Ask The Things You Do For Love

[Fen Maleco]

ABOVE DRONGAR
OUTER RIM
2250 LOCAL TIME

”Shift of 238 degrees toward trajectory.”

Flip.

”Obstacles avoided, starboard trajectory set. Hyperdrive sequence loading. T minus 30 seconds to blast off.”

He sat back for a moment, eyes set on the void ahead. Lacking a droid co-pilot to shout out jargon at him while he set the ship for departure, Fen had long ago gotten into the habit of doing it himself. Despite his companion beside him, he still stated everything he was doing, more so for himself than anyone else. Speaking out loud helped him not forget any step. Besides, it made him sound more professional, which his partner for this job may appreciate.

Truth be told, he’d been wanting to do this alone, as was the case with most any other contract. However, he needed someone to man the turrets while they made the treacherous journey through FWA territory as well as the small trip to Shaddaa. He wasn’t particularly worried about Hutt space; AMS had been ravaging it for long enough that most of the pirates were trying to keep themselves alive rather than raid random vessels like they usually did. It was the Sector Rangers that made him a bit anxious, but he was taking care of that problem with a glass of rum to take the edge off before departure.

The mission was simple. Pick up the package from a contact on Drongar (already done), then deliver to another contact on Nar Shaddaa. The package itself was small and fragile, a live creature apparently taken from Zakuul. It was a sort of Force-sensitive fox thing that used the Force for sustenance, so time would be of essence here. Taking it from worlds strong with the Force apparently shortened its lifespan, and bringing the package dead would only lead to a shitshow. The pay was lucrative, since this job was so unique which is why Fen had been chosen, he guessed. He’d made a pretty good name for himself with his speedy and precise deliveries. Helping out the Black Sun may have also earned him some good karma in the underworld.

A bing alerted him that everything was set and the coordinates were plugged in. They were ready to engage the hyperdrive.

”Hold on to your appendages,” he murmured while pressing a few buttons. Seconds later, the stars ahead began to blur.

@Nor'baal​

 

[Freya Zati]

With a soft hiss the container holding the tiny creatures opened, a collection of small tubes rising up in the cool mist. Each of the tubes held one of the fox creatures suspended in a bacta mix, enough to keep them sedated and calm for the short journey they were now undertaking. Standing above them Freya truly got a sense of how insignificant and frail the minuscule creatures were.

"Cute," he mumbled to herself, running through the manifesto on her databank and checking their vitals "...but not that cute!" she laughed, as she got down to the price of the critters.

Snapping the box closed as the tubes retreated into the coolant fed interior, Freya stowed it back in the smuggling compartment, ensuring the 'lid' of was flush with the floor to reduce the chances of detection and walked back up to the cockpit. As she got to the entrance of the cockpit, where Fen was running through some manoeuvres, she spotted her rifle, stowed on a weapons rack - useless as it was in such a setting as a space-bound freighter. A fine weapon, and once she was ruthlessly effective with, Freya had complimented it today with her usual blaster, which rested on her hip, and a rich collection of knives, one stowed in each gauntlet, a bandoleer of six for throwing across her chest, and a larger blade on her left hip.

She had a box of frak and smoke grenades stored by the rifle, and a punch of code cylinders, a computer spike and her datapad resting next to a grapple line on her utility belt.

Freya was under no illusion that she had not been bought along for her conversational skills.

Sitting down in the co-pilot's chair, she peered through the visor of her helmet, impressed at Fen's flying skills, and, heading his warning, strapped herself in, tapping on the navigational tools, and running through the scans of the nearby space "We're coming up on a patrol route used by the Rangers," she zoomed in "...but, a quick skip through Z-33 and we can touch down much faster on our rendevous."

 

[Fen Maleco]

Of course we are, he thought, mentally rolling his eyes. These Sector Rangers were a pain in the ass and had been for a long time. Despite their moralistic crusade to “protect free worlds” from criminals and baddies, most of their ranks were filled with ex-cons who had “suddenly” developed a moral backbone. Ironic, but expected.

”Redirecting,” he responded, tapping away again. The space ahead blurred past them, their ship tearing through hyperspace like an arrow. Fen idly considered the dangers of changing co-ordinates while already in hyperspace, but he was not too worried. They’d be redirecting through uncharted space, sure, but the likelihood of hitting a meteor were relatively low; there was a reason this space was uncharted. It was completely empty for lightyears ahead. The fun stuff only began once you crossed the expansive void and started reaching planets that defied human perception. He didn’t intend to go that far.

The ship shuddered a little as it redirected a few degrees, then remained still. The only thing they could do now was wait for their arrival to the outer edges of Hutt space and hope that they hadn’t been followed.

”Either way,” he remarked, turning to face his co-pilot. ”The Sector Rangers are no more than a glorified militia of moisture farmers and former criminals using outdated weapons. They’re probably more a danger to themselves than anyone else.”

@Nor'baal

 

[Freya Zati]

"They’re probably more a danger to themselves than anyone else.” the pilot remarked, as Freya nodded, keeping her thoughts to herself. She had been on the receiving end of the Rangers in the past, and there were certain units within their ranks that turned the blood of any seasoned hunter cold. She had met one unit once, back on Felucia, some sort of investigations group that had tracked her across three sectors.

Horrible do-gooders.

"Well," she tapped the screen, making sure she was reading it correctly "...that may be the least of our worries. Our contact has, well...." she turned the screen to show Fen. Daubed across it was a message from their contact.

++ Fen, we've got a situation. The Cymorrah are in town, and they've got their eyes on the cargo. They're sniffing around the port for you. Be careful. They're on my tail as well, will update. Stay safe. ++​

She put the screen down, and rose from her seat, heading for her weapons rack "Suppose I need to earn my cut after all." Freya laughed "When we get low enough, open the ramp and drop me off in sector three. Let's give these freaks a show."

With that, she slung her rifle over her back, picked up the grenades and utility belt, and headed for the ramp.