Don't Open the Box!

[Djak Mikos]

Boots rang on the boarding ramp of Eclipse. Two people descended into the small hanger, under the watchful eye of a guard droid.

Of the two, the more noticeable one was the Twi'lek. Her silvery mesh garment was both simple and revealing, and the sway of her hips commanded all male attention. Her bare legs were shapely, yet well muscled, revealing a dancer's background, the weapons strapped to each thigh only accenting this. She looked like a dream come true, the perfect bodyguard. Her eyes were sultry, almost lazy, with a 'come-hither' look that instantly disarmed people. Kette'ayala would star in men's dreams that night.

Beside her, slouched shorter than his companion, the human seemed almost an afterthought. The leather of his jacket was not particularly fine. His hair was cropped short, revealing that half his left ear was gone, and he moved with a nonchalance that was almost an insult. His expression was one of indifference. Djak Mikos, instantly forgotten, utterly unremarkable.

If only the Hutt in front of them knew...

"My majordomo has recommended you," Garuula the Hutt boomed. "He says that your discretion is unparalleled."

"As long as the price is right," Djak nodded. "What I don't know won't hurt me."

"He says I can trust you to deliver my cargo."

Djak shrugged. "That depends on the cargo and destination. And timing. And did I mention pay?"

The Hutt glowered. "You will deliver for me," he continued. "You will bring my cargo to Felucia in four weeks, all seals untouched. You will do this, and I will not place such a bounty on your head as to make all hunters track you."

"Okay, you've got my attention now," Djak said, unworried. "What's the cargo?"

"A square box, approximatively one cubic meter. The contents need not concern you."

"Will it concern inspectors?"

"Come, come. A smuggler stands before his own ship, given a small cargo, and he wonders about inspectors? Do not insult me! You will keep my box away from the eyes of inspectors!"

"Then I assume that the receiver is prepared for my bill for all expenses? I was going to cover fuel myself, but if I have to drop a few bribes here and there, well, that's cutting into my profits. Especially since I have a feeling you won't let me pick up any legit cargoes en route."

"I will not dignify that with a reply," Garuula snapped. "You should find your total reimbursement to be more than adequate."

"I want twenty thousand up front," Djak said, moving on to the next phase. "Your client had damned well better have the other half when I arrive. Otherwise, you may come and pay for it yourself."

"Then I want surety," Garuula came back. "Twenty thousand is a lot. I want some sort of leverage. Your companion will do. She will remain with me till your return."

"Ah, ah, ah!" Djak waved a finger warningly. "I need her. A deathmark's not enough?"

The corpulent alien's eyes narrowed as he realized what he had just given away. Deathmarks could be avoided if a being had money, after all.

"My own man!" Garuula said finally. "He will guard the cargo while in transit."

"I ain't preppin' his grub," Djak growled.

"He will be adequately equipped with resources. Karlile?"

A Bothan that Djak suspected was the alleged Majordomo came and conferred with Garuula for a few minutes. A comlink was activated, and words exchanged.

"Absolutely no Gammoreans," Djak said quickly. "I will not have a Gammorean on my clean ship."

"This is no Gammorean," Garuula rumbled, turning away. "Our business is concluded. The cargo is on the gravsled. Your escort will be along shortly."

Djak made a rude hand gesture at the diminishing back, and stood waiting, tapping his fingers, adjusting the fit of his jacket, staring around, sighing, and in general making a show of being put upon. Beside him, Kette'ayala showed no signs of worry.

 

[DeathToll]

A short while later...

Rubbery boot steps clunked from a distance, calling eyes to the dark entrance where Garuula had left. Slow steps gave inference, either to a dramatic entrance or to one who cared little for the mission's time limit. The weight from each squeeze of his boot's steps seemed massive, and a ruffle of clothing swayed to a stop...

It was a strange entrance, having not entered; but soon thereafter the boot steps picked up again, this time faster. Stomping out into sight and headed straight for Eclipse and the two out in front of it, the creature almost seemed like a heavily armored Rodian. With a large breathing apparatus over its entire head, though topped with a human-esque military hat, and sturdy within obvious under shielding and armor - the creature seemed aimed directly at Djak with a purpose in it's walk. Though it was not much taller than Djak, it still offered a very aggressive tone.

Stopping a few feet away from the duo, this creature's long to-the-floor coat waved open from the lifted and almost arched physique to reveal gun handles sticking out from all sorts of angles. The 45 degree angled collars were flush up against its thick mask of a breathing helmet. There were thick buttons lined straight down to the floor through his center, adding to the weighed down coat; and much more was hidden inside.

Oddly standing there for a while, it seemed the creature was attempting a starring contest and determined to win without proof of eye contact. The truth was not far off, though there was more to this thing that was to come off. It's right shoulder shirked around, snaking that arm down as a pack slid off and plopped to the floor. It made no gesture as if waiting for Djak or the Twi'lek to pick it up. Further, the creature lifted both hands up to its collar, unbuttoning some notches in order to allow freedom of the coat's removal - which it immediately did thereafter, pulling away the heavy coat with both hands back to let slide off the sleeves and drop to it's heels along the floor.

Truly this creature was odd in its greetings, though even more odd was the breathing apparatus which now clearly bubbled with a slightly clear but tinted liquid. The creature then bubbled a jumbled sentence in an unheard of language. It, it almost sounded as if it had said... 'You son of a bitch.' But that could only be explained in similar instances when one language's mumbles sound like another's curses. But then, it reached with one lifting arm; clutching underneath the jaw of the helmet and leading with its elbow, it began to lift off its mask.

Spilling out liquid onto the floor, it... it smelled like whiskey. And underneath the jaw line of the mask sprung a ribbed straw or a tube that must have fed into the creature's mouth. It ripped off the mask, and there was the face of a certain human with a very pissed look on his face. Even before the let go helmet filled with booze could hit the floor, Tright had dived into a roaring tackle; this time with an arm around both sides of Djak's waist, and one arm in particular was bent up by his head and would prevent any effective headlock. ...Inside joke.

 

[Djak Mikos]

Djak let out a startled yelp, but had time for no further witty repartee before being unceremoniously slammed onto his back.

That hurt.

He went for a headlock, mind flying back in time as adrenaline crashed through his system, but Tright's arm was up, inhibiting this. Swearing, Djak slammed his left fist into the other's neck instead, a weak punch, but better than nothing.

"Kette--get him off!"

The Twi'lek was already in motion. One hand had drawn a small pistol, while her legs straddled the attacker. Her body came down on top of his, pinning him (and eliciting a groan from Djak), while her free hand gripped Tright's collar. At first glance, it was almost a sensual pose. But the little muzzle digging into the base of Tright's skull told a different story.

"What are you doing?" she hissed in his ear. "There's two of us!"

 

[DeathToll]

Tright flinched, as normally this would be the time for one of his jokes: saying 'well, while you are my type, I think this time I prefer a little man on man' - but Tright was pissed. He released his arms and nearly slammed each hand onto the floor on either side of him with a huff. His head twisted in frustration, both at the gun to his head and the lost opportunity to beat this guy's face in. Though shortly thereafter, some anger melted away as an eyebrow lifted and he eyed the manner in which she was straddling him; specifically eying her leg now.

"...jealous?"

Sliding his right leg back ever so discreetly between her's, it would become clear to Djak (from his perspective) that Tright was moving to flip Kette'ayala with a spinning trip and catch of his right hand to get on top of her. He was sneaky, though becoming defined as more menacing and playful to these two rather than wanting to win. If uninterrupted, he'd employ the flip-an-trip and switch on top of her with a jerk of his head out of the way. After that, he'd only enjoy the view and close positioning; he'd not hurt either of them at this point.

Let's face it; some of his anger was already dripping from having been put to work for a Hutt... thanks dad, and then this. But this moment was no worse than any other part of his life. In fact, he should've expected this knowing his luck.

 

[Djak Mikos]

Djak grinned inwardly as he saw Tright's shift. So, he wanted to play with Kette? More power to him. The girl could handle herself all right.

Sure enough, Tright employed a nifty twisting manuver that rolled Kette underneath him, sliding off Djak as he did so. Djak scrambled to his feet, and watched Kette, supremely aloof even on her back, turn her grip on Tright's collar into a sliding caress that traveled along the side of his head to brush his face.

She smiled up at Tright, and brought her free hand's fingers into his line of sight. "Pick out two, and take a last look," she offered.

 

[DeathToll]

Tright took a second, in this position, to ponder her suggestion with a ridiculous smirk.

"Humm..."

His eyes were clearly deciding on which fingers to choose from, taking her threat literally. Which he then did so by humming two times with the pointing of his nose like a long beaked bird tapping which prizes it wanted. Tright was so asking for it, and knew what was coming. But then, he liked punishment ...for some.. strange reason.

"Hmm.. hmm.." (one.. two..)

He chose her inner most fingers, expecting a straight punch to his perky nose - but really hoping for her to pinch it and make a squinty face instead. ...Strange, indeed.

 

[Djak Mikos]

((I guess Tright's never watched the Three Stooges))

Djak almost laughed out loud when he saw Tright playing it straight. He really doesn't know this mask of hers, does he?

Kette nodded, bringing the fingers down to her mouth and caressing them with a pink tongue. "Hmmm, you've got good taste."

Her smile never faltered as she slowly slid them closer and closer to his eyes. "You're in luck," she added as they reached his lower eyelid and paused. "They've got wonderful prosthetics nowadays. What color should we order for you?"

Djak burst out laughing at that, he really did, and crouched beside the two of them. "Come on, Kette, if you blind him we'll be spaced. Tright, you war monger, get off my girlfriend. I know she's comfy, but she's strictly a one-seater."

Kette's sultry expression became a scowl, her head turning to face Djak. "Did you just call me a swoop bike?"

"No! I, um..."

 

[DeathToll]

((oh man. lol. took me a second.))

Tright clenched, not used to women playing back at him like that. But his seriousness took back the wheel and Tright got up, paying no attention to Djak's lighthearted banter. Stepping over to his gear, he picked up the mask first. Holding it up side down, Tright sipped some whiskey with a frown. After smacking his lips, Tright gathered up the rest and hauled it over his shoulder - splashing alcohol out from the helmet's tube behind him. He was seriously dealing with a case of wounded pride with all kinds of grudge condiment-ed all over it.

"YOU better stay outa my way..."

Tright spoke with no motion, but was obviously threatening Djak with his oh so threatening persona. Pivoting to strut towards the ship and double check the cargo, Tright sounded off his routine mumbling as he fidgeted to reach blindly and grab hold of the comforting straw. He couldn't believe he'd have to spend four weeks with this class act and his girlfriend. It all sounded so ..uncomfortable.

For a moment in his walk, Tright wriggled like a contained version of a child's tantrum mid-step.

 

[Djak Mikos]

Kette took Djak's hand and swung gracefully to her feet, watching the man storm off thoughtfully. "I'm guessing you two know each other?" she asked, thoughtfully.

Djak groaned inwardly. Kette had been sort of fixated on Djak when she and Tright had crossed paths last, and Tright's face had been sort of dirty at the time. "The pit fight on Coruscant," he explained reluctantly.

"Ah. I see. Nice to see you two have made up since. Where's the cargo?"

"Already stowed," Djak replied. "All we need now is to conclude our little pleasantries and hit vacuum. Ready to roll?"

She nodded, reholstering her pistol. "Do you think we can trust him?" she murmured as they headed up into the ship.

"About as far as we can kick him," Djak shook his head. "Look, I know you're confident in your acts, but please. Don't be alone with him. I think if he ever sobered up he could be awfully dangerous."

"It's sweet of you to care," she said. "But worry about yourself. After all, it's a lot easier to kill someone you hate than to capture alive a valuable Rutian Twi'lek."

"I didn't want to put it that way..."

They both laughed as they entered Eclipse.

"You go get us underway," Djak ordered, falling into his true role at last. "I'll make sure he's not stealing the galley flatware or anything."

((Turning right from the ramp takes you to the cockpit, straight takes you to the living/dining quarters, and left takes you aft to the cargo holds with engines beyond. I'll make a quick sketch for easy reference tomorrow))

 

[DeathToll]

A loud clunk of things fell to the floor beside the box, having turned left and walked straight for the cargo. It did not dawn on Tright that the contents in the box could be explosive, as his utter selfishness and care free attitude were having it out for Tright's attention. He was more perturbed than anything, plopping down onto the box and dropping his head to his fists - propped onto his bent knees. His legs spread like a guy would, the ties of his boots were frayed out like weeds; and his cheeks were ruffled up into his eyes, his lips squished to a pucker.

He was supposed to be checking on the cargo, but only wished to make it seem like he knew what was already inside it. If nobody saw him in here, they'd possibly assume he was privy to the contents and even possibly servicing necessary routine maintenance to avoid any unpleasantness; or at least he could claim it to be so should ever he require. But Tright had no such purpose other than to watch Djak. Of course, he'd more enjoy watching Kette'ayala. Tright had a weakness of sorts for Twi'lek dancers, or ex-dancers.

Lifting to take a deep breath, all his gear rubbed and whined just as he slouched back down; Tright was recharging himself for the job. He'd have to bug the kriff outa these two, because Tright knew of no other way to 'keep an eye' on some one. Leaving all his gear for now, Tright sprung up straight to a stand - as he'd have to give the all clear for cargo security, if they hadn't already trusted that things were all set. Either way, if they hadn't set off yet or were cleared for go, Tright would need to locate and keep tabs on everybody and now was the time.

Stretching out his back with an arch, his hands rested inwards on the gun handles nearest his chest, and tweaking his mouth right covered in a dirty looking goatee - he began a brisk walk to find the cockpit and his smugglers. Now wearing only his cargo pants with leather straps all across his body in various degrees and purposes, several guns of variety, pouches and pockets filled with assorted bombs and gadgets, his gray-green long sleeve shirt with rolled up sleeves, and his black security vest - Tright was ready to roll.

His fist pounded on the load-out button as he left, switching the lights off with nothing but the red warning light rotating in its cylindrical tube along the wall; as well as some small white bulbs along each corner. Not entirely knowledgeable of this ship, Tright figured (as he did often) that it would signal the cockpit maintenance controls with a small flashing red security light.

((hope you don't mind that I took some liberties))

 

[Djak Mikos]

((Not at all))

Djak had missed Tright completely, first going into the living area to check for the bad-tempered man, then proceeding to the far corridor and turning left to check the cargo holds. The cargo was already loaded, sitting innocuously in the middle of the floor. He grumbled under his breath and dragged it over to the engines, kicking up a panel that supposedly shielded wires. The space behind was empty. He gave the case one last shove, sliding it into place, and left the hatch up. It wouldn't do for Tright to start yowling that Djak had spaced it.

Humming to himself, he turned to complete the loop and head back to the cockpit where Tright probably was. His foot caught on a misplaced box, and he swore, stumbling for a moment. The box in question contained extra parts, nothing breakable, and he indulged in a good hard kick that made absolutely no impression on the box and a hell of an impression on his toes.

Swearing again, he headed forward, forcing himself to walk without a limp.

 

[DeathToll]

"Well look who's all alone..."

Tright entered the cockpit, creeping in behind the beautiful Twi'lek with a growl. So ominous and evil was Tright's entrance, leaning with both hands up along the walls like some sort of arachnid stalking its prey; though his head tilted the way he posed when he began to hit on women in clubs like the playboy he is.

"...In a sexy way. Of course."

Tright then switched like the sides of a flipping coin, overtly making himself clear over an already clear statement as a joke in itself. He reached out his hand to even further stress this as he spoke, as if that would help.

"Like, you know how little girls are all alone and you walk up behind them, well ...their not all alone, but their are those ones YOU DON'T LET THEM FOOL YOU ...I mean, I don't make a hobby of creeping up on little girls, unless girls like you count as little girls - in which case I'd LOVE to creep up on little girls..."

Tright did not stutter or correct himself, but rather ran on with his thought process - which never stopped. The annoying, playful Tright had joined the party. It was more of a tactic to bring Djak to him, as he wondered what he would be doing if not with Kette'ayala; or more rather figured Djak was with the box, and needed some encouragement to reunite with his girl. This way, she would probably call to him. He'd done it a million times: bug the hottest chick around, and guys'll come a' runnin'.

"...you mind if I sit here, I got a bad back and I like this seat but these buttons don't do anything right, I mean I haven't flown too many ships in my time being a young man of strapping stock, that boy-toy of yers is a little lacking if you don't mind me saying, but if ya do then you shoulda told me cuz now it's kinda too late..."

Tright sat back in the co-pilot's chair and slapped up his heels onto some controls, knowing exactly what they did; figuring he'd do anything to get Djak in there. Of course Djak would be on his way, but Tright wanted everybody close. One happy family...

 

[Djak Mikos]

Kette kept up her sultry-assassin facade, giving Tright a half-lidded look as he rambled on, barely hiding her wince as the man's heavy boots scuffed the controls on Djak's side. Djak would be furious, she knew, he loved this ship like the mother he'd lost. Shrugging in non-answer, she continued laying in the first leg of the trip out.

"He seems perfectly capable," she replied in response to the insinuation that Djak might be a little on the puny side. "It's always the short ones who get the most done, anyway. And it's nice to not have to look up all the time."

Djak grinned as he heard Kette's words. The Twi'lek seemed to be perfectly at ease, perfectly safe. However, Tright seemed not in the least dissuaded from his discourse, so Djak came around the corner and entered the cockpit.

"You've got chew-candy stuck to the bottom of your foot," he remarked, sliding into his seat and flicking a switch. The system lights all glowed a healthy green, and he keyed in the repulsorlifts.

Tright's feet were resting on the lever to retract the landing struts, Djak grabbed a boot, lifted it up, shoved the lever back, and dropped said boot to the floor. He ignored the other boot--he didn't need the drag flaps--and took the yoke in both hands.

"Ready to fly?" he asked Kette, ignoring Tright.

She grinned and nodded.

Djak eased power to the manuvering jets, and they glided out of the hanger. Once clear, he shut jets and repulsors off, then adjusted to the heading Kette had highlighted on the screen.

They glanced at each other, and a simple idea was conveyed. A wicked smile came over Djak's face, and he slipped the straps over his chest and stomach.

"Better strap in," he said over his shoulder.

Not waiting for Tright to acknowledge, he gripped the hyperspace levers. Kette'ayala's own hand closed over the inertia compensators, and she swiftly drew the cockpit's compensation down to five percent.

Djak shoved the hyperspace levers forward. The result was akin to being hit in the face by a rancor swinging a giant pillow. Strapped into a conforming seat, Djak merely grimaced. He glanced back over his shoulder to see what had happened to Tright.

 

[DeathToll]

After Tright's boot thudded down from Djak's influence, he slid a bit off of the chair. While some on this ship may find it comfortable to be in a straddle in Djak's direction, Tright quickly corrected this and ripped his other leg over and to a comfortable re-situation in his chair with crossed straight legs out to the floor before him. Clasping his hands together and closing his eyes, Tright began his interrogation of Djak's whereabouts; trying to make clear his intention to watch them both very carefully.

"So your just going to leave our cargo all flappin in the wiiIIIIIIIIND!!!!"

And before he knew it, his folded body was yanked out of his seat into a flat roll up and over the reclining back support as his face was stretched into three parts; all was as if his personalities were spread into surprised, angry, and enjoying every minute ...as he did. Tright was such a child. Even each face in the three strands of elasticity shown such exact definitions of each emotion as he hung onto his seat from over the top of it. His faces changed as his eyes met Djak's, and Tright pulled up an elbow over the seat; his chin pinching down onto the cushion.

"Errrrr..."

Tright gave Djak a growl, as if he were some kind of animal; though it was more of a subconscious thing as he struggled to keep hold of that chair. The material rubbed under his squeezing fingers as Tright was held at the will of this cruel pilot.

 

[Djak Mikos]

The punch only lasted for a split second, but that was enough to make Djak's point.

"All right, bro, now we're even," the Corellian said, unstrapping and standing up. "Look, we've gotta do this, whether we like it or not. So we can call a temporary cease-fire, and get through this run without killing each other, or continue to fight like two positive charges till we tear the ship apart. I'd rather avoid that. So, let's try to have some fun, huh? We've got our pick of refueling spots from here to Ryloth, anywhere in particular you want to go?"

Djak's example and proposal, if clumsily made, was genuine enough, Kette saw. She hoped that Tright would take him up on it, turning a hideous ordeal into just another run.

 

[DeathToll]

Stumbling down to his feet, as if that moment had lasted a lifetime, Tright collected himself up using the reclining chair that didn't act very helpful in his time of need ...all squishy and recliny ...not very supportive if Tright had to describe it. But he stood, nonetheless, with dignity and pride to be the better man. An absolute gentleman: He had been made a fool of, but was of a heartier stock. Tright was the kind of guy who you could count on to really take a man to man, friendly rivalry to heart and act with respect and kindness to the end...

"LOOK.. bro. We are ridiculously far off from being even!"

Tright motioned to Kette nonchalantly, now in a rant. Though more of a guy's guy, Tright had his bitchy moments too.

"You get me three like her on Ryloth, and we'll be gettin' there. ...BUT THAT'S JUST THE ICING ON THE CAKE! 'Dees eyes are bigger than my stomach! and I'm hungrey... First of all, YOU'VE gotta do this. I don't give a womp-rat's crap what Gar-Droola the Hutt's assface wants to spout off to his lackeys in the middle of the night ...but ...but I forgot what I was... OH YA! I don't care about this job! And B, I may seem like a nice guy but I'm not feelin very positively charged right now..."

Tright himself wasn't sure if he genuinely meant what he was saying, though all improvisation has a core of truth from where all is drawn upon; as Tright only wished to make things difficult for Djak. Though, in the middle of his childish and seemingly harmless tantrum - Tright snatched out a twirl of two pistols with amazing speed to their pointed positions (now, not as drunk as he'd like and almost unintentionally tapping into his connection to the Force), directly aimed one at each figure before him and ready to switch aim at the ship's computers. Breaking his rant, Tright held perfectly still with a cool and calm flip to his presence.

"...I think I'd rather destroy this ship and you along with it. Though... now that you mention it, I would like to take a potty break on Byblos. Got a 'friend' there who's expectin' me."

In fact, Tright did have a bit of interest in this stop, though he failed to mention how long the 'friend' has been expecting his visit ...which is to say, for a couple of months now; and might not be so happy to welcome them with enthusiasm.

 

[Djak Mikos]

Djak did not blink at the sudden draw, he knew this crazy man wouldn't trash the computers while they were still in hyperspace.

"Then I guess we'll have to stop at Ryloth as well, he said. Truth be told, he hadn't expected Tright to reciprocate immediately. However, the seeds of comaderie had hopefully been planted.

"Got any sisters in need of a date?" he asked Kette.

"Nope, only child," she replied. "But I might have a cousin somewhere with very low standards..."

Djak chuckled and turned to the computers, calculating the approach to Byblos. "Can you hold it for a day?" he asked. "We're about thirty hours from Byblos."