery herself. She trusted no one with the cargo, which had taken months and months of trial and error to manufacture. It was far too valuable, and once she refined it, she planned to sell it to the highest bidder, provided the transaction was completed in complete secrecy and anonymity.

This particular Cruiser, named The Union's Fortune, was on a routine patrol. It normally did not make detours for supplies, but Tmoxin had paid the crew handsomely for going out of their way to escort her and her goods to Lianna. But so far the journey had been uneventful. Out of boredom, the Hapan executive spent her time reminiscing with the Admiral over the battles they had seen both in the air and the ground.

"It sounds like you miss being where the action is," said Admiral Hosta after a pause. "Why don't you come out of retirement and work for the Techno Union defense services?"

"And spend my days on a mind-numbing patrol such as this one?" she asked, smiling at him to let him know she was joking. "No thank you. But I suppose I could see what's out there in terms of private contracting."

Still, she wasn't sure she wanted to sell herself to the highest bidder and be sent off to a random, criminally-fueled war-zone, never to return. She was the CEO of her company after all. There were businesses to forge, sell and buy. But still there was a grandness she missed about the Imperial military. The order and the wars, both sublime and exhilarating. Nothing like her tedious days spent in boardrooms and on conference calls.

"No sign of pirates or smugglers yet, Miss Temi," said the Admiral. "That's good news for your cargo."

[member="Kairon Rees"] [member="Malia Afredane"] [member="Rusty"]

 

[Kairon Rees]

“Perfect!” Kairon replied quickly without even thinking. Bastard Hague, he thought to himself. Certain she’d be keen to get the business details quickly, after all, they’d done one quick rush job together before, he continued.

“It’s a smuggling job that starts on Nar Shaddaa actually, I’ve got all the details right here so I can…talk to you about it over a drink,” he changed his tone as his brain caught up. No, wait, had that just been a joke?

“It’s a pretty standard smuggling job, but we can discuss the details in person,” he added tentatively.

 

[Rusty]

Rusty lowered himself carefully from the ceiling, where he had been patching a wiring bundle that had been scorched by a near miss a few jobs back. They hadn't realized it was a problem until recently. His feet were still anchored securely.

He also hadn't realized the Captain was in on a commlink call. It was hard to see who she was talking to from his angle, especially upside down, but she was blushing like a schoolgirl.

He could take a guess.

It wasn't like the Shard was going to interrupt the conversation; even he knew better than that. Besides, the Captain would kill him.

That didn't stop him from interpreting Captain Rees's side of the conversation through grand theatrical gestures. Upside down, of course.

[member="Tmoxin Temi"]
[member="Malia Afredane"]
[member="Kairon Rees"]

 

[Malia Afredane]

She smiled and exhaled in relief, which was quickly replaced with another wash of nerves. She glanced down and noticed that she was covered in grime and she probably needed to clean herself up to a halfway decent state before she appeared in public.

"I been working on Gracie all day. Lemme get washed up here, and I'll meet you at Lucky's."

She killed the com a little too quickly in anticipation of getting off the line to scrub the dirt off, swearing loudly and dramatically as she realized she didn't give him a chance to accept or when to show up.

"Son of a biscuit eating bull moose."

Calm down. Go clean up.

She noticed Rusty hanging from the ceiling and her confidence crumbled. Had Kairon been acting weird because there was a robot dangling from the ceiling?

"Have you been there the entire time?"

She didn't even wait for him to answer before she waved away his presence and headed to the refresher. About a half an hour later, she was looking closer to normal in slacks, boots, button down and a vest, in varying shades of brown and grey. Her hair was down as it hid the scar best like that. Scars were awesome on guys, not so much on chicks for some reason.

She grabbed a beer and they grabbed a booth waiting for Kairon. Jobs required joint approval. She tried to argue that she could relay the details to him later but subtle was lost on Rusty and after he hinted about blackmail, she shut up and the pair of them to the bar. Rusty was having entirely too much fun with this.

[member="Kairon Rees"] [member="Tmoxin Temi"]

 

[Kairon Rees]

“Yeah su…” Oh, she’s gone. Kairon leant back on the battered chair, placing his hands behind the back of his head. Well that had been a rather brief conversation. “Lucky’s…Lucky’s…Feth!”

The datapad was knocked to the floor as he scrambled up off the chair and ran across the mess. “We’re on the wrong side of the bloody moon!” he mumbled to himself as he slammed himself down in a chair in the cockpit. “Control we need to leave, do we have an opening?”

“Negative Quintessence you’ll have to wait five minutes whilst a bulk freighter docks,” came the metronomic tones of an automated flight controller. She was moored in one of the busiest ports on the whole moon, where traffic was tightly controlled. He started hitting switches anyway. He always felt better hitting switches.



“Sooo why am I here again?” Jarrick asked as they walked – briskly – across a narrow walkway forty five minutes later. The usual Nar Shaddaa wind howled between the superscrapers. This wasn’t a place for anyone with vertigo.

“Because you like guns,” Kairon replied. This wasn’t the place for his most formal wear, obviously. Despite usual appearances he was still from a wealthy trading family and often wore waistcoats and double-cuffed shirts when dealing with business partners on more civilised core worlds. Still, he’d put a brush through his hair and wore a tidy shirt under his long coat, rather than his usual faded tshirts.

“Right and?”

“The droid likes guns, loves them apparently. And if it’s just a business deal it…”

“Doesn’t look like you’re a sad lonely man, who despite being in his middle age, is still a bumbling child. This is the worst wingman job ever. Honestly.” Jarrick complained. “What if the droid isn’t there?”

“Right. Make yourself scarce?” Kairon asked hopefully.

“I swear by the Force, Asmus is easier to deal with than this,” Jarrick replied, pushing open the door to the bar.

 

[Malia Afredane]

They'd been there a few minutes when the doors opened to let Jarrick and Kairon in the bar. Rusty checked them over as they walked in, leaning over to Mal, his low bass just a murmuring rumble.

"They look like a cute couple."

Couple? But that would mean...Mal froze. All of a sudden the conversation from a couple weeks prior started to filter through her brainpan; drunk, slurred words. Greg, Izzy, the bar... Mal gasped. That was it. Rusty had told her Kairon was gay. Surely, he had to be mistaken. Right?

He called her.

About a job.

He seemed nervous. Because she was flirting with someone not interested in her and making it awkward.

He showed up for a drink.

With Jarrick.

Mal's mouth had gone dry all of a sudden. She reached for her beer and took a very large gulp of it. She would take anything at this moment that could drown her self-doubts about interactions with the opposite sex.

She smiled, somewhat sheepishly as they sat down at the booth. Jarrick did not look thrilled to be here at all. He had yelled off screen about her being in when Kairon called. Was he upset thinking that she was trying to put moves on Kairon?

The bottom of her stomach dropped out. She felt like the color was draining from her face but in truth, the apples of her cheeks were rosy.

"Hey, thanks for coming. We've been doing minor repairs on Gracie all day, figured we needed a night out. We can talk business, have a drink. You know. Get to know each other better."

There was a tentative, unsure tone that had not been there when Kairon had called earlier. Inside, her confidence had been eroded by Rusty's remarks like a beach house washed away by the crumbling sands and tides.

[member="Kairon Rees"]

 

[Kairon Rees]

Kairon sat quietly for a second that threatened to become awkward. She looked good. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Not when you were well into your thirties. People this age were supposed to know themselves, be confident, unafraid of rejection. Turned out neurotic teenagers made neurotic thirty somethings. Of course, he hadn't really been a neurotic teenager. Instead he'd been outside of normally civilisation. Not having a normal childhood probably went some way to explaining his more reclusive nature now.

"Sorry we're late we were... "

"On the other side of the moon," Jarrick finished for him.

"But drinks sound good!" Kairon added, looking slightly abashed,before quickly waving at someone. "Get you both something before we talk about the job me and my partner picked up?"

Strange how the perception of someone's appearance was changed over time. How the mind filled in gaps where memory failed. He was certain her hair had been different last time though.

 

[Rusty]

Rusty demurred.

"I, uh, I don't drink."

He stood, bashing his metal knee on the table with a resounding CLANG, nearly spilling the Captain's beer in the process. Fortunately, he saved her from a hops-scented shower with lightning-fast reflexes and way too many hyphens.

For a brief moment, the entirety of the bar was staring directly at their table. Probably wondering if there's about to be a fight, Rusty thought to himself.

"[bleep]ing son of a [bleep]ed [bleep] [bleep]er," he exclaimed loudly. "You kids have fun. I'm gonna step outside for a minute and reclaim my dignity."

[member="Kairon Rees"]
[member="Malia Afredane"]

 

[Malia Afredane]

She watched Rusty leave, flabbergasted by the 7 most awkward seconds she had been through in a decade. This was a hot mess. She sat in silence and incredulity for a few more seconds then the calm, professional demeanor slid back into place so hard, it should have made an audible click.

The job, Afredane. Focus on the job.

"Yeah, I think I'd like a whiskey, neat. Sorry for the trouble, probably should'da asked if you were nearby."

Kairon was flagging down someone to order and in the meantime, she took a drink of her beer, and tried to remember the first they met. He had said Jarrick was his second, something about a PA, he was a soldier.

This isn't the job, Afredane. Lock. It. Down.

"So, what's the job about? You mentioned smuggling." She looked back and forth between both of them, a subdued melancholy raining on the parade in her mind.

You've karked this one up so badly, you might as well just give up. Another lost opportunity. Easier to just be the captain. Do the job, get the money, rinse, repeat. At least that part of her life, she had down.

[member="Rusty"] [member="Kairon Rees"]

 

[Kairon Rees]

Kairon dug his fingertips into his knees underneath the table. He could have sworn Mal's partner had deliberately made the situation more uncomfortable. Now he was left with Jarrick hanging on. Several phrases he'd put together in his head such as: Sorry, I was on a different time, really hungry now I don't suppose we could get something to eat? seemed irrelevant now.

"Well that's the best part of the job. It's smuggling, but it's not," he explained. "Another resistance are shipping weapons out of here, through to Sullust. It's all perfectly legal. However, the TU have taken a dim view of this on account of allied nations and are using red tape to slow up transports and pile on costs. They're looking to pay smugglers to take the goods down less travelled paths. The worst we'll get is a fine and a slap on the wrist. Maybe held up for a few days," he said. He held eye contact as he talked through the details, but then concerned that he was staring he looked down at his drink.

Kark, he needed an excuse to get rid of Jarrick.

 

[Malia Afredane]

The drink she ordered arrived with a bottle of whiskey and a curt nod from Zaur, the bartender, towards the door. Rusty. Well, at least he knew she'd be wanting her liquid courage. The first three fingers went down easy, she poured herself another from the bottle with a relieved sigh. She knocked back another one and poured one more. Her beer was forgotten. The big guns were out. Soon, her anxiety would be washed away in the warm glow of whiskey.

She turned her attention from the bottle, sliding it to them in case anyone else felt like getting shattered.

"That sounds pretty straight forward. What's the pay and do we go through the resistance or you for payment?"

In a couple minutes, the wave of don't give a damn would wash over her and she might salvage some enjoyment of this evening. Hell, she might make a friend other than Rusty. Hope held a small, bleak place in her chest, but even if he was wearing a sign professing his attraction, she'd probably still think he wasn't interested. Drunken hookups here and there aside, she hadn't been soberly attracted to someone in a long time. Too many scumbags not worth a second look in their line of work.

[member="Kairon Rees"]

 

[Kairon Rees]

"No need to go through us," Kairon explained, taking an oddly sombre tone. "They've just got more cargo than we can take and seeing as you brought us in on the last job..." he shrugged and passed over a piece of paper with a number on it. It was slightly lower than the usual, but the job was less risky than the usual their type took.

He took a long swig from his ale, noticing how much whiskey she was through already. "A lot less of our type left these days," Kairon said, a sad expression crossing his face. "Not many friends left in this line of work. Thought it was a good job and going in a convoy would put off the other type of ship that frequents the back roads," he said referring to pirate groups that warring factions didn't have the time to bring down.

... And thought we could get dinner at the other end! No? By the Force you coward have another drink.

 

[Malia Afredane]

"Oh, alright, that sounds perfect then. It's just another milkrun, on the backroads. I can do th...we can do that. I'm sure Rusty will be agreeable. This isn't a dangerous job and it's not putting us afoul of anyone we'd need to worry about."

The edge was gone now, and she seemed a little more relaxed as she slowed the drinking down. She slipped the paper in her vest pocket, and nodded at his comments.

"It's hard to trust people out here. There's a lot of junk and then there's some good people like you left. Y'all. Your crew. Phhrrruaaa!" She made an audible sigh of exasperation.

"I can't talk tonight. I think I spend too much time with Rusty. I'm a little envious you've got a group to talk to. Are you all close?"

She fidgeted with her fingers under the table subconsciously.

[member="Kairon Rees"]

 

[Kairon Rees]

"Hah!" Kairon replied a little quickly with a smile.

"Oh?" Jarrick replied, raising one eyebrow.

"We get on alright, even if the conversation isn't always sparkling," Kairon replied seriously. "We've been working together for what... eight years?" Jarrick nodded and drank at the same time, an impressive skill.

"The youngest is my nephew. He thinks he's remarkably charming by the way, so I apologise for that in advance. My sister is still absolutely furious he flies with me. We also have Mai, she's essentially feral and no matter what I do she manages to stay on board. We rattle around in the Quin a bit. Crew has changed quite a bit over the years but we've had hard times last last couple. Pilots are apparently like drummers these days, never seem to last long."

He'd started off with a full crew of eight. That had been back when the Republic border spanned most of the Galaxy you could smuggle without having to cross a war front. He'd laid most of them off and bought the loading droids and upgraded the autopilot instead.

"Always just been the two of you on the Grace?" he asked

 

[Malia Afredane]

"It was just me for a while. Rusty saved my hide in a barfight one night and he's been pulling me out of the fire ever since. It's hard to be a captain out here, it's harder still to be a woman. Oh I can get the jobs easy enough, but I've had my share of lowlifes trying to weasel me out of the pay or think that my ship comes with access to me, if you catch my drift."

There was a flex of her jawline, and it was gone. The idiots who took her for a piece of flesh found their mistakes out pretty quickly. She perked herself out of the heavy topic and smiled brightly. It was partly whiskey. It was mostly his smile.

He didn't talk like Jarrick was his partner, and she didn't want to embarrass herself by asking in front of both of them. She glanced around and leaned into the table, her hands coming up out of her lap to curl around her glass and the bottle. She leveled Kairon with a squinty smirk.

"They got a sabacc table in the back and my chaperone's gone. Wanna play?"

This was all the whiskey talking. Hopefully he'd pick up the hint that she wanted to talk to him alone, with the lean in and eye contact.

[member="Kairon Rees"]

 

[Kairon Rees]

[member="Malia Afredane"]

“Ah not for me I’m afraid!” Jarrick said, picking up his glass. Karion was still grimacing from Mal’s description of life alone as a female captain. When he realised Jarrick was excusing himself, the sad expression was quickly gone. Thank the Force! The old veteran got up from the table, bid them good evening and headed over to the bar.

“I’ve got to admit, I’ve never had the knack for it, so if you could be kind and not leave with my ship tonight…” he said, waving towards the sabacc tables with a grin. It was true, he really wasn’t very good at card games. Whilst he had the head for numbers and probabilities, he never had a way for taking risks or trying to push a psychological advantage on his opponents. The Rees family had something of a motto when it came to trading. If both parties were happy with the deal they were getting, it was good for business. So whilst he could always calculate a good deal, he just wasn’t very comfortable with trying to push his luck and take the whole pot.

Unfortunately his risk averse nature extended to much of his life now. Looking at Mal, he decided the odds were stacked against him tonight. He was just a grumpy, scruffy mediocre smuggler after all. He swiped another bottle of beer as he got up. Perhaps he'd order a chaser next. Liquid courage seemed the order of the day.