Two Types of People (Part I)

[Malok]

Location: Khorm, Orbit
Objective: Sweeten the Deal
Allies: [member="Captain Blacktail"]

There were two types of people in the Galaxy: those who see tragedy as the definition of misfortune...and those who see it as a golden opportunity.

Samuel Graves was one of the more latter-minded individuals. Never did he have an intimate attachment to a government or planet, so when billions went poof he didn't give a flying kark. Instead, he took the first job opportunity that came to his door: an offer from some southern-based corporation that his bank account just couldn't refuse. National borders were all sorts of karked up these days, and as such worlds containing oh-so-sweet resources were ripe for the plundering.

And it was now Samuel's job to inform one lucky planet of this fact. Khorm was once a Mandalorian fringe world and was offered protection by the United clans. However, in the wake of the recent calamity, its people were now diminished and their defenders scrambling home to secure Mandalore. What did that mean for poor old Khorm? That meant pirates, bandits, and all other manner of dog could come knocking on their door and attempt to seize what belonged to them. Yet, there was a silver lining!

Like a white Knight astride a steed, Samuel and his compatriots came boldly out of hyperspace. His freighter, flanked by an assortment of cargo corvettes and transport frigates, descended upon the world like a holy parade. The plan of attack was simple: Graves and his partners would have a sit down with the planet's leaders, warm them up with humanitarian aide, and then go in for the kill: a contract pledging aide for rocks.

Who said a scoundrel had to steal?

 

[Blacktail]

A single white fighter emerged from the confines of hyperspace amidst an armada of renegade vessels. It bore on each wing the mark of the claw, clad in blue flame; the universal symbol of the space pirate. Atop its chassis laid a massive weapon with four vented barrels mounted to a Gimbal. It bore two seats, though the rear was clearly empty and unneeded. A single engine pushed it, though it was one moderately large in size. The heavy fighter drifted away with the haste of a Corellian freighter--that is to say, not much.
"So, what's the job," a whisper-like, menacing voice asked Graves over the communique.
With the amount of ships amassed there blatant... there was no doubt in her mind that she did not come to sail the black flag today.

[member="Samuel Graves"]​

 

[Malok]

Location: Khorm, Orbit
Objective: Unload the Goods
Allies: [member="Captain Blacktail"]

After a few moments of hovering in the orbit of the ice world, Graves noted that he was no longer alone. The silence of real space was shattered by the arrival of additional vessels from Hyperspace; each characterized by tell-tale insignias. On an average day, these "fine" individuals wouldn't be playing the hero. Oh no, these scoundrels were the sort who would take for the sake of taking; and Samuel was perfectly fine with that. However, they had duties to perform in order to earn a fat sum of credits.

"I hope you brought your winter coat." he began, briefly pausing in order to slip a cancer stick between his lips. There was ignition, a drag, and a plume of smoke before he continued. "Today, we play the heroes. Our job is to go down to that world, which has been recently abandoned by the Mandalorians, and give them a wee bit of help...for a price of course. After that, we go home and collect the paycheck."

With that said, the mercenary ordered his congregation of vessels forward. Down they descended through the fiery atmosphere and into the frigid air below. The landing zone was, quite literally, the base of a mountain. There, a cavern had been cut for mining purposes and the natives of Khorm had begun to muster. "Captain, mind unloading a couple crates of supplies? Gotta show these folks that we mean only good."

 

[Blacktail]

Ruha sighed. Her attire was definitely not suited for arctic conditions. She cared for nothing but the reward, and sought only to get the job done as fast and efficiently as possible. Babysitting and negotiations weren't her strong suits. Her craft followed suit and descended with the congregation towards what appeared to be the foot of a large mountain. Already ice had begun to build up around the edges of her canopy, and it only grew denser as she continued to descend. The sound of anti-freeze pumps engaging and the vacuum-sealed gears of her gimbal locking into prone position rang out over the hollowed winds. Before she opened the canopy to step foot on the landing area, she reached behind her flight seat for its survival kit and dispensed from it a thermal blanket and paracord, which she quickly fashioned into a makeshift cloak. This was going to suck.
The canopy of the Volition hissed open as the hot air rushed out and quickly cooled. A mechanical ladder extended from the side of the fuselage, letting Blacktail down. Her first foot touched followed by her second, sounding off a cold, hollow ring of metal from her cybernetic leg echoing in the distance. With haste she made way to the nearest cargo craft to help the crew unload. She only hoped the pay was worth the extreme discomfort.

[member="Samuel Graves"]​

 

[Malok]

Location: Khorm, Orbit
Objective: Sweeten the Deal
Allies: [member="Captain Blacktail"]

Alongside the host of others, the mercenary's personal freighter descended and ultimately touched down upon the frozen planet. Already he could tell that this was not going to be the most comfortable experience, for any measure of cold weather wreaked painful havoc upon his trick knee. However, with the money that he was going to make from this venture, Graves could easily afford several knees and several trips to warmer places. With this lovely thought in mind, the mercenary disembarked from his vessel and stuffed his hands within his coat pockets.

The second his boots crunched down upon the snow, a biting wind smacked him square in the face. It chilled him to the very core, literally causing his eyes to water and freezing the hairs in his nostrils. "How does anyone live out here?" he grumbled to himself. Alas, he did not have much time to fret about the "how", as the "who" began to arrive from within the mountain's cavern. Natives of the world, obviously shaken in light of the recent calamities, tentatively stepped out into the light...and many were armed to the teeth.

Show time.

Stepping forward, Graves raised his hands up in a non-threatening manner and graced the natives with a warm, gruff smile. He then proceeded to address them with that oh-so-charasmatic tone of his. "Ladies and gentlemen of Khorm, we come in peace. I am but a humble representative of a corporation that has seen your plight and wants nothing more than to help. Your protectors, the brave Mandalorian Clans, have been dealt a blow by the hands of fate, leaving you a fraction less protected than before. We empathize with both the plight of the Clans and your current predicament, and have therefore brought assistance. Food. Medical supplies. Assistance droids. The Galaxy has not forsaken you Khorm, so let us help you in your time of need."

Sure, Graves was laying it on a bit thick but what he said held true. By his estimation, the Mandalorians had a bunch of fires to put out and the security of their capital to worry about. Making sure an icy fringe world was taken care of wasn't exactly on the top of the list; of this the mercenary was sure. That said, once his heroic speech was finished, the mercenary turned to his pirate compatriot. "Alright, show 'em what's in the crates. Let them see we mean business. Then I'll try to get a meeting with the men upstairs."

So far, so good.