An Unlikely Pit Stop

[Rev]

((I'll list this as semi-open if you wish to join in on this please shoot me a PM and we can maybe work something out. Padme is already taking part in this RP but I'm open to a few others if anyone would like to attempt something. I'd like this character to make a few allies/get their hands in something. Thanks!))

Just Outside what was known as: "Nym's Stronghold"
Lok, Karthakk System, Outer Rim Territories
​

The ship jolted against the atmosphere, the systems in front of the Ubese pilot flashed with caution. Something was failing. Jorushh moved a gloved hand to the controls after adjusting the emergency system; the cockpit falling silent. Hammering in a few commands the auto-pilot would send back a series of response commands, requesting an alternate path of correction. Balling up a fist it would slam against the small screen; the data on it flickering to black as it powered off.

"Schutta, stoopa!"

The heavily modified voice would bark out the comment, followed by a mixture of 'robotic' laughter. Jorushh's voice held no depth to it behind the helmet. The monotonous words were backed up by translation technology to assist weak vocal chords in speaking the foreign tongue. Scanning the horizon before the craft it was nothing but a barren plateau of rock and sand swirled together in a mixture of browns, oranges, and shadowy blacks and blues against the night sky. Flurries of specs would occasionally mirror against the sky as sulfur pits reflected the bright stars above.

Without notice the ship would take a battery of turbulence, the entire craft rocking against itself as the mountaintops rushed heavy winds across the open wastes of the planet. Adjusting the controls, the ship would strain against itself; the gravity of the planet forever pulling down on the would-be freighter. Pulling back on the yoke Jorushh would feel the entire burden of weight the ship held underneath a tight grip. The weight of the ship wouldn't be the only thing weighing on the mercenary, but the tension of knowing the craft was near its last leg. With a series of whines the ship would give its final alert of the approaching surface, but not before the fuel light brightly shined signifying the last of the ships fuel had come and gone.

"Chizk bota! CHIZK!!!"

Exclaiming outward the voice still held no real sound to it. What would normally come out as a scream would be interpreted as a mere comment. Running a hand over the distress beacon the yoke would force itself away from the other hand; not holding enough strength to keep it in place. The result was a full nose dive, the front of the craft dropping below the rear as the thrusters flame finally burned out. The underside of the cockpit would hit first, digging into the sand before meeting stone. It would topple the ship, sending it into a a frontward spiral where it'd meet its final resting place with an audible quake that could be felt for miles. Then all there was, was black..

 

[Padmé]

As the Empire's tyrannical race continued to spread throughout Alliance space, the Alliance supported orphanage on Zebitrope IV made preparations to stock on much needed supplies. Inclusive of the most important stock was medical supplies and dry goods. In lieu of the usual mail order system, the Alliance appointed orphanage director, Jedi Haloburner Lamb, took it upon herself to personally make the trip to the industrial world of Vohai. The in house MD, accompanied Lamb on the journey.

Surprisingly the pair were able to secure better deals on the medical supplies then they ever before. It made Lamb wonder how long her Hutt warehouse suppliers had been cheating the orphanage on supplies. ”Hutts… Ack.” Lamb scoffed to herself upon realizing the amount of credits the Hutt scrums had extracted from orphanage in medical supplies alone! Making a mental note to confront the Hutt s dealers, the female Knight and her companion boarded their Alliance issued transport.

Unbeknownst to the pair, their trip from Vohai back to the orphanage on Zibetrope IV would take a turn for the worst..

"Madame Jedi, we have a problem."
The pilot, Richard Corset, announced.
Unlike the pilot’s usual calm tone, his voice had a freighted undertone. It didn’t take much for the experienced Jedi to sense a disturbance in the Force. Sitting straight up in her seat, Lamb tapped the arm of her companion who appeared deep in slumber.

"Doc, we’ve got a problem."
Lamb uttered while rising up from her seat.
Startled, the doctor quickly sat up while eyeing Lamb in disdain.

"Where the hell are we?"
The female Knight barked at her pilot while approaching the cockpit.
It was unbecoming of Lamb to let alone speak to the her pilot in such a manner. Her Pilot, thus far, has served the Alliance well…Until today. While approaching the cockpit, Lamb several assortments of noise permeated the ship. The noise was merely a tell tale sign of the ships sudden drop in altitude. The queasy roller-coaster- like feeling unsettled the Jedi.

"You're yet to fail me, Richard. Now answer me, why the hell does the navigation screen read Lok and not Zebitrope IV ?"
Before the Pilot could respond, Lamb was already settled in the co pilot’s chair and calling for assistance while simultaneously taking a peak at her chrono. In the same demanding tone Lamb pressed for an answer from her Pilot.

"According to my navi Zebitrope IV is a long way from here.”
The red hair Jedi barked while her eyes remained fixated on the navigation screen. When the Pilot didn't respond, Lamb bared yet again.

“Answer me, Corset! What the hell is going on?"

One second, nothing.
...
Two seconds
…
Three
…
Four
….
Still nothing.

Not a single word was uttered by the Pilot. Lamb of course was far too fixated on the navigation screen. Finally frustrated by the Pilot’s silence, the female Jedi turned to face him. It was in that moment that she realized though Richard appeared to be sitting up, he’d somehow passed out, and was hemorrhaging. Not only her pilot falling out of consciousness, but the ship was literally heading down. Fast.

Realizing what was transpiring before her,
"No!"
was all Lamb could utter.
The sheer pain, remorse, confusing and overbearing sensation behind her singular response caused her companion to dart towards the pilot’s seat. Lamb quickly summoned the Force around her.

With the aid of the Force, the Jedi moved the body of her pilot- Richard- on to the co pilot’s chair. Her Campion was by now inside the cockpit, and immediately proceeded to attend to Richard’s body. Acting fast, the female Jedi managed to take helm of the Alliance ship. The ship, however, continued to rattle. Within minutes the Alliance ship, its passengers, the precious medical supplies/cargo and everything that encompassed the transporter would find itself heading towards an impromptu landing. The destination, none other than the barren, sandy landscape of the planet, Lok.

Merely moments upon the impromptu landing on the barren landscape, Lamb shut off the entire power on the ship, save one area. If anything she needed to save the last source of power. Thankfully, the ship did not sustain any visible damage. A quick scan around the area revealed another ship within close proximity. “Damn my lot in life” Halo audibly sighed. The Jedi hoping beyond hope that this wasn't a set up from the Vohai business deal. “Damn scoundrels!”The woman cursed. Only this time it was in Huttese. Moving right along, Lamb quickly jumped to her feet to assess the extent of the ship’s internal damage....

 

[Gaja]

The 'Corellian Run' would be his road to the Core. Because he too had a role to play in the final battle... Leaving the Vergesso Asteroid Belt behind and making his way to Socorro, Yuri Sharp decided to take a shortcut by passing Lok and reaching the major trade route somewhat quicker. By the estimation of some quite smart people he'd be right no time, though Yuri was a punctual man by nature, at least he tried to be, so it was hardly surprising that he wanted to get to Coruscant before the main battle began.

With a crew of 16 on board the RFV Dervish, a Haranov-class gunship, the trip was largely uneventful. No disturbances, no pirates or sudden blockades. However as Yuri got done giving out a job opportunity on Nar Shaddaa, meaning that he put a bounty on someone who refused to listen, he was called in to the cockpit by the pilot as they picked up on something rather interesting.

Not one, but two ships were forced to land on the desert planet of Lok, and the pilot asked for instructions. It wasn't uncommon for ships to crash, but when one did so on a planet such as Lok, the odds of someone finding them in time were slim at best. So it was safe to say that whoever these people were, they were lucky. Timing was the words that one would use, good timing on the part of Yuri Sharp. For as the RFV Dervish dropped out of hyperspace to assume its new "launching" position the Prime Executive of the Ona'bak Retrade thought of himself when he first got the "Woodpecker" and how it made trouble for him.

So giving out the order to the pilot to bring the planet-side and some few hundred meters over the first crash site the muscular human went to his quarters to suit up. For the first time in a while the man adorned his power armor, for he intended to use the 'Flight System' and see what was going on. Refusing to bring along more people, except for Krix, his Trandoshan lieutenant in the Retrade's RRT in a matter of minutes the ship opened its loading bay and out of it flew two individuals, Krix using a jetpack, while Yuri used his suits flight function.

Landing near the first wreckage Yuri removed his helmet as Krix landed some ten meters to his left. Certainly he was an intimidating individual when one looked at him, armed enough to take down any man, beast or machine Yuri, even though he came to help wasn't taking the chance of getting jumped by some damn space pirates. "Hey! Anyone in there!?" It was the obvious question really. What else could he possibly shout out at the crashed ship. Awaiting a reply the human made several steps towards the ship while his Trandoshan friend kept an eye out on things. One could never really be too safe, and there was also the matter of that other ship...

And while the situation had quite a few variables the man that was on his way to the core took the chance. Walking the surface of Lok for the first time in his young life Yuri wondered how many people would advise him against doing something like this. But then again, he liked to think that if sometime he crashed like this, there'd be someone out there who'd take the time and help him out much like he was doing this very moment.

 

[Jacques]

Harsh winds whipped dust and sand into the face of two determined private investigators as they made the pilgrimage to the promised land. Five clicks ago, they had been instructed by a helpful cantina patron as to the whereabouts of the target of the pairs' investigation. Jacques Demais put a hand on top of his hat to keep it on his head as the wind grew stronger, another hand gripping tightly a cigarette, his mouth also holding on with all its might as he took a great long drag from it and then let go. His temporary partner looked back behind his flowing navy blue cloak and let out a great harumph of mild annoyance.

"Having trouble with the exercise, Demais?" The short Kel Dor had to scream over the wind.

Jacques, of course, played deaf and pulled a datapad from his trench coat. A short moment fiddling with the device and it popped into life, displaying up-to-date information on the job. The son and daughter of a wealthy Corellian stock broker named Maso Rechhi had been kidnapped by Eshibba the Hutt a year before. After attempting to pay ransom three separate times, the Hutt's cronies ran off with the cash. Rechhi had hired the Kel Dor, Quasai Quiviero to track the cronies back to the Hutt's base. Jacques had come in there. After the second time Quiviero lost the cronies, Demais was brought in as a second investigator to help with the hunt for the Hutt. The two p.i's finally came to the conclusion that with each time the Hutt's people fled they slowly retreated to their base of operations. Finally, after the third ransom payment they were in the Outer Rim. This time, the two investigators didn't lose the cronies as they made their escape, and this time they trailed the ship all the way to the planet Lok. They had lost them after a rough landing left their landspeeder trashed and unoperative. It was almost fifteen clicks to the nearest outpost as well, which held the little dive bar where they had found a patron willing to sing for them.

It was after several weeks of investigating that Jacques decided this particular group of Hutts wasn't the smartest...nor was Quiviero the most efficient investigator. But the two worked well as a team, sort of. If one hadn't been around him for such a long time (several weeks seemed like it several years around Quiviero), one might venture forth to call the Kel Dor decent and cunning, with a dry sense of wit. Jacques could tell that after a ten minute conversation with the private eye, their brave informant was beginning to wonder exactly why he had been so forthwith in the first place

Making sure to slow down so Jacques was with-in hearing distance without Quiviero having to scream his lungs out, the Kel Dor snarked, "What, are you writing your got-damn autobiography or what!? Another click or two and we should be be at the Hutt Compound, walk like you don't have to shit your pants."

"I just didn't want the gravitational pull of your gigantic ego to suck mine in, Quasai," He glanced over to his right and grinned at the shorter man, whose appearance didn't give away a facial expression. Jacques told himself it was one of nonchalant disgust.

With a pause, the human's 'partner' shot back, "......like I haven't heard that one before, Demais." He sped back up before Jacques could even begin to not bother with a reply. The wind grew harsher still, and his hand gripped tighter on his hat. Glancing up in the sky, the setting in of exhaustion from a long day's worth of walking in just a short few hours was wiped away by a quick jolt of adrenaline. A ship glided through the sky, nose diving straight toward the barren ground that was a now a mix of sand, dirt and dust thanks to the angry winds nature had conjured up that day. The first thing that popped into the private eye's mind was how close the crashing ship was to where he was walking.

The slow saunter of a walk quickly grew into a sprint once he found good footing on the ground, and he caught up with the Kel Dor moments before the ship hit the ground. He tackled Quiviero into the sand and Jacques set his head down against it, ignoring the angry shouts of the other man, instead choosing to be grateful that the sand wasn't nearly as coarse and uncomfortable as he was expecting. Even the impact of the shuttle sounded brutal. The core of the planet seemed to shake as shock waves thumped against his chest. It was somewhat painful, but what little armor he had on underneath his trench coat did a decent job of absorbing the impact. Ignoring the discomfort from the impact to look up at the sky gave Jacques an eyeful of fire and sharp metals. He set his head down again and waited another minute as the entire situation settled down. Fire crackled and snapped violently as it searched for areas to spread further. They were denied their wish by the ground, barren of anything flammable, instead easily impeding the destruction's progress.

Jacques and Quasai jumped up from where they lay and quickly surveyed the scene. A ship lay in many different pieces, many of them aflame but not all of them, and the two investigators dropped everything from their minds and looked for whoever had been inside the ship. A good portion of the ship was missing, laying a few hundred meters down the road from the initial impact. But before the two could even begin to approach the extra section of ship, a second shock wave from a different impact several clicks beyond them sent the two to the ground. This one was stronger, and had both of them down for quite some time despite the fact that they couldn't actually see the ship that had hit the ground. Jacques assumed it was a big one, though.

As the two sat on their asses, attempting to stand up, a third ship descended from the sky. Thankfully, this one was piloted instead of wildly hurdling toward the ground. It made contact with the ground and two men made their way toward the cockpit, which as it turned out, was the large hunk of ship missing from where the initial impact was. Luckily, it was also one of the few large chunks of ship not engulfed in flame. Jacques and Quasai were held up by a heavily armed Trandoshan as they drew near.

All the two could do was simply put their hands in the air and proclaim their innocence and desire to help. Which is what they did. Jacques raised his arms high enough to show the blaster pistol hanging from his shoulder and the body armor strapped over top his cheap suit. It was all he had and he made sure the militarized men knew that. Quasai didn't even have his arms raised above his head, his arms bent at the elbow in a limp arm raise fashion. Jacques realized Quasai wasn't as used to having weapons aimed at him as Jacques was.

"If you'd be so kind as to put the rifle down, my scaly-skinned friend, we're only here to help the people in the crashed ship..." Jacques's master negotiation skills, finally put to the test. He stared down the barrel of the rifle and tried to figure out what model weapon it was while he awaited either death or someone who could speak Basic to give him a hand.

 

[Rev]

Minutes had passed since the initial impact had occurred and Jorushh still sat lifeless in the confines of the cockpit. His left hand was still locked on the control yoke, his right limp and draped along side the arm rest. The H.U.D. within the helmet would dim to black, assuming the user had gone to sleep as it was designed to do. A jolt of pain would surge up the pilot's spine as the aches of whiplash finally began to set in. It would result in Jorushh jolting forward in shock letting out and audible scream, dulled down only by the confines of the helmet worn. Falling back into the chair the Ubese would begin to search frantically for any kind of information to where the ship had crashed before the power supply drained.

"...eep...Beep...Beep!...BEEP!"

The navigational system began to blink with life; the incessant beep of a local and incoming craft lighting up the board. Running his left hand over the nearest crafts location he recognized the transponder codes as Alliance some sense of relief sweeping over an aching body. Looking around a smoke filled compartment it was then Jorushh realized the damage not only the ship had taken, but he had. A foggy haze had cast itself over him, the blurred vision not coming from smoke, but instead from trauma. Rising to his feet he'd feel the dizziness attempt to take him, but instead his hand locked down on the arm rest and secured him in place.

It was then the beeping got louder and with it the throbbing in his head. Bringing a free hand to where his temple would be he'd rub against the helmet, trying to reach the pain but with no luck. With an adjustment of a few nobs the sound dulled and some peace was sent into the Ubese mind, if only temporarily. Leaning in to look at what all the racket was about it was then he noticed that difference in ship name, transponder, and for lack of a better word style were far different. Whomever this was was independent. Before the nomad could even think he could feel the quake of thrusters above head; they were here.

"Could it be.. Did they find me?"

The alien's mind began to race at the prospect of being discovered, and so quickly. Then everything began to hit him like a ton of bricks: he was still in their ship. Quickly running his hands over all the systems everything began to shut down, the ship was going dark. Turning to move down the hall he was met with nothing but bent and crumbled steel. Stopping dead in his tracks he wasn't quite sure where to go, but it was the sound of Jetpacks that got him back in gear.

Reaching to his side he'd remove a cylindrical tool from his belt, a Force Pike. With the click of a button the weapon would spring to life, his thumb running over the controls to set it from a mere stun to the deadliest, and hottest setting. Running the tip over thin pieces of steel they would cut away as if hit by a plasma torch. Following specific cuts Jorushh would give them a hard kick; a hole to the world opening for him after seconds of work.

"Hey! Anyone in there!?"

"The Syndicate."

The voice stopped the smuggler dead in his tracks, unsure as to where it had come from all he knew is that it sounded like it was shouted in his ear. Knowing that his former employers would no doubt want his head, that was the only thought to be going through his mind. Reaching to his side hip he'd slowly extract the holdout pistol from its holster and click the safety off. It was deadly enough to kill most armored men, but against a armored behemoth he'd stand little chance. Moving his mouth to the opening he had just cut he'd shout back in Huttese.

"Tagwa!" (Yes)

The robotic voice would chime out with some sound to it. The winds of Lok were more than enough to drown out sound and there was no telling if where he was speaking was where the question had even come from. Loosening his grip some on the weapon he wasn't quite sure what to say next; he never really was a 'people person.'

"Kee chai chai cun kuta?" (What are you doing here?)

Moving away from the hole he would begin gathering what little supplies had been held within the cockpit. Most of it had been personal items and weapons, so luckily he was not without arms or equipment. Anything of true value was buried in the sands of Lok now, which hadn't been much.

 

[Padmé]

[Author's note: I blame Gaja for all my errors herein. It's waay past my zzzzzzzzz time]


Unbeknownst to Lamb, the proximity around her make shift landing area was turning into a rendezvous of sorts; an impromptu one at that….

The Jedi continued to quickly assess her ship. Moments later, she detected no internal damage. That alone was a miracle of sorts. While still fuming from the entire ordeal, she yelled a few Huttese profanities.

“How’s Corset?”
Halo inquired while approaching the MD who was still furiously working on the pilot. No audible response came; however, the MD did give a slight shake of the head.

“At least he’s not dead, am I right?”
Again, in lieu of speaking, the MD gave a short nod; an affirmation of sorts.

“Good….As far as I can tell the ship is fine. Internally, that is. I need to check the exterior….I swear on my dead mother’s grave, if this is a Hutt set up, I will find every last one of them and kill them...

Damn scoundrels”
The Jedi added while exiting the Alliance ship.
It wasn't until the Jedi had stepped out of her element that she witnessed the entire debacle.

"What are the odds? Three ships in the middle of nowhere." She thought.

Three ships, well more like two ships and a burning third....and three men; one in a full armor, and two surrendering. Why they were surrendering remained a mystery to the Jedi! Without a second thought, Lamb pulled tight on her gear, making sure her weapons were by her side, just in case she needed to use it. The red hair Knight cautiously made her way out to the open muttering in Huttese.“My lot in life.”

 

[Gaja]

These guys were lucky. Ok maybe not that lucky considering they crashed just a little while ago, but at least someone saw it. But then again how bad was the situation when you had two guys that looked like they hunted Rancor for a living pointing some really big guns your way and their ship looked like it could bomb half the planet in to oblivion? Well there was some good in it, as bad as it looked. Yuri and Krix weren't here to kill anyone, they were here to help. Though that naturally raised the question, Do you always help someone wearing a set of power armor and holding up rifles? Well when you were jumped as many times as Yuri was you sort of develop this little habit of carrying around a gun just in case.

So as the human thought of that little habit of his he noticed that the other gentlemen had that same habit. Would you look at that! Speaking out in Basic Yuri addressed his Trandoshan friend. "It's ok. Put it down." The Trandoshan seemed to grumble something, which was in fact his native language, Dosh. He understood Basic, yet he simply preferred to speak in his native tongue. "Sorry about that. Wasn't sure if this was going to turn in to an ambush so figured 'better safe than sorry'. The name's Yuri by the way..."

It was then that Yuri heard someone yell out from inside the ship, language was one he spoke perfectly as well. "Saw the wreckage of your ship! Came here to see if you need help!" The language Yuri used was Huttese so he wasn't exactly sure whether or not the others would even understand what he was saying.

But as if the situation wasn't confusing enough... a red haired woman from the third ship was coming over towards them. Looking at Jacques the muscular human wearing the power armor asked, this time once more in Basic. "A friend of yours?"

 

[Jacques]

In a short amount of time, the situation grew far more complicated than either man initially expected when a new arrival made her way towards them. Thankfully they no longer had weapons aimed at their direction, so neither of them felt the need to complain. The fact that the negotiator spoke Huttese kept them alert, however. Very soon though they'd be aware that the man, Yuri, did in fact speak Basic as well.

"I don't have very many friends." Quasai answered, his tone dry as always, turning his head toward Jacques.

The human shrugged and lit a cigarette, "I'm not sure either, I'm just the guy he hired to be his friend." Jacques watched the Kel Dor's shoulders sag slightly, indicating the disdain he was feeling currently. "Speaking of, I'll be needing a pay raise soon."

Ignoring the human, Quasai briskly walked toward the ship. "I'm Quasai Quintiero, this is my....associate, Jacques Demais." He addressed Yuri, as he wasn't sure the Trandoshan was going to be talking any time in the future. Although he spoke to the man, the short Kel Dor entered the destroyed, smoldering hunk of what was once a ship and waited for no further interaction. He didn't speak the language of the man in the ship, or even by the sounds of his voice a droid. All Quasai knew was that he had to help. And everybody standing around tugging on their power armor and genitalia all day wasn't going to help any. Walking around, the Kel Dor took the time to snoop a little bit, as he felt he had seen ships similar to this one used before.

Jacques took a long drag on his cigarette as he followed his partner in crime(fighting) into the wreckage of the ship, stopping by Yuri and his Trandoshan friend to give it to them in an offering of peace. Instead of taking the time to snoop around, however, the human p.i made his way to the cockpit as quickly as possibly, trying to reach the man in distress. He was stopped down one of the smaller ship's longer corridors by a cautious Quasai. He held a finger up to his face, letting his partner know his pistol was in his hand.

Rolling his eyes, Jacques tried to walk past, but was stopped by the Kel Dor, "This is a Syndicate ship...they use this model ship all the time, thought I recognized it."

"So?" Was the only response the human could think of.

"So, they're who we're here to get, Demais!" Quasai thought he had the right idea, but what annoyed Jacques so much was that he'd been willing to help the person out of genuine care for sentient life. Whether it mattered that they were Syndicate or not baffled the human.

Instead of going the emotional route, he chose to make the Kel Dor look like an idiot, "Number one, we followed the guys we needed to, we know where they are. Two, we're in the guy's ship, he can hear everything we're saying." With that he again made his way past Quasai, only with no resistance this time around.

A sliced chunk of steel lay on the ground before Jacques's feet, and he realized the true entry way to the cockpit was blocked off. He chose not to take a gander inside over the chance of possibly being shot, and not having the luxury of bulky power armor that would be able to protect someone from a planet falling on top of them. He called out in Basic, "We're here to see if you're all right!.......you alright?" was all Jacques could think of to say before he realized the guy might not even understand Basic, and again he wished he could afford the luxury of things such as a protocol droid, or language lessons.

 

[Rev]

The sentient within the cockpit was obviously distressed. His back was firmly pressed to the most shielded corner of the compressed compartment. The reply coming in Huttese was both unexpected, and partly unwelcome. It was rare that someone who spoke that tongue wasn't in allegiance with the people he was specifically hiding from. Taking a moment to think about his answer it was that pause of silence which allowed the helmet to pick up a second voice's echoing speech.

"This is a Syndicate ship...they use this model ship all the time, thought I recognized it."

Jorushh would peak out the hole to catch a full glimpse of the behemoth outside. The power armor he wore combined with the armament held, even in glimpse, was frightening beyond his understanding. Pushing away from the hole his feet would kick at the durasteel floor panels; the soles sliding against the smooth metal and throwing up a mixture of sand and dust until he was again in that corner. It was there a third voice came sounding in, this one too asking for survivors.

"We're here to see if you're all right!.......you alright?"

Jorushh would sit in silence for the moment, understanding every word which came from the strangers mouth but instead yelling to the armored one outside.

[Huttese]"Who are they?!" [Huttese]

The monotonous sound would stretch out to Yuri, still in Huttese to keep the other two from understanding should they not know the words. Awaiting an answer the steel would suddenly shift around them; the craft bending against its own weight. As suddenly as it had all started it would end, the ship sinking a few feet deeper into the sand and much of the steel shifting within the cockpit. Having fallen from corner to control panel he found himself no longer looking up at sky, but instead at darkness and sand. It had flipped on itself.

"I'm okay.."

His eyes shifted from the dark view screen to where that third voice had come from. A hole had opened where their feet should now be. Simply looking at the gaping hole caused Jorushh's eyes to widen in shock; there was a perfect opening from them to him. His hands would search for that pistol, in the flip it had fallen somewhere, but where exactly he'd never know. Instead he'd reach into one of the many pouches on his hip pulling out a small mine and flipping the switch on it. A series of symbols would flash across the screen and he'd press the center button before slamming it on the center console. Running directly at the open hole he'd shout out as if there had been an emergency.

"BOSKA!!!!!!!" (GET OUT!!!!!!!)

 

[Gaja]

[Huttese]"Not sure! They look like bounty hunters if you ask me!"[/Huttese]

It was the most honest reply Yuri was able to give really. The two didn't quite strike him as bounty hunters, maybe cops? He wasn't quite able to put his finger on it. Though maybe he made a mistake when comparing the Kel Dor and his friend to bounty hunters, they seemed a bit too nice for the kind. But then again Yuri hadn't exactly had the chance to converse with a lot of nice ones. Attaching his rifle his back the man realized that he wouldn't need it here and tended to see if he could help somehow.

As he approached the ship in an attempt to open up a hole for Jorushh to escape Yuri heard the warning, Boska. It reminded him of being a kid, whenever he heard that particular word, it was time to run. And quickly. "Oh crap." The flight system of his suit activated a moment later and the man flew backwards, away from the ship. He figured it would be smarted to heed the frantic warning, rather than test out his suits durability.

Once the inevitable explosion happened Yuri would find himself missed by some kind of metal object that was sent flying by the former and land near the entrance the two guys used previously. In case the trio didn't make it out Yuri would yell out and seek them out, in an attempt to pinpoint their location and get them out as soon as possible. If however they did get out the man would come up to them and address all three really. "You guys alright? Anyone injured?" The second question mostly went to their masked friend who suffered a crash not too long ago...