The Wheel in the Sky Keeps on Turning (Open)

[Naast'ika Laaran]

[member="The Slave"]

Shots continued to pepper Naast'ika's tail as he slid deeper and deeper into the much larger ship. His defensive dovin basal maintained a singularity behind him as he fully disappeared into the hole he had created, keeping the worst of the incoming shots from impacting him directly and sending a good number of them curving into the larger ship's vulnerable internal hull that he had exposed. Air and water rushed past Naast'ika in billowing clouds of crystallized mist as the atmosphere and internal piping of the host ship was exposed to vacuum and drifted onto Naast'ika's prow or past him and into the void beyond. Meter by meter, Naast'ika burrowed deeper into the hole he was making until he thought he had reached what should be the center of the star destroyer's mass.

Crystallized blood coated Naast'ika's battered prow. Inside himself, several bulkheads had sealed off his forward internal spaces. The sealed-off sections had completely filled with his own blood by now, and clotting agents were slowly working to end the flow of blood at each compromised artery. Naast'ika let out a long, low beep of displeasure as he despaired over his situation. He might be safe from the weapons of the escort ships at the moment, or from the tractor beams of the largest ship... but it was only a matter of time before boarding parties would be sent to finish him off, or an enemy starfighter tried to wiggle its way into the hole he had made.

Naast'ika listened to the sounds of the massive star destroyer. He listened to it creak and groan under the strain he had placed upon its structural support system. He listened to the crackle of exposed wires and the much softer sounds of power flowing through nearby intact power lines. He listened to the hum of the machinery keeping the host ship's reactors in check and the low idling of the ship's primary ion drives as they sat in standby mode. Naast'ika even heard music reverberating through the hull of the ship. And after a moment, Naast'ika realized that there was a very immediate danger he had to deal with.

Now knowing which direction was the aft of the vessel, Naast'ika began to use his dovin basals to crush and clear away the superstructure between himself and the aft of the ship. Bit by bit, he carved away at the foreign metal until he had loosened enough of it that he could begin to turn his body towards the aft of the ship. As he felt his body move and angle in that direction, Naast'ika began focusing his senses as he searched for the ship's hyperdrive. He had to destroy it before the Star Destroyer ripped him from the system and into hyperspace. If he left it alone, he could easily find himself dumped out into the middle of a very hostile fleet in a foreign solarsystem. In a pinch, Naast'ika could always try to destroy a reactor to prevent that... but Naast'ika really didn't like the idea of blowing up a pair of black hole containing reactors while he was inside the ship that contained them.

So... he slid meter by meter further aft inside the much larger ship, obliterating 70 by 30 meters of the star destroyer's superstructure for each meter he moved within the craft.

 

[Rakaan Horne]

Harper offered nothing more than a vacant stare at the Trandoshan that spat a command, or even taunt. Kole didn't think much of it, but he knew he never worked all that well with authority. As far as he knew, it was orders all the way through his miserable life that was once not-so miserable. This was where he became his own man, did his own thing, moved off onto his own. Even if Crime wasn't his favourite thing, and the people here were worse than anything he'd ever seen, surely he might just make it on his own. Start his own brand, quit whilst he's ahead. That was a thought for another day, though.

His combat gloved fingers on his left hand wandered from the weapon to his right forearm, pressing numerous controls until a weighted feeling took over, drawing him to the surface before launching a magnetic cable that held him in place. This was his first assignment with his group, and it was likely to be his last. Only called in due to a recent death, or whatever it was. Kole didn't bother to inquire, he just knew that denying it was certainly going to impact his well-being. Be it physically, mentally, or economically.

A skull imprinted over his visor, perhaps a sign of what was to be his fate. He may not even mind, there wasn't a whole lot that kept him excited. Perhaps the rush of entering the arena in Shadowtown, or that sickly feeling of dominance when you took the life away from another man. All the while, Kole searched for his own humanity, wondering if he'd ever find it. Unlikely, he was only a Replica Droid after all, and it wasn't as if Droids often found purpose beyond their design.

Things were always looking grim.

---

---

Allies: [member="Bareesh Kajidic"] - [member="Coratanni Cartel"] - [member="Helix Syndicate"] - [member="Nadir"] - [member="Lysle of the Hydian Way"] - [member="The Slave"]

Enemies: [member="Popo"] - [member="Naast'ika Laaran"] - [member="Karsan Calnov"] - [member="Muad Dib"]

 

[Ugoto Chivaro]

AHAKISTA
UNDISCLOSED LOCATION

Power readings spiked, percentage bars leapt up and down. It wasn't a pretty picture and it caused 277 to remark: "T2ggU0hJVA==."

507 knew what she meant, of course. It meant that the Kajidic agents had completely and utterly failed to enact the meticulous instructions generated and sent to them. Blast. He should have accounted for this variable. It was common knowledge among the Processors that the literacy rate of Kajidic agents hovered at the 43% mark at any given time. If this proved to be his undoing, so be it. A demotion back to the tech support division wouldn't be so bad. Certainly less stressful than this was becoming.

On the other side of the command station, 162's hands were a blur over his console. All Processors were remotely connected to their stations, which meant they only needed a concerted thought in order to enact a command. The fact that Simone's antics necessitated a Processor to use both his considerable brainpower and his hands was, truly, a testament to her ingenuity. He announced to his peers:

"T2ggZnVjaywgb2ggc2hpdHRpbmcgZnVjaw==."

The slicer was still running rampant in the Wheel's control systems, completely unopposed despite the Syndicate's instructions. Now power was being rerouted into the mainframe. Cooling systems were being shut off. Whoever the slice was, they were trying to overload everything and force another shutdown. The Kajidic could turn them back on if they wanted to, and another stream of faxed instructions arrived to emphasize this. But if they weren't responding to the Syndicate's first instructions, then this was probably all in vain. As it were, they probably weren't smart enough to even engage in something as mundane as a "switch on, switch off" battle with the slicer.

Which they wouldn't have needed to do either if they had. Just. Listened.

Unbelievable.

Fortunately all the power being redirected to the mainframe meant the AI's download suddenly skyrocketed to near completion. Amazing what could be accomplished when running off exorbitant amounts of surplus energy, too bad the whole thing was going to explode if the Kajidic agents didn't engage an emergency shutdown. Which they would doubtlessly do, since it was a matter of survival for them. The AI's download would complete soon enough, but the system would be shut down before anything else could be done.

Well, maybe partial completion of objectives counted for something. 507 would just have to wait for his quarterly review to find out. In the absence of meaningful progress, there was still a need to follow protocol. 507 sent out another transmission, this time to a certain battalion of mercenary scoundrels who were just waiting to leap into action.

[member="Simone"] | [member="Bareesh Kajidic"]​

 

[Ember Rekali]

[member="Helix Syndicate"] [member="Bareesh Kajidic"] [member="Simone"] [member="Popo"] [member="Gorba the Hutt"]

Angry transmissions washed over Ember; he took a deep breath and fed on the situation's anger, frustration, and fear. Half a space station's worth of combatants had lost gravity and lights and so forth. If the commscan readouts and the transmissions were any indication, the station's gigantic mainframe was still a point of severe contention. What would each side do, he wondered, without that in play.

"All Rekali Cartel ships, I'm sending a new fire priority. Ion weapons only."

A barred cone of blue light flickered to life as the circle of Rekali heavy cruisers concentrated their fire. The goal here was to fry the mainframe utterly.

Two short transmissions ensued, both true, both false as heck.

"Lord Popo, your mainframe is about to be overrun or subverted, and your people have requested a targeted strike. We're concentrating ion fire on the mainframe."

"Lord Gorba, the only Tenloss opposition around the station is the station itself. To minimize damage and waste, we're concentrating ion cannon fire on the main enemy computer to cripple the Wheel's defenses efficiently. Bombardment is ongoing."

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

"Choy? Inkabunga!"

So much for the team of slicers.

LeFrange had failed him for the last time. He would have the Devaronian's horns for this.

Gorba cut his commlink to [member="Ember Rekali"] for the brief moment it took to turn to Brutus and say "Nudd chaa."

He had tried the tactics of manipulation and finesse every Hutt within Bootana Shagplan raised to respect, but he had forgotten that the Shell Hutts were a different sort, often comparing themselves to the Varl ancestors. The only thing they respected was brute force.

So Gorba would give it to him.

 

[Azimuth Industries]

Inside the Wheel, the faxes came too late to help the slicer team. The ion bombardment coupled with the power surge proved too great. The team hastily pulled up the hoods of their thinsuits and pulled out facemasks that contained enough breath to get them to an extraction point.

As the mainframe went dark and circuits everywhere blew, LeFrange felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had failed.

[member="Helix Syndicate"] | [member="Popo"] | [member="Simone"]

PLAN B​

​

​

Hundreds of small starfighters began to emerge from hyperspace near the Wheel: tiny M3-A Scyk interceptors - most modified beyond recognition save for their distinctive bubbled cockpits, sleek single-seat Dunelizard fighters, multirole M12-L Kimogila assault fighters, and a sprinkling of M22-T Krayt two-man gunships.

No capital-class ships emerged with them.

The gunships immediately began towing empion mines into place behind them and the Helix forces en route were notified of this.

Elite Dino sat in the gunner's chair of a Krayt gunship. The green Nikto rolled his neck, producing several audible pops. His pilot, a human, winced.

"Hate that."

"Mhm. Alright, let's do this. Send collective threat analysis to my screen."

"Done."

Dino leaned forward, eyes scanning the information. His fingers moved quickly, sorting the information into categories, before he finally transmitted the completed message back to the [member="Helix Syndicate"], [member="Coratanni Cartel"], and [member="Nadir"] planners.

Threat Assessment - The Wheel​

Surrounding Friendly Space Forces

• Technicolor Beat - 3,000 meter capital ship - engaging hostile vessel
• Technicolor Beat's Escorts - engaging hostile vessel
• Corsairs of Cato - assorted frigates, corvettes, and gunships - blockading
• Red Ravens - high volume of assorted freighters - boarding the station
• Rekali Mercenaries - seven cruisers - bombarding station with ion cannons

Surrounding Hostile Forces

• Unidentified number of bio-mechanical corvettes

Friendly Forces on Station

• Coratanni Cartel Kill Squad
• Nadir Lowraiders, The Thousand
• Red Raven Soldiers
• Several Hired Assassins

Hostile Forces on Station

• A dozen Mandalorians
• The Wheel Security

En Route

• Helix Syndicate Battalion

Predicted Outcome:​

Enemy blockaded and without power, inferior numbers. No relief force in sight. Intent of Rekali and Red Raven mercenaries questionable. ​

​

Victory imminent. ​

 

[Julian Valentine]

- | ENGINETICA | -

Valentine saw Fett jump from cover, he'd been scanning the room himself, through no technological means but stern determination and attention to detail. Julian was squeezing his trigger just as Fett fired his own salvo back at him. Julian was no jack of all trades, but he was a gunslinger. Valentine had already been in motion as Fetts fingers had tapped the trigger. His mechanical legs snapped with inhuman speed at a 90° angle. The introduction of zero-gravity and his maglocks prevented his weight from causing him to fall over.

Julian was still firing his twin blasters at that awkward angle, blaster bolts from Fett raced overhead. One struck a helmet fin again and melted the plate, molten metal drooled away in zero-gravity, another struck his thigh and charred the metal. Julians guns overheated and a wave of smoke left the pistols. His hands dropped the guns, they floated away in the room. Valentine heard Fett and smiled in the comfort of his helmet, "Neither do I."

This Mandalorian may have made a name for himself through brute force and sheer terror, but Valentine was no demi-god. He was good, but he wasn't amazing. Valentine had made a name for himself through his ability to adapt and his ability to counter whatever came his way. He could never match a shockboxer punch for punch but he could EMP his gloves and kick him in the balls. Valentine never fought fair, he fought dirty, he'd throw sand in his enemies eyes if it mean't victory. He wouldn't hold back from Fett now, not after his persistence to ruin an otherwise good day. "I warned you, kid," Valentine said.

His legs snapped back upright. Valentines eyes darted in his helmet and entered a command. The microcomputer in his Huckleberry holster gave a confirmation. Target acquired. Julians hands were reaching for the HH-78 Huckleberry holster on his hip. A HG-54 Verpine Shatter Gun slid into his grip and whipped around to aim for Fett. The gun was small and smooth, immaculately designed with an obsidian black finish. Loaded with high-kinetic armour piercing rounds and tagged to Fett. Julian pulled the trigger in a spray of fire, zero-gravity could not stop the magnetically launched pellets.

Locked to Fett, if the Mandalorian tried to jump, roll or run, the pellets would alter their course mid-flight to realign with Fett. Julian slapped the trigger over a dozen times, unloading the handgun at Fett. The door to the cantina opened behind Valentine. A fireteam of four DD-S1 droids were there with sub-machine guns and vibroblades. Lysle buzzed over the commlink and confirmed that more droids were en-route for assistance. Fett wasn't their target but Lysle needed Valentine in top shape if Valentine was to capture Popo. "Open fire," Julian gave the order and the room erupted into a hailstorm of blaster bolts from the Raven DD-S1 droids.

 

[Koda Fett]

​

Friction​

​

A common thing among Bounty Hunters was to know your opponent; be it their arsenal, style, tactics, and so on. It was difficult to understand what Valentine was to do next. The man was in retirement, or so it seemed, and thus Fett never did much in the way of understanding this​ particular adversary. His arsenal was unknown, his tactics were a mystery, and his style was simply an enigma. All that the Mandalorian could afford to do was improvise, make assumptions, and stick to his gut. It couldn't be too hard, after all. It was something that the Bounty Hunter was used to doing all things considered. There were many predictable quarries out in the vast galaxy, and those ones never were much of a threat. It was once you didn't know what to expect that a man became dangerous.

The Mandalorian was often the one to have the technological edge, always capable of combatting those who wielded the force with a few extra tricks up his sleeves. By no means was he a cheat, his weapons had always been worn openly. It leaved little to the imagination, but he was often someone you never wanted to find yourself staring at for too long. His Blaster Carbine leaked steam into the space around him after shifting behind the thick durasteel wall once Valentine began to remove fire. His mind wandering, his eyes shifting, his scanners pulsing. He had to go somewhere, and wherever it was, it wasn't here. Perhaps the way he came, or through the floor, or out into the void. He could fly through it after all.

A series of pellets were launched in his direction after an electronic lock was placed upon his person, but only the trigger being pulled once concealed by the wall. The AP pellets striking the aforementioned durasteel wall with an incredible force, yet the wall taking the brunt. The damage inflicted by the magnetically locked pellets dispersed across the hardy durasteel wall that divided the rooms, creating a cacophony of deafening noises that seemed rather ordinary due to the helmet Fett wore over his head. It might even sound as if Koda was dead.

Perhaps he had gotten lucky in regards to the pellets, but that luck had run out. Raven Droids stormed his position once Valentine departed it. A flurry of blaster bolts enveloped his position, and the only way out he saw was through the hole he entered. A corpse that found itself caught on something had been snatched by the Mandalorian, tossed out to float through the zero-gravity room as searing holes ventilated the corpse further, proving as momentary distraction.

Fett's jetpack kicked into action, thrusting him upwards and back through the hole as a parting gift was left behind. An 'Escalation' wrist rocket had departed him, it's baradium core ready to blow a sizeable chunk in the Raven Droid numbers, and even the room, as it's homing system stalked the red, robotic figure in front of him. In the mean time, the Bounty Hunter had returned to the darkness of before.

 

[Julian Valentine]

- | ENGINETICA | -

The pellets struck at the durasteel wall. The entire room thundered with the repeated impact. The immense kinetic energy sent a shockwave across the room. The pellets exploded on impact, the metal warping and shattering on impact. As the DD-S1 droids joined the hellfire, Julian reloaded the pistols and placed them in the Huckleberry holster, locked to the magnetic holds.

Valentine turned and left the cantina and into the hallway. There was no life in the halls but the rushing metal feet of more DD-S1 droids coming to reinforce the small fireteam already present. By the time Julian was three doors down he heard an explosion, craned his head back and saw what remained of the Raven droids. Not much.

The reinforcements from Lysle brushed past him and towards the cantina, entering the room. The bounty hunter didn't stick around to see what would happen next. He had to meet up with Svel and find Popo. The lighting in this part of the station was gone, gravity lost and the halls depressurised. In some places the ceiling had collapsed with loose wires hanging down. Walls were torn asunder and blaster scorches covered nigh every inch.

The heavy footfalls of Valentine was the only noise here, but he saw light ahead, flickering. Good, the entire station hadn't lost power, he thought. As he approached scanned the security ID tag he had removed earlier from Popo's forces. The door opened and a slight vacuum partially depressurised the room ahead of him. It was an access way for security forces.

This hallway was more intact than the last. The lights were on and artificial gravity was intact. Julian deactivated his maglocks with the flick of an eye inside his helm. He then reached up with a gloved hand and growled, the right fin of his helmet was missing, melted by blaster rounds from the Mandalorian.

Valentine stood against the wall and scanned left and right, peering down each way of the hallway and checked his datapad. The schematics of the wheel showed him the layout of his local location, he could see the pinprick that marked Svel and her retinue. His eyes glanced up and he located the nearest elevator.

He entered the elevator, swiped the ID tag again and took the elevator two floors down. When the doors opened he was greeted by an expansive gaming floor of a casino riddled by slugs and blasters. Svel was perched on a Black Jack table with a Hellfire MG-966. The spray of pellets was silent but their devastation was impressive. She was turning the Security Forces to mince meat.

"Svel," Julian barked across the room to get her attention, "Gather your flock and follow me, we're going to find Popo." He remained standing in the elevator, holding the doors open. Svel Droma, the Last Raven, gave a loud whistle and laid down covering fire as she lifted the huge LMG with ease only explainable by her heavy cybernetic modifications. Half a dozen aliens sprinted for the elevator, one of them gunned in the spine and dropped lifeless. The others scrambled in and Svel backed into the elevator.

The doors shut as two DD-S1 droids stepped backwards towards the elevator, firing at an overwhelming display of security forces. One droid lost a leg and as it fell its head exploded from another shot. The second droid was able to take out three soldiers before its chest was turned to ash by a disruptor rifle, the rest of the droid collapsed.

In the silence and calm of the elevator Svel was able to catch her breath. She turned to Valentine and extended a wrist, the bounty hunter took it and shook it vigourously. "What happened to your helmet?" Svel asked as she loaded a new drum to her LMG. "Some hotshot of Popos. Mandalorian." That explained enough.

"Whats your plan?" Svel wiped a bead of sweat. Valentine hit control pad for two floors up, back to the security access hall. "Back to that Mandalorian, check if he's dead - You know what they're like. They just can't lay still. See if Lysle can spare some more droids and then find Popo." Valentine checked over Svel, "That Inferos rifle you got, give it to me." It was an order, Svel didn't work for him but she handed it over anyway and muttered a curse under her breath.

The doors opened once more to the quiet hallway. "Lysle, get some droids to my location, I need to finish something before I nab Popo - small detour." Valentine checked the choke of the Inferos and then pressed the butt to his shoulder, raising the rifle. "Move out, down that hallway and to the right. Check your suits for any breaches, the hallway beyond that door is vacuum."

 

[Koda Fett]

​

The Mandalorian raced through the darkness of the rather open room, what furniture remained was clogged near the hole almost sucked in through itself- fortunately enough, a gap large enough for Fett to fit through was present. Otherwise, he may of found himself forced into a lengthy skirmish with a wave of droids he m ay not be able to overpower. A retreat proving to be his only possible exit, straight into the void before drifting aimlessly within it. Something was to eventually come o fit, but Valentine was to get away, and Popo dead. That simply wouldn't do. That Hutt had his money.

An orange hue formed within his rather active Heads Up Display. The outline of all the objects in his view became outlined with an orange, digital glow. The Droids moving in on the floor beneath him were present, too. The sheer number of them causing a tinge of relief to wash over him now that he was gone. Otherwise, he'd of been there for a long time.

His T-Visor rapidly shifted to see the entirety of the room, even the rooms beyond - above, and below. The pathway to which Valentine followed had many directions, and Koda only had enough time to follow one of them. Fortunately enough, before he had to make the decision, the elevator dinged.

 

[Ember Rekali]

[member="Popo"] [member="Gorba the Hutt"] [member="Nadir"] [member="The Slave"] [member="Naast'ika Laaran"]

Sensor relays blossomed with neutral yellow telesponders. Huge shapes, an order of magnitude larger than the CRS Like Hell, decanted from hyperspace. Targeting alerts pinged every Clan Rekali ship...and every other ship in the Besh Gorgon system.

A transmission showed a heavily pierced Klatoonian. “All vessels, this is the Desilijik merchantman Creditor's Glory, speaking for Gobba Desilijik Tiuure and the combined clans of sovereign Hutt space. This contest is unseemly and wasteful. Any ship which does not cease fire within two standard minutes will be disabled, fumigated, and sold to the highest bidder. All hostilities aboard the Wheel are to cease immediately. Lord Gobba and his fellow merchant princes will meet with decision makers from both sides in twenty-four hours.”

Ember turned to his tactical and communications officers. “All Rekali ships are to stop firing immediately. Notify Gorba and Popo separately, and transmit our invoice to each. Politely.”

 

[Julian Valentine]

- | ENGINETICA | -

Valentine halted as a transmission came over the commlink. It created chaos and confusion among the Ravens. Everyone was to stand down, it was over... but screw the man. Julian wasn't standing down when he had already invested this much time into the mission, when so many had already lost their lives. He hadn't even been paid yet. "Turn off your commlinks and disable anything that can track your location" Julian said as he turned his wrist-mounted datapad over and switched it off. There was the briefest intake of breath from Svel, as though she wasn't going to go along with it, then sighed and did the same, as did her small flock.

"Now, as we were," Julian said and nodded forward, indicating Svels goons to take the lead. Julian brought the butt of the disruptor shotgun back to his shoulder and aimed it down the hall just as Fett came into sight. Koda was hovering before them with his jetpack, carbine ready. Julian almost cursed under his breath that the Mandalorian was still alive. "Open fire," Julian barked, the command was natural, instinctual from his time as a Stormtrooper. The hallway exploded into hellfire as five goons with SMG blasters, the verpine shatter gun LMG variant of Svel Droma, and the Inferos disruptor shotgun of Julian opened fire.

The kickback of the disruptor wasn't all that hard, fifteen beams of energy blazed down the hallway, ready to incinerate and atomize whatever got in its way. While the recoil of the LMG was far more dangerous, but the cybernetic grip of Svel kept it under control as she sent dozens of pellets a second towards Koda, propelled by magnetic rails that sent them barreling at thousands of meters per second. The combined fire of the goons was far more subpar in comparison, such weapons could barely leave a scratch on Mandalorian iron.

 

[Ugoto Chivaro]

A NEIGHBORING SYSTEM
THE COMMAND VESSEL OF A VALKYRI MERCENARY FLEET

Admiral Raktuber flung an arm out to the side, a wild and important gesture that indicated the black, unending nothingness outside the viewport. "This is the big break we have been looking for, lads!"

In the control pits below the walkway, Sigurd and his colleagues did their best to ignore the Admiral. They had quickly found that it was in their best interests to do so when not in the thick of battle. Anything Raktuber had to say outside of maneuvering orders or fire commands was generally not worth the effort of paying attention to. At the command station next to him, Olaf Knot-Beard whispered, "Did you hear where we were going? I was asleep when he said."

"The Wheel. Besh Gorgon," Sigurd muttered back. Raktuber was flailing his arms and pontificating quite loudly on the walkway, striding back and forth. Something about glory for Helm. Did they even need to whisper?

"Oh," said Olaf, stroking his elegantly knotted beard thoughtfully. "Did he say why?"

Sigurd tusked. Leave it to Olaf to sleep through briefing. "We are going to take the Wheel from one Hutt to give to another, or something. Mandalorians are there already, shooting the station to help us."

"Mandalorians? That sounds like a bad idea."

"They are helping," Sigurd said, offering a shrug.

On the walkway, Raktuber wheeled about and started walking the other way. Both men instinctively shrunk and silenced as he passed by them, then continued their conversation.

"Mandalorian help is not real-people help," Olaf said, "If they say they are helping you, it just means they are killing you less painfully."

"Transmission for you, sir!"

Both men looked up sharply. Most people knew better than to interrupt Raktuber in the middle of a sermon. While uninspired in just about any other circumstance, Raktuber had a thing about being interrupted. The admiral spun on a heel and narrowed his eyes at the offending comms officer, who quickly added it was coming in from their employers: the Helix Syndicate. Raktuber looked annoyed, then indicated with a finger towards the helm. "Put it through to the helm!"

Having once been verbally abused by a Zygerrian Princess for a period of no-less than ten minutes in full view of his bridge staff, Raktuber had installed a personal receiver at the helm of his command bridge. This way any admonishments would be kept contained to his ears only and his crew would not have to grapple with losing more respect for their commander... If that were at all possible. Raktuber crossed his walkway in long, purposeful strides and snatched the handset off the receiver.

"Admiral Raktuber speaking."

"Oh, here we go," Olaf whispered. Sigurd merely shook his head.

"What do you mean it's canceled?" Raktuber barked, grabbing a fistful of his long, red hair. "Who canceled it?"

There was a lengthy pause as whoever was calling explained things to Raktuber. But this was not satisfactory. "Put Tytos on. No, no- I don't- Who is this? Who? Forget it. I wanna talk to him. If he doesn't talk to me, I'll- Yeah, I'll hold."

Raktuber, now turning a mighty shade of red himself, covered the portion of the handset closest to his mouth and yelled towards the control pit adjacent to Sigurd and Olaf. "Don't stare at me while I'm talking, Ivar!"

After a few moments of silence, Raktuber got who he was asking for.

"Ardik? Yes, this is Admiral Øystæinn Raktuber, and I-"

The admiral suddenly jerked his head away from the handset, holding it at a distance, as if suddenly confronted by a loud and startling noise. Sigurd could only hear faintly what sounded like a frail old man screaming indignant outrage at volumes one would have hoped were not possible. But only faintly. Sigurd could not really understand much of it. Eventually Raktuber, several shades paler than he had started, brought the handset closer when the distant outrage finally subsided.

"Okay."

He hung up.

Raktuber took a moment to recover, clearing his throat and then resuming his previous position on the walkway. "Set a course for Lakonia."

Someone who didn't read the room very well shouted back, "Setting course, admiral!"

Raktuber nodded grimly and retired to his quarters, where he remained for the duration of the journey.

 

[Koda Fett]

​

All was quiet, not a singular sound came from the room he floated within. His helmet, however, forced these digital pings to emit softly within. An almost soothing sound he had become all too accustomed towards. Yet, even that strange, blissful peace was only ever going to last a brief moment before be swept out from under him the same way a rug would. It always happened, really. Nothing was all too great for Fett, and anything that was never lasted. He was man down on his luck in terms of leading a regular life, perhaps that's why he invested so much time in being the best bounty hunter he could ever aspire to be. He honed his skills daily, rarely if ever hunkering down for anymore than two days at a time. There was no such thing as an off-day, and whether that was his internal and biological hardwiring or not, he didn't care. This was his life. No matter how miserable.

His helmet's heightened sensors caught wind of the elevator rising in it's shaft towards his position, his sage-green helmeted head shifting towards it, just as the rest of his body had too. A pulse emitted, and there were too many bodies in that elevator for comfort, and if he could base their arsenal off of whatever Julian had prior? He knew it was time to leave. No matter what Popo paid him, it wasn't enough to have him die for it. His maglocked boots kicked in, and he dropped to the floor behind a thick, low wall that he pressed his back into. Everything around him became shredded into oblivion, vanishing before his very eyes. This was it. This is when it was time to leave.

Fett's gloved hand momentarily lifted off of his Blaster Carbine, snatching at a thermal detonator that he took the time to prime in before throwing. It drifted rather slowly through the zero-gravity, eventually coming to a wall that it blasted open. No vacuum was created due to the current circumstances but an opportune escape-route is all Fett fixated on. His jetpack kicked in once more, flames spurted from his jetpack thrusting him out of the hole he created, remaining concealed throughout the process.

It was strange to see what had happened to The Wheel in his absence to the interior. Ships bombarded the station, corpses drifted out to the void, never to be seen again. At least he could say he wasn't dead. Yet still, he raced off to somewhere. That pellet firing weapon of his was just too dangerous to risk.

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

The arrival of the Hutt armada made subsequent proceedings smoother, if no less volatile between the involved parties. Gorba informed all his allies of the need to stand down, but doubtless some fighting persisted within the powerless station. The Council of the Ancients sat [member="Popo"] and Gorba down in negotiations behind closed doors. After countless hours and no less than seven banquets, they reached a resolution.

Popo would remain proprietor of the Wheel, but Gorba would receive a percentage of the profits. Gorba's accomplices would be permitted to build their own infrastructure within the Wheel. Gorba himself would receive the Wheel's famed Arena. Although the result did not end with the Shell Hutt's death, Gorba counted it as a victory. Before this he had had nothing on the Wheel. Now he had something. And he'd only lost a single operative.

That just left the bills, a task he pushed onto Ni'gel the Givin. Ni'gel deposited funds in the accounts of [member="Lysle of the Hydian Way"], [member="Helix Syndicate"], [member="Nadir"], [member="Coratanni Cartel"], [member="The Slave"], [member="The Prince"] and all the other scum who had assisted him. The amounts were proportional to their contribution.

Unfortunately, this left Gorba's kajidic undercapitalized for his future projects. And his brother, Kazbog, had spent an obscene amount on an expedition to the surface of their desolated throneworld, Kor Bareesh.

Perhaps the revenue generated from the Arena would make up for today's losses. Projections said they would break even in less than a year. Time would tell.

However, no one likes their assets to be held hostage for ransom, which is what Gorba perceived the Rekalis to have done. While he appreciated the audacity, he could not let such an action stand lest it be repeated. He paid [member="Ember Rekali"] significantly less than what the warlord might have wished. Perhaps there would be a reprisal, but not with the Hutt armada still lingering.