“Honestly, Tiamat, this is going to work and it’s going to be awesome.” Lorcan declared as he marched around the small cargo hold of his gunship, “We’re going full on OLD SCHOOL when it comes to this action, kid. Proper deception is the key to all successful warfare shrak right here.”
Dressed in his Freelancer armor, Lorcan wasn’t putting up the front of being a Sith soldier at the moment but, rather, just a freelancer. Hence the armor’s name – his was a complicated wit. He still had the hunting rifle strapped to his back alongside his regular carbine though. But if people started associating Sith activity with that rifle then he was already past the point of being subtle anyway.
He made a vague wave at Tiamat.
“You’re not, like, a big deal but you do look like one of the glowstick waving party, you understand?” he patted his chest, “Now that doesn’t matter to me at all – your boss’ credits spend real good even if it is creepy to me to see a young woman call an older man ‘master’ with a straight face – but these guys? They’re independent smugglers and they like avoiding complications like, well, you.”
Behind his helmet, Lorcan grinned.
“Which is why I have a cunning plan!”
He slapped the small metal container crate beside him, roughly half as tall as he was.
“This bad boy can fit so many Marauders in it – at least one whole and maybe three in bits.” He declared proudly, “So… hop in. Quick flight in, you burst out at the signal, lots of screaming later and suddenly it’s all cool and we have a shiny pre-loved space station over a sith-spit speck of shite called Tatooine.”
A pause.
“No offence meant by the sith-spit comment.”
@GABA
