The First Respite

[Tzeentch]

Spoiler: Three Months Before

LOCATION: TATOOINE
MAXIMUS VULCAN'S PRIMARY BASE OF OPERATIONS​

Calming music reverberated throughout the cooled room, failing to drown out the sounds of the modestly sized generator as it worked to keep the entire place powered. It did, thankfully, keep Tatooine's twin suns from turning Maximus' home into a over-sized makeshift oven.

Humming lowly to the music, the mercenary carefully handled the various parts of weapons in an attempt to see if he could create something worth using or selling on the black market. His attention was drawn away, however, when the beeping of his communications console were heard. Gently setting the parts down, he stood and walked over to the console on the other side of the room. Upon reaching the console, Maximus opened up communications with whoever was attempting to contact him.

Although the console was far from being in pristine condition or even the latest model, it had served its most basic purpose throughout the past decade in allowing potential clients contact Maximus should they desire to strike a deal with him. It was significantly easier to get clients this way than it was to actively travel the galaxy in search for them when he first started his career as a mercenary.

The face that appeared on one of the multiple screens was one that he did not recognize. If one were to simply judge the woman by her looks, it would be determined that she had most likely had her share of rough times that did nothing but make her stronger. She had blonde hair that reached her shoulders and several scars on her face, one reaching from the right of the jaw to her left temple and another one about four inches long, blinding her left eye if the cybernetic cover was of any indication.

Perhaps that was the reason why the predatory look in her lone eye was quite obvious.

Before he could speak or seat himself, the woman initiated the conversation herself, "You must be Maximus Vulcan. I've heard some mention of your name around Nar Shaddaa. The rumors say that your reputation in completing tasks given to you is fairly solid when compared to most others."

Maximus, typing something into the console, seated himself, "Well, I try to keep a good reputation." The mercenary shrugged slightly, leaning back into the chair, "After all, a mercenary with a bad rep isn't likely to be hired, or even contacted, in the first place, now is he?"

The scarred woman chuckled, "No, one with such unreliability wouldn't attract the attention of reputable organizations." Her chuckles died off, but her eye still possessed the predatory feeling to it, "But enough chatter. Shall we move on to business, Mr. Vulcan?"

The mercenary did not move from his laid back posture, but to anyone that could tell, the aura around him changed. It no longer was that of a relaxed man simply enjoying a small chat, but rather it had become more serious. He still had a small smirk on his face, but it lost its previously eased feeling, as did his eyes, "By all means, let us continue onward."

She nodded, "I'd like to establish a contract with you. Time and performance based. You'll be paid monthly and for any other jobs that you complete while working for me; payments based on jobs will vary depending on what kind of job you've taken. You will retain your freedom of mobility and your right to choose what jobs you wish to take." She paused for a moment, brushing a strand of hair away from her face, "Of course, any missions I assign to you myself must take priority. Is this a satisfactory base for a contract, Mr. Vulcan?"

'Straight to the point, isn't she?' Maximus scratched his stubble-covered chin, "It is. However, before I start to clear up the details of your offer and accept or reject it, may I receive the name of the one who may be my future employer?"

A few seconds went by and all was silent except for the sounds of the generator and the music that had remained playing. It was broken, however, of the woman laughing, "Hah! How rude of me! I've seem to have forgotten to introduce myself." She leaned forward, a mirthful glint joining the predatory one in her eye.

"I'm Ali Skur'kalos. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Vulcan."

The smirk on Maximus' face dropped fairly quickly.

PRESENT​

Rubbing the back of his neck, the twenty-seven year old mercenary grumbled under his breath, cursing in several alien languages as he watched his ship, the Desert Sky, be hauled off for repairs. He had to make sure that those doing the repairs didn't mistake it for scrap metal because, in all honesty, it did look like a pile of worthless scrap and almost nothing like a ship.

Maximus also happened to be on Nar Shaddaa of all planets, so he had to pay extra to the mechanics, the corrupt bastards they were, for proper maintenance. He didn't even know how long it would take for the ship to be brought back into working order.

Sighing, he turned and walked over to two other mercenaries, "Just my luck that it'd be my ship that would turn out damn near totaled after this mission.."

A young, five-foot, three-inch tall, human woman with wild blonde hair, red eyes and in height, about nineteen or twenty years in age, grinned optimistically, "Well, at least you got out of that nasty scrap relatively intact!" She gestured at the bandage that was wrapped around Maximus' head, "You're alive, so that's good. Can't say the same for the others, Maxy."

While glaring lightly at the girl for the pet name seemed to never have any effect on her, Maximus was did so anyway, lest she think it fine to keep using it.. even though it didn't stop her from using it either. It also didn't help that she pointed out his obvious injury, of which he received when he slammed his head against one of the many controls in his ship during the mission..

She did recommend that he wear a helmet before he got into any interstellar fights.

After grumbling about the 'troublesome woman,' he nodded, his expression becoming more solemn.

He and twelve others were hired to eliminate a relatively small band of pirates threatening Skur'kalos' 'legitimate' trade routes. It was an easy job, as this group of pirates had a notorious reputation for being overconfident even though they were small in number.

It turned out that they had recruited a few others in a short time frame, with one of the new recruits being the captain to a well armed and armored freighter.

The following battle between the mercenaries and pirates was long thanks to the freighter. They had successfully completed the mission, but the cost was the lives of six mercenaries while forcing three others to settle themselves in the medical facility controlled by their employer's organization, leaving four (including himself) healthy enough to move around. One of surviving mercenaries departed shortly after collecting his payment to see his wounded brother in the facility.

He had known two of the mercenaries that had died; they had worked together on more than one occasion. The rest of the wounded and dead were unfamiliar faces, but Maximus silently bid them farewell as a sign of respect.

"People die all the time, especially in this field of work. Mourn not those that have passed, but remember the battles fought alongside them." The second mercenary broke his usual silence. He was a six-foot tall Shistavanen with countless scars on his body and face. "It is best if you remember their lives with celebration."

Maximus crossed his arms, "If I were to decide upon the result of this mission, I'd call it nothing short of a disaster. We took too many unnecessary losses and weren't updated on anyone else joining the targets in their raids." He sighed, reaching up to rub his eyes, "Of course, it's not like we took any precautions either. . ."

The woman took a step closer to Maximus and patted him on the back, "You're putting way too much thought into the stuff that's already happened, Maxy. It's like you're stressed or something! And Lukvor's right, we shouldn't be moping around about the deaths of our comrades, we should go to a club or a bar or something to cheer ourselves up!"

Lukvor made a sound of approval as the small band of mercenaries began their journey to their usual meeting place, a modest and not-so-seedy bar located not too far from the private docking area, the Kath Hound's Den. "I wasn't moping over their deaths and injuries, I just think that it was a waste because of an unforeseen circumstance.. but perhaps you're right, Freya.." He glanced at the shorter woman as the three neared the bar, ".. for once."

Freya grinned, not at all affected by Maximus' attempt to jokingly poke fun at her, "Yeah~, everyone needs a break sometimes, even you." She snickered as she pointed her thumb at Lukvor, who was already at the counter ordering a few drinks, "Even Lukvor, a lone Shistavanen, knows how to relax every once in a while!"

Rolling his eyes, he and Freya found a table in the corner of the bar. Lukvor shortly joined them, handing each person their own beverage.

The twenty-seven year old mercenary, raised his cup slightly, "To those who had fallen and to those who had survived on this day." His two companions raised their own drinks and, with three different cheers, downed them.

The bar itself didn't really stand out when compared to the countless others on the planet. However, it did have a reputation of being somewhat orderly, which attracted numerous off-worlders who didn't want to risk getting pulled into an unwanted bar fight. At this time, there were quite a few people in the bar getting drinks, chatting with new people or old acquaintances, or simply basking in the comfort of a familiar place.

Another round of drinks were brought to the table, courtesy of the owner of the bar. Sometimes, it was good to be working directly under someone who controlled a fairly powerful organization in the area.

It had been a few years since Maximus had sat down to actually take a break from grueling work, so, he thought as he took a sip of the newly acquired beverage, he might as well make the most of it, especially ever since he was employed by Ali Skur'kalos about three months ago; she had been giving him more jobs as time progressed and he proved his worth.

Thanks to his initial experience with those that worked under her when he was younger, he thought that several missions he was sent on were meant to kill him. Perhaps that was his paranoia about her talking, but he could have sworn that she knew who he really was.. but, so long as he worked for her, he had a better chance of finding those two than if he were alone, taking up whatever contract that came along.

"Hey, hey, Maxy! You listening? Good! So, a Shistavanen, a Wookie, and a Rodian walk into a bar..."

'Ugh. . .'