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"No, I didn't get the name of the buyer. I was shipping the goods to Eepu Narga on Nar Kuuna." Gael frowns. "I was hoping to get more information on Bluebird to trade for our freedom. The Imps won't be willing to challenge the cartels over this. I'm worried that with the Hutts out of reach, we're going to be the ones paying for this."
"Look, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry you got dragged into this." Gael shrugs. "Not your fault either. We're both somebody else's collateral damage." Gael scrunches into a seated position, resting his crossed arms on his knees. "We have ten minutes until Grames - the Imperial officer out there - pulls us out of here, so we should talk fast. The man who hired us called himself Bluebird. Do you know anything about him?" Gael gives a quick description of what little he knows of Bluebird. If the woman seems reticent, Gael tries to reassure her. "I honestly want to help you out, too. We're both in deep right now, and I think that if Grames has someone to pin this on, we'll get out easier. If they don't need to interrogate you, all the better."
"I'll see what I can find out. And it'll make a good story, but it doesn't top that time at the opera on Malastare." Gael grins. "We'll get out of this, no worries." I hope.--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Gael gives a comforting smile, an open expression on his face.
Gael shouts out in Huttese at the woman. Huttese:
"Hey, miss! Are you okay? Don't fight the soldiers, that will make things worse. Just stay calm for now. Gael slowly leans over to Grames, making sure the stormtroopers can see he's not doing anything aggressive. He suggests in a roundabout way (trying to make Grames feel as if it is his own idea) that maybe he should act a little less roughly with the alien woman, and let Gael go talk to her and figure out what's going on. "My contact disguised his voice, used encrypted messages, and I never saw his face when we met in person. This woman probably knows more than I do. I'm sure Moff Drayden will be impressed if you manage to get the story out of her without the help of an interrogator." Gael slips out of his jacket. "I'm sure you weren't planning on parading her through the hallways like that, so why don't I go give her my jacket for now, and see if I can develop some kind of rapport to help you learn more."
Gael doesn't show it, but he grows anxious at Vaclav's words. He waits to see Grames' response. Imps don't like being told what to do...
"I had no idea," Gael says, his mouth running on autopilot while his mind frantically tries to find a way out of this mess. "Manifest said food, the guy we're shipping it for said food. What was I supposed to do, take a fusion cutter to everything?"
"I don’t suppose your supplier gave you the keys for the cargo? It seems my men are unable to scan your shipment due to radiation blocking seals inside the crates. To your credit, I understand that radiations seals are important for refrigeration units so as to ensure the complete prevention of heat loss." "Nope, no keys. The manifest says they're not supposed to be opened at all." Gael shrugs apologetically.
Gael takes the offered mug, and slides into the specified seat. He sips at the caf while Grames pontificates. "Your manifest shows your destination as Eepu Narga on Nar Kuuna. I take it you do business with the Hutts then?" "You take what business you can, y'know?" Gael replies with a shrug, allowing Grames to draw his own conclusions.
"... first Imperial station in Hutt space. 'Tis a truly momentous time to be an Imperial." He stares off momentarily in patriotic reverie. Hmm, better slow down on the caf-drinking. Looks like there's going to be plenty of speeches from this one. "Judging by your approach vector when you dropped from hyperspace, and given your destination, it looks like you were last in the Hutta system. Did you have any business on Nar Shaddaa by any chance?" "Yeah, picked up my cargo there. Bit seedy for me, but a job's a job, right?" "...‘Tis sad, really, but this galaxy is a cruel place." "A real tragedy of justice." "Believe me, I don't want to shoot up anybody. Sometimes pirates don't give you a choice, though. It helps to have Vaclav - the Togorian - along then." Gael swirls his mug and finishes off the last of his caf.
Gael snickers inwardly as the Imperial officer self-identifies as a 'spacer'. Oh, he loves his technicalities, doesn't he. Either that or he has a terrible sense of humour... both of which are common Imperial traits. "I just have a few questions for you while the inspection crew does their job." "Well, my first choice was to visit the cantina." Gael takes an exaggerated look around the hangar and shrugs. "Since that doesn't really look like an option, I suppose I can oblige."
Gael grins and shoves back ineffectually, but soon becomes serious again. "Imps should be getting back to us soon." He takes a deep breath. "Best behaviour, okay everyone?"
Gael makes a face. "I was trying to project a slovenly air. It makes people underestimate you. There's nothing the Imps like more than acting all snooty, so if you get them preoccupied with looking down their noses at you, they don't look as hard everywhere else." He shrugs. "Maybe you'll make a decent distraction."
Gael wanders down into the lounge, sniffing the air. "Caff? Good idea. Projects the right kind of image." Gael turns to Vaclav, frowning. "Speaking of image, are you really going to wear that armour? You're imposing enough without it, and I don't want them to think we're itching for a fight."
“Please transmit your registration and shipping manifest on this channel when you are ready. We will assign you an escort until you are cleared for docking and goods inspection.” "Okay, gotta run down and grab the manifest. Just hold on a minute, okay?" Gael turns off the comm, not waiting for a response. "I'm going to see if I can make this forgery any better. Maybe we'll get away with this after all. Vaclav, Kaede, sweep the ship for anything we don't want the Imps to find. Stash anything we don't have licenses for in the smuggling bay by the port engine room." Gael sets to work, piping the manifest to the ship's computer and working from the console - he's always preferred the feel of keys under his fingers. He tries to fix the obvious inconsistencies in the data, properly recalculating checksums and improving the verification codes.
Once that's done, he transmits the doctored manifest.
"With a faked manifest? I suppose we'll just hope they don't look too closely at it..."
"That manifest isn't going to pass a solid inspection," Gael mutters. "I wonder if we should just make a break for it."
"At the least, we'll probably end up losing the cargo. Bluebird won't be happy, and he's obviously got connections and money. I don't want that kind of enemy." Gael turns the comm back on, figuring he'd better stall before the Imps get too impatient. "Uh, yeah... hold on a moment. Gotta grab my datapad from my cabin. What're you guys doing out here anyways? Never heard of this hyperlane being any big deal." Gael injects a hurt tone into his voice. "I could've had everything ready if you'd let us know about this place, 'stead of finding out with alarms while my pants are around my ankles, y'know?" He keys off the comm, looking around. "Chuba, do you think you can get us to the edge of that mass shadow before they catch us? Kaede, Vaclav: how do you feel about just making a break for it? Puts us firmly on the wrong side with the Imps if we do. We'll need to get a new transponder first thing once we're paid."
Gael pulls his feet off the copilot's console, instantly aware as the station comes into view. "What in blazes is that thing?! And what's it doing out here? Chuba, full power to sublights, get us out of the mass shadows..." Gael pulls up a display on his terminal. "...bearing 155 mark 63." Gael pipes the mass shadow projection over to Chuba's console and brings up sensor readings. "I don't see them moving our way yet..." Suddenly, the comm indicator flashes, screens indicating an Imperial channel. "Belay that, Chuba! Maintain original heading, original speed, but get ready to go if anything starts to go wrong." Gael starts taking rapid, shallow in-breaths and short, deep out-breaths, counting to 10 in his head. That done, he slaps on the comms. "Captain ... Gael Devarian here ... of the freighter Morningwalker," he wheezes out between gasps for air. "Caught me ... in the 'fresher. I'm ... supposed to be in hyperspace ... for another day. What's this?"
"Ten," Gael responds idly. "So we're hauling plants... at least it doesn't seem like anything dangerous." Gael closes the crate. "Short of hacking into every single crate here, I don't know if we can find out what the deal really is. Maybe Vaclav's right, and it's a drug or something." He looks at the crew. "Good enough?"
"Oh come on. Let me try to help too. I can't hurt our chances." Gael wisely keeps his mouth shut, and tries to slice into one of the marked crates.
Gael checks the inventory first, then opens the freezer.
"Bantha steaks? Not a chance."
"Wait a minute..." Gael steps back, looking at one of the boxes. He tilts his head to a few different angles, steps forward, steps back. "There's some kind of holographic sigil on that crate." Gael gives the crate they just opened a quick walk-around. "This one doesn't have the mark." He exchanges a significant glance with Kaede. "I'm thinking we crack one of THOSE ones open too."
Gael frowns. "Blast, I'm locked out already." He glances around the cargo bay and comments, "At least we have a lot of them to try. This... may take a while." Dice:
2:
Gael moves to the next one, starts slicing... and is summarily locked out. He does the same at the next one, and the next, and the next.... "Aha! Got through the first bit!" he crows triumphantly, finally getting through the outer security on the 6th crate.
Gael and Kaede start off well, but Kaede stops being beneficial and the whole thing falls apart.
Dice:
7:
Gael stops getting locked out at the 11th crate.
"Whoo, finally in." Gael gives a tired grin. "Here's the inventory: '24 Bantha steaks, 16 Bantha flank steaks, 16 Bantha burgers, 6 dozen Shyrak eggs, 4 jars pickled Squib livers, and 1 Orgamunthon.' What in space is an Orgamunthon?" Gael asks as he keys the crate to open. Taking a peek inside, a confused frown forms on his face. "And it looks like that's what we've got. It actually is food."
"Cryogenics is a fancy way of saying 'refrigeration,' you know that, right?" Kaede deadpans. Gael is both chagrined and relieved. "Well, I do now." He returns the smirk, then pulls out his slicing gear.
Gael looks over the crate, carefully watching for anything strange as well as an easy way to open it. Gael suddenly stiffens, his blood running cold as his probing eyes find a manufacturer's logo. "These containers are made by Korvo Engineering. They do cryogenics." Gael takes a step back, reevaluating the amount of crates in the cargo bay... "Shavit," he curses emphatically. "I have a bad feeling about this."
"As exciting as that would be, we'd have to see what's inside first. I doubt it's actually worth what Bluebird was claiming, and it might end up being something difficult to move." Gael stands up, gesturing to the others. "Come on, let's take a peek." He walks down to the starboard cargo bay, picks a likely-looking crate, and starts investigating.
Gael chews on his lip for a moment, his hand unconsciously beating out a rapid tattoo on his leg. "Okay," he says abruptly. "We'll see if we can get one open. We have a long trip ahead of us, so we can take it slow and careful, try to leave no evidence of tampering. We find out what's inside, and decide whether or not to make the rendezvous."
Once they've safely made the jump to lightspeed, Gael swivels his chair around to face the rest of the crew. "Okay fellows, I'm going to be honest here. I think something's fishy with this deal." "Bluebird's shipping manifest was a forgery. I don't know what's really in these crates, but he didn't even bat an eye when he doubled our pay. He also estimates its value at a third of a million credits, but is willing to ship it with us, even though we've never worked with him before." Gael shifts in his seat. "I took the deal because the amount promised was really good, and if it actually does pay out then we're high and dry for a long time. Even if it's not, we got enough in advance to pay for the trip, and then some. I'm hoping the only further complication we end up with is a bait-and-switch where the selling price is way lower than Bluebird 'estimated'." Gael takes a measured look at each of his crewmen. "Thoughts?"
"Blast, I was hoping this would go a little smoother. I should have held out for 5000 in advance." Gael starts the navicomputer working on a jump heading, then keys the sensors, scanning for Imperial or Hutt vessels on an intercept course with them.
"We're not out of this yet. Get us out of the moon's gravity well, Chuba, and jump once you have a course."
"Yeah, yeah, I got it. Come on boys, we're out of here." Gael makes sure the cargo lifts are retracted before running back up the ramp. "Chuba, hit it!" he orders once everyone makes it to the cockpit.
"Captain do I just toss these... sacks... over the side railing? I will strip them of anything interesting first." "Sure, deal with it," Gael calls out as he runs up the ramp. Quickly making his way over to the starboard cargo bay, he lowers the lift.
"Speak of the Sith..." Gael mumbles. "Yes, right away please." "Chuba, go lower the port cargo lift. I'll lower the starboard. We can load twice as fast if we fill both bays."
Gael murmurs in Ewokese, letting Chuba know that he can let the Rodian go. "Ocho. Boska, peedunkey." Gael abruptly gestures over his shoulder with his thumb. Huttese:
"Alright. Scram, punk." "Not a very lucky start," Gael mutters as the Rodian high-tails it out of there. "Let's hope that shipment gets here soon."
"Ocho peedunkey, jee-jee make-bargon. Uba mee klop hi chuba lorda naga, ana me Togorian ne te puna puna." Huttese:
"Ok pal, I'll make you a deal. You let me know what your boss wants with us, and I stop my Togorian from turning you into green chunks." Gael gestures to Vaclav, trying to give a sign that Vaclav should act scary.
Thinking quickly, Gael takes advantage of the stuck vibroaxe. He wrenches the steering wheel and floors the accelerator, hoping to disarm the Whiphid (or at least get out of reach).
Grimacing as the Whiphid's vibroaxe passes uncomfortably close to him, Gael draws his blaster pistol. Setting it to stun, he snaps off a shot in return.
Gael slips inside, preparing himself so he can act rapidly - once he starts the speeder, the gang members will hear him and there won't be much time. He keys the start, points the speeder at the gangers breaking into his ship, and floors the accelerator. Barrelling down on the thugs, he aims at the Whiphid.
Gael flattens against the wall outside the hangar bay entrance. "Sithspawn. They're after us, and it's their boss who's interested in us. Luckily, we're not expected back yet." "Kaede, can you find out how many there are? I'm going to see if they left that speeder unlocked."
"Devarian-Gael-Captain. Come quick-back. Tall-fuzz-man here. Has big-shiny-slice on back. No good-feelings. No-respond, just quick-come. Not-know here am I. Going ship-top to watch-keep. Ship open-only inside control. Crossbow-have, and boom-grenades. Hide will-do. Quick-come, soon-soon." Gael pauses, comlink still in hand. "Probably not our cargo - that's supposed to be loaded by droids, and shouldn't be there yet. I agree, let's get back right now." He slips the comlink back into his pocket. Gael closes his eyes for a moment, hoping his smuggler's instincts will give him a clue, as it sometimes does when he's making a decision.
He starts walking, looking for a valet. "I don't think that Bluebird has anything to do with this, at least not directly. His offer of transport should be fine, and will be faster."
"Well, gents? Thoughts about the job?" Gael asks without turning his head, still surveying the casino and sipping his drink.
"Thanks." Gael pockets the chip. He meanders back over to the sabacc tables, seeing if the scuffle with the Weeaquay and Rodian has been resolved yet. He tentatively sips the Pulsar, bracing himself for whatever exotic concoction it may be.
Gael pretends to mull it over. "I think that will suffice. Deal. Where and when do I pick up the cargo?"
Gael keeps a straight face as he glances at the numbers, not revealing his thoughts. Wow, that's a lot of money. A LOT of money.
"Seems like some pretty expensive foodstuffs. Fragile, perishable, refrigerated too... that adds extra complications. I'd have to head straight there, no time to acquire other cargo. Travelling through Hutt Space where the Cartels are going to all be wanting a look... I'm going to need 7%, five thousand creds of it in advance."
Gael idly taps the table with his left thumb. "Okay, I get the gist. What's the cargo? And what's the risk?" Gael narrows his eyes. "And don't try to tell me there is none - there's always a risk, or we wouldn't be talking."
"Heh. That Rodian had it coming." Gael mutters to nobody in particular. He adds raised eyebrows to his smirk when he sees the droid's getup.
”Captain Devarian. Your booth is waiting. Right this way please.” Gael nods in acquiescence and follows. "Greetings. Please, have a seat." Gael sits down, flanked by his associates. "A pleasure to meet with you in person. I haven't operated with this much secrecy in a while. You do it well." Gael tries to make some small talk, but the attempt falls a little flat.
Gael shrugs. "Well, here's hoping it leads to better things." He walks in, goes to the appropriate location, and orders a pulsar. Pity I'm not allowed to drink this. It's a shame to waste the credits... maybe I can down it after.
"Thanks again, pal." Gael flips him a small coin and makes his way into the casino.
Gael nods in agreement. He barks out something that only Chuba understands.
Ewokese:
"Chuba, don't fiddle around with anything too important - there's no telling how quickly we'll need to get out of here." "We're good to go. Lead the way." Once the Bith's back is turned, Gael surreptitiously checks his holdout blaster.
"Thanks." Gael casts a casual look behind the Bith at the speeder. "Did a little bird let you know we were landing here?" he probes, trying to confirm that this is the courier sent by Bluebird.
A wry smile creeps over Gael's face. "I sincerely doubt this will be boring."
"We're going to a casino - I don't think they'll appreciate you geared for an invasion. We'll play it low-key today."
"Copy that, Bluebird. Thanks for the heads-up. MorningWALKER out." Gael cuts the transmission - don't want people listening in for longer than necessary. Gael sighs, drumming his fingers on his leg. "Kaede, Vaclav, go make another sweep of the starboard cargo bay - make sure the false deck is sealed and secure."
"Oh, and make sure you stash anything you don't want authorities poking their noses in. Nar Shaddaa inspectors sometimes get a little sticky-fingered." Gael nods at Chuba. "Alright bud, let's take her in. Nice and easy." The Captain stays at the sensors for now, idly running a scan for nearby ships of interest.
Gael glances back to the doorway, nodding a greeting at Vaclav as the computer processes. |
