Pre-TL: From the outer rim, looking in...

[Scott]

Weigh Station Karambola. Outer Rim
36ABY
​

The galaxy is on the edge of it’s seat. Conflict between the resistance and the first order appears to have reached its conclusion; but this is a story told all to recently before. The only thing certain is the devastation of war, and everyone is waiting to see what comes from the ashes.


The reasons for being this far out are obvious. Karambola’s weigh station drifts on the fringe on the galaxy, and serves mostly those who like to do the same. Times being what they are, business has been good. Much of chartered space feels ripe for the carving after the recent troubles, and all walks are appreciating the operational freedom the station has to offer. Elites and Scum mingle freely, and every handshake hides a bribe. Welcome to the new frontier.

****************
​

“Yer done” grumbled a portly bothan, forcefully ejecting a grease covered theelin woman from his hangar on the 4th level.

“Debts paid. If I see your ragged mug again, I’ll sell you back where you came from, or worse. Hear me talking?” Lykka scowled, as if this young woman’s existence was a personal offense to his person. In his left hand, he dangled a filthy old rucksack over her head as if it were bait for a show animal.

Already flustered and sore, she took the bait and took a few futile swipes for the bag from the cold durasteel platform she lay on. Lykka quickly grew bored with this, dropping the satchel in her lap in a gesture he considered to be benevolent. Hastily examining its meager contents of a half change of clothing, and cracked data-pad, the theelin sprang to her feet with a nasty yellow eyed scowl.

“Give me my pistol, and my tools!” She barked, sounding more desperate than she would have liked.


Lykka cackled, “You think I’m sending a a thieving womp-rat like you back onto this station ARMED? Let’s call it your pissy attitude tax, and count yourself lucky to be alive.”

Inhale. Exhale. An uncommon calm came over her. She replied quietly, and purposefully, “I have worked off my debt, and earned back ALL my effects”

“You have worked off your debt, and earned back ALL your effects.” Lykka agreed, and produced a medium blaster with matching stun baton (clearly security issue from somewhere), and an incomplete assortment of maintenance tools. After that he simply nodded, and retreated into his hangar bay for good.

Numa huffed a sigh of relief, and scrambled to stuff the weapons into her grease stained satchel before anyone noticed; careful to leave he hilt of the baton poking out just enough for a quick retrieval. The old hand tools were fastened to her belt as a type of advertisement. She rubbed her hands together vigorously, and used the heat to press back her bright shock of fluorescent hair, puffing out her chest in an added effort to feign confidence. After a quick look around, she seemed satisfied that no one (that she noticed) had been paying too much attention, and set off towards the station rest area.

Though she did a passible job of blending in to the assorted scabs and roughnecks that populated Karambola Station, Numa was terrified. Not for her safety, but for a single realization that sounded in her like an alarm.

What in the 7 hells was she going to do now?


@The Captain

 

[The Captain]

Pala'kwiwaran didn't walk into the recreation room on Karambola Station, so much as she stomped into the area, trailing curses and expletives muttered in Twi'leki. She had known for some time that her ship, the Luggabeast, was more than behind on a few important repairs, but when a salvage job on Sullust was ruined by one of her landing gear giving out, causing her to spill the contents of her cargo hold all over a hapless loader droid, she got the wake up call. After getting the gear back in working order, and paying off the damages to the station owner, Pala decided to hoof it out to the nearest open repair station. In this case, Karambola Station.

A decision she was rapidly beginning to regret, since the mechanic she met in Hangar 3 was perhaps the single greasiest, sleaziest, grubbiest little Rodian she had ever met. Beyond the fact that he was clearly overpricing every part and procedure he offered her, the man's bulging compound eyes seemed to wander everywhere except to her eyes. He hadn't even gotten his inevitable 'discount offer' out before Pala told him to jump out the airlock. While that did make her feel a bit better, the fact that she was still sitting in this tetanus-farm wasn't helping her mood or her wallet. She'd run the numbers, with some favorable sales on this last haul she could buy the parts she needed herself, but there was no way just her and PM-1 could get the ship back in working order. At least not anytime soon.

What Pala needed was a mechanic, specifically one skilled enough to help her slap her aging freighter together, honest enough not rip her off, and perhaps desperate enough to take an I.O.U for services rendered.

"But where am I going to find someone like that..?" She muttered to herself, stroking one of her long pinkish-red lekku as she surveyed the room around her.

 

[Sreeya]

“You really expect me to trust a Mandalorian to give me a cut of the bounty?” The Chagrian scoffed as he waved the Mando off, walking back up the ramp of his ship. The proclamation was loud enough for anyone around to hear, and Marek’s jaw tightened beneath the helmet. It was humiliating enough that he had no ship, and now this damn smurf had the audacity to out him just like that.

The Mandalorian was fuming, walking away as the tracker signal beeped in his hand. It was for a high profile slaver that would be tough to get to without a decent ship. The credits would be piled high, but Marek knew he’d have a tough time keeping it all to himself. He was shit out of luck when it came to a mode of transportation, and he hoped to catch a lift from one of the ships at the weigh station.

He wore a hodge podge of armor, some of his armor plates of the traditional beskar’gam, and half of him covered in random mercenary gear. His helmet was unmistakable however, the T visor prominent and forever masking his face from view.

As the Mandalorian walked out further, he spotted a twi’lek standing next to a decrepit freighter. The thing looked miserable, but it could probably get him where he needed. He preferred working alone, but he was near desperate to get a ride to his destination.

“Hey,” He said quietly to the twi’lek, “Can I hitch a ride in that thing? I can help crew and I’ve got some credits,” He tilted his head to survey the freighter once he was close, “...Assuming this thing flies…” The tracking beacon quietly continued to beep in his hand.

@Scott @The Captain

 

[Scott]

Her footfalls were heavy, and her heart beating fast. Numa’s anxiety was split between her empty stomach, and the creeping realization that she had never been on any space station, let alone a criminal outpost. Her stolen armaments were of no advantage here, and she was penniless. She was beginning to regret her escape from Canto... then she was humming.

The music had crept in over the station’s speakers, and was faint; but she knew the song. It was thousands of cycles old, some old lounge tune that was covered daily by someone on Canto Bight, and constantly used for lazy ambiance. Every time she heard it, some condescending guest would remind her it was supposedly written by a theelin; as though that revelation would somehow lift her from servitude on its own. Frankly, Numa had never even liked the song, but here it felt like a sign. Something familiar to help her focus. Numa accepted this gift, and took careful stock of her surroundings.

A well dressed spacer bragging to a small clique

Cargo blocks being carted in every direction.

A hostile dispute between a well armed Rodian crew and station agents

Twi’lek and very well armored individual in a helmet that reminded her of stormtroopers negotiating something

A worse for wear freighter, with some sort of surveillance droid buzzing around it

An astromech with a lopsided service tray, and someone’s leftover bowl of warm rations slipping to one side....

Without a second thought, Numa darted for the service droid, and scooped the bowl up like it was a precious infant. Her fingers plunged into the tepid meal with a practiced absence of shame. In between chews, she garbled a sincere apology to the now riled astromech, and slumped against a wall near the old freighter. Each finger full of low-grade gruel gave the young woman a little more confidence. She would survive this, and she would find her way. The force was with her.

The hex-driver and calamaran clamps clanged gracelessly against her hip as she organized a seat from an empty crate to finish her meal. While she ate, Numa thoughtlessly began diagnosing the freighter that sat in front of her. It leaned hard to one side, and she could see a thick seam where right engine girdle had started coming loose. A lot of superficial damage, but she also caught a few panels that weren’t aligned properly by whomever installed them. This was just from her angle, but she knew enough to easily imagine the additional strain some of these issues had been causing other systems. On a well built freight ship these issues weren’t likely too challenging, but was definitely the sort of thing an independent mechanic could run a mean scam off of.

Numa got an idea.

She took a large slurp from her bowl, tucked it under her left arm, and used the right to wave down droid hovering nearby (PM-1). Once she had its attention, Numa performed a spectacularly juvenile grooming ritual: wiping her hands on her tunic, using them to pat down her thick pinkish hair, while simultaneously wiping her mouth on her sleeve. Her tools jingled merrily at her side as she sprang forward to greet the approaching droid.

“Are you the navigator on this vessel? It appears to need love... will you tell me who offers your contracts?”


@The Captain @Sreeya

 

[The Captain]

"Son of a schutta!" Pala had been lost in her own thoughts when someone approached her from behind and tried to get her attention, causing her to jump a bit. And seeing some kitted out merc in fancy plate armor standing behind her wasn't really helping her nerves.

"Oh sweet kriff, you shouldn't sneak up on people like that." She tried to think back, he'd asked her for a ride right? "But yeah, if you've got credits I've got a ship. I just gotta, you know, patch a few things up here and there. Reset the landing gear, seal the clamp hydraulics, some fresh carbon scrubbers, I should probably take a look at the reactor housing..."

Saying this all out loud Pala realized she was essentially flying a deathtrap, and that she was spewing this information all over a potential passenger. A very well armed potential passenger.

"But no, yeah, I can get you anywhere you need to go. I mean, probably. 80/20 odds on that seems right." She was so frakked.

--------------------

Pala had left PM-1 on guard duty around the ship, partially because she wasn't sure if that greasy Rodian would come back and try to impound her freighter, and partially because she hoped he might be able to run a better diagnostic while she went to the cantina to vent. The little hybrid droid had been working his way around the outer hull, counting missing rivets and loose plates, when he spotted the Theelin approaching the ship. She was carrying a full belt of tools and dressed in a grease-smattered outfit that looked perfect for someone aiming to scrap-and-scram the Luggabeast. Of course, the Luggabeast wasn't worth the garbage it carried, so that seemed unlikely.

PM had been preparing to return to his work when the figure called out to him in the strangest way he'd ever heard. How did this grease monkey-lizard know a four syllable word?

"Pala headed into the recreation center." He chirped in Binary as he panned his photo-receptor over the hangar. He spotted his partner talking to a very well armored humanoid and decided to point to her, just in case this stranger didn't understand his words, like most people they met. "She's right over there, the Lethan Twi'lek."

@Sreeya
@Minuteman75

 

[Darasuum]

THEME
W.I.P. character profile​

Well things were about to get bumpy. "Control tower uuuuuuuuh" The station was getting bigger with each passing moment. "Please tell me you have tractor beams." A moment of static came and then a voice returned. "kzzzt~ - ull away. There's other ships comming in." The voice said with some amount of frustration.

"hehe...ya know, you say that like I have a choice." A moment of silence came. Malakai pulled out a cigara and lit it inside the cockpit of the shuttle. The ship was a hunk of junk but had allowed him to get from point A to point B. But there had been a bit of a fuel leak en route and now he had nothing to really help him slow down or change course. "You're gonna want to probably clear the deck space." His warning sounding more like a casual suggestion then anything.

Inhaling the spice laced vice he wondered if he was going to crash into the space station. The shouts of an angry traffic control officer shouting orders came through before Malakai cut the connection. His eyes closed and he focused on the force within him. The force that surrounded the ship and whatever he needed to do to guide his damaged ship in safely. The joysticks in front of him moved and minute changes, maximum reverse thrust with what little aid the maneuvering jets provided, and a whole lot of luck had the ship screeching into the hangar with sparks flying.

Fire and rescue droids along with what qualified as emergency response came soon enough. The passenger ramp opened and a cloud of smoke billowed out. But this smoke was from the dank clam bake the dark sider had been making. Under one arm he held his hoverboard and in the other, a skeletal like hand waved the smoke away from the front of his. "Huh...could have been worse." He shrugged and finished his exit.

There was another freighter nearby. Kai still needed to get back to wherever he had been heading. Malakai left a cloud of smoke behind him as his face passed through it to head towards the other ship. Underneath his hat his expression was just calm indifference like he had just left a taxi-cab and was heading to the next club. On his head he had a pair of headphones. To the average observer he was just some punk going from one point to the next.

"So uh...who owns this ship?" His gaunt expression looking the vessel up and down. A Twi'lek, a Mandalorian, ad a Theelin it seemed were the crew. "I'd like to hitch a ride if you're taking passengers." A burst of sparks came from the smoldering shuttle behind him. A few blinks came from Malakai like this was just another day of the week.

@The Captain @Sreeya @Scott

 

[Sreeya]

Marek stood there motionlessly as the twi’lek woman jumped in shock. He was unfazed by the reaction, quietly blinking beneath the helmet as she spoke. His confidence in the situation diminished rapidly the more she spoke, and it became apparent that her ship was held together with duct tape and bubble gum.

He crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head slightly, “So...what exactly are we waiting for?” Marek asked after a moment of pause. She listed off everything that had to be done, which meant she had the skills to do it, right? He wondered why she stood around looking confused instead.

As another...was it a man or what- joined in and mumbled about hitching a ride, Marek had to resist rolling his eyes. Of course the ship he eyed had to now become a kriffing taxi service. His gaze flicked over to the twi’lek woman however - he wanted to see her reaction to the damn grim reaper casually strolling up for a lift if his own appearance was enough to startle her.

Marek pocketed the bounty tracker on a pouch on his belt. He was okay with splitting with one person, but if this lady was going to be giving bus tours, he didn’t feel quite so generous sharing the loot.

@Scott @The Captain @Darasaurus

 

[Scott]

“Thank you, I hope I can work with you.”

Numa smiled at PM-1 graciously, but lost her optimism immediately upon seeing who it was pointing to. The Twi’lek and the helmet case. She assumed, hoped, the Twi’lek was the captain, but the other one frightened her. It (he?) was holding something she did recognize, and worried her more than a pistol and breastplate. Could she have a bounty on her? Would they bother? How do those pucks even work anyway? No matter what, it meant a lot of potential danger that Numa wasn’t sure she was ready for. She suddenly felt very naive. What did she expect when she broke free of Canto? No, she had chosen a path, and now it was time to walk it, like any true Jed-

SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!​

Perhaps Numa may have sensed the danger if she hadn’t been so overwhelmed by her own fear. “Perhaps” didn’t mean much, however, as the whole hangar shook and she went sprawling forward. Her thick padded feet and dancer’s legs moved quick enough to keep her upright, but then she saw it: a cheep duraplast bowl half filled with nutritional gruel, soaring through the air, and headed straight for the bounty hunter.

Moving before she thought, Numa sacrificed her footing and dove after the greasy projectile. With her arms outstretched, she felt felt the bowl’s trajectory slow. She was doing it. With her will she drew it back the remaining few centimeters and into her waiting palms, then quickly pulled it into her chest and curled herself around it to protect the precious contents before...

Thud.

Dinner was saved for the price of a few large bruises, as Numa landed in the fetal position directly between the Mandalorian and Twi’lek. Her eyes opened slowly, just in time to witness the skeletal figure emerge from the smoke of his own wreckage and cigera. She was captivated. Something about him was profoundly magnetic. There was the hover board, A toy she had coveted for years, but something else was at work. He had an energy about him both powerful and tempting. If it was the force, it was not a form of it she had felt before, though her experience was woefully limited.

No matter. Here she was, completely at the mercy of any of them. From the scraps she was hearing, they all seemed at least somewhat interested in one thing: a ride. It was now or never. Numa was in the middle of this, and it was either flee, or get what she came for. Slowly she turned her head up to motley crew assembled above her and mustered her remaining resolve.

“I-I can fix it.”


@Darasaurus @Sreeya @The Captain

 

[The Captain]

It seemed to Pala that today might be looking up, as the stranger offered to help her fix the myriad of technical and mechanical issues with her ship. She wasn't too concerned about being robbed by this guy, his full kit was probably worth more than her ancient, Imperial-era salvage tug, and there wasn't much else on her ship worth taking. Pala's luck appeared to be turning around for the day, and she reached out a hand to shake on this little travel deal with her new passenger.

And it was around that point when all Hell broke loose in the hangar. An alarm started blaring, fire crews started to flood the landing pad next to Pala's ship, and a smoldering freighter skidded into the open spot trailing smoke and loose paneling. That on its own would have been startling enough, but Pala had just barely spun around to see what the ruckus was all about when a young Theelin woman suddenly landed in between her and the stranger, clutching a partially spilled bowl of soup like it was her precious baby. The discombobulated young woman looked up at Pala like a scolded child and, just barely audibly, offered to help Pala fix her ship. How in the galaxy did this stranger know that-

Actually, looking back at her ship Pala saw it clearly needed some tender, loving care. PM waving and chirping at her only confirmed that this Theelin knew her ship wasn't in the best shape. Pala had been pulling her scattered focus back together when she caught a sudden whiff of thick, most likely spice-laced smoke approaching from behind. Another weirdo, another passenger, and she reminded herself another potential source of credits and sort-of-free technical help for her ship.

"...my my my, aren't I popular today?" She grumbled, taking a step back to address the sudden cadre of interested passengers. "Alright! Here's how this is going to work, you all tell me where you need to go and I'll see what I can do. You can pay for passage with credits or helping me get my heap spaceworthy. Any questions?"

@Darasaurus @Sreeya @Scott

 

[Darasuum]

Distant shouting voices sounded like they were getting closer. They were still too far away fro Malakai to make out but he knew well enough they were probably coming to find him. He was in no rush to run away from them. He had just had a little innocent accident. It could be explained well enough if they confronted him.

The colorful grouping of people that had assembled seemed to only have been recently formed. Malakai did not need to have the force to sense the violent capabilities of the Mandalorian. There were plenty of dangerous people without helmet in the galaxy and growing up on the streets you either learn what is a danger or get first hand experience with a beating Or worse He heard an ethereal voice inside his head as his eyes looked towards Pala. The Grysk remained silent for the time being, curious to see what the existing locations were. The man was fine with several locations that he could be dropped off at and then get back to where he needed to go. Mostly the skeletal dark sider just wanted to get to the next stop. I'll see where it takes me from there.

As he waited for the others to answer the smoke absently curled up from the tip of his cigara. Malakai hummed a soft tune to himself with his headphone covered head occasionally bobbing to the beat. "There! I think that's him." Came a voice from behind him. He recognized it, albeit without the static interference from before. It was the traffic control officer. Two security guards in shoddy uniforms flanked him. "You could have killed someone!" Malakai turned and pointed at himself. "Who me?"

They stormed towards him. "What were you thinking?" The Grysk looked at the wreck in the hangar. "I was thinking I had an emergency landing and did a pretty good job, all things considered." A simple shrug followed the matter-of-fact tone. "There's damages and what are you going to do with that ship. It won't be cheap to repair. I should have you arrested!" a few moments passed before the dark sider fished out some credits. "Scrap it, blow it out the hangar, whatever. I don't need it anymore. Sorry about the mess." The scrap was worth something at least and Malakai did not want to deal with red tape or the inconvenience of temporary imprisonment that some sad 9-to-5er got a kick out of. The shuttle was no longer his problem and with the credits handed over it was apparently enough to make the traffic controller reconsider his frustration. "oh...uh...alright." Malakai waved goodbye and turned back to the others. "Soooo how much y'all chargin'" His question mostly directed towards the Twi'lek since she seemed to be the one in charge of the charter.

@The Captain @Sreeya @Scott

 

[Sreeya]

Marek was largely unfazed by the commotion going around. He was used to shady places and tons of explosions. However, what did concern him was a flying projectile hurtling his way. He whipped around and had a blaster ready, firing a bolt that whizzed past the twi’lek and into the head of a random maintenance droid.

He seldom missed. Why did he miss?

His eyebrow quirked beneath the helmet, and he could have sworn he saw the bowl move unnaturally backwards. He cursed inwardly at the droid that now lay on the ground, smoke rising up from where its head had been. With all the alarms and commotion going on, he hoped his own trigger happy response would be ignored.

“I need to get to Tatooine,” He muttered, stepping back from the woman that was planted on the ground with her prized bowl of soup. Some of the little gray lumps of meat in it looked suspicious, but he wasn’t one to judge on eating habits.

“Can we move past this circle jerk and get to fixing the ship? The quicker we leave, the better so do the bare minimum and call it a day,” He stared past the others towards some workers gathering around the droid. Marek casually stepped off slightly to the side so he wasn’t in immediate view. He only hoped the theelin would take the hint and peel herself off the ground.

Between himself, the theelin and the skeleton, they were drawing far too much attention. It would only be a matter of time before they were stopped for one reason or another. Every minute wasted allowed his bounty to escape or for someone else to chase it.


@Darasaurus @Scott @The Captain

 

[Scott]

“Kiros”

Numa offered a little too quickly. As she scrambled to her feet, grabbing frantically at every scrap of dignity available, she realized how mysterious the others were being, and over-corrected herself, adding some manufactured gravel to her voice.

“...err uh, wherever. Just drifting, ya know. Maybe closer to the core maybe...please.”

Even with her chest puffed out, Numa felt hollow and nervous. The merc had just taken a shot at her, and new alarms were going off. As he was not still holding his pistol her nervous thoughts worked over time to convince her it was an accident. She wanted desperately to acknowledge it, but something told her she had done enough stumbling over herself for one day. It was time she have some confidence in the control she had taken over her fate. Before she knew it, and completely in-spite of herself, Numa realized she had squared off with the bounty hunter, and had locked eyes with his thin dark visor.

She stood silently for a moment, and wave of stalwart resolve washed over her. He wasn’t here for her, she was nothing to any of them. Until she proved otherwise. Her will opened itself to her company and the force gently drew in the determination of the group, allowing her to manifest it in herself. With a dexterous twirl she drew the hex-driver, and her calamaran multitool, and broke her standoff with the soldier to begin a backwards skip towards the weary freighter, and grinned at the twi’lek, whom she could at least identify with as being her age.

“Alright, well... I can see what the outside needs, and you’ll need to order the hydraulic fluid, like now; but other wise I can start on the engine casing cause I should be able to diagnostic anything else that shook loose from there, and ya know the nice thing about freighters like this is the bones are so solid. I’ve worked on a lot of yachts and luxury crap and they are basically paper since the people who buy that flashy shit replace everything once a cycle and rarely even take them out of the hangar...”


Just like that Numa was in a comfort zone. Even rambling, her confidence started to sparkle, and she showed it with a deft, two point leap onto the ship, easily scampering topside and heading towards the engine with her gear at the ready.

@Sreeya @The Captain @Darasaurus

 

[The Captain]

He frakking shot at her. He took a frakking shot at her head, or at least close enough that Pala felt a little heat as it whizzed past and took the head off some poor maintenance droid who'd been minding their own business. Why in the Hell did this lunatic draw and fire in the direction of her head? It wasn't to kill her, he still had the draw on her, but that wasn't much comfort considering he almost took off one of her lekku. She was definitely going to charge him triple for that little stunt. She's barely pulled herself out of that spiral before station security started to shout at the skeletal human who'd approached looking for a ride. Pala decided to step back and let that play out as it would, she didn't want to seem too associated with the guy who landed a flaming wreck in the hangar.

The conversation outside of the bony stranger's argument wasn't much more pleasant either, as the man who nearly cost her a lekku seemed intent on being an e chu ta about this whole process. The only thing that helped to take the edge of this strange encounter was the Theelin's clear, honest eagerness to get where she was going. And her diagnosis seemed right on the money from what Pala had seen in her examinations.

"Alright, I can definitely get you to Tatooine," She first turned to the droid shooter, then the others. "We can discuss your other destinations and fees once I have a working ship."

"As for...all of that," She turned to the lunatic and skeleton. "You two can take a repulsor sled and pick up some civilian-grade hydraulic fluid, consider it a down payment on getting us all out of here. Me, PM, and this little grease monkey-lizard here will get started on some of the internal repairs. With a little luck we should be out of here in a few hours."

Barring and questions or complaints from her motley crew of passengers, Pala went over to open the cargo doors to her freighter. The doors shrieked partially open before grinding to a halt and forcing Pala to, rather undignifiedly, jump up, grab the lip of the ramp, and shake it loose with her body until both she and the ramp landed hard on the hangar floor.

"Ow..."

@Darasaurus
@Sreeya
@Scott

 

[Darasuum]

The Grysk reached for the metal grip of the blaster on his hip. He did not pull it from the holster though, seeing the missed shot and no follow up. "Whoa...um..." But the girl seemed to shrug it off. Malakai relaxed a little and returned to the previous stance as it became just a missunderstanding.

Thankfully the mando said somewhere close-ish to where he could be dropped off. If he ran out of funds he could always steal some other sucker on Tatooine. This ship was fine in terms of a taxi service. The Theelin was just weird. Maybe she had some kind of condition. Malakai just watched her skip away after a few moments. He stopped listening when she started talking about ship anatomy.

The dark sider's eyes slid over to stare at the Mandalorian. It was not everyday a person laid eyes on the armor clad people. Malakai had heard of them but never met one. This one seemed to be in a hurry. Or maybe he is just that unsociable. Whatever the case, the skeletal man would nod at the Captain's words. "Kay." he replied, accepting the terms of deal. He went to grab the repulsor-sled like he was going to be picking out groceries in some commercial store. His voice gently humming to the music he still had faintly playing from his headphones. Dropping the mostly spent cigara he stepped on it. "So...which way do we go?" He said mostly to himeslef. Malakai had never been on the space station before.

@The Captain @Sreeya @Scott

 

[Sreeya]

Though he made no mention of it, he couldn’t help but linger on how the bowl of soup moved unnaturally. Was it just in his head? Did he imagine it? He almost missed what anyone had said for a moment, and he looked up to catch the skeleton staring at him. He tilted his head to look back, the cold T visor gazing into the sockets. His face was as blank as the helmet, and he didn’t look away till the man did. Damn freak.

Marek only mildly grunted in response, not one to like taking orders. However, he had to admit that getting the hydraulic fluid would give him a reason to get out of the vicinity of the shot droid. He spun on his heel and followed the grysk, glad to see him already grabbing the sled so he didn’t have to.

As they walked away from the freighter, they walked closer towards some stalls set up to sell parts and equipment. The Mandalorian pondered for a moment, “I hope you have credits to pay for the hydraulic fluid,” He said gruffly, “I’m only paying for passage.”

His immediate thought was to simply steal or siphon some. Times were hard for a bounty hunter these days, and he had no intention of parting with more credits than he had to. Marek glanced up to see some droids shuffling around - from the snippets he heard, they were looking for two perpetrators that fit the profile of himself and the skeleton.

“Perfect,” Marek growled, picking up the pace and ducking over to the side to let the droids passed. He only hoped that the grysk wouldn’t jeopardize things, “Stop your humming,” He barked at the man that seemed delightfully oblivious to anything amiss.

@Scott @The Captain @Darasaurus

 

[Scott]

There was a part of Numa that felt disappointed at the fizzled response to her confident boasting. It was no small task to rally herself in front of three diverse and openly dangerous strangers. Still, there was relief too; Numa would likely get more work done on her own, and she could use this time to sort out what the new rules of survival meant outside of her indentured servitude. These fringers were not the noble resistance she set out to find, but neither were they First Order, at least she didn’t believe so. The only thing certain was that they all had a common enough goal that would get her closer to destiny, and Numa was beginning to appreciate just how lucky a break that really was.


To her surprise, the engine girdle was, on its own not a major problem. The connectors were all in place, save one or two, it had just shaken loose. Very loose. A common side effect from landing and taking off on favorable terrain, i.e.: avoiding regulation landing pads. Numa did her best not to let her imagination run wild about this ships day to day activities as she firmed up the bracing. The real problem was what that extra give may have done to the coils. She could tell from the outside that at least one was askew, which meant that best case: A lot of extra fuel was being burned for no reason; and worst case: it was leaking ONTO the coils, and could light up at any moment with the engine’s running. Did the boss say “a few hours”? Whew... those others better be able to contribute. Numa hailed down her new captain and relayed her discoveries.

“Hey, uh... boss. This engine will stay put for now, though I could really sure it better with a torch. Either way it has definitely bounced some coils, you probably noticed some fuel guzzling. Not unfixable, just delicate. Unless they are cracked.”

A pause. Boss? They hadn’t even exchanged name. Was that on purpose? Some unspoken rule on scum ridden space stations like this? It some how made sense for the bucket head and that spooky nonchalant fellow, but the Twi’lek was her age, and her ride. At the risk of breaking scoundrel’s protocol, she spoke up.

“I’m Numa, by the wa...”

A little bristle of warning shot down her neck and cut her off mid sentence. Numa, who was lying on top of the freighter, rose to her knees and peeked over the growing scene at the adjacent wreckage. What was a small collection of frazzled maintenance droids, now included a small platoon: Security droids were consulting with a very irate looking Devorian, and half a dozen armed thugs. Much to her chagrin the Astromech she had swiped her dinner from was even attempting to register a complaint. She quickly dropped flat on the ship and waved frantically for the Twi’lek to take notice.

When she broke out of her cell on Canto Bight, she knew clearly who the enemy was. This was a whole new world, and all Numa found herself able to do was stare wide eyed at her new captain, awaiting some sort of plan.

@Sreeya @The Captain @Darasaurus

 

[The Captain]

Pala was somewhat glad to see the two less pleasant strangers heading off into the station with her repulsor sled. In all honesty she wasn't sure how much help they would be in getting her ship working, let alone paying for its use. One had blown the head off a maintenance droid for no clear reason, and the other had crashed a potential timebomb I the middle of the hangar. Not exactly the best first impressions. But this Theelin definitely seemed to know what she was doing and had yet to endanger anyone's life, so Pala was glad to open her ship to her and let the engineer run a diagnostic.

Perhaps it was her lack of formal training, or her formative years spent tinkering with barely-working scrap, but Pala never had a strong sense of when something was really and truly broken. After all, as long as the device in question wasn't leaking or on fire she never saw a reason to worry. The Theelin's initial diagnosis that her engine was barely hanging to the frame of her ship felt like a bit of a wake up call.

"I've got tools in the ship, I'll grab them and run them up to you." Pala had almost stepped out of sight when Numa, apparently that was her name, began to introduce herself. Began to, because a racket down the hangar caught both of their attentions. Rather predictably, a pack of droids, hangar workers, and security forces were all gathered around the smoldering wreck of the skeleton's ship. That was understandable, but what confused Pala was why this had Numa so concerned. Had she also done something to get on station security's bad side? That seemed to be the trend today.

"PM, head into the ship and open the upper maintenance hatch to let Numa in. I'll stay out here and see what the situation is." PM beeped an affirmative and headed into the ship to let Numa into the Luggabeast through the small top hatch while Pala rounded her ship to see where the security forces would head next. Maybe they would pass her by, after all she hadn't done anything outstanding.

@Darasaurus
@Sreeya
@Scott

 

[Darasuum]

"Yeah I think so...um..." He replied to the Mandalorian. He had never had to purchase hydralic fluid now that he thought about it. At least Malakai was worldly enough to know what it was an what it was used for. There were shmucks out there that thought starships needed blinker fluid. The Grysk was not 'a ship person' but at least he knew some basics.

As they walked, the the Grysk pulled up the elastic neck of his shirt. It came up over his mouth and past his nose to only show half his face. Keeping on hand on the sled to guide it, Malakai pulled his hood over his head too. It normally got in the way when trying to smoke but he knew that stares were counter productive. Pulling his backpack around he grabbed a pair of Vindler Sight Readers and put those over hiss eyes as well. If he was going to be trying to haggle with some mid-rim merchant then he would be better off with some anonymity. Plus the whole mysterious warrior vibe seems like the way to go.

The Grysk ducked his head as droids came closer. While the Mandalorian moved into some cover Malakai's arms rested on the hoversled controls. But one hand raised and pushed a cart carrying some pit-droid parts over. The owner was a few meters away and turned to look in surprise at the poor quality parts falling in a disorganized heap. The security droid patrol took notice of that and stopped searching the faces in the crowd.

"So serious." He commented back but ultimately stopped his humming. There was more going on than Malakai knew. More than meets the eye. The dark sider cracked the joints in his neck with a satisfying series of pops. "Sooo what's your deal Mando? You off on some noble quest or just chasing down some poor womp-rat?" Just because they were unceremoniously stuck with one another for the time being did not mean the two of them could not pass the time with some conversation. They were going to be riding in a ship together for awhile anyways. Malakai wanted to know who he was hanging out with.

@The Captain @Sreeya @Scott

 

[Sreeya]

Marek grimaced as he didn’t miss the subtle gesture from the skeleton and the subsequent cart moving on its own. Between this and the theelin, he was getting more and more uncomfortable about his company. When the grysk spoke, he didn’t answer for a long moment. The Mandalorian leaned over to look, noticing that the droids were now distracted.

“You know us Mandos,” He said gruffly, “Always on a noble quest for honor and glory,” Sarcasm dripped thickly from his voice, his tone comically humorless. The shopkeeper they were heading towards came out to see what the commotion was about. The droids walked over to begin questioning the owner of the cart, and the nosy shopkeeper walked over to assess the situation.

“No chance of doing a usual transaction,” Marek observed quietly, “Do something to distract them and I’ll grab what we need,” Being subtle hadn’t been his strong suit, but he had to adapt rapidly in order to be a better bounty hunter. He knew how to use crowds to his advantage and maneuver around risky situations.

“Don’t kriff it up,” He said roughly as he waited for the grysk to pull some kind of stunt to distract the droids. Ideally it would be one he did without revealing himself, as that wouldn’t invite them on his tail. Meanwhile, Marek pondered ways to quickly dart and get what was needed and rush back to the ship.

With any luck, the ship would be ready to go by the time they booked it back and they would be able to leave without delays.

@The Captain @Scott @Darasaurus

 

[Scott]

“Thank you”

Numa quietly mouthed gratitude to her Captain. The idea brought her some comfort, a captain. It provided purpose, a sense of structure and duty that helped assuage her fear of the violent intent rising from the mob security force that had begun clomping towards the freighter.

The theelin scampered backward, trying to stay as flat as possible while she crawled over the many protrusions on the freighter’s scabby topside. As promised, a hatch hissed open and Numa vaulted about to dive feet first inward, but not before she was spotted. In the moment before Numa was able to duck her vibrant mane below deck, a security drone zoomed into view and locked its singular eye onto hers.

Kriff.

Numa felt the hatch close just behind her, and dropped to meet PM-1 below. “Thank you” she said again, counting each debt she owed this ships’ masters. How to pay it was the only question, and her best answer was trade. She politely implored the droid to point her towards a tool box. Upon retrieving it, she stumbled through the unfamiliar halls until the interior engine panels were discovered. Numa hastily tore away the paneling to reveal the work cut out for her. It looked like a Wookiee had turned the ship upside down and given it a thorough shake. Things were there, just hanging by a hope and prayer. A rebuild was the only safe bit, but something told her that haste was more called for than pragmatism. Without much thought or direction, Numa went to work.


*******************************


“Pretty lucky...” The Devorian growled as he rounded the hull of Pala’s ship with a bothan, two humans, and a hollow eyed besalisk on either side, all fiddling with their weapons. From the other side came a flanking team of security droids.

“...That wreck just missed you. I manage this hangar, and as you can see we weren’t all so fortunate. I don’t think it is unreasonable to hold this person accountable...perhaps you’ve seen him?” The implication was thick, and he flicked the tip of his wide horn for macabre emphasis. Then a small drone flew down from above and spat some muffle beeps into the Bothan’s floppy ear. Lykka’s brow furrowed and he joined the Devorian at the front of the group.

“You took on the Theelin? Heh. Watch yourself, she ain’t so sweet as she looks..”


((Please feel free to do whatever you want with these NPCS. Sorry it took me so long, the. Holidays turned into weird other IRL issue))

@Sreeya @Darasaurus @The Captain