Star Wars: Trinity

Johnnysaurus Rex

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“General Oderyn, we found the survivors.”

“Let’s get the wounded started on some bacta.”

“CEASE FIRE! What are y-”

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Tnk Tnk Tnk

The sound of something thrumming the side of his helmet startled Vo from his sleep. Or at least what counted for sleep when wearing full armor. Personally, he hated the full Mandalorian garb. Good for combat, no arguments there, but for lounging in a VIP room on Bonadan? Not so much. Boss said it was more “marketable” to actually have a Mandalorian in Mandalorian armor though, so here he was dressed to impress.

“Droma,” a Rylothian accent filled his ears, “Wake up, client is going to be here soon.”

Raising his head, Vo gave about as much of a stretch as he could in the crowded booth. The dull sounds of synth and bass from the club’s dance floor making their way into the room. To his left was the woman who woke him. A Twi’Lek named Shura. Used to be some kind of freedom fighter on her home planet before having to flee the Empire.

“You can’t blame him for nodding off though, Shura. I’d be bored stiff too if I couldn’t drink,” Canard spoke up from across the table. He was a Gungan smuggler their group had picked up rather recently. As soon as the words left his mouth Canard glanced to his left, “No offense, Beedee.”

“None taken,” the BD-3000 droid spoke flatly. The annoyance in her voice coming through. She was a luxury droid model that had been programmed to do everything from secretarial duties, child care, and body guarding. She’s been doing a lot less of the former ever since her previous owner sold her for a newer model.

“Kara! You getting your fill?” Canard turned in his seat and raised a drink to their fifth and final member. Vo had noticed she kept to herself a lot in these situations. Something he could respect, especially given his own history. Everyone in the room knew him as “Droma”, an identity he had to assume 7 years ago. That’s what worked about their operation though. Everyone had something they were trying to get away from and boundaries weren’t pushed often.

They had been gathered here for a job. Their boss, a Cathar heiress by the name of Nanisa Jann, had hired them out for a job. None of them 100% knew what that all entailed, but it was coming through a contact they had been reasonably comfortable with. A Hutt named Edel. Definitely a shining example that not every stereotype in the galaxy was accurate, Edel was a pretty stand up guy. He valued trust and respect. Vo had heard a few rumors about what Edel did to those who didn’t reciprocate, but he figured that was just business.

@Green Ranger @Brandon Rhea
 

Green Ranger

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Bottled ale was something of a novelty in the galaxy these days. With the advent of fabricators, classicly brewed beers were something of a niche rarity - either they were up their own exhaust port with pretentiousness, or they were some barely legal basement operation that had more in common with ethanol than a beverage.

And on Bonadan it was always something of a gamble as to what you got. Sure, it was a major trade hub - essentially the nexus of all commerce through the Corporate Sector , and the terminus of the Hydian Way, but this kind of prominence attracted both the wealthiest, and the most unscrupulous, of business.

Similarly, the supply of alcohol - even to upscale bars or invite-only VIP lounges - was something of a mixed bag.

The first hint that this was a particularly bad batch was the name - Miss Snooty's Boozy. Complete with a poorly printed and scantily-clad picture of famed Pa'lowick singer Sy Snootles on the label. Yikes.

For a moment, Kara's mind drifted, both to a different time and a different life, when similar such cocktails were shared among friends and colleagues, the burn of alcohol in her throat tasting of victory and comradery. She'd actually enjoyed the taste of bootleg liquor once upon a time.

"You're holding out on me, Canard," she said to the Gungan smuggler who had addressed her. "You sat by and said nothing while I ordered this, quote, 'Boozy' with actual Imperial credits - real money. I thought we were friends!" she said, a half-smile crossing her face briefly enough to communicate the humour, a faint ripple of laughter echoing through the other patrons of the bar.

The smile never made it to her eyes. It never did.
 

Brandon Rhea

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The pitter patter of the rain kept Ussej’s mind at ease. He preferred to not spend too much time in the bar, rather he always felt a bit safer keeping to himself. The man the rest of them knew as Jon Cordatus, not Ussej Bac, always seemed a bit more reserved. He presented the guise of a former spy, so the story fit. Just as well. No one needed to know the past his mind often wandered back to. Before all this.

He sipped a small flask of alcohol. A nasty concoction, but a far cry better than the arm and a leg these Bonadan bars charged for even a glass of something. He always kept it on him. Helped keep the edge off. Especially before a mission none of them had any idea the details of. Not that that was any different from his usual routine. These days, even more so than it used to be, even those on the up and up kept things much closer to the chest. The rise of the Empire forced even the most respectable of clients into the shadows.

Ussej put the flask away and headed back in. After being out in the dark rain so long, even the dim lights of the bar seemed blinding. Bonadan will do that to you, he thought to himself. If it wasn’t the nighttime, it was the gas and smoke that blanketed the air. At least being inside meant he could breathe a little easier, ironic as that seemed under mysterious clientele circumstances.

“We getting this show on the road or what?” he asked as he took a seat at the bar.
 

Johnnysaurus Rex

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“Ooooh keep your trousers on, Cordatus,” a gruff voice came from a darkened doorway. Slowly, Edel the Hutt slithered his way into the room, “I thought your type liked to loosen up before business got started.”

A jovial smile spread across his large face. He was wearing a smart suit jacket and a nice little bowl shaped hat adorned his head. It wasn’t appropriately sized for the massive cranium of a Hutt, making it appear all the more miniscule. As he moved forward he worked a cane with his left arm, a largely decorative piece of ornamentation rather than actual physical need. Edel rolled up to a meeting table in the middle of the room and tapped it with his cane. Immediately holo-emitters began to light up and the projection of a Theelin dancer appeared.

Edel gave the table a couple more smacks with his cane to make the projection change to a planet before sheepishly pulling his hat off in mock embarrassment, “Sorry about all that. To business!” He pointed his cane at the planet, “This is Raxus Prime! Junk world, awful place. If it isn’t the unstable junk piles that’ll be the death of ya it will be the junkers fightin OVER the unstable junk piles that’ll be the death of ya.”

Another smack of his cane on the table and the image changes to that of a Subjugator-class heavy cruiser. A ship used by the Confederacy of Independent Systems just 7 years prior during the Clone Wars.

“Now this,” Edel pointed, “Is your objective. Scrapped and left on Raxus Prime, a fitting place for a droid ship to be in a droid graveyard. The client wants somethin on this ship and they’re being real stuffy about divulgin anythin more than that. Only direction given was that what they sought were schematics and would most likely be located on the bridge.”

Edel left the image of the ship up as he lowered his cane and rested both of his hands on it. An expression of genuine sadness and frustration came across his face, “I wish I had more for ya, I really do. Old Edel doesn’t like sending you lot out with such barebones information, but the credits on this one are a little too good to pass up. You’re free to help yourselves here for the rest of the evening and we’ve got rooms for you tonight. Client would like you all to get at this first thing in the morning though.”
 

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Kara largely sat in silence as the Hutt went about explaining the mission. Edel was....well, eccentric, even for a Hutt, but he was also considerably less suspect than most of his kind, and though she had had few dealings with him in the past, the Hutt's reputation seemed well-earned enough.

Still, as the holo-projector flickered with static, suddenly changing to the projected 3D image of one of the largest ships the Seps had ever built, the mercenary couldn't help but clench her fists involuntarily, the bottle in her hand shattering suddenly. Distant enough from the rest of the group, it was unlikely they saw the way her fists shook for a moment before she composed herself, though the anger in her voice was clear enough.

'Oh you son of a Bantha, Edel. Whatever credits they're offering, they aren't enough.'

***

Dry air filled with ash and smelling of ozone.

Piles of wreckage and fallen bodies as far as the eye could see.

The fog of war obscuring everything.

She didn't remember how long it had been. Hours? Days?

A silhouette in the sky. Hope?

The shape drew nearer, blotting out the sun.

She fell to her knees.

No, not hope.

Death.


***

The Hutt looked at the woman in surprise. "You know this ship?"

She grunted. "Only by reputation. Not many survived the war intact. You're not just looking at a Subjugator, you're looking at *the* Subjugator. That monster was why no fleet ever got even close to Raxus during the war."

Rubbing her temples, she frowned as she looked at the holo. "Dunno how familiar any of you are with old Sep ships, but this is at least as big as four Star Destroyers end to end - possibly more if the rumours are to be believed. If what we're looking for isn't on the bridge, or if the intel's bad, it could take years to search through the rest of that thing."

"*If* the moneys as good as you say, it's probably because we're looking for a needle in a haystack. Except the haystack might as well be the whole damn junkyard planet."

Sighing with exasperation, she looked around at the group, and then back at the Hutt. Though he was meant to be the brains behind the operation, Kara had never really been one to sit in the passenger seat, and this would be no exception.

"I don't care how good you think the money is. Double the finder's fee and demand half up front. We can't be the first people they've suckered into this idiocy, but I'm not going to be ripped off because they want us to find their damn mystery prize without giving us any decent intel. They're either desperate enough to pay us, or the thing they're looking for isn't as valuable as they want us to believe and we're wasting our time."
 

Brandon Rhea

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It took every fiber within Ussej to not shift uncomfortably in his seat. He hadn’t seen the sight of anything related to the Separatists in years. They were pretty much snuffed out of existence when the Empire came to power. No one really knew how. One day the Clone Wars were raging, and the next...silence. Most people didn’t ask questions. The galaxy was just glad to have the war over with, so glad that they accepted an emperor with open arms. Ussej didn’t ask because, well, it just didn’t seem right in his line of work. He knew it would paint a target on his back, but his persona actually came with some benefits here.

“It’s not the size of the ship I’m worried about,” he said once Kara finished speaking.

Ussej stood up and walked over to the hologram. With the flick of a finger he zoomed the holo image in on the ship’s primary weapons system and pointed toward it.

“Back in my Sep spy days,” he said, “I saw our intel about what a ship like this could do to another vessel. It’s got ion cannons tied right into the reactor. If anything like that were to be damaged or unstable, you won’t have to worry about searching the ship for years because the planet’s whole damn hemisphere will explode in flames.”

He flicked the image over to one of its hangar bays, continuing, “Let’s not even start with the thousands of vulture droids these things could carry. I don’t even want to know what its complement of clankers would be.”

Ussej walked away from the holo and back toward his seat. With a sip of a drink, he sighed. There was no chance they were walking away from this mission, but he knew Kara was right about one thing.

“This ghost ship is a death trap,” Ussej said, “so yeah I think we’re entitled to a little more pay if we somehow wind up not dead.”
 

Johnnysaurus Rex

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The sight of the Separatist ship didn't seemingly register for Vo. The Mandalorian visor giving off nothing. Underneath his stare didn’t leave the ship. He had never had the misfortune of running into a ship like this. Hadn’t been something his team would ever run into. He didn’t take too much stock in the new guy’s opinion. Mention of being a CIS spy made his skin crawl, but Vo had to remind himself that was the past. A conditioned response.


Kara though? He rarely saw her get this worked up over a job. The scale had been a little lost on him, but her putting it into perspective made the job sound all the more daunting.


“There’s no way that thing has any working droids,” Canard spoke up, “I’ve seen how scavs and junkers work. Beautiful haul like that? Bet it’s been picked clean. Kara on the other hand has a point! Let’s get paid double to fail at this job.”


Edel nervously rubbed his hands together. He knew the job hadn’t been great, but he wasn’t expecting this amount of pushback. Grabbing his tiny hat the Hutt wrung his hands and thought it over.


“Alright, alright,” he said with a tremendous sigh, “I ain’t gonna promise anythin, but I’ll talk it over with the client. ‘Member I’m on your guys’ side here,“ A smile did stretch across his face. A hopeful smile, “But! The contract doesn’t cover anythin you could salvage. So if you can haul it home, you can keep it with none taken off the top!”


Vo scanned the room again to see how people reacted to Edel. He knew the Hutt well enough that he wasn’t lying when he said he’d go to bat for them. He nudged Shura with his leg.


“I say we do it,” he whispered.


“Money is good and could be getting better,” Shura crossed her arms and leaned back, “If Kara doesn’t want to come we could manage. Not sure about the spy.”


“One less share?” Beedee chimed in from across the table. Not much got past her audio receptors.


“We’ll take the job, Edel.” Shura spoke up and got out of the booth followed by Vo. The Twi’Lek inserted a datapad into a port on the table and began downloading the relevant mission information. Edel threw his hands up and did a wiggly little dance before racing away to begin work on raising their pay.


Vo walked over to the man who identified himself as a Sep spy. Not what he expected on to look like, but he figured that was the point. He took a seat next to the man and removed his helmet. Vo shook his white hair and put the helmet on the bar.


“Hope I don’t have to wear that thing around you,” Vo shot him a smile, “Really makes the unwinding part of these things pretty tough when people want to see a T-Visor instead of your face.”


Vo reached over the bar and began feeling around for anything that registered as alcoholic.


“Name’s Droma, by the way. What do you call yourself?”
 

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If the Hutt expected Kara's demeanour to improve from his offer, he was wrong. Standing up slowly, the faint lines etched on the woman's face deepened slightly as she frowned, clearly wrestling with the fact that she couldn't turn down the job, even if she was unsatisfied with the pay, and that her bargaining position was even more tenuous by the Twi'lek, Shura, agreeing to the job.

"Fine, Edel," she said, her voice more of a grunt than actual words as she approached him, and drawing up closer than most people would willingly do with a Hutt, "But I'm no charity. You make sure you deliver on the bonus pay, or I'll be coming after you, personally, to make up the difference."

Judging by the sudden and marked increase in sweatiness, and the way his eyes darted in every direction but meeting her gaze, and his rapid exit, she was satisfied that she had made her point to him.

Choosing to ignore the white-haired Mandalorian for the moment, Kara walked over to the bar, leaning her back against it next to the 'Sep Spy', Ussej. Crossing her arms and not making eye contact as she stood over him, she lowered her voice slightly - not enough to hide what she was saying to anyone nearby if they were listening hard enough, but enough to convey that the words she had were intended for him alone.

"I think an ex-spy would know that a public space is a stupid location to publicly announce that one is an ex-spy. The Clone Wars may be long gone, but we all know Seperatist sympathisers are still active, and the Empire is looking for them. Which makes you either an idiot, or you're lying. I don't care which. But if you endanger this mission, I will put you down.

"I hope I've made myself clear," she said, not waiting for a response as she walked away from the bar and raising her voice slightly as she addressed the group. "If any of you need to get equipped before we leave, I have a contact nearby. Their inventory isn't new, it's not good, but it works. And given the nature of our new job, it might be worth picking up some extra gear. Otherwise I'll return shortly."

She didn't wait to see if anyone was joining her before leaving.
 
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