So There's This Job...

[Revenchent]

Mustafar was about as pleasant ever.

There was the usual heat that constantly threatened slough the skin off the bone, the choking ash clouds that made a nasty habit of bringing about lung cancer, and the toxic fumes that tended to simply shut down one's organs, but then there was the war too.

The planet, or rather what remained of it, had been torn apart by a war. Most of the locals didn't know why it had been fought, nor did they really understand who their new leaders in gleaming white armor really were. Most didn't find themselves caring all that much. Their wages came from the bug-eyed aliens, the companies they slaved for were the same as they had been before the war, and the world's new owners hadn't done all that much to make any meaningful changes.

Well, at least not for most people.

Miko's mining plant had been turned into molten slag by an orbital bombardment, and with it went the rather lucrative business he'd been allowed to partake in for the last two years. He'd finally started to chip away at his father's debt, and then a bunch of offworlders had to go and ruin it all.

"Stupid karking dumb frackers making me do this," Mikoron sneered into his datapad. The Tart-Cart lingered on one of the only landing pads lefts in the facility's residential wing. Miko sat in a lawn chair folded out at the foot of her gangplank, a battery powered fan held to his face with one hand, the datapad in the other.

The crew of the Tart-Cart had been commissioned for a job that might very well wipe away the debt she owed to the Mustafarian mining lords. The mission was about as risky as it could get, most certainly not suited to two average joes and their rather eccentric droid. The guys that listed it said something about retrieving an important POW from some Sith world on the other side of the galaxy.

Miko really didn't know what a Sith was, nor did he give much of a damn. He just needed the money, and to get that money the crew of the Tart-Cart needed a few additions. One, an astronavigator to actually get them onto the planet without being splattered all over its defense cruisers' front facing mirrors like a space born bug with a particularly bad sense of direction, and two, people that actually knew how to shoot guns and perform basic physical activity.

In short, Miko and Winrel had put out a hiring notice for one of those rare magic pilots and some proper killing power. There were doubts about acquiring the former, considering their rarity, whereas the latter could prove to be more promising.

For the moment however, Miko was content to sit back on the heat-soaked landing pad, sip his glass of lemonade, and envision all the fun little activities he had planned after they all got paid.

[member="Vaela Saboe"]

 

[Jorga the Hutt]

[member="Miko Hearth"]

Trailing a slick of slimy sweat, Jorga the Hutt approached the freighter. Beside him hopped a Kowakian monkey-lizard. Jorga eyed the portable fan salaciously.

"You are the Tart-Cart?" he said with an accent that bounced between Huttese and phlegm before settling somewhere in his rear sinus cavities. He gestured at the Kowakian. "I am Jorga. Zis is Libidinous Manwench, the best pilot in the Outer Rim Territories."

The monkey-lizard saluted, then made a convulsive grab for Miko's portable fan. Jorga swatted him.

"Behave, Manwench."

 

[Winrel Rurk]

Karking war. Who thought this was a good idea? They had been perfectly fine as they shipped ore one place and whatever else another. The last thing they had needed was a war. But it had come to them. Winrel didn't care who was in some abstract moral right or wrong. All that mattered was that their stupid war had destroyed their job. So now they were stuck doing something that seemed insane. The Duro paced on the landing pad, trying his best to run calculations in his head. He'd have to run them by the astromech. He wasn't sure about the area of space. Crossing the galaxy... Well, it wasn't something he did regularly.

"Ya sure ya put tha message out roight?" The Duros asked almost as the Hutt entered his view. "Okey. Cool." Shaking his head, he walked towards the far edge of the landing pad. This was getting crazy. First, to get a prisoner from a Sith, and now a Hutt for a crew member? Whatever a Sith was, with how high the paycheck was, he doubted they were nice. And a Hutt? Weren't they crime lords? Why would one sign up with them?

As his toes reached the edge of the landing pad, he pulled out a smoke and lit it. This was looking like a long day.

[member="Miko Hearth"] [member="Rel Connory"]

 

[Vaela Saboe]

Vaela approached the derelict looking mining plant, rechecking the coordinates on her data pad over and over, unsure whether or not this was the correct place. It looked like the building had been severely damaged in the bombs that had rained down and destroyed mostly everything that had stood here. The planet hadn’t been the most beautiful place to look at beforehand – just a rock, full of molten lava and mining facilities exploiting the rare minerals below its surface.

If she hadn’t have been laying low and needed credits, Vaela would never have any purpose to come to such a place. Though the bubbling lava pools were somewhat pretty to look at , the whole place stunk of burning rock and ash that burnt your nostrils…or maybe it was the heat burning…either way, Vaela wore a mask and made sure every hair on her head and every inch of her skin was covered. She was swelteringly hot and irritated, perhaps more at herself than anything else. Through it all, the sense of adventure, and the possibility of killing something to vent out her immeasurable frustration kept her from turning around and heading back to what was left of the nearest port.

She made her way to the landing pad, which was barely hanging onto its crumbing mother structure. As she walked up to the ship, she noticed a Duros standing at the edge looking out over the lava fields, smoking. She watched him as she passed, musing to herself that all he needed to do for a throat hit was to take a nice deep breath of the sweltering ashy air.

There was a man seated near the freighter, sipping on a glass of something, and…a Hutt. Definitely a Hutt, Vaela knew them very well. Most of the Hutt crime lords were the ones that sent her on kill orders. She doubted that this one would have any connections to the one that Vaela was running from – they were halfway across the galaxy after all.

‘Tart-Cart?’ she asked as she approached, not doing much to hide the sweaty frustration from leaking into her voice.

 

[Chevu Visz]

“Tart-Cart. Some name for a ship, huh Two-Bit?”

Two-bit didn’t answer. He simply bobbed beside her, warbling about how he still missed Porter. The despondent BB8 Unit had recently lost his best friend, and there wasn’t anything she could do to console the wiggling ball of metal. Coren and Porter were just gone, with no explanation, nor goodbye. Chevu didn’t like it either, but it just was. Life went on.

“I know. I miss him, too, Buddy.”

And his master, too.

Mustafar. She’d been to the planet before on a Galactic Alliance mission. Chevu had lost touch with both the masters and pupils in the temples in the Sullustan biodome. After the temple breach at Lujo, her mind hadn’t quite been the same. It was as if the dark side taint had poisoned her at a cellular level. For a long time, the Mirialan couldn’t even remember the name of her own twins, not that she ever saw them much anyway. After they staved off the worst of the attack, Coren suggested a sojourn to Wildspace to recoup. The pair of fringe Forcers would work on their own for a while. No more wading through the treacherous waters of Jedi politics, which neither of them had the stomach for. It worked out for a while, but then he disappeared, and with him, the light in her eyes.

Then, the credits ran out.

Chevu found out about the mission through word of mouth. The details of the job were hazy, but she knew two things, a crew needed some firepower, and there was some Sith Lord involved. The Mirialan was a tiny thing, but thanks to Galactic Alliance training, she could hold her own in a firefight. She also had a reputation for making bodies explode without weapons.

It seemed that she was fashionably late. The green alien girl’s black eyes panned around at the faces of the crew. There was a Duros, a Near-human and a Hutt, and a dirty joke in there somewhere. Her BB8 Unit beeped excitedly at the prospect of meeting new people. Unlike the Mirialan, Two Bit was an extrovert.

“Which one of you is Miko?”

[member="Vaela Saboe"] | [member="Winrel Rurk"] | [member="Miko Hearth"] | [member="Rel Connory"]

 

[IMD-2BC]

2BC was an antisocial, extremely old medical droid who somehow managed to land a job with a few spacers who had no need for a medical droid, she honestly had no idea how she managed to get picked up, especially since she didn't explicitly ask for a job, it was sort of just given to her, and she really didn't know how to say no... So now she was this crew's medical droid.

She was checking the medicinal cabinets of the ship to ensure it was fully stocked, she had made sure to get a software update in order to ensure her medical records were up to date and accurate, so she knew of modern medications and all of their various functions. She saw that the cabinet was barely stocked, only containing some filthy bandages, NSAID painkillers, some allergy medications, and a small quantity of bacta salve, this would not do, if they wanted to survive any major incursions with hostile forces they would surely perish rather quickly. She quickly made her way out to go and berate the captain for his various health code infractions and unsafe medical storage.

She stormed out of the ship to go meet him only to see him drinking some yellow liquid, she nearly flipped out before more detailed sensor scans revealed it as lemonade.

"Do you realize that if you get into any infractions during this mission, and somebody gets injured you have atleast a 89.462362% chance of death with your current medical supplies? Back in the empire your commanding officer would shoot you on sight if they saw a vessel this... Unprepared medically." She said to him.

She then turned and saw the various other people standing there, she began freaking out a bit if she was an organic her heart rate would be racing, instead she just stood there silently, she waved a bit, attempting to act like an organic to ease the sitution that she saw as threatening. "Hello there!" She said in her best simulation of an organic voice when one was undergoing fear.

[member="Chevu Visz"] | [member="Vaela Saboe"] | [member="Winrel Rurk"] | [member="Rel Connory"] | [member="Miko Hearth"]

 

[Revenchent]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_srvHOu75vM​

"That's kind of the problem with being poor 2B. This 'lil outing should solve that problem," Miko cooed as he spun sipped his lemonade from a bright pink bendy straw. Hazel eyes peered up at the droid confidently; the smuggler's visage was framed with a wide smile and a warm air. Or maybe that was just Mustafar.

And then came the Hutt.

Miko had only seen the voluptuous creatures in - no, wait, that wasn't the right word was it? The youth's brow furrowed as he peered up at the alien and his rather odd looking little friend. That smile shifted into a grumpy frown as the lizard made a move for the fan. In response, Miko kicked back hard against the floor. His chair creaked back, back, back...

The pilot hit the floor of the landing pad with a rather loud thud. Mid-fall, he'd made a point to chug what remained of his drunk so as to not spill it all over himself. Now he lay back beneath the lawn chair, a string of curses having been mumbled into the durasteel deck.

"Hello Jorga. Hello Manwench," Miko groaned as he right himself up: folding the lawn-chair with a rather dramatic snap as he rose to his feet. "I'm Mikoran Hearth, and this is the Tart-Cart," he sputtered in answer to the two women that had approached.

"Guess you're all here for the job. My blue buddy here is Winrel Rurk, and the medical droid is IMD-2BC. Let's go inside and discuss terms. It's pretty hot out here." Miko didn't wait for a reply. he hoisted the folded chair up into his arms, pocketed his datapad and the fan, scooped up his glass, and marched up the gangplank into the air conditioned ship.

[member="IMD-2BC"], [member="Chevu Visz"], [member="Vaela Saboe"], [member="Winrel Rurk"], [member="Rel Connory"]

 

[Jorga the Hutt]

[member="Miko Hearth"]@IMD-2BC@Chevu Visz[member="Vaela Saboe"][member="Winrel Rurk"]

"Is beautiful plan."

Jorga slithered aboard the ship without considering how his trail of slime would affect lesser species' ability to climb the ramp. Libidinous Manwench skittered alongside him and eventually decided to ride on his tail. Jorga tolerated the indignity.

Cool air blasted Jorga's skin, and the Hutt sighed. Partially-digested nuna spattered the corridor. "This Tart-Cart is good ship. Is reference to tarts?"

His stomach growled at roughly thirty decibels.

 

[Vaela Saboe]

Vaela watched Jorga slide up the ramp, leaving it slick with slime.

Any other day and she wouldn’t have cared in the slightest. It wasn’t like she was a stranger to the Hutt’s and their…quirks. Today though, behind her mask her face shriveled up into a look of revulsion. She gritted her teeth and began to tread up the ramp, sticking to the edge hoping to avoid the worst of the gunk.

In and out, do the job, get the credits, and go.

Is this what her life would be like from now on? Taking work that was a far cry from the elegant art of seduction and death? She really shouldn’t have blown her luck on the last job. She really should have just kept her feelings in check. It embarrassed her to think that she could have ever been so weak, so foolish. Well, they say in life, to at least allow yourself to love somebody deeply once. To feel loved, adored, cherished. The funny thing was that she had killed him anyway. And the cause to her frustration wasn’t anything to do with her betrayal…it was more the fact that her reputation had been bruised. Luckily it had happened far from her usual killing floor on Nar Shaddaa. She could always go back after this, once everything had blown over…but the Smugglers Moon was so tedious to her now.

Vaela trailed behind the Hutt, and it took a moment for her to feel the cool air seeping through her mask and clothes. It almost felt like it was medicating all the thoughts she had just spun through her mind. She put each one down to the fact that she had been cooking alive out there. Soon she wouldn’t care at all, and once more sink back into indifference. She pulled the mask from her face, grateful for the full impact of the cold air hitting her skin. Her white blonde hair fell beyond her shoulders like a waterfall glistening in the sun. She peeked at the green lady, the droid, and then rested her eyes on Miko, waiting for his pitch.

At least the crew weren’t all slimy with stomachs louder than Mustafar’s volcanoes.

 

[Winrel Rurk]

As he took a long drag from his cigarette, a frown crossed his face. Why weren't there easier jobs, ones they didn't need so many people. But those days were gone now, gone like the mining company's base. Gone like their stable jobs. Gone like his hopes for a safe and simple life. He took another long drag of the cigarette as he watched the two rather different woman walk up to the ship. It seemed Miko got the add out there, all right. The first woman seemed dangerous, her stride and posture reminding him of a bounty hunter's; Hard and unrelenting. The other, a Mirialan, seemed, as weird as it was, the more dangerous of the pair. Either way, he decided to give them their room

He flicked the cigarette over the edge, staring down at it as the butt disappeared into molten rock. Turning slowly, he walked for the ship ramp, grimacing at the trail of slime that [member="Jorga the Hutt"] left on the ramp. Taking a turn once he was safely on board, he quickly bent to pick up one of his star charts laying on the floor. "Forgat ta clean up again..." he muttered to himself, shaking his head as he rolled the paper up to tuck under his armpit. He'd have to make sure the rest of the quarters were clean. No need for their new crew mates to have rooms full of his old maps and poorly-written notes, after all.

[member="Vaela Saboe"] [member="Chevu Visz"] @IMD-2BC @Miko Hearth

 

[Chevu Visz]

Chevu didn’t care for Hutts. Then again, who did... well, beyond other Hutts? Some might say it was personal. Chevu had almost been sold at a Hutt Cartel slave fair before her late Sullustan master rescued her. Either way, the fact that this silver-trailed slug was coming along for the mission put her hackles up. Suddenly, there was a ruckus near the landing ramp as a young man came tumbling out of the ship, in what looked like a lawn chair. He dusted himself off and introduced himself as Mikoran Hearth.

A bendy straw? Really? Chevu shook her head.

Miko welcomed them all to the Tart-Cart. Dodging the rivulet of slime in the Hutt’s wake, the Mirialan followed the rest of the crew up the landing ramp. Two-Bit was ecstatic at the sight of the med droid, and spent the next few minutes doing circles around its metal feet. A cacophony of excited beeps and whistles emerged from its round body, until Chevu shot her droid a pointed glare. Then, he calmed the frak down.

As she gazed at all the faces, she gathered that her new companions were much like she, desperate for credits. Why else would such a disparate group of beings be gathered here to take orders from a man in a broken lawn chair? A year ago, Chevu might have asked herself what the hell she was doing here, but questions like that, simply didn’t occur to her anymore. A year in Wildspace prepared her for just about anything.

[member="Vaela Saboe"] | [member="Winrel Rurk"] | [member="Miko Hearth"] | [member="Jorga the Hutt"]

 

[IMD-2BC]

2B stood rather silently, she had no idea how to interact with such a large group of people, she sort of just waved a bit before coming up with a half baked excuse to get out of talking to people. The heat didn't bother her, social situations did.


“I need to go… run some scans to make sure the food supply is sanitary…” she said before ducking back into the ship.


However, she was stopped by a small little astromech droid who started circling her feet if he was extremely excited, you could tell, he was speaking so fast that it was difficult to actually determine what it was saying. This droid was a bit too excited, it sort of made 2B a bit anxious.


”Why hello there.” she said to the droid in a sort of way that indicated a bit of stress. While she was better with droids than she was with people, it still was not great.


The droid eventually stopped, which she took as an opportunity to make her way onto the ship. Howeer she became extremely irritated when she found the Hutt slime covering the ship. She became extremely frustrated So unsanitary. She made her way over to the cleaning supplies and began to obsessively clean up the hutt slime, it was a quirk in her programming that was a holdover from her working days,. When she passed through the room where the rest of them were meeting she looked to Miko.


“I’ll be cleaning if anyone needs me.” She said, giving the Hutt what could best be described as a death glare.


The slime was extremely difficult to clean up, as it was literally everywhere, she would be at it for awhile.

 

[Revenchent]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d4WlqxPzQ28​

The Tart-Cart wasn't the prettiest ship in the galaxy, but then she was a tough old thing. To her credit, there wasn't much by way of rust or detritus coating her inner hull, though there wasn't anything soft either. Everything was hard, pointed, and sharp. She had not had many interior modifications since her military service a decade past, and Miko had never minded the coldness of the vessel enough to pay for any excessive change. That, and he just couldn't afford it.

The vessel itself was rather large and fitted with enough rooms to keep everyone from getting cramped up together constantly. Her comm room had been converted into something between an office and a living room. The large holoemitter still stood in the center of the room, but that was about the extant of familiarity anyone would find with the modified chambers. A large leather sofa had been plopped down near one of the walls, along with a coffee table, a miniature refrigerator, and a rather large holovision that hung from the wall. Beneath that was a game console connected to the holovision by a number of errant and open wires that were the very definition of a fire hazard. Miko hadn't bothered to turn the thing off, and the screen was plastered with a picture of a scantily clad woman wielding a ridiculous sword-like object with the words "Godawan 2: Rebellion Edition" glowing in bright red beneath her feet.

The lawn-chair was plopped down next to the sofa, and the holovision found itself toggled off.

"Forgot to turn that off. Got kinda bored waiting around earlier," Miko explained as he went to fill his glass with more of the lemonade. "Anyway - oh, anyone want a drink?" He asked as he lingered over the mini fridge. The pilot would comply with any wishes before turning back to the holoemitter.

He bit down on the end of the bendy straw as he observed his companions-to-be.

Kark knew what the Hutt could do, though Miko figured he might serve as a good distraction. If nothing else, the monkey lizard he'd brought with him might be able to get through small corridors. Then there was Winrel, a man whom he'd worked with for quite a few years now. He liked the Duros, might've even called the guy his best friend, but Winny wasn't going to be doing much more than getting them onto Bastion. Maybe him and the Hutt could figure something out...

Miko's brow furrowed as his gaze drifted to the girls. Pretty things, the both of them, though he doubted that would give them any clout once they were on the planet. The green one and her droid seemed about as threatening as a stuffed wampa, whereas the blond seemed about ready to shoot up the whole ship.

Finally, there was 2B, whom Miko had absolutely no illusion about. He already had a bit of an idea for what the old droid could do.

Pale hands clapped together. "Right, so," he gestured about with a hand, "This is the Tart-Cart. She isn't pretty, nor is she particularly fast, but she's built to run blockades. She's got the right sorta shields for what we're doing. Nothing's gonna shoot her down. I'm Miko, and the blue guy is Winrel. We co-own her. Winnie navigates, I fix things, we both fly. The droid you say is our medical help. She's good at her job, just a little irritable."

Understatement of the millenium.

The holoemitter came to life, revealing the spherical form of Bastion in fully colored glory. Alongside of it came a description of the world: current Sith capital, razed three times, a muck of totalitarianism and bad hygiene. Next to that came a facial rendering of [member="The Slave"] just a day or so before his capture.

"So this is the guy we're getting paid to retrieve. They want him alive and mostly in one piece. Some Sith folks put out a bounty on him, but we doubt they'll expect anyone to come after him." Miko drew in a sharp breath as a blurry image of [member="Sal Katarn"]. "They're pretty sure this was the guy that took him, and the abduction took place on Zeltros. Dunno the guy's name or anything really relevant, but, eh," the pilot reached up to scratch the back of his head.

"The guy we're picking up's sources say there was a bounty out for him and his buddies originating from Bastion. Specifically from some guy named @Darth Ignus, and Mister Ignus is evidently rather high on the totem pole. I guess Darth is a title of nobility or something," Miko shrugged.

"Anyway," he turned to march toward the sofa, jostled about with something rather loud, and hauled it up from behind his makeshift bred. It was a rather simple suit of armor bearing the insignia of the Sith Ascendancy. "I've got this. Not the best, but it should be able to get one of us to walk in through the front door. I've also been working on proper identi-cards for the past few weeks, so we'll hopefully have some level of access. I don't have a map of this guy's house or anything, but," Miko walked about as gracefully as one could with a large and awkward set of combat armor in his arms toward the emitter, "I figure one of us will get in through the main doors and open an alternate entrance. Maybe a maintenance hatch or something. I'll probably do that. I'm not much of a fighter, but I'm good with advanced programs and the software big groups like these guys tend to use."

The armor thudded against the floor. "It'll be up to Winrel and, uh, Manwench here to get us onto the planet without trouble. They'll also be getting us off of it. Once we're inside, I'll be needing some muscle to actually do the fighting. That's where you girls come in," he gestured toward Chevu and Vaela. "As for Mister Jorga," Miko folded his arms about his chest and furrowed his brow. "I dunno. Maybe you could serve as a distraction of sorts. What do you think you could do?"

[member="IMD-2BC"], [member="Chevu Visz"], [member="Winrel Rurk"], [member="Vaela Saboe"], [member="Jorga the Hutt"],

 

[Jorga the Hutt]

"I drink and I know things," said Jorga through gallons of phlegm. "For example, my cousin names grub 'Darth.' Means 'killer overlord.' Most auspicious name."

He squirmed closer to the holodisplay and poked the face of [member="Sal Katarn"]. "Other thing. This is looking​ like Thoron Heavyshield. Is Jedi."

One slippery hand patted the holster of a particle repeater.

"Also I shoot things."

 

[Vaela Saboe]

Miko was right, it certainly wasn't pretty - the smell of man was everywhere. Still, it wasn't the most unpleasant place that Vaela had been, and certainly better than the dreadful heat outside.

When Miko mentioned that her specific job would be firepower, Vaela felt the comforting rush of adrenaline tingle through her. Her duty was something that she was extremely good at. Probably the only thing that she was good at. Life wasn’t something that she was good at, nor was functioning in it as a ‘normal’ person would…spouse, children, stable job, dinner parties…none of that was for her. Time between work left her feeling empty. But when she was working, well, that was definitely something that she couldn’t mess up. Apart from the last job. But she refused to dwell on it any more. Not now that her mind was running through all the different types of scenarios that this prisoner would be rescued.

Miko continued to speak while her brain switched into a different plane of thought entirely. Sith, she knew of them. She remembered a hit she had carried out back on the Smugglers Moon some years ago. She had been ordered to kill a crime boss who had been making waves where he shouldn’t have. It was lengthy, and like most men, he had been easy to wrap around her finger. She remembered the day when a shady looking man in a cloak had visited, unannounced. During the interaction between the crime boss and the man, Vaela had been extremely on edge. It had felt as though she had been swirling in another dimension full of death and darkness. She learned later that the man had been rumored to be associated with the Sith.

Yet, she hadn’t bothered to investigate further after the hit was complete. She didn’t know much, but she knew that she could easily be walking into something extremely dangerous. But eerie menacing darkness…well, it sounded perfect to her. Vaela glanced at Chevu once more, still full of the resurfaced memories of the cloaked man. For a split second she felt something familiar when she looked at the green lady. An aura, perhaps, intense for the slightest moment. Not like the cloaked man…but something else, but the same. Strange.

‘Credits?’ she averted her gaze back to Miko, shrugging the feeling off. A dangerous job meant that she could barter. She put on her appealing voice. ‘There’s quite a few of us here, Miko. How do you intend to pay all of us fairly? Entering a hornet’s nest won’t come cheap.’

[member="Miko Hearth"] [member="Chevu Visz"] [member="Jorga the Hutt"] [member="IMD-2BC"] [member="Winrel Rurk"]

 

[Winrel Rurk]

A sigh escaped Winrel's lips at the group talked. Red eyes skirted around the room, as if looking for something to do. He wasn't all that used to people, nor was he happy about the sudden influx of new crew. Or about sharing the cockpit with... whatever Manwench was. The job wasn't looking to be anything Winrel was good at. Fly all the way across the galaxy, break into a place, drag some guy out of there, and escape what seems to be a fortified place with heavy guard. And a Jedi? They were not going to be fun to deal with. He'd met them before. High and mighty. If a Jedi had captured the man, then this may be harder than they thought. Seems a bit like a suicide run.

Which may be why the client was willing to pay so much.

"Wouldn' expect it ta be cheap, Miss." He gave a weak smile. "The person wants him out's pay'n big fors this. They'll be plenty ta go round." It sounded hollow. "I wouldn' worrys bout it."

Stroking his chin, he glanced at [member="Miko Hearth"]. "I'm gonna try an git the first few jumps plann'd. Let me know if ya need me."

[member="Jorga the Hutt"] [member="Vaela Saboe"] @IMD-2BC @Chevu Visz

 

[Chevu Visz]

As Chevu gazed around the comm room of the Tart-Cart, her onyx eyes taking in the game console, the holo-display, and the lawn chair, she began to question her life choices. The Alliance was ragtag, too, but never like this. She wondered what Gabe would think about this mess, and then quickly realized that the Jedi Master probably didn’t think about her too much. Maybe when he looked into the eyes of their children, he got a flash of their mother, but out of sight, out of mind, probably. She wouldn’t blame him if he hated her. Chevu could tell herself that she was making a clean slate, but that was the worst kind of rationalization. There was no such thing as a clean slate, just a mess of invisible lines that tangled up your loved ones until they choked.

Miko’s voice broke her from her cynical trance. The captain introduced his ship, informing the motley bunch that she was built to run blockades. He co-owned the ship with Winnie, the Duros, and the irritable droid was their medical help. Then he briefed them on the job. They were retrieving a man from Bastion from a Sith lord named Darth Ignus. They had a set of Sith armor, and some sort of access. Miko looked to the two women, who would be the muscle, then wondered if the Hutt could be some sort of distraction. Was there anything else a Hutt could be? Stealth wouldn’t be the creature’s specialty.

Jorga promptly answered that he could shoot things, which was pretty much what she expected a Hutt to say. The other woman spoke up wondering about credits, wondering how Miko was going to pay them all. Chevu didn’t really care too much about credits. Oh, she needed ‘em alright, but mostly she just wanted to kill some Sith. Chevu had spent so much time in Wildspace that her Jedi teachings were a merely faint murmur in her head. Coren would have been proud.

She would let Miko answer Vaela’s question first, and then Chevu would ask one of her own. She had a strange feeling about the man they were being paid to capture, and Chevu didn’t like to go into a job blind.

“So, what’s this guy to the Sith? What did he do to land himself in one of their prisons?”

[member="Vaela Saboe"] | [member="Winrel Rurk"] | [member="Miko Hearth"] | [member="Jorga the Hutt"]

 

[IMD-2BC]

2B continued to clean up the Hutt slime, slowly making her way from the entryway and eventually making her way over to the location the Hutt currently stood, she heard the plan, her hearing was much better than most organics, she could hear what was going on in the other room rather clearly. Santization was a huge problem on this ship, this place was no better than your average dump. Scans showed numerous contaminants ranging from feces, blood, spit, and.... other fluids. It was filthy, she tried to sanitize the whole ship but after 5 hours of hard work she had managed to sanitize one whole square meter. She gave up after that.

She made her way into the room as he went over duties for the mission, she cleaned all the way over to the hutt, stopping just short of him, she would pick up again later. She put the cleaning supplies up against the wall.

"I can go in with whoever gets the armor, shouldn't be too hard to get me in with them, droids are rather inconspicuous, we blend in rather easily. Just need some ID and a local serial and i should be golden. I assume Mako can provide that." She said

Droids were great at blending in, they never looked out of place in almost any area, you could often get into areas that a sentient would stand out like a sore thumb in. People just assume that if a droid is somewhere that they are supposed to be there, no questions asked. It is easy to fool organic security, she just needed an alibi and some identification in the system., and she would be golden to go wherever she desired.

She shuddered at the metnion of the Darth she remembered that title clearly, she knew of the men they called Darth, men shivered in fear at the mention of the title, people would kill to impress one, they were the most feared beings in the galaxy, even the mention of a darth would send men into a fear induced rage. Her loyalties used to lie to them above all, until they abandoned her for 4000 years that is.

"Darths are not people to be spoken about lightly, I would be careful, they are dangerous, only the most powerful sith earn the term Darth. That is how it worked 4000 years ago at the very least, things might have changed since then."

[member="Miko Hearth"] | [member="Jorga the Hutt"] | [member="Vaela Saboe"] | [member="Winrel Rurk"] | [member="Chevu Visz"]

 

[Sal Katarn]

All relevant information on one "Sal Katarn" was readily accessible under public records as a licensed bounty hunter of the Bounty Hunter's Guild. No known place of address listed, as he appeared to live on a ship registered as the Outremer. Any further digging would reveal Mr. Katarn previously worked investigations on Coruscant.

Guild registry listed a working commlink number.