The handful of fighters scattered like sand thrown into the wind. Even if they were the local tin badges of the planetary governor, those old hands at the snub fighters knew that they were beat.
It wasn't the sight of the unlovely Citadel-class cruiser that spooked them so. The snub fighters were drawn to the cruiser, like moths to flame, until someone else showed up to blot out the nearby star.
The massive Imperial Dreadnought Sun Hammer just dropped out of hyperspace, nearly on top of them. Exactly the type of daring cavalry charge that Captain Ruuchs was known for, before the incident with the Admiral's wife that had condemned him to this distant sector of space.
"Deploy the fighters, then launch assault shuttle Mymonidus," commanded the Captain. He added, in a wistful tone, "Our first catch of the week."
High above the planet Phloeron in the far-off Juiblexian sector, Sun Hammer was far away from the galaxy's core, where the Imperial presence was overwhelming. Here, the Captain often found himself assigned to convoy escort duty, and only rarely given orders for detached service. Captain Ruuchs knew that this was an uncommon chance at prize money for himself and his crew if his instincts were correct.
One of his subordinates called out, "They say they are a merchant vessel, two days out of Troophon. Carrying medical supplies. Claim to have the proper tax documentation for a consignment of Synthene."
Given the onerous taxes on the Synthene trade due to the Imperial monopoly, their story was most likely a bogus one. It would be all over soon enough, and the smuggling vessel would be his.
Through the large viewport, Captain Ruuchs watched the flight of TIE Fighters escort a Stormtrooper-laden assault shuttle inexorably towards the much smaller Citadel-class cruiser.
An ensign handed the Captain a data pad with all the pertinent information about the vessel, owned by a certain Laris D'Vagne. The snub fighters that the cruiser carried were legitimate, but the ship's cargo was most likely contraband for one reason or another.
Something else caught the Captain's eye, however. A solitary mark next to the ship's name, almost imperceptible to those who did not know its meaning. Though there was nothing definite when it came to those that bore the mark, it hinted at something that Captain Ruuchs did not dare take lightly.
No, seizing the cruiser would not result in anything pleasant. Not for him.
Turning back to the scene unfolding in space before him, the Captain said plainly to his officers, "It appears as if their story checks out. Recall the assault shuttle, have the fighters stand down. You may let the cruiser continue to the planet..."
Ignoring the disappointed looks around him, Captain Ruuchs added, "Have them prepare my shuttle, and assemble a team of Stormtroopers. I will be descending to the surface."
Wade was in his cockpit in the midst of his fighter's startup sequence when the familiar sight of an Imperial Dreadnought through his flight helmet tore his attention away.
The other fighters scattered and retreated, apparently they were smart enough to realize when they were in over their heads. TIEs began to launch.
But they were escorting a shuttle, an assault shuttle.
Wade recognized what would be next: they intended to board. He quickly resumed his startup sequence, he may yet earn his pay today.
Almost as suddenly as he saw the shuttle launch, he saw it turn back to the dreadnought as the TIEs began to hold position.
Something is not right here.
He completed the startup sequence and activated his like to the mothership's internal intercom. After all, he was still docked, and by using it, he wouldn't broadcast any signal that the dreadnought could trace.
"Captain, something's very odd here. They should've been inside and counting the fillings in our teeth by now."
Standing in the cockpit of the Citadel cruiser, the captain's smile slowly grows into a grin.
"What'd I tell ya, Laris? They ain't gonna be botherin' with us as long as we're carrying some much-needed, legitimate cargo."
The captain looks, in many ways, like your average human galactic citizen. He stands at about average height, and, while not ugly, is not a real looker either. His dark blond hair is neatly kept, and some light stubble dots his face.
His clothing appears simple and utilitarian, as though he attempts to avoid unwanted attention by dressing particularly blandly. In fact, after having met Mayvar Rolston, there are often only two characteristics that people remember about him. First, he has a large and dangerous-looking blaster sitting in an easily-accessible hip holster, and second, he has a defiant look about him, as though he could face off against the entire galaxy, and come out on top.
"Captain, something's very odd here. They should've been inside and counting the fillings in our teeth by now."
The grin on Mayvar's face quickly recedes. Mumbling to himself: "... of course, nobody wants to take the easy way..."
Flipping on the intercom, he replies to Wade: "You're suggesting to me that the Imps are cookin' up some trouble?"
He looks around, searching for someone.
"Where is that girl? Cinder! Keep a scan going on those Imps, I don't want to see no trouble once we get down on the surface."
"Soz, you feelin' ready to take us down?"
"Keep casual, no need to draw attention to us - maybe they've just found a jucier target."
Laris' hand briefly touches the hilt of her blade, a nervous habit she's acquired since being on the run.
In a quieter voice, "Laris died on Calder, I'm Maeris now remember."
Soz, a brute of a Duros with piercings in his face and death in his eyes, looks to Captain Mayvar.
"Ready when you are Captain."
He then looks back at his controls, his hands shakily steer the ship towards the planet. He hated piloting ever since his last crash while he was with the Crimson Star.
Cinder jumped involuntarily at the Captain's call, banging her head against the nearby bulkhead. She reached up to rub the sore spot on the back of her head and did her best to creep out of the corner she'd stuffed herself in unobtrusively.
She knew it was foolish to try and hide from boarding Imperials on the ship, but when she'd realized they were coming to inspect the ship, the sudden and overwhelming rush of fear she'd felt had elicited her usual reaction to panic - fold herself into the smallest and hardest to reach cubby she could find until she could hear something other than her own pounding heartbeat.
Much of Cinder's life had been full of hardship and she had faced down so many frightening things that she could meet most situations with a stoic front, but the thought of any run in with the Empire set her thoughts awhirl with panic. Pirates, smugglers, traders and criminals were understandable. They were simply looking out for themselves, and as long as you could manage to make yourself either unnoticable or useful to them, you stood a good chance of avoiding trouble. But Imperials did strange things that made no sense to Cinder. Their motivations were unfathomable; their goals made no sense to her - that made them something to be terrified of.
Cinder scurried toward the computer display with a sheepish "Yes, Captain." and settled to her assigned task, hoping no one had noticed her childish fear.
"You're suggesting to me that the Imps are cookin' up some trouble?"
"I'm saying an Imperial Officer who has earned his rank doesn't even hit the 'fresher without already having some kind of plan on how to zip up his fly. He likely figures us to thank our lucky stars and proceed as if nothing happened."
He paused for his statement to settle.
"I figure there's one of four things happening right now. He suddenly received flash orders cutting this short; he believed our bluff; he wants us off guard and will have someone inspect us dirtside; or his presence here is a coincidence and he's here to escort a transport, initially mistaking ours for it."
Wade pulled an uncomfortable fold out of his flightsuit.
"The last two are the most likely, as they both explain why those TIEs are still weightless. The first is the least likely due to sheer improbability, while the second is only likely if he's very dumb."
|
Elliot breathed a sigh of relief as the assault shuttle changed course. He hadn't been relishing the prospect of explaining why a legitimate doctor, on a legitimate ship, with a legitimate cargo happened to be lacking the only documentation which would make the shipment legal in the Empire's eyes. With all the trouble he'd had arranging this shipment, couldn't someone have forged some simple papers?
Running his hands through his hair, Elliot headed back towards the med-bay, his second home.
Six months. My standard stay. It's almost up, and then it will be time to move on, but...why do I have this sinking feeling? Like...like I'll be walking out the door of a home I love, never to return?
Hitting the intercom, Elliot asked, "Am I correct in assuming that there won't be any sudden firefights within the confines of the ship, Captain?"
"I'm saying an Imperial Officer who has earned his rank doesn't even hit the 'fresher without already having some kind of plan on how to zip up his fly. He likely figures us to thank our lucky stars and proceed as if nothing happened."
He paused for his statement to settle.
"I figure there's one of four things happening right now. He suddenly received flash orders cutting this short; he believed our bluff; he wants us off guard and will have someone inspect us dirtside; or his presence here is a coincidence and he's here to escort a transport, initially mistaking ours for it."
Wade pulled an uncomfortable fold out of his flightsuit.
"The last two are the most likely, as they both explain why those TIEs are still weightless. The first is the least likely due to sheer improbability, while the second is only likely if he's very dumb."
"Y'know, Wade, I knew there was a reason I saved you from sucking vac when we first found you. Good thinking."
"Anyway, we'll be heading down soon, so you'd best be gettin' back into the ship before we hit air."
Cinder scurried toward the computer display with a sheepish "Yes, Captain." and settled to her assigned task, hoping no one had noticed her childish fear.
Perception: 1d20+4=10
"Ah! There she is!" Noticing the welt on her head, he continues. "You get in a fight with the bulkhead again? I keep tellin' ya, you can have your own quarters. Eh, never mind for now. You let me know if somethin' strange pops up."
Hitting the intercom, Elliot asked, "Am I correct in assuming that there won't be any sudden firefights within the confines of the ship, Captain?"
Replying over the intercom: "Don't you go getting jittery on me, doc. We just exchanged a few words, is all."
Mayvar then makes a mental note to figure out how long Elliot's planning on staying with the ship.
Finally, he turns to the rest of the crew. "Alright folks, you heard Wade, we keep a sharp eye out. First sign of trouble, you make sure ain't nobody that don't know it - send a beam out on all our comlinks. The shabla Imps may be up to something, but we've been through worse. For now, we act like nothing happened. Soz, take us down to atmo. And take it easy. Nothing to worry about, right?"
With that, he gives his crew a reassuring smirk.
"Lar... uh, Maeris. I have something we need to discuss. Follow me?"
He begins walking to the cargo area.
Cinder unconciously reached up to rub away remembered pain in her shoulder with one hand as Dr. Elliot's voice came to the bridge, inquiring about a firefight. The thought of even the doctor expecting something bad did little to calm the nervousness she felt, but she gritted her teeth and kept the best eye she could on the scanner console. She'd already humiliated herself enough for one day.
Cinder turned the brightness of the console down another couple of notches. She'd always had weak eyesight compared to most beings she'd run into. Dr. Elliot had explained something about how being an "albino" meant the lack of pigmentation in her eyes not only explained their unusual (for a full human, anyway) color but also her discomfort in bright illumination. Dim shipboard lights and the cool darkness of space suited her eyes much better, that was sure.
"Ah! There she is!" Noticing the welt on her head, he continues. "You get in a fight with the bulkhead again? I keep tellin' ya, you can have your own quarters. Eh, never mind for now. You let me know if somethin' strange pops up."
Cinder's hand jumped from the console control board to the knot forming on her head and she felt a blush heat her stupidly pale skin. She may now have a name to attach to her strangely pale coloring, but she didn't like her pale skin or hair, or her strange eyes any more now that she knew she was more than just an especially pale human. She swallowed and choked out another "Yes, Captain." as he said something to Dr. Elliot and "Maeris" and stepped off the bridge.
Watching the scanner was all well and good, but Cinder itched to work away her worries on some thing more interesting. As they prepared to enter the atmosphere she closed her eyes for a moment and listened to the nearly imperceptible sounds of the hyperdrive engines as they finished cooling. There it was! That little hitch in the usually steady hum. Wouldn't it be fun to get a chance to track that down? Machines always made perfect sense, always followed simple rules in the end, once you dug down through enough layers...
The young girl opened her eyes once more with a sad sigh. First she had to convince Ulula to let her work on them. No, first she had to finish her duty at the scanner console. Then she would try to get her hands on the drive and calm her frazzled nerves as well as the drive's strange hiccoughs.
Before he leaves the bridge, Mayvar activates the comm quickly, seemingly remembering something that he nearly forgot.
"Ulula! How're the engines doing? Give me some good news."
The big, grey Dreadnought rolled quietly towards a heading that would take the Imperials into an orbital position. The maneuver was clean and precise, with a diamond-patterned formation of TIE fighters flying tight behind.
Comm chatter from the planet's surface has replaced all signal from the Dreadnought, which has gone deathly quiet in the space above. "Merchant cruiser... this is Phloeron control. You is cleared to descend. Welcome to the jewel of the Dusty Rose star cluster."
.
Beneath the cruiser, the planet Phloeron fills the viewport. Deep mining pits mar the ruddy surface, looking like festering sores on a bantha's back.
Phloeron's seen a hard life, like the mining folk who work to break her open.
---------
Wade depressurized the cockpit and opened the hatch after powering down the ship's systems. He was going to have to find a better way back and forth from his fighter than crawling across the hull of this transport.
He slipped inside the airlock and pressurized it, then took his helmet off. He always found it amazing how being in one of these things even for a few minutes made someone sweat so much. Oh well.
Wade headed to his cabin and quickly changed into his regular clothes and slipping his holster on, then left for the cockpit.
Cinder peered at the scanner console, puzzled. She narrowed her eyes and squinted, then readjusted the brightness settings and looked again. After barely a second's scrutiny she shrugged and walked over to the intercom mike. "Captain? Cinder here. I'm picking up some odd power signatures from the Im-Imperial ship." She winced at the nervous stutter going out over the ship's intercom. "Um...it's a pretty big energy signal, looks a little like the shuttle's? Right smack dab in the middle of it."
The whole thing made her nervous again, though she couldn't place exactly why. She massaged the tender spot on her head and frowned thoughtfully for a moment, trying to understand the cause of her unease as she waited for the captain's response.
"Can you tell us any more, Is it some sort of weapon?" Laris moves over to look over Cinders shoulder (not that she expects to tell any more)
At Laris' question Cinder fiddled with the console settings some more and wracked her brains for an idea of what the power source might be.
Stepping away from the intercom, a sad smile on his face, Elliot said to himself, "Not getting jittery, Captain. Just making sure I'm ready to do my job."
Heading back to his bunk, Elliot begins to ready his pack for planetside. No sense in going anywhere unprepared, especially after Rhudor. The thought caused Elliot to pause, remembering the day. It had been the first time in a long while he had actually felt something other than cold, clinical detachment about the patient he was treating. Something...better.
Shaking his head, the young doctor banished his thoughts. Too many problems lying down that path. Better grab my credentials. Seems I'll be shopping around a bit earlier than I expected.
"Good eyes kiddo", I comment at Cinder's diligent work on the sensor board, then grimmacing slightly at my bad choice of words. I punch up several sensor view-points on my computer console, hoping to get a clearer picture of what this shuttle's doing.
"Actually..." I'll also see what communications signals I can pick up off the Imperial ships as well as anything else in the area. It's not often Rim Scum like us encounter Imperials of this class and are let off the hook, so it should be a learning experience at the least.
Use Computers: 26 + Ship Bonus (Sensor Operation/ Comm Signal Analysis... AKA who are they talking with?)
Mayvar, switching my comms switch on as I spin my chair around,
You certainly don't have low expectations, asking for good news after an Imperial Cruiser decided to leave you be with a courtesy safety warning. ...I'll be up to the cockpit in a sec with a system read-out from after our last jump... OH... GOOD news... Well... The Force is with us...?
Like I warned of before we left Troophon, the warp unit just blew out it's containment field, which is usually what happens when you drive these things past their expiration date, meaning we'll need to replace the warp ion transducement coils before we can leave this system. AND, since we didn't manage to take care of that back in Troophon, the incidental warp ionic variance when we dropped out of hyperspace partially overcame the containment field, meaning the control unit interface to the coils is itself quite ionized, so besides replacing any processors that blew out, I'll have to re-calibrate the whole thing.
"There are reasons we have both a highly trained mechanic and a rapidly growing child prodigy with us - I'm sure I speak for the Captain when I say I trust you to keep things running."
Laris talks, but her mind is still on the Imperial ships, something doesn't sit quite right about the whole situation.
Cinder glanced up from the scanner console as Ulula stepped into the cockpit, muttering "...AND, since we didn't manage to take care of that back in Troophon, the incidental warp ionic variance when we dropped out of hyperspace partially overcame the containment field, meaning the control unit interface to the coils is itself quite ionized, so besides replacing any processors that blew out, I'll have to re-calibrate the whole thing."
Cinder perked up as Laris commented that it was a good thing they had a second mechanic to help out. This was her chance to work on the hyperdrive! "Uh, I'll help with the hyperdrive. I was able to help keep the old clunker I lived on working as a kid, I know I can help with this one too!" She smiled shyly. "This one is in a lot better shape than that old thing." Cinder clasped her hands behind her back and rocked back and forth from her toes to her heels in an attempt to hide her eagerness as she waited for Ulula to answer.
Like I warned of before we left Troophon, the warp unit just blew out it's containment field, which is usually what happens when you drive these things past their expiration date, meaning we'll need to replace the warp ion transducement coils before we can leave this system. AND, since we didn't manage to take care of that back in Troophon, the incidental warp ionic variance when we dropped out of hyperspace partially overcame the containment field, meaning the control unit interface to the coils is itself quite ionized, so besides replacing any processors that blew out, I'll have to re-calibrate the whole thing.
"OK, let's play 'pretend the captain knows nothing about hyperdrive operation and/or maintenance' again. What are you telling me?"
After Mayvar gets his response, he beckons Laris to follow him to the cargo bay where they can speak more privately.
For Laris:
"It has the added benefit that if the Imps are tracking us, they'll see us doing exactly what we said we would. Ease up some suspicions.
"OK, let's play 'pretend the captain knows nothing about hyperdrive operation and/or maintenance' again. What are you telling me?"
"Yoopza, I'm sayin' this ship's gonna need a double heart regen surgery before it's hittin' hyperspace again... Basically you're looking at a couple days minimum, maybe a galactic week, who knows? Just don't be pressing me to hurry, 'cause if you had listened about this back on Troophon, it would have been twice as easy. ...Same mechanic's rate applies for planetside work, y'know...
The grey shanks of the Imperial Dreadnought shine in the darkness, with its attendant TIE fighters making precise knife-edged turns all around her unlovely hull.
The assault shuttle, once bearing down upon the Citadel-class cruiser, now floats in a holding pattern to planetside of its Dreadnought.
Everything about the Imperial ships appears to have returned to a semblance of militaristic normalcy. No overt heed bein' paid to the cruiser, anyway.
Okay, time to post this one and write up another in case the forums like to eat Blackberry posts.
The Dreadnought itself resembles a long, slumbering reptilian. Its giant hulk gleaming bright and grey.
As the moments tick by, silently in the vasty deep of space, something happens. The shape of space in the now-cleared hyperspace lanes begins to stretch, snapping back into space as more guests arrive in the Phloeron system.
Two drab Medium Transports glide quietly into view, each with two attending snub fighters - all mismnatched, as if they were like to be hired.
Then the space around the Imperial Dreadnought goes all abuzz. The Assault Shuttle fires up its engines as the TIE fighter squadron breaks into its constituent flights. One four-fighter group falls into escort positions around the Assault Shuttle, while the rest either vector towards the visitors or assume defensive positions between the Dreadnought and the newcomer.
Out of the flanks of the Dreadnought, the remainder of the Imperial TIE Fighters are launching two-by-two, as if by clockwork.
The hired snub fighters peel away from the transports. It don't take a hyperspace scientist to figure them odds, and the hired fighters done their escorting duty already. It was all in the hands of the Imperials now.
TRANSPORT: We is carryin' miners to Phloeron. Temp'rary work to bust up the strikers. Comp'ny done filed the paperwork, an' it all be on the up-and-up. We is beamin' it over to you now.
...
Wade walked through the ship and passed the ship's master having a subdued discussion with its commander. The looks on their faces gave the impression there was a disagreement, probably about the cargo. This left Wade curious as to the legality of their shipment, but that wouldn't be new on this ship. And if these things helped Imperial Citizens, all the better.
"Well, aren't they fancy?" He said shaking his head. "Looks pretty, huh?" He added, in a wry, mocking tone.
The formation reminded Wade of an argument he'd had with one of his flight instructors who insisted on regular practice of maneuvers only useful for parades, instead of instilling more experience in combat tactics. That man couldn't seem to grasp that these kinds of tight formations were only impressive until someone discovers that something as simple as two hand-grenades wired together could wipe out half a squadron.
Wade needed to do something other than dwell on the complacency of some Imperial officers. It would probably do him some good to see what information he could find out of this dreadnought's captain, and the best way to do that would be to access a computer.
For Mayvar
"It appears the Captain has things in order here, if anyone needs me I'll be in my quarters."
Laris heads back to her quarters where she changes out of her "ship casuals" (though still fancier than anything the other crew wear) into a a specially picked formal outfit, that looks like a strange cross between a military uniform and cocktail dress.
Wade sat at the computer and began to carefully access the local data networks to learn what he could of this dreadnought, the Sunhammer and her captain. He didn't expect much more than a name and modest history to be serving out here on the fringes.
As the cruiser slips into the atmosphere, the Dreadnought and the other ships left in space slowly fade into the background.
The planet below is terrestrial, its mottled surface mostly red. Low-standing vegetation, purple and brown in color, stretch wherever mining or civilization break the natural flow of the landscape. Standing pools of water are rare, let alone ponds or lakes or oceans.
.
.
.
With the path ahead already chosen, the cruiser glides downward towards Port Noctis, on the southern part of the planet.
.......
As he figured, there wasn't much in the local databases about the ship. Recently assigned to the sector with her captain. Cursory information at best, name and service number, he'd need to hit up some of his contacts for something more in depth.
This all means he's either new to command, got caught doing something and is being punished, or he's just a mediocre CO; after all, you gotta put someone out here on the fringes. Perhaps Wade will get the chance to size him up.
He went back to the cockpit to check if there was anything that he could take care of for the time being.
"So, anything anyone needs a hand with?"
Cinder stopped waiting for Ulula's answer as a flicker caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. She turned toward the scanner console, then back toward the captain.
"Sir? The energy signature? The one that looked a little like the shuttle - well, slightly weaker than the shuttle...anyway, it looks like it's gone." She fiddled with settings for a second, the tip of her tongue unconciously poking out between her lips as she concentrated. "Yeah, I just checked, it doesn't look like the atmosphere is interfering with the signal, it really did shut off, whatever it was."
Blazing a trail through the dust-laden atmosphere, the Citadel-class cruiser descends towards Port Noctis, on the planet's southern hemisphere. It is a poor spaceport, but the only one of significance on this part of the planet.
As the ship breaks through the soot and cloud cover, the narrow streets and baked mud structures of Port Noctis can be seen below. A short run on a spur Maglev line from Port Noctis leads to the small town of Connmohr, the final destination for the basic medical supplies on board the cruiser.
While it may be "free" to set the ship down near Connmohr, the supply of hire-able labor droids in Port Noctis is dependable and necessary for the large supply of material that needs to be offloaded & placed onto the maglev train to Connmohr.
The Gullroost bays would generally be considered "poor" as far as docking bays are concerned. However, the cost (per day) of berthing a ship there are relatively low at 75 credits per day, which will be deducted from the ship's accounts.
----------------------
The ship angles towards the Gullroost Docking Bays, near a maglev line out of town - presumably towards the town of Connmohr. Setting down in an empty bay, the ship powers down from its flight. Electronic codes of greeting are exchanged between the automated docking port and the computer's systems.
The docking bay itself is relatively spartan. A cracking and pitted layer of rockcrete forms the floor of the bay. Dented, rusting cargo containers (most likely long since emptied of their wares) are piled in odd places around the perimeter of the rectangular docking bay.
A wide doorway at one short end of the rectangle clanks open, and a small cadre of ASP-series labor droids stands at attention.
Beyond the droids is a street, filled with the local inhabitants of Port Noctis. In this quarter of the Port, by the maglev line, the inhabitants are mostly Duro.
Nobody stops to direct the droids waiting by the docking bay, however. It's clear that whomever ordered the supplies is not present, in any case.
Outside the docking bay, the stream of pedestrian traffic shuffles past with only an infrequent glance towards the ship. The inhabitants of Port Noctis know enough to keep their heads down when newcomers arrive, having been on the wrong side of the planet's troubles on more than one occasion. Knowing things leads to others expecting answers to things - a downright dangerous proposition for most folk on the fringes of civilized space.
Minutes pass with little observable change in the docking bay or its surroundings. For all the sentients walking past, the ship may as well be on a deserted planet with so little heed being paid to the docking bay itself.
Only if/when the boarding ramp is extended does the perception of the docking bay change at all. Alien (to all but Soz) scents and smells from the Durotown eating places outside the docking bay fill the air. There is a steady but lively chatter (in Duro) that echoes in the air.
The mid-day sun shines dimly, obscured by many rolling dust clouds overhead. After a few more minutes, the crowd noise falls as if on cue. With fewer voices in the air, the faint but buoyant sound of Duro woodwind music can now be heard, probably originating from the restaurants in the street outside.
The Duro music outside pipes away merrily as three scruffy men step past the labor droids without urgency and without hesitation.
Of those three who have strode into the docking bay, two are Duro and one is Human. They are all armed, each bearing a drab Blaster Pistol, slung to each's preference for ease of draw.
To those in the crew who might stand outside the ship, the Human raises his voice. [B]"Greetings, gentlefolk. The Doc from Connmohr sends his regrets, for he had a patient take suddenly ill. We come bearin' his payment for the medicines, and mean to trade it to you, in exchange for the release of those sundry items to me and my boys."
The bearded Human smiles as he concludes his speech. He spoke in a Locally accented tone, his left hand gesturing confidently, with his right hand hand behind in the small of his back. His Blaster Pistol is strapped neatly to his leg.
Outside, the passing crowd gives the docking bay a wide berth. Their conversations are hushed, and the quickening pace of their footfalls fills the air with an electric tension.
After landing the ship, Soz wipes the sweat from his brow. Standing up he marches for his quaters and begins to arm himself in case of trouble. After grabbing his weapons he makes for the boarding ramp. As soon as the ramp hits the ground he is hit with a wave of nostalgia and homesickness from the smells and noises outside. A sad smile falls on his face as he allows his thoughts to wander to his home planet and his family. Shaking himself out of his reverie, he finds the three "pick-up" men from the Doc before the ship. Soz curses under his breath that he didn't notice them sooner and looks to the Captain and Maeris(Laris) awaiting their orders.
Having done her research and finding no reason not to, Laris attends the meet armed with her pistol on the right and sword on the left.
Laris smiles at the men, openly. "We will of course be willing to trade with a proxy, provided the payment remains the same, show us the credits and we'll get this unloaded."
Relevent Rolls in Anticipation
Wade arrived at the ramp about the same time as Soz and saw the three men on the ground, he walked off the ship and right by them.
"I think I'll take a look at the ship real quick," he said to Soz and Maeris as he walked by them. "That last jump was a little rough."
Wade's real purpose however was to get outside the ship in case these men meant trouble, he hoped that his shipmates realized that. He never trusted sudden and unexpected alterations this late in a job, so he watched the three as he slowly walked around the ship.
@Cinder:
Though affecting disinterest at "just another slag-heap planet" up until we arrive, touching down actually sparks me to go investigate, at least to get a change of scenery for a bit. The floating accents of Durese and beckoning smells spur me on... Perhaps I'll delay getting to work on the drive systems for just a bit, after all...
As I step out the ramp, the sight of the three armed men (that we didn't expect) slows me down. I don't make a move to ready myself (I'll say I'm holding my datapad with the drive info in my off-hand, looking engineer-like), but keep my eyes peeled and stay partly behind the ramp machinery. I'm not saying anything because it's Maeris' deal and I'm not familiar with all the details anyways, but I can't help but wonder if this group really are agents of this Doctor...
Perception: 10, Deception (to look unworried/not suspicious): 8 (hmm)
Gathering his medical pack, the good doctor heads up to the ramp. As he comes to the top, he steps back suddenly as he sees the men standing at the bottom.
"Were we planning on company?"
Soz»
Laris »
Over the man's shoulders, Laris also sees two men in the crowd outside (a Human and a Zabrak). Rather than walking past the docking bay's wide door swiftly, like the other civilians, the two men are staring intently into the docking bay.
Wade »
Elliot »
Nor were their companions, in all likelihood. Elliot spies two more men outside the docking bay (one Human, one Zabrak), standing still and staring towards the more physically threatening members of the ship's crew.
To those in the crew who might stand outside the ship, the Human raises his voice. "Greetings, gentlefolk. The Doc from Connmohr sends his regrets, for he had a patient take suddenly ill. We come bearin' his payment for the medicines, and mean to trade it to you, in exchange for the release of those sundry items to me and my boys."
The bearded Human smiles as he concludes his speech. He spoke in a Locally accented tone, his left hand gesturing confidently, with his right hand hand behind in the small of his back. His Blaster Pistol is strapped neatly to his leg.
"Pleasure to be makin' your acquaintance there, friend. I'm a mite sorry to hear the Doc couldn't make it to meet with us today. Of course, any friend of the Doc is a friend of mine!" Mayvar grins at the bearded man. "So tell me, what's the Doc been up to these days? Aside from treatin' dangerously ill folk and all? How's he dealin' with divorce? Last I saw him he was mighty depressed; he loved that pretty young thing. I hope he's doin' better these days..." Mayvar keeps a pained expression on his face as he recalls his friend's pain.
Cinder tried to restrain a happy grin at Ulula's promise she could work on the hyperdrive with her - though the extra sparkle in her eyes was hard to miss. At Ulula's further mention of the field trip to find good parts for the repair, Cinder's happiness was suddenly tempered, however.
Go outside? On planet? Cinder thought, clenching her fists to hide the sudden shaking of her hands. I can't say on the ship my whole life. I know this. It's an aired planet. I'm not going to suffocate. I'm not going to freeze. The whole planet has air pressure. I know this. Cinder closed her eyes and gulped as she tried to talk herself out of a panic attack. I know better than this. It's all just in my head. A couple of deep breaths later she opened her eyes again as she heard the rumble and thump of the ramp touching planet. She hesitated a heartbeat, then began her reluctant way toward the ramp. It's just a really big starship. All these people are fine walking around in open air. I will be too.
She took a deep breath and stepped around the corner, too absorbed in the gibbering going on in her head to pay much attention to the sudden palpable tension in her shipmates. She stood just around the corner, wincing at the bright light that stabbed her eyes beyond the soothing shadow cast by the ship. She brought her welding goggles, which she usually wore atop her head as a headband unless working, down over her eyes to protect them from the painful glare. See? The ramp is down, there's no airlock, and we're all still alive. No depressurization alarms. There's no reason to panic. You can do this. Cinder began to breathe normally as she thought encouraging thoughts at herself, but she knew the real test would be actually stepping outside the spaceship.
Ulula was stopped near her, nearly hidden from the sight of anyone outside by the gears and extendable struts that controlled the ramp mechanism. As Cinder looked at her, relieved she wouldn't have to follow her outside the ship this minute, she blinked.
Ulula looked nervous, and her eyes were locked on the outside of the ship, her datapad forgotten in one hand. Cinder looked back outside with new interest, trying to see what had Ulula worried. She knew Ulula didn't have any of her fears of planetside excursions.
Three beings stood outside the ship, obviously armed and the human who was speaking was smiling. The entire crew was near the ramp, and the tension and suspicion in the air was so thick she could cut with her knife, she was sure. What was happening here? Cinder's knees bent and her hands, still clenched from her near panic attack, suddenly popped open as she looked around, half tempted to retreat farther into the refuge of the ship and half to stay and help - something seemed about to go very wrong.
Quietly, Elliot says "These men weren't always gunmen. You can see it in their stance. They still stand like miners." Pausing, Elliot surveys the men again. "They probably won't go for their guns first, then. Of course, they're watching the threatening ones among us."
Seeing Cinder come up to the ramp, the doctor begins moving towards her. "Careful now, Cinder. Things might get ugly here. I wouldn't want to have to patch another blaster wound on you."
Cinder blinked and turned to look to her left as Dr. Elliot's voice broke into her thoughts. "These men weren't always gunmen. You can see it in their stance. They still stand like miners. They probably won't go for their guns first, then. Of course, they're watching the threatening ones among us. Careful now, Cinder. Things might get ugly here. I wouldn't want to have to patch another blaster wound on you." He was walking across the open area of the ship between the left and right sides of the ramp, toward her.
She waited until he stood near her, and relaxed enough to straighten her stance. "Did you see the other two farther out?" she asked in as low a voice as she could manage as he arrived next to her. Standing in close proximity to both Ulula and Dr. Elliot, they should both be able to hear her. She'd like to let Maeris or the Captain know, but she was scared speaking loud enough for them to hear would let the men outside the ship know the other two watchers had been spotted as well.
Cinder watched the Captain step forward and begin speaking to the men. "Everyone's so worried, it makes me nervous. Do you know what the problem is?" Cinder continued at the lowest volume she could manage, hoping one of the two adults she stood next to would have an answer.
Believing that Laris is willing to be reasonable, the Human grins broadly behind his scruffy brown beard. "Ma'am, I've the payment the Doc promised. Right here, in fact."
Slowly and carefully, as not to appear threatening, the man moves whatever he was concealing behind his back into view. In his hand is a large nerf hide satchel, heavy with something that jingles softly as it is moved.
He shuffles towards Laris, holding the satchel towards her.
"There's a good amount of Tritanium and Oratium in this satchel... coin, bits, and nuggets. Just like the Doc said. Now might you be willin' to part with those medical supplies?"
The bright and sometimes cacophonous sound of Duro pipe music plays steadily in the distance.
"So tell me, what's the Doc been up to these days? Aside from treatin' dangerously ill folk and all? How's he dealin' with divorce? Last I saw him he was mighty depressed; he loved that pretty young thing. I hope he's doin' better these days..."
As the bearded man addresses Laris, one of his Duro companions speaks to Captain Mayvar in slightly accented Basic.
"The kind Doctor aided some of our comrades. We are poor men from the North, driven to a harder brand of life here in the South, after the loss of our employment."
"In spite of the Doctor's marital grief, he treated our companions' blaster wounds, without asking for compensation.
A glance from his fellow Duro companion causes the first Duro to halt his speech about their origins.
"When he mentioned a shipment of medical supplies, we saw an opportunity to repay your Doctor friend."
The Duro smiles, awkwardly.
Laris part turns to Mayvar "Check it." - nodding towards the sack. she takes the opportunity to shoot him a questioning look, which she hopes he catches.
Within the dusty satchel is a tidy sum in silvery-blue Tritanium and dull powdery purple Oratium. By the heft of the satchel, it's likely to be about 6 kilos in all, give or take a coin or two.
The bearded man looks slightly more at ease at the sight of the crew accpeting the satchel. "Count it if you like, partner. Weigh it out, and you'll find it all there. It's the supplies we're after."
As the bearded man addresses Laris, one of his Duro companions speaks to Captain Mayvar in slightly accented Basic.
"The kind Doctor aided some of our comrades. We are poor men from the North, driven to a harder brand of life here in the South, after the loss of our employment."
"In spite of the Doctor's marital grief, he treated our companions' blaster wounds, without asking for compensation.
A glance from his fellow Duro companion causes the first Duro to halt his speech about their origins.
"When he mentioned a shipment of medical supplies, we saw an opportunity to repay your Doctor friend."
The Duro smiles, awkwardly.
As Laris passes him the credits, he gives her a small nod, hoping that Wade and Soz would catch it as well.
Mayvar smiles as he finishes looking into the sack. "Well, that sounds an awful lot like the doc. I'm for wonderin', though... If you'd really met the doc and he treated your wounds and such as you're sayin', why is it that you didn't realize that what I was sayin' was a test?" His eyes narrow directly onto the bearded human. "He ain't divorced."
Mayvar puts his hand on his blaster pistol. "Now, gentlemen, I'd suggest you start tellin' me the truth, or this deal may end up goin' south. Get talkin'."