The planning discussion can be found here.

“So who is this guy?” Tacita asked, after her heart had settled down a bit.  Their escape from Tatooine had been narrow at best; Noah’s expert piloting and her slicing skills had made the difference between life and vaporization.  She could still feel adrenaline pumping through her system and making small talk was a good way to get her nerves back to normal.

Noah wiped the thin sheen of sweat that had formed on his brow and leaned back in the pilot’s seat.  “Asshur Hellesponte, an old friend.  I’ve done a few jobs for him in the past.  I just hope he’s keeping his usual rounds…”

Tacita lofted an eyebrow.  “What do you mean?  What planet are we going to?”

“Not a planet; a ship.  A Star Destroyer, in fact.”

“What?!”

Noah grinned at his companion.  “Don’t worry, this guy’s about as far from being an Imp as one can get.  But he never stays in the same place for very long.”  He gestured at the navcomputer.  “The coordinates I put in should take us to the sector he usually frequents this time of year.  In fact, I think we might come out of hyperspace right on his doorstep.”

Tac folded her arms and tilted her head.   “And if he’s not there?”  

“Well I could always turn the ship around…” Noah turned toward the navcomputer and waggled his fingers.

“Oh no, a Star Destroyer sounds just fine,” Tacita replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm.  “Can’t wait.”


A few days, arguments, and awkward moments later, the weary travelers entered the cockpit to the sound of an alarm which had begun sounding.  “We’re here,” Noah announced, seating himself at the controls.  “Let’s just hope he is.”  Tacita sat in a chair behind him and buckled in as he gently pulled back the hyperspace lever.  Outside, the swirling vortex shifted, becoming stars again.  

And against the starry backdrop was the oddest Star Destroyer Tacita had ever seen.  The formerly austere gray hull of the ship had been covered in what appeared to be random designs and graffiti, of every color in the rainbow, in every language she knew, and even some she didn’t.  “Wow,” she said, impressed.

Noah grinned with satisfaction.  “Right where I thought he would be.”

“Wow,” Tacita said again.

“It is rather unique, isn’t it?”

“Wow.”

“Okay, it’s not funny anymore.”

Tacita stuck her tongue out.

“How rude!” Noah answered with a look of mock horror before turning to his console to open a comm channel.  “Now let’s see if anybody’s home.”

Indeed they were home.  All 30,000 of them.  After docking in a massive hangar bay, the two were now making their way through the throngs of people and droids to meet the owner of the Sybarite, Tacita had heard it called.  The number of people, most of whom called this ship ‘home’, reminded the slicer of a medium sized city.  A city-ship, neat, she thought.

Noah glanced at her as they moved into a wide corridor, leaving the hangar behind, and saw her expression.  “Don’t say it.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Tac pouted.

As they passed cantinas, residential areas, entertainment venues, and even a shopping center, all painted with the same designs and graffiti that she’d seen on the outer hull, Tacita realized that it wasn’t quite like other cities, except perhaps Coronet, Corellia.  Here, there were strikingly few aliens aboard, and many of the humans sported markings on their skin, or facial piercings, or both.  Noah had explained that Hellesponte was something of a businessman, except that he employed his own, rather large extended family whom, she surmised, were those decorated individuals moving purposefully through the crowds.  But clearly the man allowed just about anyone to visit, tag along while they made ship repairs, or even just relax for a while.

Entering a lift, they rose quickly several levels, stopping on a considerably quieter level than the ones below, and significantly free of graffiti.  They had actually received an invitation to see Hellesponte, which Tacita gathered wasn’t something the man did very often.

“Here we are,” Noah said, just when Tacita didn’t think she could walk anymore.  They paused in front of a set of double doors, and he thumbed the door chime.  They immediately slid open with hardly a sound, revealing a large, richly designed room that appeared as though it had come straight out of an old tale she’d heard about castles and kings.  And indeed, at the far end of a long stretch of thick red carpet, was a man sitting on a throne.

“How… pretentious,” she muttered under her breath.

“I heard that,” came the gruff response, sounding as though he were standing right next to them.  

Tacita flinched.  “Nice acoustics.”

Noah scowled at her.  “Come on,” he said and started down the long carpet.

Re: Bravi'os: Requiem

“Greetings, my Lord.” Noah bowed in front of the man on the throne-like chair, but his tone showed clearly that it was meant more mockingly. Asshur grinned wide, playing along. “Sir Noah, what a pleasant surprise to see you in my fortress again.” He replied with the same taunting voice. “And who’s that <i>Princess</i>?” His eyes moved to Tacita, checking her from head to toe. She shifted a little from one foot to the other, her look defiant. “That’s Tacita Darklighter. A friend of mine.” Noah answered quickly before Tac could say something. “Friend, huh?” Asshur chuckled almost, but suddenly he looked serious. “But I’m sure, you aren’t here to introduce your <i>friend</i> to me. So what’s your desire?”

“Tacita and I need a place to hide and rest for a while. We ran into some nasty people on Yavin and Almania, a crash landing on Dathomir and had some Imperial entanglements on Tatooine… Some really busy weeks as you can tell.” Noah abridged their adventures. There would be enough time for long storytelling later. One of Asshur’s eye-brows, the very few facial hair the crime lord allowed, rose. “Wait, wait… Imperial entanglements? On Tatooine?” Now it was Tacita who answered passionately. “Yes! And we need to inform the New Republic about it. There is a blockade and the Imps control most of the system as it seems.” Asshur pursed his lips, one hand rubbing over his bald head. Then he nodded. “If an Imperial Warlord is ballsy enough for such a manoeuvre, he could be somebody who could unite the Imperial remnants. And that in turn would mean trouble for traders like me. The Empire isn’t as tolerant as the NR when it comes to free-market economy.”

Asshur pushed a button that was hidden in the rich scrimshaw of his throne. A member of his crew,  one of his family by the tattoos, appeared quickly. “Yes, Kiraly?” the man asked respectfully. “Uldor, escort the young lady to one of our guest quarters. She needs also a hyperspace transmission to Coruscant. Use a safe channel to Senator Rivil. He owes us a favour.” Uldor turned to Tacita, a slight motion of hand telling her to follow him. Noah started to walk as well, joining Tacita. “Hey, where are you going, Noah.” Asshur’s voice stopped him. “It is time for business talk now.”

Noah didn’t like the thought to let Tac go alone, but he had to play after Asshur’s rules. And after all Tacita was a big girl. She knew what to do. Noah was sure, she could handle it. “I will see you soon again.” He took leave of her, giving her an encouraging smile. She returned it. “Of course you will.”

Asshur waited until the doors shut again behind Tacita and her escort. The Kiraly got up from his throne, walking to a smaller exit, that led them to his more private rooms. He sat down in an chair, offering the other one to Noah. The skipper relaxed as the form-chair moulded itself around his body’s contour, making the sitting even more comfortable. “So, how is she?” Asshur asked, a curious look on his face. “How she is?” Noah rolled his eyes. “A pert spoiled brat. A pain in the ass. But a friend.” Asshur grinned. “I meant in your bunk.” Noah’s jaw dropped. “It’s not like you think. We are really just friends.” Asshur filled two glasses with expensive brandy, handing one to Noah. “Then it’s about time that the two of you do it finally. Your whole body language is screaming it. And hers too by the way.” In lack of an answer Noah quickly emptied his glass. Damn Asshur’s Zeltronian heritage. It was impossible to hide such things in front of him. As the liquor stopped burning in his throat, Noah sighed. “I thought you wanted to talk about business?”

Asshur refilled Noah’s glass, then leant back in his chair. “We started already. Small talk is an important part of business. You learn a lot about your counterpart. Think about it, Noah, my friend. This advice is for free.” Noah sipped more carefully from his drink now. “Well, there is not much I can offer but my ship and myself.” Asshur took a shallow of his own drink. “The <i>Sky</i> looks a little more patched than the last time you have been here. Is the ship working fine still?” Noah nodded. “I told you we had a crash. But I repaired her. She’s working fine. You know I’m a good mechanic. And you know that I’m better than most of your other pilots.” Noah tried to sound not too desperated, but he needed a safe harbour. A least as long as he could be sure that none of the people, they had angered in the past weeks, hadn’t put a price on their heads. Asshur looked thoughtful, as if he was considering the transaction. So Noah played his wild card. “And Tac is a really good slicer.” Asshur’s surprise wasn’t played. “A slicer? So she’s more than just savoury?” Noah smirked. “She’s really good. Sliced into Imperial data banks even.”

Asshur clapped his hands together. “I think, you and your friend should join me for dinner tonight.” It was the Kiraly’s way of saying <i>You are hired.</i> Noah felt relieved. “Thanks. You’ll not regret it.”

Re: Bravi'os: Requiem

<B>Continuing from here.</b>

"What happened–" Morgan started to ask as she dashed into the cockpit of Dyle's newly acquired ship, until Sully gave a wave of his hand.

"Something's gone wrong, go and strap yourself in," he ordered, totally unaware of what he had interrupted. "We've dropped out of hyperspace for no reason." He stormed out of the cockpit, leaving both females behind. Gray was already strapped in his seat, recharging himself.

The pirate had now become irate with the luck they were having. It would just top off the day if the weapon's locker had nothing to offer, but his luck had not run out yet. As he rummaged through the contents, he pulled out various styles of blasters and checked their power supplies. <I>At least the Falleen was stupid enough to not empty out his toys when he lost his ship, or was just too overconfident he would get it back. Whatever the case, it's now ours.</i>

He eyed Dyles and Morgan approaching him and nodded to the locker. "What'll it be?" he asked them when he was finished.

"Shouldn't we be looking for tools to fix the hyperdrive?" Dyles asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Tools won't be worth anything if we get boarded while making repairs," he countered. "I want to make sure we have something to defend ourselves in case someone runs into us." He pulled out four different models of blasters and handed two to her, while he hung on to the other two himself. He nudged a few scraps of metal and other crates aside with his foot and found a small tool kit.

He nodded to Morgan. "Grab the tool kit and head to the hyperdrive. See what's wrong."

"Affirmative!" The blonde woman answered in a mock tone, taking the kit from the locker and began to rush through a small corridor of the ship.

He turned to the half-Zeltron and smiled. "Oh, forgot to tell you, Morgan is a mechanic, and a damn good one," he explained. "Long story short, we met while she was looking for parts for her ship. If there is anyone who can fix this bucket of bolts you won, it's her."

"But for now," he continued, "keep those DH-seventeen blasters. It can blast through stormtrooper armor, but not a ship's hull, so this is a good choice for close fighting on a ship. And on the low-power stun, it can knock someone out cold. The downside with this weapon is that you burn up packs very quickly if you're not careful."

"You really think we're going to get boarded this far out in space, Pirate?" Dyles asked Sully innocently and watched his jaw clench. She bit back a laugh. When he didn't respond, she began to wonder if her teasing had gone too far. She was about to say something to make up for it, but then the storm cloud lifted from his face and he smiled back at her, although it was not the easy smile of a moment ago.

"Let's just say I've been in more than a couple of close shoot-outs, Pinky," he explained again, ingnoring the Zeltron's glare at his comment. "You can't be too prepared." He grabbed a holster from the locker and an armband with power packs.

The intercom came to life. "Sully?"

He thumbed the link. "What is it?!" he shouted, struggling with loading the power packs.

"Hyperdrive motivator is fried," Morgan chimed over the speaker. The tension in her voice was unmistakable. "This just didn't give out. It was sabotaged. Looks like the Falleen did this on purpose to make sure your Zelton friend didn't get far so he could catch up and get his property back."

"Shavit!" Sully hissed. "I <I>knew</I> something like this would happen." He powered up the blasters just as the ship suddenly jolted; he was thrown hard to the floor.

"What the kark?!" Dyles called out as a crate broke free of its moorings and slid dangerously close to her. She sidestepped the deadly object and it smashed into the far wall, goods spilling out everywhere.

She saw that Sully managed to struggle into the cockpit, and then she lost sight of him. Between the jolts, she strained to hear what Sully and his droid were saying up front.

Morgan appeared from the back of the ship. "Son of a Murglak!" she shouted. "Are we under attack?!"

Sully emerged from the cockpit and eyed both of them. "Get yourselves armed and ready," he ordered. "We've just been caught in a tractor beam."

"What–" was all Dyles managed to stutter.

Without looking at her, Sully said through gritted teeth, "We're being pulled in by an ImpStar…"

Re: Bravi'os: Requiem

The dining area was equally as opulent as any of Asshur’s other private rooms; he expected nothing less.  It was also one of the few areas of the ship where droids did most of the work.  Asshur trusted no one but droids to prepare his food, and they were swept for bugs and viruses each and every time they passed through any doorway.  If any of them were found to be tampered with, they were immediately disabled and given memory wipes.  Knowing this, the droids who worked in his kitchen tended to segregate themselves from the rest of the general population.  Since they were volunteers, Asshur didn’t think they had too terrible a deal.

The Kiraly watched as the droids rolled or walked in with various large covered dishes of food and placed them on the long table.  Tonight’s guests included Noah and his ‘friend’ Tacita sitting at one end, and – as always – Asshur’s mother, seated beside him.  Madchen had dressed well for the occasion; she always did.  The two newcomers, in contrast, still wore the clothing they’d arrived in, which seemed somewhat the worse for wear, although at attempt had clearly been made to clean themselves and their garments.  He grinned to himself at his own private joke of giving them a room with only one bed.  A small bed.

At a nod of his freshly shorn head, the droids lifted the covers from the dishes and retreated.  Tacita reached out immediately toward the nearest plate and began serving herself, alternating between putting large quantities of nerf meat on her plate and into her mouth.

Noah coughed, then when the brunette didn’t answer, cleared his throat loudly.

“What?” Tacita responded after a noisy swallow.

“Go ahead, Noah, that’s what it’s there for,” Asshur said, gesturing toward the other dishes.  Then, “I hear you two have had yourselves quite an adventure.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Noah replied, beginning to fill his plate from the wide selection of meat, bread, and vegetables.  “And it all started with her.”  He jabbed a vibroknife in Tacita’s direction.

“Me?!  You’re the one whose ship is falling apart!” the girl retorted.

Madchen, her pink Zeltron skin offsetting her blue gown, her brown hair upswept, took a sip of her wine and grinned at the couple.  She could feel the pheromones emanating from them even more so than her son, despite their seemingly constant bickering.  “I’m interested in hearing the tale, if you don’t mind…?”


“…and that’s how we ended up… here,” Tacita finished the story with a flourish of her hand.  The two had taken turns throughout the telling, often to contradict each other, and their adventure had been quite remarkable.  Asshur’s mother had appeared spellbound throughout.

“Impressive,” he commented after a long pause.  “I think I saw that on last week’s Young and the Planetless.”

“I can assure you that every word is true,” Noah countered.

Asshur drank the last of his wine.  “I don’t doubt you, old friend.  I just hope you didn’t bring any of that trouble with you.”

Before Noah could respond, a subtle chime sounded, and Asshur’s genial demeanor soured.  He hated being interrupted while eating.  “Enter,” he growled, his pale skin tone deepening into one that more closely resembled his mother’s.

A highly polished 3PO droid entered rather than the usual messenger.  “Kiraly, we have intercepted a freighter and tractored it into one of the hangars.”

“So?” Asshur scowled at the trivial news.

“The passengers seem to be… causing trouble.  I believe there was some weapons discharge.”

“So?”

At this, the droid faltered; whoever had sent it in here clearly hadn’t given it enough instructions.  It canted its head from side to side, and remained silent.

Asshur rolled his eyes.  “You see what I have to deal with?” he asked his two new employees, not really expecting a response.  Folding his napkin expertly, as his mother had taught him from a very young age, he laid it on the table and stood.  “Why don’t you two come along.  Once we get there, whoever the troublemakers are will have been subdued or killed, and you can inventory their cargo.  Your first job,” he finished with a wide grin.  Then he kissed his mother on the cheek.  “Goodnight, Mere,” he said warmly, then turned his attention toward more serious matters.

Re: Bravi'os: Requiem

“I hate you Sully!  I hate you with the indescribable fury of the Kessel Cluster.” The medium height blonde grabbed two fistfulls of Sully's shirt.

“You sonofa fra…” Morgan's angry eyes quickly turned to hurt when she pulled on his shirt and shifted her weight, a now failed attempt to drag the much bigger pirate closer. Sully was wide eyed, too shocked to know what to do. He didn't need to do anything: she aggravated her injuries. She quickly let go, and bit down on her trembling lip. Dyles, ready to intervene, stood down as quickly as Morgan's hands fell. Her wrist and ankle were feeling far from adequate now. She leaned against the corridor wall, eyes winced shut.

“Morgan…” Sully started.

“Why Sully? Why are we on a ship with a sabotaged hyperdrive?” Morgan asked, cradling her bad arm. It was obvious she wasn't coping with the day's events well.

“A ship I won fair and square. The previous owner couldn't deal with it.” Dyles said firmly, and held the title up between her thumb and forefinger. She put it away quickly, and the ship rocked as the maneuvering tractor beam grabbed them. Off balance, Morgan tumbled to the floor and made a noise like a kicked pup. She picked herself back up into a sitting position.

“I'm hungry and I need a shower and my ship is broken and my limbs are broken and I don't want to fix a broken hyperdrive. Everything is broken, Sully.” She stared into the ceiling, guessing that they were within the Star Destroyer's hangar bay. Dyles ran into the cockpit and expanded the landing gear, and ran back out. No one had hailed them.

“I hope none of you are wanted for anything.”

“I get the feeling it won't be a problem.” Dyles said. The brief look outside of the ship revealed a variety of craft that would never be present on an Imperial ship.

“I don't follow.” said Sully. It was an Impstar, so it was run by Imperials. If it had been stolen by the Rebellion, they wouldn't have just picked anyone up. Morgan looked equally confused.

“I don't know who this is run by, but they're not Imperial, or Rebel.” Dyles explained.

"The could be pirates" Sully pointed out.

“I hope they have food.” Morgan said. Dyles and Sully sighed.

“Morgan, how old are you?” Dyles asked.

“19 or 20, and it's shower and food o'clock.” she replied. Another pair of sighs. Morgan's blood sugar was so far in the barrel that she didn't care.

The ship settled down with a rough clunk. It was obvious the tractor beam operator was being paid just enough to keep  things from being damaged.

“I hate these people already.” Morgan said.

“You hate everything right now.” Sully said, and drew his blaster. Dyles did the same, while Grey held the menacing concussion rifle.

“Here.” Sully said, handing Morgan one of the DH-17s. She was mad, but wouldn't shoot them. He hoped.

“I miss my blaster.” She whined.

“If we get out of this, you can get one just like it later.” Dyles said.

Re: Bravi'os: Requiem

Novette Thoud allowed her transport to be guided into a berth by the tractor beam of the transformed Star Destroyer, a move that allowed her to take in the size of the thing.

She had been on or near Zonama Sekot for the entirety of the war against the Empire, and had only seen holos of the capital ships and heard of the battles fought against them. Up close, they were magificent. Well, apart from the squalor of the paint scheme anyway.

Outbound Returns was known for being couriers of information as well as goods. Thoud's adopted parents had flown many a transport full of dry goods or other non-perishables during the war, simply creating a new bill of lading to disguise the true nature of their business. And while Thoud was currently flying into the city-station with a full bay of Ottegan silks, she knew that her real mission was to meet with one Asshur Hellesponte at his request, on behalf of Outbound Returns.

Powering down the Ganjuko, the Chiss rose from the pilot's seat, her hand absently checking her left hip for the lightsaber that still felt odd against her, and secured the blaster on her right hip. This was another new affectation; she'd always worn her blaster on the left. But now she had it on the opposite side, grip turned outwards for a quick cross-draw.

A 3P0 droid met her at the bottom of the gangway, as prim and snooty as they all seemed to be.

"My master requests that you accompany me this way, my lady," he chirped. "He is most anxious to gather everyone together."

"Everyone?" asked Thoud, looking around her at the opluent, some might say arrogant, splendor. "Who's 'everyone?'"

The droid stopped in mid-step and swivelled its golden head in her direction. "You'll find that you live longer if you refrain from asking stupid questions," it said in the same officious tone. Thoud stared. The droid moved on. "Right this way, please!"

Re: Bravi'os: Requiem

Usually Dyles considered herself a peace-loving soul, who believed violence never solved any problems.  Usually Dyles discouraged any type of aggressive tactics to find harmony among people.

Morgan Evanar was making her rethink that policy.

<i>Does this girl ever stop complaining?  She sounds like a mynock,</i> she wondered with gritted teeth while taking position next to Sully, their guns aimed directly at their doors as they heard footsteps from the outside approaching their vessel.  Behind them Morgan was keeping up a steady stream of complaints about the situation they were all currently in, and Dyles longed to bash the blonde human over the head with her Bryer blaster pistol just to shut her up temporarily.

After they finally landed in the hanger of whatever Imperial contraption had gotten them via tractor beam, they had moved en mass towards the large duro-steel doors that usually opened to let passengers in or out, with Dyles pausing only to lock the doors and ramp in case the outsiders tried to force their way in subtly.  At least they would know if anyone tried to get inside.

Dyles felt her arm shaking slightly as she tried to hold her blaster steady, and inwardly cursed.  The lack of food plus the tension of the situation was going to mean unsteady shots, and now her natural optimism from her Zeltron heritage was failing.

“Hey,” Sully nudged her with his elbow while still keeping his eyes on the door.  “You holdin’ up, Slim?”

“Yeah.”  She gave a small shake of her head to clear her vision before adjusting the angle of her blaster.  “I’m good.”

“Good.”  In her peripheral vision she could see the smile playing on his features.  Despite their situation, he looked more relaxed than he had been on Vorzyd V, and that was saying something.  “Look, if we make it out of here, we’re continuing what happened before the kid showed up.”

“You want her to join us?” Dyles teased slightly, her shoulders loosening up a bit to comfortably hold her weapon and have a good shot.

 Sully snorted at that.  “Yeah, jailbait sounds so good right now.”

“You wish,” came the retort behind him, and Dyles could almost hear Sully’s eyeballs roll in response to that comment.

A loud thud sounded on the hard metal in front of them, immediately sobering the atmosphere.  Four separate blasters adjusted and aimed towards the door before a low groan of protest came from the durosteel before a crack appeared in the door.

But instead of a shot or detonator being thrown inside, a small tube appeared.

“What the fr-”

Sully’s words fell short when a hissing sound escaped the end of the hose and the air smelled the pungent odor of an unwashed Bantha.  Dyles wrinkled her nose, and then noticed that her eyes seemed to be getting heavy…

<i>frak</i> and then the world went dark as her blaster fell out of her limp fingers and she slumped against Sully’s also dwindling form next to her.

Re: Bravi'os: Requiem

Following Asshur’s <i>wish</i> Noah and Tacita walked through the hallways towards the hangar, following their new boss. “Asshur,” Noah spoke finally. “wouldn’t it be better if we take weapons with us?” The Kiraly looked over his shoulder. “That will not be necessary. The guards will take care of that. You have to check the ship only.” Noah fell silent again. The protocol droid, that brought the news, had spoken about a freighter. So it could be freelancers, smugglers and maybe worst case some pirates. Even when Noah thought that a bunch of privateers wouldn’t be a big problem for the Bravi’os security teams, a shootout in a hangar could become nasty when explosives like thermal detonators came into play. And pirates weren’t known for being prissy when cornered.

As they arrived at the hangar everything seemed to be under control. Some crewmen tried to open the entry hatch of the freighter. The ship was an unknown type, but obviously a light freighter like they were build on Corellia mostly. But this one had a kind of design, that had been old-fashioned already as the Clone Wars had been the news of the day. Nevertheless Noah’s expert eye noticed that the ship was in a very good state. The owner must have taken very good care of the vessel.

The crewmen opened the hatch finally. With a hissing sound some air exhausted from the ship, filling the hangar with a hint of stench. “Egads.” Tacita winced he face. “What’s their cargo? Dead Banthas?” Noah threw a frowning look to Asshur. “You sedated them with gas?” The Kiraly nodded. “Painless and quick. And the only damage they will have is that smell in their noses for some hours after waking up.” They witnessed how the guards carried a man and two women out of the ship. One of the women stirred a little as if fighting against the gas still, her pink skin telling that she was Zeltron too. Asshur seemed surprised by that. “A relative of yours?” Noah joked. Asshur smirked. “As much as the guy is your uncle.” He waved two guards closer. “Bring breathing masks for my friends here, so that they can enter that ship immediately.” The beeping of his comlink distracted Asshur from giving more orders.

“Yes?” he answered the call, his voice slightly annoyed by the interruption. “Kiraly,” a droid voice replied. “We caught another freighter. It is in hangar 4.” Asshur changed looks with Noah and Tac. “Did you bring an invasion fleet of freighters with you?” To the droid he said: “If the crew gets out by themselves, bring them to one of the <i>best rooms</i>. If they don’t want to come out… well, you know the procedure.”

In the meantime the guards handed their breathing masks to Noah and Tacita. The pilot and the slicer weren’t used to wear such equipment. It made it harder to breath as they walked up the ramp, entering the freighter. “It is all your fault.” Tacita’s voice sounded muffled through the mask. “My fault? Because of me talking to my friend, we are safe now.” Noah murmured. Tac rolled her eyes. “Your friend right. Did you ask him for that bed too?”  Noah sighed as good as he could with that breathing device. “After all the weeks you should know me better, Tac. And I’m sure we can make a sleeping arrangement. We shared beds before.” <i>And somewhere Asshur is laughing his ass off for this private joke he did to us.</i> Noah thought, but loud he added: “Let’s check that ship finally. We have to do our work.”

They entered the cargo hold. Whoever this people were, they were no good traders. Noah couldn’t remembered the last time he had seen such an empty compartment. Even when he had have bad luck in business, there had been some crates in the <i>Open Sky</i>'s cargo hold with stuff to barter at space ports. But on this ship there weren’t even boxes with spare parts. Tacita began to open some lockers. The only thing she found was a tool kit. She shrugged. “Looks like there is nothing of interest here.” Noah nodded. “Obviously. Let’s go to the cockpit to check their logs. Maybe we can find out at least where they came from.”

Noah hoped to find something. Just some little information they could deliver to Asshur. It would be their advantage if they wouldn’t return with empty hands. The Kiraly preferred useful employees.

Re: Bravi'os: Requiem

Traveling was always difficult for Kier. He had forsaken possessions and this lead to bartering for anything he needed. Though he did have a few useful skills, and generally everyone could find need for a doctor, in this instance he thought it would be better to blend a bit more then usual. With his pistol strapped to his left thigh he found he was more easily mistaken for a medic someone would find on a smuggler or pirate ship and in this case that garnered him more respect then a doctor could expect. It made him appear to be another working man and also dangerous enough to be left alone so long as he didn’t instigate.

Ultimately, however, Kier found himself in the ship’s medical area examining the last crew that picked him up as payment. He was then sent to run errands and perform menial tasks for the permanent medical staff in order to find himself with meals and a place to sleep until he could arrange for the rest of his trip. It was directly in the scope of these tasks to be an on call medic for individuals who couldn’t come to the bay. After running several more tedious tasks, a call came to examine a few resistant smugglers.

Though he was glad to not be treating any sort of serious wounds, it was generally quite a pain for Kier to treat inhalants. Bradycardia was nearly assured and that would take up some of his more expensive medical supplies. Not to mention some are more sensitive then others, and though it rarely complicated, when it did cardiac conditions were very difficult to work with. Ultimately he found himself taking his time with the three he found himself checking. He also knew it would be best to wait for instructions before waking his patients. After all, it was likely this was done to prevent or control something and being a guest on this ship it wouldn’t be a good idea to overstep his bounds.

As Kier finished his diagnosis he sat, waiting quite patiently and keeping a vigilant eye on the three as they lay so silently. He could see from their faces hey wouldn’t be so peaceful for very long and coming from where he did he respected that. If he was lucky he could glean a bit of information about the situation from the dealings when they woke up, though he felt maybe the guards wouldn’t be agreeable to that and he was concerned that if he did meet the owner of this ship they might not take kindly to him. People who controlled things of this scale often liked to know everything that happened onboard and have a little leverage over everyone.

Re: Bravi'os: Requiem

The frantic bleeping of the hyperspace console, brought Renn Haythorn back to groggy wakefulness. He took a moment to shake his head and ran a hand over his unshaven face and unkempt hair. Five straight days since he last set foot out of his ship. It had been a long haul. He occupied himself as best he could, exercise, tinkering with ship systems and playing Dejarik. However there were only some many times you could take apart and rebuild the food refrigeration units and losing at a board game to a computer got tiresome pretty quickly. Maybe if this job went well he'd have enough credits to hire on some crew. Someone to man the guns would be good, and although he found it hard to admit he was getting lonely and having someone to talk to would be nice. Snapping himself back to attention,  he scanned the flight controls in front of him. The Zamalek had just about reached her destination. She wouldn't be setting any records for speed but she had got Renn and his cargo here. Wherever here was.

This run had been organised by an old friend of his, Akki Brin a Duro fixer residing on Coruscant. Brin and Renns parents went way back and the old Alien threw work the young pilots way whenever he could. Although friendly enough, Akkis reputation left a little to be desired and Renn couldn’t help feeling a little nervous about this job. Here he was out in the middle of nowhere, parsecs off the beaten track with a hold full of unlabeled boxes. If an NR customs frigate where to show up things could get a little interesting to say the least. It seemed like more and more of the jobs he was taking these days were on the interesting side of legal. He allowed himself a smirk as he recalled the naive and idealistic young pilot he had been just a couple of years ago when he had bought the Zamalek and headed out with his first cargo. Now what was he becoming? A Smuggler, spacer of ill repute, a criminal?

Still, he chided himself. This was what he had been looking for when he bought the Zamalek and headed out. Adventure, excitement, freedom, challenges, Right? Right! So shut up and quit moaning!

The bleeping began again, it was time for reversion. Renn sat up in the pilots chair and clipped the safety harness into place. Then smoothly pulled back on the hyperspace lever. The starlines shrank and the old freighter bucked around momentarily as the incredible deceleration took effect on its hull. Then suddenly the starlines were gone replaced by empty space and thousands of distant stars that appeared as pinpricks of light.

The peace didn't last long. A glance at his sensors and Renn's blood ran cold. He wasn't alone. He brought the Zamalek around in a gentle banking turn to port, to get a better view of his company.
There it was, sitting motionless in ambush 5000 km's off the port bow. An Imperial Class Star Destroyer.

A harsh voice spoke out from the comm console, shattering the silence of the cockpit and causing the young pilot to jump a little in his seat.

"Unknown freighter, this is Sybarite control. You have 10 seconds to identify yourself or you will be fired upon." Renn quickly replied with the passcode Brin had given him. He was instructed to shut down his engines and the next thing he felt was the slight bump as the Zamalek was caught in the Impstars powerful tractor beam.

Renn had seen his fair share of Imperial Star Destroyers in his time in the service. However he had never seen one quite like this. The ImpStar had been repainted in an apparently haphazard way. What looked like graffiti of several kinds and in a multitude of colours now adorned the once grey hull. However far from making the warship look more friendly, to Renn it seemed only to add a sense of mystery to the hulking vessels already considerable natural menace. The hull showed signs of wear and tear and as Renn flew closer, his experienced eye noted that a lot of the weapons emplacements were lying empty. However there was still more than enough turbolasers left operational to blow his little ship into atoms if he tried anything. As the Zamalek neared the docking bay Renn released his seating harness and stood up. He flipped the switch to deploy the landing gear and then headed for the air lock.

He stopped in the cockpit doorway and unholstered his Blastech L-23 Blaster pistol. With quick competent moves he ejected and re-inserted a powerpack, checked the power level was good and applied the safety. Then he slipped the compact weapon back into its low sling holster on his right thigh. The simple ritual helped reassure him, but the knot in his stomach persisted. He grabbed up a jacket from the back of the co-pilot chair and slipped it on and then headed for the airlock. He got there just as the ship touched the hangar floor with a noticeable thud. If this had been an Imperial ship that tractor beam operator would have been up on charges for such sloppy work. However Renn wasn't anticipating a Stormtrooper escort when he disembarked. Whoever, these people were they definitely weren't Imperials. He had no idea what to expect.

Renn was grateful for the comforting weight of the blasters cold metal against his leg as he pressed the hatch release. As light began to creep through the gap between hatch and hull he could only think one thing.

"Akki, what have you gotten me into this time?"

Re: Bravi'os: Requiem

<I>At least they didn't kill us with nerve gas when they tossed that cannister…</i>

That was the first thing Sully Anre thought as painful consciousness returned. He blinked his eyes, listened to the hissing of life supporting oxygen streaming through the ducts of the medical ward. For some reason they were spared their lives before they had the chance to fully engage their enemies by getting gassed with a sleep agent. He wondered what ship he was on.

<I>The Star Destroyer! Was it Imps?! Stormtroopers would usually blast their way into a freighter than gas anyone.</i>

His eyes widened as he saw a medical droid pass by. His leg felt as if it were on fire, and he tasted liquid tin in his mouth. As he touched his forehead, blood was revealed on his fingertips. Sully had not managed to remember how he fell when the gas took effect. It all happened too quickly. Did he bang his head as he fell? The gauze felt sticky against his head.

He hoped Dyles and Morgan had fared better. Turning his head, Sully felt as if shards of ground glass were rubbing his spine. Next to him in another bed, the half-Zeltron lay motionless, her skin not showing any sign of wounds or cuts.

"Dyles?" he managed to croak. "You awake? Say something, will you?"

As he turned his head the other way, he saw Morgan laying in another bed, also motionless.

"Great," he mumbled. With the pain in his head, it had already been hard enough to concentrate on what to do next.

Heavy footsteps marched toward them from another corridor. Sully wanted to pull out his blaster or at least knock a few enemies down in a fistfight. But he could barely raise his eyes, expecting to see an orderly column of white-armored stormtroopers. That would be an appropriate end to a day like this.

Instead, the figures that entered the ward wore a hodge-podge of armor, some parts modified from stormtrooper plating, other pieces adapted from Rebellion-issued body armor. None of it made any sense to Sully, but his mind had already maxed out with things that should never have happened. A Star Destroyer appearing out of nowhere and snagging them right out of space? And not even Imps or Rebels? Their voices were muffled as they shouted orders to each other. Sully shook his head to clear his hearing.

One man, looking thin and wearing a medical tunic, appeared from the side of his vision. Sully felt anger stir inside him, but he dared not take any action. There was a guard who stood behind him that carried a modified double-blaster that was patently illegal on most planets. The thin figure turned eyes on Sully.

"Just relax, the drug will wear off soon," he said. Though his vision was slightly blurred from the effects of the sleep gas, Sully could tell the man was grinning widely. "I am Kier-Xan Finn, the ship's medic. You were gassed with a sleeping agent when your ship was boarded. The effects should be dissipating in another hour."

Questions had just begun forming in Sully's mouth when Dyles began to moan loudly, and a few seconds later, Morgan began to stir in her bed.

"Oh good, they are waking up finally," the bulletlike face of another medical droid spoke up. Segmented mechanical arms reached toward the two women and began to examine their condition.

Finally, Sully took a deep whiff of the air inside the medical ward. "Where the frell are we? And what ship is this?"

The medic answered by pointing to the hulking form of a guard that occupied a space in the room. Sully blinked again to be sure his vision was adjusting properly.

The head guard smiled fiendishly. "You are aboard the Kiraly's ship, the <I>Sybarite</I>. To prevent any loss of life, we decided to put you to sleep in order to ascertain if your ship was worth keeping or salvaging. The same with it's–" he glanced at the two females in bed– "crew."

He nodded to the guards across the room. "Take this one to a cell." He then jabbed a thumb to the two women. "Take the others to their assigned quarters. The Kiraly wants them completely recovered and changed into their appropriate garments before they are presented to him."

Sully growled and tried to get up. "You touch a finger on either of them and I'll–" An armored fist slammed down on his head, sending him back into unconsciousness…

Re: Bravi'os: Requiem

Renn walked slowly down the boarding ramp. At the bottom stood an ‘interesting’ group of individuals. They were humans, dressed in an assortment of typical spacer attire mixed with the remnants of Imperial uniforms and Stormtrooper armor. They all wore tattoos of various styles and patterns and they were all very heavily armed.

One of them stepped forward, the biggest, most heavily tattooed  of the group.

“Welcome to the Sybarite, friend. I’m Jonbis, the boss asked me to escort you to your quarters. We’re gonna need  to start unloading  your  cargo  right away.”

“What’s the rush?”

“None of your frakkin business, slag brains!” The reply came from another in the group. The shortest and definitely ugliest of the quartet. He had a tattooed face and part of his left ear looked like it had been bitten off. Renn could feel the menace radiating of the smaller man in waves but he managed to meet the barves cold stare and match it with one of his own. The man was about to speak again when Jonbis cut in.

“Hey, lay off the Rook will you Krev. We haven’t got time for this.” Jonbis turned back to Renn.

“My friend might be impolite but he is correct. You’ve done your part. What happens now doesn’t concern you.” Renn raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Whatever you say. All I want is somewhere to eat.” Renn tried to be as nonchalant about it as possible but he was desperately curious about the cargo he had been hauling. Still, these guys meant business and they were pretty scary so Renn decided the best idea was to do as he was told.

“You can get something at the cantina, two levels up.”

The cantina was a typical spacers eatery, the food was greasy and cheap but it filled you up and that was exactly what a weary pilot wanted after a long haul. Renn picked out a spicy Corellian dish and found a seat at the back of the room. Around him sat an assortment  of humans, with some aliens mixed in. A few of his fellow diners cast him brief sideways glances but for the most part everyone seemed  to mind their own business.

This ship might not be a military vessel anymore but there was discipline here of a sort. Renn shrugged and tucked into his steak. It was pretty good, not as good as his mothers but good. As he ate he became aware of a conversation between two humans sitting at a table behind him.

"Ghost ship!"

"That’s what they say." The other man confirmed in a hushed conspiratorial tone.

"What’s the boss want with a haunted ship? Everyone knows that ghosts don't exist, their like the Sith, their just a myth for scaring children."

"I dunno." The second guy wasn't convinced. "Lot of people say that the Emperor was one of them Siths."

"Load of hokey religious poodoo. Whatever is on the Heart of Shade its worth alot more than ghosts. The Boss wouldn’t be wasting his time over kids stories."

"What do you think is on the Shade?"

"I dunno friend." The first man said with a sigh. "But whatever it is Asshur has went to a lot of trouble to try and find it."

"Better shut up now, no ones supposed to know about this. If someone finds out we know the only ghosts we'll have to worry about will be ourselves." The two laughed nervously.

"Come on lets go. Jonbis wanted us down in the Hangar to help unload that Ghtroc that just came in." The two got up and hurried from the cantina.

Renn sat starring at his plate. It was empty but he could'nt remember eating anything. His mind was whirring round. The Heart of Shade, who hadn't heard of it? It was one of the great spacefaring mysteries of the galaxy. The Shade, a brand new luxury liner, set out on her maiden voyage and disappeared. That was back during the height of the Old Republic. No one had found the ship since. She had been the pride of Republic shipbuilding and among her passengers had been a host of the galaxies richest and most influential individuals. Over the years a whole load of claims had been made about the ship. That it was haunted, that it had been carrying treasure etc. Still the proof, the ship, had eluded all searchers. Until now…maybe.

The knot in Renns stomach tightened still further. He really did have a bad feeling about this. He finished his drink and glanced up to see Krev strutting across the room towards him. Walking behind Krev was a female alien. Her skin was a startling blue colour and her hair was long and dark. The little man stopped next to the table and glared down at Renn.

"The boss wants to see you, now." His tone made it clear that it wasn't a request. Renn slowly put his glass down and got to his feet.

"Ok". Krev grunted and spun on a booted heel. Renn fell in behind him. He found himself walking next to the mysterious alien woman. He glanced at her and she smiled back. Renn stuck out his hand.

"I'm Renn Haythorn. Nice to meet you." She shook the pre-offered hand. Her grip was cool and surprisingly strong.

"Thoud." She motioned to the droid next to her. "This is 2-1B" Renn turned and nodded to the modified medical droid. They followed Krev to a turbolift. The doors closed around them and they whizzed upward in cramped silence. After a few moments the lift stopped and the doors parted. Revealing another barren corridor. Waiting for them were two more blaster-toting crewman who fell in around them in an escort formation.

Renns mind continued to churn as the sound of booted feet pounded off the metal walls. The young pilot nervously clenched and unclenched his fists by his sides. He glanced at Thoud.

"Do you know what this is all about?" she asked. Renn shrugged non-comittally. He did'nt want to mention what he had heard about the shade, not yet. Not to someone he didn't know and with three of 'Asshurs' guys in earshot.

"I've got no idea. I was hired to fly a cargo out here from Commencor. I wasn't expecting such a serious reception. I don't even know what my cargo was!" The alien women nodded.

"The same."

"I believe an explanation for our presence here may be forthcoming." The droid chimed in, motioning ahead of them with a modified surgical appendage. Up ahead they were approaching a set of solid blast doors, guarded by yet more heavily armed crewman. Krev stopped at the doors and turned to Renn and Thoud.

"Your weapons; hand them over." Renn hesitated for a moment then slowly took his blaster from its holster. One of the crewman snatched it from his hand. Once Krev was satisfied he turned back to the doors. They slid open unbidden, as if possessed by some magical force. Ghosts perhaps, Renn thought with a humour he truly didn’t feel. Krev stepped through and Renn followed him, Thoud just behind.

Re: Bravi'os: Requiem

“Ohhhh. Ohhh frell.” Morgan said, her head pounding. She had woken a moment after Sully. Despite her much lower body mass, Morgan ran at least three kilometers a day when her legs were working. Combined with her youth, she had a very ramped up metabolism. Her eyes opened to a blur of white with brighter spots of white. Her head didn't move very well. There were sounds, but they were distant and formless blips of noise. She tried to rub her eyes, but her arm was sluggish and clumsy. Morgan turned her head, but it went too fast. Her inner ear told her things were one way, and her eyes absolutely disagreed. The bile rose from her stomach. Morgan's widened and she flopped over prone, her head just off the examining table right before her stomach emptied out what little was there. She did not feel the pair of hands that helped flip her over.

“Ohh gods.” Morgan murmured and coughed several times.

 A five percent-er. Unfortunate. Kier-Xan thought. Only his extensive Jedi discipline kept him from saying it aloud. Some woke too fast, and/or had minor allergic reactions to the gas. Judging from the lithe blond's body, Kier-Xan correctly calculated that she woke too fast with a minor allergy to part of the gas cocktail she had inhaled. Nausea and minor headaches were usually associated with coming around too quickly. You could move your eyeballs, or your head, but they'd never get the same result at the same time. He pulled Morgan back onto her side so he could clean the mess on the table. The girl was smart enough to keep her eyes closed.

“Listen. If you can hear me, blink twice.” Kier-Xan instructed calmly. Morgan blinked slowly once, slowly twice, and then winced her eyes shut.

“I need to help someone else. I will be back with you in a moment.” Morgan found his voice comforting, and nodded.

Dyles, meanwhile, was waking with all the grace that Morgan had not. She felt sluggish, certainly. She felt wobbly was well, but did not have any urge to vomit. Her vision was fuzzy, but she looked around the room carefully. Dyles saw a pair of droids, a groaning Morgan, two empty tables behind her, one person behind those tables, an empty examining table next to her, and two more people behind that table. Where was Sully? He should have been awake first. After all, he was bigger.
And in pretty good shape, she mused.

“Sully…” Dyles managed to mutter. Her part Zeltron physiology was holding up better to the after affects of the gas. A blurry face loomed above her.

“Where's… …Sully?” It sounded like a mix of drunk and sleep, ending up more as “Whrerrrrsss ssssuullly?” than any proper speech. Fortunately for Dyles, Kier-Xan had dealt with several drunk, sleepy people in his various tenures as a traveler of the Galaxy. He picked up her wrist, holding two fingers underneath, right before her palm, and counted the beats while he watched his chrono tick to twelve.

“Your friend was moved. They won't do anything to him for a while. If it means anything, he was very upset about being separated.” Kier-Xan annunciated very clearly. Dyles could understand him, even through the haze. She started to sit up. A firm hand held her down.

“You are still under heavy influence of the gas. You will only injure yourself. Please.” The Jedi's voice was calm and sincere. In this state, Dyles knew she wouldn't accomplish anything. She sighed inwardly, and reserved herself to wait.

“Kkkkk.. cold.” Morgan had curled up into a ball on the other table. Her teeth chattered. Kier dashed over, placing his hands over her forehead quickly. Her body thought it was cold, and was warming up from her normal temperature to compensate.

“1cc of Gylocal.” Kier ordered the monitoring droid. The refined combination of toxins made a very effective stimulant to over-ride some nervous suppressants. He put his hands on Morgan's shoulder and forehead, leaving her neck steady and exposed. The needle plunged into Morgan's aorta. The shakes softened within a minute. She uncurled slowly as her body no longer felt cold.

Kier-Xan leaned against a closed cabinet and sipped at a mug of hot coco. It wasn't every time, but it was often enough somebody experienced the ill-effects of some drug. He picked up a data pad with the patients that had visited in the past three days, making sure his records were accurate, and that he had not overlooked anything. It passed the time constructively. Every minute he would glance over at Dyles and Morgan, who were now both progressing in a stable fashion. He could feel that Morgan was much more at ease, and Dyles, although apprehensive, was physically relaxed. The Jedi had stereotypical patience, sometimes much to the annoyance of his patients. It took nearly 45 minutes to properly review his logs and drain his coco.

Morgan surprised him by sitting up first. She nearly fell over, but grabbed the edge of the table and swung her legs over before he could stop her.

“You should lie back down.” Kier-Xan said. Morgan looked at him, as if considering it for a moment, and scrunched up her face instead. Dyles was sat up smoothly. She was, after all, bigger by nearly a head.

“Mouth wash?” She asked, realizing how awful the aftertaste of bile was. The Jedi gave into a sigh, finding a small bucket and the mouth wash. Morgan clumsily opened the bottle, took a swig, and began to swish. Dyles, meanwhile, stood, testing how steady her feet were. It did not escape the doctor's notice, nor the notice of the men. One cleared his throat. Morgan into the small bucket spat, looking much relieved.

“We're on a bit of a schedule here.” The lone one said.

“A schedule.” The Gran repeated.

“You know Hellesponte doesn't like to be kept waiting.”

“No waiting.” The Gran agreed.

“You'll have to carry her.” Kier-Xan said to the most vocal of the group as he glanced at Morgan.

“Where is Sully?” Dyles asked, cooly.

“He's being evaluated. It's in your best interest to not worry about that right now.” Finn explained.

The Gran walked over and flipped Morgan over his shoulder.

“Hey…” She said, and oofed when her head bounced off his back. Dyles was grabbed carefully around her arms.

Great. One slice of captivity to another.  At least Morgan is quiet.

“C'mon. You'll be gettin' a shower and clean clothes. It's not all bad. Just make yourself presentable.”

“Oooh. Shower.” Morgan mumbled. Dyles ignored her.

“Pardon?” Dyles asked.

“You'll see.” It sure looked like a Star Destroyer, but none of the people looked Imperial or Rebel.   They walked down two long corridors before stopping in front of a nondescript door marked 215. The Gran entered first, setting Morgan down just inside.

“You should give your friend a hand.”

“She's not my…” Dyles managed before she was pushed inside and the door snapped shut behind them.

Re: Bravi'os: Requiem

“Friend,” Dyles finished as the door slammed behind her and Morgan, and she rolled her eyes before fixing her gaze on the younger (and shorter) blonde in front of her.  “Well, strip.”

“What?!” Morgan clutched the shirt she had started to pull over her head despite her injured arm.  “No!”

“Either you do it or I’m going to,” Dyles informed her dryly while sliding out of her own clothing, ignoring the bright red coloring creeping into Morgan’s face.  “It’s not like you have anything I’ve never seen, Kid.  We’re both girls here.”

Morgan’s chin jutted out in stubbornness.  “I’m not changing in front of you.”

“For frell’s sake, I’m not going to rape you!”  Dyles rolled her eyes again.  “I don’t need to force anyone,” she added while letting her pheromones brush over Morgan’s skin.  It was true; she didn’t want the annoying young girl but she wanted her to relax at least so they could clean up and get themselves out of whatever situation they were in now.

For a moment Morgan started to open her mouth to complain, but then her eyes glazed over a little and she slowly nodded, and Dyles hid a smirk at the knowledge of what her pheromones were doing to the girl.  “Okay,” Morgan replied finally.

“Good girl.”  She finished stripping then assisted Morgan in the few areas that the young human couldn’t manage with her mended limb before helping her into the shower.  Morgan seemed to relax a lot more when the medication started kicking in for her arm, especially when Dyles gently massaged the shampoo into her scalp and washed away the grime of their travels.

In the back of her mind, Dyles kept wondering where exactly Sully was at the moment.  Was he in a similar situation, being cleaned up for whoever owned this ship, or worse?

<i>Don’t think about him, Harrper.  Take care of yourself first.</i>

“Oww!” Morgan whined when Dyles’ hands unconsciously clenched on her hair.

“Oops.”  Dyles gave her a sheepish smile before letting her go.  “Sorry.”

Huffing, Morgan scrambled past her and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around her body before walking to one of the closets.  “I hope they have clothes around- Gods!”  Dyles spun around, ignoring her hair falling into her eyes when she saw Morgan’s wide-eyed expression at the articles of clothing hanging in the abode.

Well, technically they covered vital parts, but otherwise…

“There is no way in hell I’m going to wear this.”  Morgan’s movements quickened as she searched for something remotely modest, and Dyles toweled herself off before patting over to her side and scanning the items.

Her face curved into a pleasant expression when she found a nerf leather corset that looked like it would fit her like a second skin, which she pulled out and held against herself while ignoring Morgan’s scoffing.  Thigh high boots near the bottom and a short skirt increased her good mood to the point that she even helped Morgan find pants and a shirt, although the shirt still bared the girl’s midriff in a pleasing way.

A knock on the door interrupted her prettying Morgan, but she only glanced over her shoulder when a man stuck his head in.  “You two dressed?”

“Come in and see,” she challenged with a soft purr, but he only rolled his eyes.

“Hurry up.  Asshur wants to see you.”

“Who?”  He only smirked and closed the door.

Morgan looked up at her.  “Got any idea who this ‘Asshur’ character is?”

“Not a clue.”  Dyles smoothed her hands down her body before straightening her shoulders.  <i>But maybe we’ll be able to find Sully.</i>

Re: Bravi'os: Requiem

Sully groaned and blinked his eyes, but the cell was so dim he had to stare for a few minutes before anything came into focus. His entire body felt as if it had been beaten instead of sedated from the gas that was tossed into his ship. Must be the after-effects of it.

The pirate mentally assessed how he felt. He sat up, flexed his arms, then got to his feet. Two, no <I>three</i> of his ribs, as well as his right leg, tingled like bites from maddening wingstingers. <I>Must be bruised</i> he thought, as he tried to remember if he even engaged in a fight at all. Or was it from the fall he took? He wished he could recall. Sully remained weak, but the nutrient solution the medic had given him brought him back up to nominal levels. He noticed his blaster was also missing.

Finally, Sully took a deep whiff of the air inside the chamber. "What died in here?" He turned and adjusted his vision to notice a Rodian sleeping on another bunk. <I>Nevermind… just a Rodian. They all smell…</i> he frowned.

"How long have I been here?" he wondered aloud as he sat again at his bunk. He hoped the Rodian would hear him and reply, but it seemed the alien was in a deep sleep. Either that, or just ignoring him. Tiny dripping sounds were the only noises Sully could hear.

Sully ran it  over again in his mind. The hyperdrive failed, making them stranded in the deep of space with only a limited amount of fuel to run the ship's sublight engines. While Morgan was trying to repair the drive, that was when that Star Destroyer showed up at their doorstep. Obviously, he thought they were Imps so he armed everyone for a big light fight as they were being tractored aboard. The last thing he remembered was a gas cannister being tossed inside the ship and being waken up by a doctor, afterward.

<I>Right… he said we were aboard a Kiraly's ship, the Sybarite. What's a Kiraly?</I> he suddenly thought.

Sully heard the click and hum of the deactivation field around the cell doors, and then a grating whirr as hydraulic lifts hauled the huge door upward. As the door raised, garish white light flooded into the room. The pirate clapped a hand over his eyes.

<I>Maybe I can rush the guards now…</i> was his first thought. If there weren't too many guards, he could rush them, slug his way out, and escape. But then he felt a twinge of pain from his recently bruised ribs, and dizziness washed over him. He leaned weakly against one of the cell walls and groaned.

The figure standing in the door was obviously human. As Sully's eyes adjusted to the light, he could see four other guards behind him, wearing black outfits and patches of body armor, but showing no rank or insignia.

"Sorry for the treatment, but we can't be too trusting of anyone." The figure spoke matter-of-factly.

Sully smirked and looked behind him at the other bunk, the smelly Rodian. "Yeah, you guys really know how to make a guy feel welcome."

The figure smiled for just an instant; then his face took on a flat composure again. "I hope our medic helped you recover from your little incident. It's important that you are healthy enough to meet our Kiraly for dinner. We want to learn exactly what your skills are to see if you are worthy to join our little expedition."

"Expedition? What are you talking about? I need parts for my ship so we can be on our way."

The gangly man allowed another flash of a smile. "Well, your ship no longer belongs to you. It now belongs to the Kiraly. Along with the rest of your crew."

Sully raised his eyebrows. "What?! What do you mean?" He narrowed his eyes. "Where's my crew? What have you done with Morgan and Dyles?"

He snickered at that, then stopped. The other guards behind him also chuckled. "Do not worry about your crew. They are treated quite pleasantly at the moment. You will see them now."

The guards moved forward to grab Sully by each arm, then escorted him outside.

The turbolift took them out of the main cell-block area along a tube to the outer corners of the mighty Star Destroyer. They rocketed skyward along the angled tracks toward the command bridge of the warship. In the racing lift, the thin figure watched the pirate with flickers of amusement, keeping his modified blaster trained on him. The two guards, armed with more conventional weapons, also stood tense and ready.

Sully had been strapped into stuncuffs, a restraining fixture across the wrists that sent paralyzing jolts of energy directly into the nervous system, proportional in strength to the amount of struggle a prisoner exerted. The pirate controlled himself well enough and received only an unpleasant tingle along his forearms.

When the lift doors opened, the guards prodded him forward. Sully complied and walked easily ahead, trying to put a self-confident spring in his step. He'd had his troubles with Imperials, Hutts, and Black Sun– but as far as he knew, he didn't recall even dealing with a Kiraly before. That being the case, there would be no grudge between them. So he hoped.

They went past a broad anteroom to a huge throne room faced by giant tapestries that decorated the walls of the ship. In the distance Sully could see Dyles and Morgan, surrounded by several other figures: a scruffy blond man, a short and petite brunette, and others that appeared to be smugglers. At the far end was a bald human sitting elevated in a chair. Sully assumed this was the Kiraly.

"Nice of you to join us," Asshur spoke up. Dyles and Morgan turned to see who he was addressing and saw their companion. The half-Zeltron attempted to move forward to meet the pirate, but was immediately stopped by a guard who pointed his blaster her way.

"Nice place you have here… Kiraly?" he addressed.

Asshur chuckled, rubbing his hands together and smiling. "Now that everyone is present, we can finally be escorted to dinner. I'll then explain why you all are here."

Re: Bravi'os: Requiem

Smirking, the Kiraly of the Bravi'os Syndicate turned and watched the faces of his guests as they took in the view, then made their way to their seats at the long, food laden dining table, where his mother already stood, waiting.  As they surveyed their surroundings, their expressions varied from disdain, to apathy, to curiosity, and avarice; a nice cross section of people.  The half Zeltron and the younger human woman had turned out particularly nicely, and he continued to watch, amused, as they looked about at the other guests, of whom none were similarly ‘specially’ dressed for the occasion.  In turn, the others wondered why the two females were dressed so fancy compared to them, most of whom wore spacer clothing in various stages of wear and disrepair.  Always keep them guessing, thought the Kiraly, as two of his more distant cousins, Jonbis and Krev, took up positions on either side of the door.

Other than the Force using medic called Finn and the young Chiss padawan, Asshur had chosen this group of spacers totally at random.  He couldn’t wait to see how they would interact.

As his guests began awkwardly serving themselves from the wide variety of foods available, the Kiraly tapped his transglass lightly with a fork and cleared his throat.  “I think I've kept all of you guessing long enough,” he said.  Then he proceeded to take a bite of meat from his plate and chew it long and thoughtfully. Several pairs of eyes rolled upward. Man, I love this job…

“Have any of you ever heard of the Heart of Shade?” Asshur continued finally.  Glancing down the table at everyone's reactions, he could tell that some had; others hadn't.  He nodded and waved his hand in a deliberate manner, and a holofield suddenly appeared above the table, the result of hawbat-eyed workers behind the scenes watching his every move, but which had the outward appearance of Force ability.  Love to keep them guessing.  But to their credit, many of the guests now began to look for hidden devices and controls on or around the table.

The field resolved and focused into a three dimensional rendering of a large ship, which rotated on every axis to give everyone a detailed view of all sides.  As Asshur spoke, the ship's outer hull vanished to reveal intricate floor plans of every level.

“This is the Heart of Shade.  Luxury liner, top of the line back during the height of the Old Republic – some would say it could hold its own even among today's finest vessels.  That is, if anyone could find it.”

Several heads bobbed in understanding and they began to discuss and clarify amongst themselves in muted tones what they did or did not know about the ill fated ship.  He let the hologram rotate several more times to give everyone a good view, taking a few more bites of food and appreciating his own view of the females at the table.  

“On her maiden voyage, the Heart of Shade disappeared without a trace,” Asshur went on, breaking up the small pockets of conversation that had bubbled up.  “Senators, dignitaries, and generally a lot of very rich people, along with much of their valued possessions and planetary treasures, vanished with it.”  He paused, then gave a slow feral grin.  “I guess you can see where this is going.”

The Kiraly was pleased to see that nearly everyone at the table had made the leap and come to the appropriate conclusion.  The half Zeltron blonde – Dyles was her name – spoke up.  “Are you saying you found it?” she asked skeptically.

The grin never faltered.  “Maybe.  Interested?”

“No!” interrupted the younger blonde woman, Morgan, who shot to her feet, then swayed unsteadily and brought a hand to her head.  “Not in the slightest.  Can I go now?”

“I'm not really a treasure hunter,” commented Noah's friend, Tacita, shaking her head.

Asshur allowed his pheromones to waft about, lightly permeating the air.  But nothing too seductive; he wanted to persuade them, not bed them.  Well, not all of them.

Almost immediately, he felt a flush of heat in his chest.  “Two can play that game,” purred the pink skinned Zeltron.  His mother stifled a chuckle.

“All right, fine,” the Kiraly relented with a wave of his hand, then continued.  “A couple of you are Force users.”

He glanced at Finn, and the blue skinned Chiss, Novette Thoud, in turn.  “It is believed by some that the reason no one has been able to find the ship in all these years, is because of some sort of cloaking effect, possibly from an ancient Jedi artifact.  No problem for Jedi such as yourselves to find, now that I've narrowed down the approximate location.”  He grinned; Finn seemed surprised that he'd been found out, while the Chiss nodded thoughtfully.

“What's in it for us, exactly?” asked a long haired man from the far end of the table; Renn Haythorn was his name.  Noah and the other male newcomer, Sully, nodded in agreement.

Asshur pointed to the hologram and it began its rotation routine again from the beginning.  “The Heart of Shade has been declared as open for salvage claims – they don't really think anyone will find it.”  He watched along with the others as the visual ran all the way to the end, then abruptly vanished from the air.

“There are about seven levels for every one of you sitting here.  Each level has from fifty to a hundred cabins.  You can keep what you find.  I just want the ship."

Re: Bravi'os: Requiem

Kier found the offer of payment more then a little interesting. The man knew that he wouldn't take any payment. Perhaps he believed the speculation of a Jedi artifact would be incentive enough. The truth was that he expected that someone would get hurt. A very expensive ship disappeared on it's maiden voyage after having just been inspected by, what was no doubt, several companies very thoroughly. Something was amiss and it wasn't just any sort of reasoning alone that lead him to that conclusion, Kier could feel it.

Among his feelings were also intermingled the immediate reactions of everyone else present. One was already deciding how to spend his money while another had resigned herself to what was apparently her fate. Despite all the different conclusions one was the same, no one was going to resist and because of that Kier couldn't either. He didn't have the means to leave at the moment and if he refused staying would certainly not be acceptable.

Cargo as payment, Kier would have to find out how to bargain with one of the crew members later. He would also have to decide how to treat a potential artifact and how the other Jedi would too. 'Force user' sounded ominous. Was she not a Jedi herself? If she was not inside the Order then things could become difficult. He could only hope that his position as a doctor could secure him enough good will to avoid the conflict he expected to play out. This was not going to be a safe trip.

The Kiraly's display of 'the force' had only spurred more questions as to how he was detected as a Jedi, he knew it wasn't through any sense of his new 'employer,' who seemed to be enthralled with theatrics but not the Force itself. His surprise was due to entirely different reasons then the display, though he masked it well and allowed display at an appropriate time. A Jedi artifact must be the ultimate goal. Why would someone want just a ship as old as the <i>Heart of Shade</i> is said to be? There was simply a lot going on and ultimately Kier had to find out what it was. He knew that the man organizing all this could not be a Jedi and so couldn't have any interest in the artifact beyond curiosity, perhaps.

In the end, Kier found it best to be quite and as unobtrusive as possible for the moment. His eyes scanned the audience and he found that Morgan or Renn would be most sympathetic to his cause. Renn he could simply buy and Morgan would be interested in anything that could make her life easier, it seemed. "Will you be able to provide us with a list of cargo and casualties expected to be on the vessel?" As a student of direct simplicity there was nothing else to be asked, that showed Kier's willingness and also would provide as much information as they'd likely get.

Once the information was provided, though the accuracy was as entirely debatable as were the motives of the provider, Kier left the meeting room discretely with only a small bow to those gathered. He knew there would be more conversation but he had no need to follow any of it. He went directly to the infirmary and gathered his meager belongings, most of which were medical supplies. Directly from the infirmary Kier went to the launch bays. With a station set up for inoculations he prepared for the rest to arrive. It was best to take all precautions as they would be entering a ship that had been likely full of decomposing bodies and food for decades. <i>This is going to be… unfortunate.</i>

Re: Bravi'os: Requiem

Thoud listened quietly as Asshur spoke of the ghost ship and what might or might not be on it. From the look of many of those assembled, they were treasure seekers, some, no doubt, less-than-reputable. She took no pride in his comment of "No problem for Jedi such as yourselves," since it was obvious he was attempting to ply them along into agreeing.

The entire thing felt wrong. Hellsponte was attempting to play upon a sense of loyalty that she did not feel. All around her were men and women who were willing to take risks in return for a share of the cargo. Hers was a different path. She owed no allegiance to this man, nor to the crew he was attemping to pull together.

She watched as Kier-Xan Finn disengaged himself and walked away. Following him to the launch bays, she walked up to the man and said, "I choose to have no part in these proceedings. It is obvious to me based on what Hellsponte said that he believes you to be a Jedi, and I can sense the same. Since this is the case, I will leave you to discover the truth about this ghost ship on your own, and depart."

Finn stared at her. "Why? Why not just come along?" He didn't confirm or deny her naming him as a Jedi.

"Because I do not wish to be indebted to this man. I do not trust his motives, nor his choice of companions. Present company excluded, of course."

Finn grunted. "Of course. I should have moved quicker."

Thoud raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Finn shrugged. "I could've gotten out of here myself and left you to deal with this mess."

Thoud gave him a sympathetic grin. "Sorry. I call dibs."

Finn nodded, but didn't return the smile. "Get out quick, before I change my mind."

"Best of luck. May the Force–" Finn cut her off.

"I know."

Re: Bravi'os: Requiem

Sully pulled up a chair, flipped it around, and straddled it with his arms across its back. Dyles and Morgan seated themselves by the table and waited for the Kiraly to start his announcement. The pirate took what seemed to be a piece of braised meat and began to eat. He found, however, that he had a hard time diverting his gaze from the other "volunteers" who were congregated around the table. He already noticed one– the medic– leave the table during Asshur's presentation in pursuit of a blue-skinned Chiss woman.

"Guess they weren't interested in the job," Sully told Dyles, and she shook her head as he smacked his food. It dawned on her that she had been far less subtle in her observations of him than the reverse.

“There are about seven levels for every one of you sitting here. Each level has from fifty to a hundred cabins. You can keep what you find. I just want the ship." Asshur finally concluded. Before he started again, Sully interrupted him by a raise of his hand. The Kiraly eyed him with a hint of annoyance, but allowed him to speak with a slight nod.

"I'm sorry for the interruption," he apologized sincerely– or close to it. "It's just that I have never heard of this ship among my peers and I have been around the galaxy from one place to another. You sure this <I>Heart of Shade</i> isn't some Imperial trap to catch us shady types?"

Asshur regarded him shrewdly for a long moment. He could see the pirate shift uncomfortably on his chair, and Dyles wondered if he had somehow offended their host by his statement. But the Kiraly broke the tension by dropping his head back and laughing with a deep, throaty bellow. When he straightened his head, he nodded in acknowledgment to Sully.

"You have quite a vivid imagination, pirate." And then he turned to his mother and said, "<I>Much</i> better company than last time."

Turning back to the table, he spoke up. "Now that you've brightened up an otherwise boring dinner party, the ship <I>is</I> the real thing. But if you still think differently, I will send your team inside <I>first</I>. How does that sound?" There was no kindness to the question.

"Fine by me," Sully told him straight out. He wasn't going to back down in front of this Kiraly, especially in front of his two women. "When do we venture out?"

Asshur leaned back and stroked his chin piercing for a moment. "As soon as you've satisfied yourselves with your meal, you are free to go to your ships. You can decide among yourselves how to arrive to the <I>Heart of Shade</I>. By individual ships, or everyone in one ship. I don't care." He waved his hand in utter dismissal of the subject.

Morgan cast a sidelong glance at Sully and replied. "I doubt everyone can fit in our ship. Plus, it needs repairs." Changing her tack, Morgan asked Sully, "Maybe one of the others can take us instead? I can offer my help with mechanics in return."

Sully grinned back and nodded his head. "We'll just have to figure that out when we step into the hangar and see which ship is bigger." And he smirked at Dyles.

"Any other questions?" Asshur demanded. He gulped down his drink and eyed everyone at the table: the pirate, his two female crewmates, Renn, Noah, and his brunette sidekick. Finn and the female Chiss had already left.

Sully decided to speak for the table. "No," he replied calmly. "As soon as we're done here, we're heading off to get supplies and meet at the hangar bay to decide. Surely, you have plenty of supplies and weapons that we can use? I don't plan on boarding her empty-handed."

"Of course, my family will see to your needs," he nodded and winked at Dyles. He returned his attention to Sully. "By the way, Noah will keep an eye on you. Although you may be good at what you do. I don't trust you."

"Fine. I could use the help anyway." Sully rose to his feet and offered his hand to Dyles. She looked at Sully. The pirate had a smug expression on his scruffy face.

"I guess we're finished here?" Morgan chimed in, licking the last of her meal off her fingertips.

"It was nice meeting you, Asshur." Dyles spoke up. She was suddenly tugged away to the exit.

Re: Bravi'os: Requiem

“So long!” Morgan said, before she was yanked away herself. Morgan's manners were superficial. She could fake a good bit of it, but when it came down to being truly prim and proper, she fell apart. Sometimes she disintegrated tragically, with sometimes equally tragic results.

“Yeah. Help.” Morgan thought, the words floating near the tip of her tongue laced with sarcasm and distaste. She held her mouth, though. No reason to piss into the wind. There was always the possibility that they might be helpful.

Something about this whole operation bugged her. If Ashur knew where the ship was, why didn't he just crew the damn thing and be done with it? It was possible he was merely being cautious. It didn't seem to add up to that, either. She wasn't familiar with the legend regarding that ship, but if it was anything like some of the nastier ones, it was quite possible they'd all be dead by the next dinner. The thought wasn't appealing to Morgan, but sadly she didn't see any way to weasel out of it. Noah seemed to be buddy buddy with Asshur. He exuded a confidence and certainty that came with such a position. Tacita, while not obviously fully trusting of Asshur, looked at Noah in such a way that she trusted him, and that was transient enough to go along to whatever fool adventure they were being dumped into. Dyles was very much being Dyles, eye-flirting with Sully. Morgan felt her cheeks brighten a little? Did she feel jealous of the curvy Dyles and her Zeltron pheromones? She shook her head. Perhaps a little.

Sully and Dyles repressed a sigh as they turned back to glance at their young cohort. At least she seemed to be in better spirits after being fed and attended to by a medic. Dyles hoped she would stop being such a child. Sully felt a bit sorry for Morgan. She'd had a rough couple of days.

“So, why do you think we're going onto that ship first? Morgan asked the older pair.

“Because,” Dyles began “Asshur would rather use someone disposable to explore a ghost ship. Wouldn't you?”

Morgan frowned at that.

“Well, I would, if I were the Kiraly.” Sully said. “The ship disappeared all hands on board, on it's maiden voyage, loaded to the gills with the rich and famous. It jumped and… poof.” Sully brought his hands up, made loose fists, and flicked his fingers open for emphasis.

“No one knows why?” Morgan asked, feeling a little dumb. She's never happened across the legend of the Heart of Shade. If she had, she'd filed it away mentally to avoid. The whole concept of ghosts ships made her nervous.

“Nope.” Sully replied.

“That's creepy.” Morgan said.

“Are you scared?” Dyles asked, amused. She folded her arms.

“Yes.” Morgan said quietly. Coupled with the fact that it was a ghost ship, and they were captives. She wanted to curl into a ball and sleep a week away. Her injuries still ached a little.

“Well, most of the crew was from shorter-lived species.” Dyles said, a little amused, but understanding. Morgan's fears weren't entirely without merit, after all.

“There will be a lot of bodies. It's nearly 300 years old.” Sully elaborated. It's going to smell awful. Morgan thought to herself.

“Yuck.” Morgan stuck her tongue out and scrunched up her face. Dyles rolled her eyes.

“With any luck, they'll be completely decomposed or well preserved.” He said.

“I dunno if you've noticed, but our luck stinks!” Morgan countered, more loudly than she meant to. One of the guards snorted, amused. They were a lot better than the last batch of prisoners, who were so dull as to nearly be terminal.

“I don't think that's something you should announce right before a treasure hunt.” Dyles hissed through clenched teeth. Just when she was warming up a little to the girl, too. Morgan glared back. Dyles had a ship that was intact, even if it was being held by Asshur.

“Besides, I think our luck is about to take a turn for the better.” Sully added quickly.

Morgan sighed and threw her hands up. “Fine. Fine. I'll stop being a pessimist.”

“Good.” Dyles smirked, but Sully shot her a disapproving glare. Dyles sighed.