Re: In the Shadow of the Black Sun

Whispers blew past his head, the sun slowly setting in the backdrop of a field. It was one of the few untouched places on Bandomeer, by the coast as well. He saw the Ravensword Estate, a semi-large house with double sides and large columns and a large roof that has a chimney spotting out smoke. In the front yard was his mother, painting the backdrop of the sunset behind the aged mercenary. Next to him, as he finally noticed, was his father, but he too aged like him. His mother appeared trapped in time, like the day she died.
   
“Ryann, what the hell are you doing here?”
   
“I…I dunno. Last thing I remember I was trying to escape a blast…”
   
“You don’t deserve to be here, yet. You’re going back.”
   
“Wait, I’m dead?”
   
“On the borderline. You can thank this hallucination to the Sweet Spice you regularly consume.”
   
“You’re not my father?”
   
“Only an extension of your subconscious.”
   
Ryann raised an eyebrow, slowly turning his head around towards a large tree stump; with the name ‘RYANN’ stenciled into the top bark with some sort of sharp object. Ryann, with a slight smile, sat down on his stump with his back slouched forward, his head held between his hands.
   
“So I’m not dead?” He asked his father (more to the point, his doppelganger) with a questioning tone in his voice, the sun still setting over the horizon far beyond, and the beauty spot where he and his father stood was even still kept in time.
   
“No, not yet. You’re on the way, though, if you keep this up.”
   
“Money is power, Father.”
   
“Yeah, but so is the ability to spend it.” He said, countering his son, looking at him with a glare. When Ryann’s eyes made contact with his father’s glare he felt his heart get
   
“I feel heavy.”
   
“Go back to sleep, Ryann, and you’ll find out that you’re alright.”

   
Ryann’s eyes fluttered opened, then they quickly shut themselves back. He felt soft but coppery liquid ooze out of his lips, a pain rushing through his arm. His jetpack was off his body, stuck into a sign about five feet away from the mercenary. He opened his eyes slowly, and a fit of coughs rushed up through his stomach. Blood and saliva threw themselves out of his body, with Ryann’s hand over his stomach as he felt pain rush through his intestines. He fought back the urge to puke, stifling the natural tendency only by sheer willpower.
   
He felt the hard, granite surface he was on. He realized it didn’t make it outside the blast range.
   
“I’m alright my ass.”
   
He shook his head as he looked around his immediate area, but John was still on his mind. He would talk to Tarsk, but he had a feeling that John didn’t make it. A thought was tagged and sent to the back of the head for later activation; an idea to use Vekis, when the coroners come by to market the dead, to hack into the Main Holonet that they used to see if they got the crazy.
   
He grabbed his short-wave radio.
   
“Ryann to Vekis. Vekis, come in.”
   
Silence first greeted him, but a voice answered back.
   
“Ryann, it’s Torin. Vekis got hurt, but he’ll be okay. Just need some bacta. You get that John character?”
   
“I think I did. He surprised me, he’s some sort of freaky shit robot or something, got metal going through him.”
   
“The safehouse?”
   
“Leveled. Don’t think Tarsk would be too happy about that.”
   
“I’ll bet. Lyra’s got an idea, since we don’t got anyone either.”
   
“Come pick me up, and we’ll talk.”

   
   
“The plan’s relatively simple.” Lyra began her plan, her hands rubbing her face off of the blood as they all sat within the Dead Ringer Mk II, the new name for the YT-2550 that they stole from Muunilinst. Torin and Vekis sat together, some sort of drink in front of them as they quietly listened. Vekis had a bandage around his forehead, and Torin had his previously broken arm from Muunilinst in some sort of hoist-and-counter. Lyra looked better than all of them: she had took a sniper’s role and stayed away from combat, but she had some bruises on her body.
   
“They got a ship that they fly. We just stake them out, and vaporize them when they try to break for wherever they want to go.”
   
“But, won’t Ship Patrol or the cops attack and try to arrest us?” Torin asked, turning his head towards Ryann and Lyra, who were standing in front of the other two male mercenaries. The other three stared at him, with Ryann adopting a squinting eye, a confused face. Torin looked around sheepishly as he realized what he just said.
   
“My bad.”
   
“I checked on John, like you told me too. Nothing. No accounts of damaged humans anywhere in there, normal or abnormal. I’d make a safe bet that he’s alive.”
   
“Shit. Tarsk probably knows then. I don’t think we got time to waste just sitting around. We need to get Vekis to a terminal, and then you can work your magic. Right now, I'll…be in my ready room. I need to think this through…by myself.”
   
Torin, Lyra, and Vekis exchanged looks between themselves, before Vekis gave a stern look at Ryann.
   
“You’re gonna be hitting up the Sweet Spice again, aren’t you?”
   
“Shut the frak up, Vekis! Everyone else, too. Let’s get the hell out of here and get that shit done!”
   
The group of mercenaries gave each other glances, before they followed their Captain out of the hold.

Re: In the Shadow of the Black Sun

A rather young female grunted as she fixated the frown on her features, kicking at various loose items and rubbish strewn on the platforms offered by the odd city-scape world. She was used to heat, desolation and for the most-part, clean air. Here, it was almost opposite. She shuddered from a deathly chill this kind of world gave off, feeling cold now.

Walking to the wall of a building, she put her back up on it, watching the crowds pulse between packed and almost empty. The backpack was released from the handles on her back, allowing the girl to swing the purple fabric to the floor and examine the zips. Large orbs became wider as she noticed it was undone, and in a flurry of worry, went through her belongings. Seems some pickpocketter targetted her.

With a soft sigh, she took a few breaths, taking out a thicker jacket and donning it, then picking up the bag and fastening it to her front. Once was more than enough, next time they might get something very important to her. If money wasn't important enough.

Her mind kept her busy, thinking of good and what the outcome of all this will help her, parents, money, food and clothes. A small hand brushed down the back of her head, cupping around the base of Tchin. She was always uncomfortable about the unusually sized tails she possessed, but this was the least of her concern as she slowly pulled it from the middle and set it to rest on the top of the backpack.

Hours later..

Eventually, she found herself back at the starports she left some time ago, cursing at her luck of being lost. Well, at least she reconised this area. Suddenly, an explosion rocked the deck she was on, forcing her to trip on the shaking surface and grappel onto the railings towards the edge, gulping while those bright blue orbs stared down into the abyss of Nar Shadda. Quickly, she scurried backwards, climbing to her front and darting into the port, panting.

"Phew.." she muttered, looking at the concerned adults around her, busy concentrating on the explosion, she looked about, walking into a restricted access zone as a large ship landed, backing up into a wall as three brutes of men (one more of a beast in her description) walked by, barely missing her. She could hear conversation shortly after, curiosity urging her to follow.

"Dock twenty-five.." her soft voice muttered, while looking over the sign. Joy peered out of the door, seeing them as they messed up his ship, sneaking out behind some machinary so they could walk past her without finding her. Seems she entered during a lengthy conversation

“What’s this about?” One asks, the other replying sharply. “Searchin’ the ship.” The pilot responded fairly quickly “I can see that. What for?” the other seemed smug, cheery for his own work. “You’re not smugglin’ nothin’, are ya?” the other nearly chuckled, shrugging “Buddy, if I had any spice, I’d have already sold it. There isn’t any way I’d bring it here,” the big security guy seemed insulted “And why not, son?”

“Well,” the pilot started, his tone that of the human sarcasm, something her father would use to play about and mock her “Let’s say something like this happens. I get three slobs going through my ship, and they find my spice. Oh no! What are they going to do? Turn me in? To who?! They’d just kill me, take my spice and my ship,” the brute seemed to take his time replying, perhaps caught off-guard by the statement. “And what make you think we’d kill ya?”

By this time she had began loosing track of the conversation, examining her immediate surroundings and picking up some loose items, putting them into her pack. Maybe she could use something as a weapon, or sell them on as parts. She was brought back to the situation ahead, as they stomped back, forcing her to dock into the machinery so not to be spotted, watching as they left.

Finally, they had all left, leaving the girl alone in the dock. Carefully, she looked about before approaching the still-open ramp. Security was outside the door now. Seemed after the search they were 'happy' to keep people from entering.. or exitting. Carefully, with senses open and eyes darting left and right, she boarded.

"Well.." she spoke quietly to herself. "A ride is a ride.." she muttered then, thinking about the parts she took. "Might get some credits, at least" the place was a mess now, and she approached a open cupboard-like compartment, placing her pack into the backmost corner and stepping in, sitting on it and closing the door slowly.

The cushioning fat of her tails rested up at the back of her head when she rested on the back-most wall of the compartment, thinking about food. Hopefully he'll take off soon and she'll be able to sneak some food and drink without worry… Opening the door slowly, she thought it best to do so now. Rummaging into a low cabinet to find some kind of ration, and a bottle of stored water. Satisfied with her find, she rushed back to the hiding spot, waiting for inevitale leave.

Re: In the Shadow of the Black Sun

As soon as John tumbled away from the hovervan, Aray felt the pit of her stomach go cold.  It took several seconds for her sense to come back fully, but that didn’t help dissipate the fear that was roaring through her skull.  It was like losing Tanis all over again.  

There was nothing she could do.  She tore her gaze away from the back of the van, where Jerva was picking himself up.

“They’re still on us!” Jono growled through clenched teeth, referring to the pair of speeders that had swung around to continue the chase.  “And this thing has just about had it,” he added.
Aray set her jaw, working the muscles until her teeth started to hurt.  “Head for the spaceport, Docking Bay 23.”

Jono glanced at her briefly just before he sent the hovervan into a dive.  “You mean to our ships?  Without…”

“Do what I say, Kajja!” Aray snapped, unfastening her restraints and climbing towards the back of the van.  “We don’t have time to get fancy with this.  Our best chance is to get off planet soon…before we cause any more damage and before you send us into a building.”

Jono didn’t have time to take offense; he was too busy dodging some serious laser fire from the two persistent speeders.  The hovervan, wobbling unsteadily through disorganized traffic lanes, could only go so fast and could only do so much maneuvering.  The bounty hunters, astride their speeders, were able to zip in and out of traffic and take careful aim at their target.  Aray would have to tell Jono later just how impressed she was that they were still alive and relatively unharmed so far.  

Right now, her main concern was keeping the van covered while Jono got them to the spaceport.  

Jerva, on his feet now, was preparing to open fire on their pursuers when Aray gathered up part of his collar and firmly pulled him back from the opening.  “Get out of my way,” she muttered, casually releasing his shirt so that he stumbled back into the bulkhead.  She got a grip on side of the door and started to release a stream of angry shots from her blaster.  The wind howled through the van, snatching her hair and causing her eyes to tear up…which was what she told herself was the cause.  

“Hey, I tried to pull him back in, sweetheart,” Jerva snarled, shoving up beside her to join in laying down cover fire.  “Don’t blame me for this.”

“Shut up.”  

Another ferocious spit of laser fire.  Then one of the speeders got lucky and shot three fiery holes in the van’s rear repulsorlift engine.

“Frak!” Jono bit out, throwing all of his weight into keeping the van from plummeting to the dirty streets.  A pair of hovercars weren’t so lucky.  They could not avoid catching the hovervan in the side and both went spinning out of the flight lanes.  

“Keep us up, Kajja!” Aray called, grasping fervently onto the side of the open hatch and laying out another round of covering fire.  “We’re almost to the spaceport.”

Jerva grunted as he hefted his blaster to aim for one of the bounty hunters.  They were closing fast.  

The hovervan sputtered along, gradually releveling itself in between two streams of traffic.  This only made it easier for the two speeders to catch up to them.  

Aray had finally had enough.  “Frak it all…”

Lining up her shot, she tracked the lead hunter with her blaster, ignoring the roaring wind and the distracting lights that flashed by as they sped through the city.  She put so much concentration into getting her shot off, that she forgot to hold on.  Only Jerva’s hand snagging the waist of her pants and holding on kept her from flying out to her death in the streets below.

Where John had disappeared.

She didn’t even celebrate when her careful aim was rewarded.  The lead speeder spun out of control when her shot took out both of the front pylons.  She watched the brilliant explosion with only mild interest, and she pulled out of Jerva’s hold without a word.  

Before John had fallen into the bowels of Nar Shaddaa, he had commanded Jerva to “take care of her.”  But Aray didn’t need to have anyone take care of her.  

She leveled another shot and fired.

“Spaceport ahead,” Jono called back to them.  “And I have a bad feeling about this…”

Jerva was busy snapping off a shot, but he managed to ask, “What’s the trouble?”

“They know where we’re going and they have had plenty of time to call for back-up,” Jono pointed out sourly.  “Do you really think that they haven’t already go people here to keep us from getting out?”

Just as he spoke, the final bounty hunter started to pull back, merging into the traffic until he completely disappeared.  Aray, frowning, stepped back from the opening in the side of the hovervan.  “They’ve given up the chase,” she said softly.  “Jono’s right.”

“We don’t have much a choice in the matter right now,” Jerva stated, firmly putting away his blaster and joining Jono in the front.  “Our best bet is to go in fast.  We don’t have time for anything sneaky.”

Aray already had her comlink out as the spaceport came into view.  “Mack,” she yelled into the device.  “Get the ship running.  And don’t let anyone in until I contact you again.  Do you understand me?”

She didn’t wait to find out if Mack’s stuttering response would ever become decipherable.

“Kajja, take us in hard, right up to that platform there.  We’ll be closest to our ships,” she murmured, leaning over his shoulder as he swung the hovervan in for a very rough landing.

The van settled onto the platform with a shuddering groan and a hiss of steam.  Jono didn’t bother to shut down the systems.  Blaster in their hands, they all made for the opening in the side and stepped out.  So far, they had not run into any opposition and their speeder tail had disappeared.  This only made Aray more uneasy.  

“Alright, together,” she whispered, gesturing for them to hurry.  

The big painted sign read “Docking Bay 23.”  All three ducked through the entry and into the one of the many parts of the spaceport that was on reserve for the Faast organization.  A quick glance around revealed only a few techs and droids meandering around at their own business.  The line of other docking bays stretched on beyond, but they were isolated for the moment.  

Jerva glanced at Aray momentarily.  “Are we waiting for the hybrid?”  The challenge in his eyes was obvious; he wondered if she was willing to risk her life to wait for a man who was probably dead.

She narrowed her eyes and brushed past him.  “His name is John.”

She didn’t answer the question.
“Mack,” she spoke into her comlink as she approached the Second-Hand, “open up.”

A hiss followed immediately and the ramp began to descend.  

Jono lifted his blaster in a salute.  “I’m heading to my ship,” he said.  “I’ll contact you when we get up.”

Aray nodded, momentarily distracted by a tingling sensation in the back of her neck.  Jerva’s hand drifted towards his blaster, and he eyed her.  The Second-Hand’s ramp was not even half-way down before a flurry of blaster fire splattered against the ship’s hull.  Aray whirled around, a cry on her lips as she brought her weapon to bear on at least 5 thugs dressed in all black.  Bounty Hunters.

“Who would have thought Black Sun would be this pissed off?” Jerva snarled, ducking behind one of the Hand’s landing struts and firing at their attackers.  He glared over at her.  “What are you waiting for?!  Get on board!”

The smell of ozone and burned hair filled the air as a few more thugs piled in to provide cover for their companions.  Smoke started to collect around them as the enemy fire connected with the Hand and sent up sparks.  Aray hesitated before boarding, compelled to instead remain where she was.  To spend the last few minutes of her life fighting instead of running.

She suddenly realized just what stealing from Black Sun might have cost her.

Re: In the Shadow of the Black Sun

Another burst of sour bitterness threatened to make Garrick’s stomach empty. He had spent only a few moments on the street on the way to find a weapons shop, and he had already been approached by several grimy salesmen and saleswomen, trying to push their “life changing” products on him and he had successfully refused nearly all of them. It was the last one, a food vendor of some kind, convinced him that he was very, very hungry. Realizing it had been a while since he had decent food in his belly, he reluctantly accepted the strange looking cuisine. It turned out to be some sort of fried confection, a meat he deduced, with little hard bits of something that exploded when he bit down on them, leaving a distinct aftertaste he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He figured the flavor fell somewhere between the inside of Vader’s helmet and a Bantha’s ass, but wouldn’t go any further in his assumptions, as he was having a difficult enough time keeping the food down.

He dropped the food into a receptacle without looking, his eyes still scanning the smoky horizon, the air still clearing from the explosion that rocked the city just a few moments ago. A few people were still screaming or crying or searching for a lost loved one, but most of the hardened residents of Nar Shaddaa had already returned to their normal business. It was easy for Garrick to figure out their way of life; if it didn’t directly concern them, they didn’t care.

He would fit right in.

— — —

The weapons shop had apparently caught fire during the insanity, a fresh layer of soot and charred wood caking the outside. Garrick cautiously stepped through the wreckage and glanced around the shop. It was a one room shop, just like most of the others along the street, cozy enough, but just this side of making anyone who stepped inside claustrophobic. Most of the merchandise had been pulled off the walls and shelves, quick thinking by the shopkeeper, Garrick thought.

He strolled to the front desk and waited, but no one came to help him. There was no bell or buzzer or anything. Maybe the shopkeeper stepped out for a moment…Maybe Garrick could just take one of the guns left on the floor…

His eyes scanned the scarce room for a leftover weapon the shop keep didn’t have time to grab during the fire. A few blades littered the ground. A melee weapon couldn’t hurt, Garrick thought, a good way to get out of a tight spot. He found what looked to be a combat knife of some sort, its dark plasteel blade and handle hiding most of the burns from the fire. Glancing over his shoulder at the front door and the desk, he slipped it in one of his pant’s side pockets. Now to find a gun…

Another moment of searching led to an old Firelance blaster rifle. It reminded Garrick of an older version of the rifle Gus Candelaria was so fond of. Perhaps he should have taken it before he left Gus’ office…

“Can I help you?” a voice startled Garrick. He whirled around to see an old human male behind the desk, a nasty looking scar running from his left eyebrow, through his temple, and ended near his ear lobe.

“I’m…uh, I need a weapon,” Garrick managed to get out.

“Ha! Don’t we all,” the shopkeeper muttered as he scooted around the desk, “Anything in particular?”

Garrick thought of the blade in his pocket, “Something that shoots,”

“Well, what you see is what I got. Most of the rifles and pistols were damaged in the fire…” the man’s voice trailed off. His head cocked slightly as the stared at Garrick, who had no choice but to stare right back, his eyes falling on the scar. The shopkeeper finally spoke up again, “You look familiar…”

Oh no, Garrick thought, he watched pod racing! He silently started praying he was a fan…

“Yeah, you’re that pod racer…Farrell!”

For a moment, Garrick considered denying his identity. If this old man turned out to be a Kaz Rizik fan, this could be the end of the road. Who knew how many people on this planet despised him. The old man could yell his name on the street and the haters would be coming out of the woodwork to put an abrupt end to Garrick’s life. This could also be a good moment to use the blade he acquired a few moments prior.

“I used to watch your races on the telenet. Big fan, I am!” the old man said, extending a hand. A nervous yelp of a laugh escaped Garrick’s throat.

“It’s always nice to meet a fan, I guess,” he said, shaking hands. He did it quickly so the old man wouldn’t notice the trembling.

“Not always I bet. Plenty of people around here hate you!” the shop keep laughed, “You’ve lost them so many credits!”

“Well, I’m glad you think that’s funny!” Garrick said, “You know how many times I’ve almost been killed?”

“I can imagine! You wouldn’t believe some of the things my buddies said the would do to you if they had the chance,”

“Oh, I have an idea…”

“So you need a weapon?” the shop keep said, “Tell you what: You can have you pick of the litter, on the house,”

Garrick nodded in acknowledgement, “Thanks, old man,” The only rifle Garrick thought to be sufficient enough was… “the Firelance,”

“Good choice,” the shop keeper said, wandering behind the counter again to retrieve a couple of power cells, “I’ve had that thing for a while now, and I’m glad to get rid of it,”

Garrick thought for a moment, “Is it still functional?”

“Should be,” the old man said, snapping one of the power cells into place and handed the rifle to Garrick, “Take care of it, will ya?”

“If I have to,” Garrick replied, shaking the shopkeeper’s hand again.

“Can’t wait to tell my friends I met you!”

“Well, can you at least wait until the end of the day?” Garrick asked, with the utmost sincerity.

— — —

The same salesmen and vendors Garrick encountered on his trip up the street crossed his path again, but this time he ignored them and kept to himself, a hand on the rifle now strapped to the belt of his racing suit. He was almost off the street when someone shoved him from behind. He slammed into a wall and a wave of anger washed over him. He almost had the rifle leveled when it was forced back down. The burning red eyes of a Chiss bored holes through the back of his skull.  

“Don’t bother,” it said. Garrick stared back. He was still angry enough to fight back, but he knew this would be pretty stupid. From the looks of those that were following him down the street, he wouldn’t stand a chance in hell. He was also tempted to nod in submission, basically branding himself a coward. So instead, he said nothing, and just stared into the matching pools of red. The Chiss continued down the street, with several others in tow, including a grizzled-looking human male, who shook his head and muttered what Garrick could only assume were several obstinacies.

Garrick saw a variety of weapons on their person and closed his eyes and shook his head, “Bounty hunters…”

— — —

The Rodian that had been fixing the ship looked grimly at Garrick, holding a burnt hyper drive part in his hand.

“This not look good,” he said.

“Really?” Garrick said, not at all surprised.

“No, no, no. Only good for one more trip, then it’ll be gone for good,”

“But you fixed it right? For that one trip?”

“As best I could. All I can do now is wish you luck,”

Garrick was uninspired, “Thanks. How much?” He braced himself for the inevitable thrashing of repairman inflation that always seemed to follow him around.

“I take 500 credits,” the Rodian said, “Or you can let me cut off your hand,”

Garrick laughed, but it was apparent fairly quickly that he wasn’t joking around, “Wait, what, are you serious?”

“I’m a Kaz Rizik fan,” the Rodian scoffed, “You’re lucky I don’t shout out your name on the street,” he walked away, out of Bay 25, leaving Garrick by himself, only able to shake his head and lower the boarding ramp of the Emerald Dawn.

It was at this moment two separate things caught Garrick Farrell’s attention. The first was a crashing sound coming from inside the Dawn. For a second, Garrick thought it was the welcoming committee again; perhaps they had reboarded the ship while he was gone. But the origin of the sound would have to wait, as the second of his distractions nearly crash landed near Bay 23.

A beaten and battered hovervan settled to a stop outside the entrance just as Garrick peeked out from Bay 25. The doors flung open and the three passengers piled out; the first at normal speed, the second as well.

But the third passenger, a Human female, exited the van and everything slowed down.

Everything stopped.

It was happening again. That moment, when everything slows down enough for you to see your surroundings for what they really are. Nothing is hidden or secret. Everything is on the surface for you to see and take in, to be absorbed by it. And right now, Garrick was being absorbed by her blue eyes. Gods, those bright blue eyes! He noticed they were pink and puffy, as though she had been crying, and her hair was messy and tousled but it didn’t stop him from keeping his eyes locked on her, even as time picked up speed again and she rushed with the others into Bay 23.

Garrick exhaled slowly. He had never experienced a feeling like that before. The only thing he could think of that could possibly compare would be when the switches are flipped and the sound of all those pods roaring to life resonates in his head. The feeling was just like that, the exception being she was resonating around his soul, and his heart. Adrenaline flowed through his veins like a river of acid. His first instinct was to run over there as fast as he possibly could and talk to her, but something kept his legs still.

My heart, he thought…

“I can wait,” he told himself. A speeder with an angry looking pilot stopped a few yards from Bay 23, pistol leveled and ready to fire. Quickly he was joined by several others, dressed all in black. “Or maybe not…”

Re: In the Shadow of the Black Sun

Hidden inside a cabinet, only a few feet wide  and perhaps tall enough for a human to stand, croutched a young lady. The soft lekku that sprouted from the back of her head were used as pillows against the cold, hard surface of the walls. Joy couldn't help think about the previous spaceflight she had taken. The shuddering of the ship as it exitted and entered the atmosphere made her nervous - not to mention the limited space (not that it offered more room than she presently found herself.) and cold environment. With a soft bored sigh she opened the door cautiously, checking to the ramp, left and right before stepping out, being sure to hide her backpack snug in the corner and to leave the door partially open so she may dash back to the hiding spot.

Orbs scanned the rather messy ship of it's various items, it struck her like a bachelor pad. She figured she wouldn't be welcomed, so cleaning up and cooking would be out of the question right now, considering she didn't know when the owner would return either, she kept at a light step. Although a smell of burning struck her as she passed one of the larger room sections of the ship, the girl followed her nose to the problem. It was - if she recalled her father's lessons correctly, the hyperdrive systems of the ship. Although the explaination was far beyond her, she had picked up on the idea. And having smelled something burning in the systems couldn't help her plans - at all. What's worse, the longer she was aboard, the more likely her discovery was. It was settled, she would try and fix it. A quick dash later, she had taken a few tools from it and carried them back.

Joy knelt to the conduit and removed the nessicary panels, she began tracing the various components with her index before finding the fault. And making the mistake of touching it to quickly recoil from the heat it gave off. She rolled her sleeve up over her hand and took hold, tugging it out and dropping it on the floor before letting her hand slip out, looking over the grease left on her shirt, which made her shrug. Although she didn't reconise the part at first, she put it down to something easily bypassable. She took out a few bits from her bag and lined them onto the floor panel, taking a welding tool so she may use the conductor she had stolen earlier as a link where the burnt out piece had come from. A few minutes later she returned the panel, hearing some voices towards the enterance. Quickly, she began grabbing her things and ducked into a part of the hyperspace, only-just large enough for her to slide in as a rodian and a droid came in, speaking the languages they did. The male raised his voice as the droid beeped at him, plucking the hyperdrive segment off the ground and moving off, followed shortly by the droid, further away she could hear the boarding ramp now being raised.

Slowly, she edged from the spot, her clothes rubbing dirt from the engine and smearing her once-white clothes, she wiped her itchy brow, and scratched a cheek, leaving traces of the grease on her face now from her hands. Catiously, she made her way back to the den, putting her things back into it before looking about once more. She wouldn't be suprised if she was caught to be used as a maid. A quick shudder passed her figure before the echo of voices behind the bulkhead of the ship caught her attention, certainly soft enough to make it hard to hear, but still forced her step into the cuboard for good measure, leaving it slightly open to hear the voices.

“No, no, no. Only good for one more trip, then it’ll be gone for good,” The male human - the owner of the ship who she saw, responded in his familar tone. “But you fixed it right? For that one trip?” She closed the door more, fearing she may be caught, now muffling the voices. She did however overhear the rodian taking payment for not doing anything, her frown deepening as a result. Noisily, she could hear the gears of the ramp open, only a few meters away from it didn't help in silencing it. But no footsteps.

Slowly she leaned on the door, pushing her ear to it before falling foreward, the door slamming open to hit the table that tucked behind it, knocking off many random metal items so badly stacked you could wonder how they even remained upright in the first place. Staring at the ramp from the floor, she picked her face off the floor and cringed, leaping back into what she considered safety and closing it behind her, backing up to the wall and sliding down it. Large blue eyes stared at the door, waiting for her capture as she looped a finger around Tchin, pulling it to her mouth to cover part of her face.

Just my luck.

The Battle

The four mercenaries walked closely next to each other among the landed ships. The leading man, the blonde hair mercenary by the name of Ryann Ravensword, walked ahead of his gang with a hunched shoulder. In his hands, gripping tightly, was an Imperial standard issue E-11 Blaster Rifle, darkened by nature but very light in the former Imperial’s hands. Across his body was a sling, holding flash and stun grenades held onto the clip, coming across his black undershirt and ribbed jacket. His eyes were cautious, looking for the freighter with a tight gaze, pursing around corners of the ships.
   
Behind him, to his right, was the female gun-for-hire Lyra. Her flaming red hair was held into a bun, a matching clip hiding within the fold of hair. She wore something similar to Ryann’s choice of clothing: A jacket of some sorts that was darkly colored brown, an undershirt, and matching pants. In her right, and dominant, hand was a Type-76 Heavy Blaster, with an extra power cell strapped by dura-tape on the side of the blaster’s body. She was walking close behind, a protective stance next to her Captain, wary of the surroundings.
   
Next to her, to her right, was the aged mercenary Vekis. The mature fighter had a blaster pistol in both of his hands, waiting for the evitable action to arise. In his hands was a normal blaster pistol, something that would cause damage but not enough to warrant any sort of upgrade or customization. He wore black fatigues, complete with a set of military boots to compliment them. Across his web-belt were a knife and other sorts of various clips of power cells, ready to reload anyone if necessary.
   
Behind the group was Torin, wearing the signature jacket and black undershirt like the rest of the gang wore. In his hands, however, was a heavy repeating blaster rifle, obviously made to punch holes in low-grade vehicles, not to mention skin. He occasionally turned his head back around, to see if the target was be—
   
“You hear that? Blaster fire.”
   
Ryann turned his head from the front, his gaze and head turning towards the sound of a firefight. He squinted, and he saw a bounty hunter squad of four, climbing out of a repulsorlift vehicle across from a vessel. Ryann immediately understood what was happening, and so did the rest of the gang.
   
“Vekis, you and Lyra come up across that YT-1300 in front of them. Try to get on top, you should have their backs to you. Torin, you and I will run there right now and give them firing support from right there.” Ryann ordered, pointing towards the undercarriage of a YV-250. Vekis and Lyra immediately turned left and ran off into the forest of landed ships, leaving Ryann and the heavily equipped Torin to rush into battle.
   
The five mercenaries in black, as Ryann got closer, were uniform and were appearing to use their repulsorlift vehicle as immediate cover. He could see the intelligence of it, since there was no adaptable cover screen like the heavy-set open-top vehicle they had. The aged pilot immediately looked over at Torin and pointed towards the five mercenaries. Right now, they had a perfect line shot towards the black bounty hunters, their sides exposed to Torin. Ryann gave a open palm, then a closed fist: the universal signal to wait for his command.
   
As this was happening, the firefight was growing in measure. From his viewpoint, as he was running across the underbelly of the YV-250, he could see a blonde-haired woman shooting behind a landing bay pylon, putting all of herself into the fight. Next to her, a black-haired man was shooting off rounds behind another pylon, but fighting distractedly, as if he was worried about something else. Another man was behind the landing ramp itself, firing off pot-shots.
   
Why were they… Ryann’s thought ended as he came across another black-haired man in front of him. He was standing there, for a brief second, looking at the fight. And, Ryann didn’t even know if there was more mercenaries.
   
“Hey, you.”
   
His shout carried over the blasterfire, getting the man’s attention. He shot over, flipping his body to the right to meet Ryann, his Firelance drawn.
   
“I need help taking out those black ones. I can supply ya with some credits if you do.” Ryann said, getting the man’s attention. The man nodded, appearing a bit more relieved now that he had help. At least, that’s the thought Ryann had put into his own head as he took off past the man. He heard footsteps behind him; the man was following him now and he had assured backup.
   
He was now behind a power holder, a large rectangular box that stored circuits that could be used to reconnect power to ships. The man followed Ryann in his stance, ducking down behind the same cover.
   
“We gotta stop them!” The man yelled.
   
“Don’t worry! Watch!”
   
Ryann took out his comlink and pressed down on the talk button, a beep resonating throughout the small space behind the power holder. He turned his head back towards the overshafting of the YV-250 next to the Second Chance, where Lyra and Vekis now waited, their weapons drawn and holding.
   
“Vekis, Lyra, open fire.”
   
The two mercenaries stood up on the ship, squeezing their triggers in rapid succession down upon the five bounty hunters, catching them fully by surprise. Torin stood up and fired his repeating blaster rifle into the side of the repulsorlift, the combination of all three decimated the squad of five as they attempted to fight back.
   
In the end, only one of the mercenaries stood, one of the middle ranked in the squad. His dark skin gave him away as he attempted to hide. Ryann put up his blaster, and in one squeeze a blaster bolt escaped from his weapon and impacted into the man’s back, killing him almost instantly. A cold blooded shot, from a cold blooded man.
   
“Who are you!?”
   
Ryann cracked a smile at the man under the ramp, who was slowly coming out.
   
“Name’s Ravensword. I saw that you needed help. Decided it was good timing to help ya.”
   
“Well, thanks for the help!” The man next to the blonde spoke, seemingly relieved. The man who questioned him, however, seemed like he didn’t trust Ryann. Inside the mercenary’s head, he knew that it was good never to trust anyone, and for that measure, he was beginning to like his targets.
   
“I’m Aray. This is Jono Kajja and Jerva Kutac. You haven’t seen anyone else coming this way?”
   
“Afraid not, ‘mam.” Ryann responded, and saw how distraught she was. It was not in her voice, it was her face: how her eyes still remained puffy after some sort of crying session. It certainly wasn’t Ryann’s business to ask.
   
“Hey, Ryann, I got three coming up.”
   
“More bounty hunters?” The man, identified as Jerva, asked as he looked around in his belt for a spare power cell.
   
“No, not armed like one. Looks like they’re carrying someone.”
   
Coming up behind them, now visible, were two men, one light skinned and with a heavy beard and the other darker. Both were wearing robes that reminded Ryann of Jedi, and in between them…
   
“Are you frakking kidding me?!” Ryann screamed, losing composure, getting the attention of all three of them, the one he knew as Johnathan Claw pulling his head up to look at Ryann. A blank face soon turned into a deep, dark angry face that growled at him. Ryann wasted no time, pulling up his blaster pistol and firing a quick shot, immediately running backwards as he did. The dark skinned Jedi immediately brandished his beam of light, deflecting it, while the lighter skinned one snapped out his lightsaber, taking a defensive stance next to John.
   
The other three, confused, began to pick Ryann and his crew as targets.
   
“Frak! Torin, all of you, get back to the ship!” He yelled, pulling the other man he m…
   
In the split second that followed, Ryann recognized the man as Garrick Farrell, the infamous pod racer who had beaten out Kaz Rizik in a high stakes (for the betters) match. Even Ryann thought that Garrick couldn’t do it, when he watched, but he was surprised to see him win. So, the next question that was in his head in the split second that he recognized his face, was why he was on Nar Shaddaa, in a place like this.
   
“Hey, Farrell, you want to get in the good graces of Black Sun?” Ryann said, pushing his shoulder against the power holder, the small box now his only cover against the fulisade of blaster fire. He had no doubt that the Jedi were converging on his position.
   
He would hope that Garrick would make his choice soon.

Re: In the Shadow of the Black Sun

“Are you frakking kidding me?!” Ryann’s cool demeanor went completely out the window in the split second he laid eyes on the two Jedi and their injured companion. Ryann leveled his weapon and fired, while running for cover at the same time. Garrick’s eyes met with the blonde who introduced herself as Aray as he heard the eerie sound of two lightsabers activating as someone tugged on the collar of his racing suit.

“Frak! Torin, all of you, get back to the ship!”

Garrick nearly lost his balance as he was jerked backwards, but remained upright enough to run alongside Ryann. He felt a laser bolt whizz dangerously close to his head. They eventually took refuge behind a small black power holder. The blasters were starting to go off again, the power box taking most of the shots.

“Shoot!” Ryann spat.

“At who? I have no idea what the frak is going on!” Garrick said.

“Who?! Anyone shooting at us!” Ryann peeked from behind the power holder and took more shots. Garrick tried to find where Aray had gone, but she was no where in sight. Finally, she revealed herself as to have taken cover near the ship they had been at before. Thank the Gods, she’s safe… Garrick thought. Aray took careful aim and fired…at Garrick. His eyes grew to the size of dinner plates and he ducked back down. He thought the shot singed his hair. A brief inspection proved otherwise.

“Hey, Farrell, you want to get in the good graces of Black Sun?” Ryann said. He dug around one of his pockets and produced a handful of credits, thrusting them toward Garrick. The Black Sun? What was he getting himself into? His eyes flirted with the credits being held in front of him. He really needed the funding, but was all this fighting and obvious insanity really worth it? Ryann slapped the credits into Garrick’s hand and he counted a little over 1000. Okay, it might be worth it. “Down payment,” Ryann added between shots, “Plenty more where that came from,”

“How much more?” Garrick asked, the gears turning in his head.

“Plenty, but no matter how much it is, it’s of no use to you if you aren’t around to spend it!” Ryann said. The barrage of shots around them stopped, although they still heard blaster fire. He produced a communicator in his left hand, “Torin! Where are you? What’s going on out there?”

A moment passed, “More bounty hunters!”

Garrick snuck a quick look at more black clad bounty hunters as they entered the spaceport, firing at Aray and her crew. His mind raced as he tried to compute who was on who’s side. Eventually, he decided that the new bounty hunters weren’t on anyone’s side. He took careful aim with his Firelance and pulled the trigger, the bolt connecting with the arm of one of Aray’s assailants.

“Torin, where are the Jedi?!” Ryann screamed into his communicator. A lightsaber blade sliced straight through the power box, right between them. They looked at the blade, then each other. Silently, they both agreed their chances against the crossfire of a blaster battle had much better odds of survival than a one on one confrontation with a Jedi. Garrick stood and walked backwards as the dark skinned Jedi extracted the blade of his weapon from their former hiding place. He looked at Garrick and smiled. Ryann took off in the other direction, sending a high rate of blaster fire at the Jedi. The shots were deflected easily. Garrick wanted to turn and run, but he didn’t have anywhere to go. The Emerald Dawn was on the other side of the port and about a half dozen bounty hunters stood in his way. A long time ago, Garrick made a vow to himself, and his fans, that he would die on the racetrack and no where else. The realization hit that the only way that was going to happen was if he made it off this planet alive.

— — —

Garrick’s lungs seared as he once again hid behind a stack of cargo boxes as another flurry of blaster fire rained down on him. The black clad bounty hunters began firing at him as soon as he started sprinting for his ship. They had to split their concentration between him and Aray’s crew, as well as the Jedi and Ryann. He had no idea where anyone else was, or if they were even alive. All he wanted was his ship; it was all he had left. The overall blaster fire had gone down since he ran across the port. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ryann, hiding behind another set of boxes. He was signaling something to Garrick, but he couldn’t make out what it was. Garrick shrugged his shoulders with a little extra animation to make sure Ryann saw it. Again, he was flashed a series of hand signals. 5-1-5-0-3. Ryann held something up, but Garrick couldn’t quite see what it was. He strained his eyes and shielded them from the brownish glare of the sun coming through the pollution and finally saw a comlink between the bounty hunter’s fingers. He was giving Garrick his frequency.

Garrick scrambled for his comlink and tuned it to 515.3, soon hearing Ryann’s gruff voice.

“Where are you going?”

“My ship…”

“I swear if you run out on me, racer, I’ll hunt you down and gut you!”

Silence. “Well, that’s all the convincing I need,” There must have been a trace of sarcasm in his voice; there always tended to be.

“Damn it, Farrell!”

“I know, I’m sorry! I’m not going anywhere!”

“Then don’t be afraid to shoot!”

That would be easy to remember. Shoot. Over the sound of blasters and the helpless cries of those who had been hit, a ship’s engine fired up. Garrick glanced over this hiding place to see what was going on. The smell of kicked up dust and scorched flesh burnt his nose and eyes.

“The Second Hand!” Ryann barked into his comlink, “They’re taking off! We can’t let them get away!”

Garrick thought for a moment. Everything that had happened thus far had all gone by in nothing less than a blur. So much information to register, yet it all came down to this one moment, and this one question: Why can’t we let them get away?

“Follow them!” Ryann said, “We’ll be right behind you!” he joined the two remaining bounty hunters in blasting away at the Second Hand before turning the gun on them.

This was his chance. Everyone was distracted by the ship attempting to take off. With his eyes darting between the Second Hand and its attackers, Garrick scampered for his own ship, using whatever cover was available, although he was moving so fast, he might as well have not stopped. He made an unnecessary dive onto the loading ramp and shuffled his way up. His foot hooked under a storage container that was overturned by the welcoming committee and planted his stomach firmly on the ground, the wind knocked out of him like a Wookiee had punched him in the gut. Slowly rising to his feet, he worked his way through the mess left behind by the port authority. Suddenly he doubted very much they had done anything besides rob him. He made a mental note to take another inventory of everything to see what he knew was inevitably missing.

Once in the cockpit, he readied the systems as quickly as he could, the top of his viewport filled with the escaping ship. His hands floated over the controls, and the flight sequence was finally initiated.

“Come on! Go!” he yelled at himself. The Emerald Dawn lifted off the ground and Garrick cautiously piloted her out of the spaceport, in hot pursuit of the crew of the Second Hand.

— — —

When Rett Garvin had built the Emerald Dawn, he had intended to use the ship for various illegal activities, but eventually had his own legitimate shipping company. It had some smuggling compartments that were never used, and some that Garrick still didn’t know about. After Rett passed the Dawn onto Garrick, he was on his own to discover some of the secrets the Retvin K-71 Custom held, including a program that tracked the whereabouts of other ships by discreetly hacking their navigation computer and uploading their travel plans of the past, present and future. Useful for a smuggler or assassin perhaps, but of no use to a pod racer…until now.

Garrick silently stared at the Second Hand’s upcoming destination: Umgul. Why would they be going there? Should he keep following them? That question lead him back to what he was doing here in the first place. His verbal agreement with Ryann was made in such haste, in the heat of the moment. Did he really need credits badly enough to become involved with something as volatile as the Black Sun? Every moment that passed he knew he was getting in deeper and deeper.

While the survivalist half of him wanted more credits, the other half was still thinking about his wants and desires and her blue eyes…Aray. He remembered standing behind Ryann in the spaceport, peeking over his shoulder, trying to catch her glance before everything went haywire. He remembered seeing a purity and innocence in her, something he wanted to be a part of. She didn’t even know his name. The next thing he knew, his hand was full of credits and blaster fire was flying all around him.

His thoughts about Aray were replaced with regret. Garrick now knew what he was doing was wrong, following these people to Umgul, for someone that shoved a pistol and credits in his face, someone he barely knew. Then again, he was filled with feelings for a woman he hadn’t spoken a single word to. He had to make a decision. Love or money?…Why are all the important questions in life so tough?

A rattling sound shook Garrick from his thoughts. Must be some junk rolling around, he thought, that welcoming committee really did a number on my ship. His head turned when he heard something else, not more junk, but something else; something alive. He heard it again, this time he was listening for it and instantly knew what it was. It was a sneeze.

Someone was on his ship.

Garrick fell out of his chair and hit the ground, his hand searching for his Firelance rifle. Gradually, he made his way out of the cockpit, sneaking quick looks around corners. The lounge floor was covered with utensils, cups and food. He didn’t see his bottle of Corillian whiskey anywhere and immediately cursed the member of the welcoming committee that took it. He had been in and out of every room on the ship. Unless they were hiding in one of the smuggling compartments…

There it was! Another sneeze! Garrick’s head whipped to the left, toward the lockers. Of course, the lockers! Firelance in hand and leveled, he deliberately made his way to the source of the sound. Two of the lockers were already open, but the third was closed. Gotcha. His sights were trained, ready to unload on whoever was so bold as to violate the sanctity of his ship. With one hand, he opened the locker and saw a little blue female Twi’lek, rubbing her nose. Her eyes shot up in surprise, freezing right where she hid. A guiltless smile slipped across her face. For an extremely uncomfortable moment, Garrick stared right back at her, before closing the locker as slowly as he had opened it.

Re: In the Shadow of the Black Sun

Several minutes passed and she slowly began relaxing in the locker, sitting at the backwall still staring at the door in anticipation for it to open. Her mouth still securely hidden by tchin when she wrapped it around her face in utter embaressment. It was a little longer, as various noises outside kept her interested, including shouts and shots. Even a low humm, which made her lift her head and nearly press an ear to the door. It was, that after the ship started up, she moved her backpack to her and opened it, grimacing as a metal item fell out and began rolling down the floor of the locker, kicking up dust. With an interrupted motion of retreiving the item, she paused. Hand outstretched and just about to pick it up as her nose tickled, making her sit up instantly and catch the sneeze as her body jolted, attempting to restrain the second but it was no good.

Her head turned to a thump somewhere on the ship, followed by a rude word she was often not allowed to repeat. Again, another sneeze jolted her body, resisting her own urge to curse at the third now. As the locker opened slowly, it gave her eyes chance to adjust and stare down the end of a barrel, remaining completely still, other than trying to keep her nose in control. A wry smile crossed her features in a kind of 'can't shoot cute things' idea, but the door was slowly closed on her, making her drop it fairly instananeous, especially when she sneezed again.

She leant foreward and pushed open the door, looking at Garrick on her immediate right who seemed to literally be dumstruck, clutching the weapon to his chest with one finger on his right hand still close to the trigger. She stepped out and pulled her backpack out, leaving it at the edge of the locker. Her curious orbs were given the freedom to explore the room with more detail, before settling back on him as he snapped out of his daze. "Um.." she thought, how to introduce herself. Then, a thought occured, her father had always taught her to pretend she's a boy, for added safety. "I'm.. Jay." she spoke, trying to force a lower tone in her voice, that sounded fairly unnatural. His response was merely a glare, at first, making her cringe and forget her false tone.

"What…are you doing…on my ship?"

"Have we taken off..?"

Garrick closed his eyes, "Please don't change the subject, what are you doing on my ship? I believe the stowaway protocol is the shoot you out of the airlock…"

An unusual rumble interrupted the man as he was about to shout all hell, at her, or to her? Eitherway, he jogged to the bridge, followed slowly in toe by the girl, leaning out to check he wasn't about to barge into her in the next corners, she eventually found him monitoring the hyperdrive, her eyes looking out to the passing stars from the cockpit. "Hope my modifications hold up.." she mused, speaking outloud to herself as he turned a skeptical eye. "YOUR modifications?" he questioned, making her cringe as she turned and sat down on the seat she was knelt on. "Yeah.. i don't know the technical words.. But i bypassed a burnt out.. thing. I know it works, I've seen it done." she chimed in response to him, her visibly greasy and dirty face, hands and clothes was nearly full-blown evidence of her messing around somewhere mechanical or otherwise electrical. "And, you should really think about cleaning up.." she muttered, glancing at the leftovers abandoned on the roof of a navigation console.

And, it would otherwise lead to alot of one-sided talking, Garrick trying his best to ignore the various things she tried to talk about.

Re: In the Shadow of the Black Sun

The temples of Garrick's head throbbed, sending waves of pain and nausea through him. This conversation was going no where fast. And for a pod racer, nothing could be worse. It was like stalling the engine when the green flag waved. Garrick had done this once, in just his second ever race and was heartily laughed at by the harsh crowd. Back then he had grinded his back teeth and the sickness of humiliation slowly subsided. But this time the source of annoyance was a constant. She just kept talking… And talking… And talking. He thought she asked him what he did for a living, a particularly mature question for such a young Twi'lek, but Garrick had answered accordingly, "A pod racer."

"Pod racer?" she queried "That's a weird name for a ship."

It was at this point Garrick realized he wasn't hearing things clearly. Over the years, Garrick had discovered that if he wasn’t hearing or seeing things clearly, the best way to remedy the situation was to eliminate the source of annoyance. Eliminate? He asked himself. Eliminate is so…final. And there isn’t any way you can “eliminate” this stowaway. Killing Candlearia was one thing. That had been brewing since the day Garrick had started racing for him. But this…this was a little girl. There wasn’t any other way to say it: Garrick had a little girl on his ship. He couldn’t just leave her on a random planet, then he would have that on his conscious, knowing full well she had been killed or sold off into slavery or eaten by some freakish native species…

Garrick stopped thinking for a moment, and became conscious of the fact that his mouth had been moving as well. Gods, did I say that? …Am I talking? …Did she hear me?

“Slavery?” she asked, a cute look of perplexity on her face.

“You know, the ship flies a lot straighter when you don’t talk.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Oh yes, absolutely. It’s a well known fact starships are much easier to navigate when there is no harmonic resonance coming from the inside of the ship,” that sounded so convincing, for a moment he believed it. And judging from the look on her face, she might by buying it too.

“I’ve never heard that…” she replied, her head shaking.

“Well, maybe you just haven’t gotten out enough.”

“I’ve been around ships my whole life.” she said, her voice laced with growing adolescent attitude, “And I’ve never heard of it.”

“How long have you been around? Ten years? That’s hardly enough time to know everything there is to know about starships,” Garrick said.

“It’s enough time to know how to fix a busted hyper drive!” she put her hands on her hips in triumph. Okay, she had him there. But now the pain in his head was excruciating. He had done the complete opposite of what he intended to. Instead of extinguishing the flame of conversation, he simply added more fuel to the proverbial fire. And with a verbal victory now under her belt, now there may be no chance of shutting her up.

She once more broke the few seconds of silence with her voice.“So where are we going?”

“We?” Garrick questioned. “What do you mean ‘we’?”

The young Twi’lek rolled her eyes, “We: as in you and I. Us, on this ship,” she held up her arms, her palms facing the ceiling, as though she had just informed him of universal knowledge.

“No no no, there is no we, little girl,” Garrick was growing impatient. “You snuck onto my ship and now, what, you think you’re part of the crew now? You’re lucky I don’t jettison you into the Inner Core.”

“That’s impossible, the Inner Core is too far away, there isn’t any way I would—“

“Okay!” Garrick interrupted her. “I was just making a point!”

“Well then where are 'you' going, you big baby.”

“I am going to Umgul,”

“Ooo! Are we going to watch the Blob races?”

“We’re not going to see any races…”

“We…?” she said with a sly grin, telling Garrick she had trapped him in his words again.

“I am following a ship there. The Second Hand.”

“Why, do they owe you credits or something?”

“No.” Garrick said, carefully choosing his words. “There’s someone on board I need to talk to.”

Joy blinked. “Why don’t you just call them?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that.”

“Whatever.” she said, obviously becoming frustrated with Garrick’s inability to relay useful information. Joy sank down in the first mate’s chair, her arms crossed over her chest, a pouty look on her face as she swung the chair left and right on it's joint. A small beep emitted from one of the control panels behind her, making her head swivel to it.

“Alright, we’re coming out.” Garrick said to no one in particular.

She smirked and turned back to him. “You said ‘we’ again.”

He ignored her. “There they are.” The blue slush of hyperspace faded into bright white streaks and everything settled down into outer space again. Garrick saw the Second Hand a good distance ahead, but not far enough to lose it. The ship heading straight toward the misty planet of Umgul. A moment of silence, which was somehow uncomfortable, passed between Garrick and his unexpected passenger.

“Is it a girl?” the Twi’lek said, almost as an afterthought. For some reason, Garrick became angry, someone he barely knew asking him something about a subject perhaps he didn’t entirely understand rubbed him the wrong way.

“It’s none of your business.” he said quietly. His voice was tinged with irritation, and she must have heard it, as she sunk into her chair even further.

“Sorry.” she said, turning her head to watch the stars slowly moving in the distance. Joy was obviously sulking now, and for a moment, Garrick felt like he should apologize. But instead, the uncomfortable silence returned and kept them both company as the Emerald Dawn continued toward Umgul.

Re: In the Shadow of the Black Sun

Her attention now was fully on the stars as a smile slowly grew across her features, thinking how unbelievably obvious it was she hit a home run with her last question. "Men" she muttered to herself, trying her luck to see how she could push it with this guy - afterall she knew little to nothing about him, other than her dad used to bet on him now and again. She softly began humming a song he had been somewhat famous for, a fact he used to downsize to her.

A thought crossed her mind, as she glanced at the ship that was still a rather large blob of distant detail. "So.." she mused, turning to him and breaking the horrible silence. "How likely is this ship, we're following, going to shoot at us?" it was just then a smell crossed her nose, causing her to spin on the chair and hop off it, wandering in the assumed direction of it, ignoring the self-proclaimed success of the races of whatever he would likely to be complaining of.

She quickly found herself near the engine area, wincing at the smoke that was bellowing from the engines. "Hope i did it right…" she choked, waving her hand at it before running back to the cockpit, a little dustier than before, but not by much, both hands tucked behind her back. "You should've paid more for those repairs." she muttered, jumping back onto the chair next to the navigation and pulling the old straps across herself. "It's fine though." she mentioned, looking to him and smiling in her bracing position. "Just don't overdo it - It's my second time in space."

Re: In the Shadow of the Black Sun

Ryann was angry.
   
As he sat in the cockpit of his ship, he fumed at the sight of his ‘crew’ continuing to work at high speed. Vekis, with his bright red eyes scanning the screen in front of him, furiously worked the flight controls as the YT-2552 entered atmo. Lyra, in the co-pilot’s, looked at science data being fed in, ships whizzing by their space vehicle being entered into the NAVCOM, Vekis’ flight skills allowing the ship to easily curve around ships trying to land on Nar Shaddaa.
   
“Where the hell is Garrick?!”
   
“I haven’t gotten a signal yet, but their hyperspace trail leads on the Hydian Way. That's going to lead to Malastare, M’haeli, Naboo, or Umgul.”
   
The ship rocketed past a Port Authority vessel, catching them off-guard as Vekis spoke what the computer was reading.
   
“What do you think, Ryann?” Torin asked from his position at the Gunner’s Seat, not too far from the cockpit, over the shipboard communication system. Ryann looked up at the nearby console, Vekis’ face shown under a red hue, biting down his lip as he swerved the turret along a path, the camera keeping his face right in the middle. The Port Authority vessel was following, and bright red flashes beamed across Torin’s face, followed by an explosion. A nearby platform exploded, giving Ryann and his crew cover.
   
“Think about it! Naboo won’t harbor men on the run, especially if they got bounties from Mal’fey himself! M’haeli is a former Imperial forge-world, but the New Republic just won’t let smugglers hold up there. Umgul and Malastare are the only two options. But that’s the problem: I don’t know which one we should head to.”
   
“Malastare’s got no real Port Authority to deal with.”
   
“Yeah, but Umgul’s basically a crime world.” Lyra picked up on the conversation, her left arm slightly twitching rather oddly as she bit down on her lip, staring at the console as it still fed in data.
   
“But the crime boss is probably allied to Mal’fey. They probably know that.”
   
“Torin’s right, Ryann. We should head for Malastare.”
   
Ryann looked at the onboard radar as it showed more ships, most likely either pissed-off pirates or Port Authority vessels. Some of them were small-fries, but he could definitely see the size of the cruiser coming up behind them.
   
“Do it.”
   
Real space bent with them, funneling into a small, dark hole as light collided with neutrons and protons, becoming hyperspace. The ship had escaped.
   
Vekis was the first to relax.
   
“That was too close.”
   
Ryann nodded, realizing that he was already tired.
   
“I’ll be in my cabin.”

   
Ryann was sitting at the edge of his bed.
   
Two empty vials were on the bed, their contents within Ryann’s system already. The mercenary had an arm resting on his right knee, the other arm holding his head up as he stared at the ground. His cabin, much more spacious than it was originally on the Dead Ringer, was void of anything of value, and the light was low.
   
But today was strange for Ryann.
   
Even on a long stretch without the Sweet Spice, Ryann found even half a vial gave a quick fix, but he didn’t feel anything, especially after the second one. He knew he was pushing it, but he wanted the high. He craved the high. It made him feel normal, a normal Galactic citizen all over again, especially before his parents died.
   
His father gone, no longer here to tell him the teachings of long gone historians and ‘traders’ and other sorts of political and philosophical teachers, Ryann had to rely only on the Sweet Spice to keep his head cool and on a swivel. But, now, sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands, Ryann only remembered the pain of his life.
   
Every moment, passing through his body.

“Ryann!”
   
A voice called out through the Captain’s Quarters. Ryann looked up to see the face of his face, only ten years younger. He could see the features of his doppelganger as if he was right in front of him. He had light blonde hair that was combed upwards, a flattop of blonde hair that made him looked older than he appeared, but Ryann could easily recognize the twenty two year old Rebel pilot.
   
“What the hell are you doing here on a ship hunting the enemies of a crime lord and taking dangerous drugs?”
   
“The last thing I need is a sermon from someone who doesn’t exist.” Ryann growled, looking upwards to the figure before him. Younger Ryann merely shook his head in disappointment, his eyes closed and a sigh escaping his lips. He smacked his older version with a hardness that surprised Ryann, shaking him back.
   
“Stay the frak away from me.”
   
“Not until you fix yourself up.”
   
“I swear to the fraking Gods, if you don’t get the hell out of my room right now, I’ll kill myself.”
   
The young Ryann shook his head again, and then disappeared. Ryann rubbed his eyes as he rested his head upon his hands, closing his eyes tight as he closed off memories of his past down deep.
   
It was the only thing he could do.
   
And outside of his cabin, Vekis shook his head.


Lyra and Torin were strapped into the cockpit’s two flight seats, with Lyra taking the position of pilot and Torin in the navigator’s chair. Vekis slow came into the view of both of them walking in with a purpose, sitting down in the communication’s chair and reviewing logs as he began to speak.
   
“He ain’t right.”
   
Torin looked over his shoulder, and gave Vekis a small stare, as if, for a moment, confused on what Vekis was directing his comment to. His brown eyebrows were arched, slightly, as if visibly denoting his confusion. Lyra, his companion, on the other hand displayed nothing, merely staring at the continuing streams of data coming upon the viewport’s head’s up display.
   
“Who, Ryann?”
   
“Yeah. He’s talking to himself in the cabin.”
   
Lyra looked over at Vekis, a ping signaling that the autopilot had taken over in their hyperspace travel. Her green eyes locked with Vekis’ red, a near total opposite to what Lyra would have expected from the Chiss rebel.
   
“How bad?”
   
“Thinks he’s seeing someone who doesn’t exist.” Vekis responded, checking through dupe systems and deleting mail belonging to an “A. Richiz”, the former Captain of the freighter. His back was now turned towards Lyra, but the female human continued to talk beyond that.
   
“What do you expect? He’s been through a lot. I’m not surprised he’s not Section Eight yet.” Torin spoke out quietly, looking over data himself, before Lyra shot her head around to face the self-described Mandalorian, her eyes on fire and her demeanor ice-cold.
   
“I went through a lot worse than Ryann did, and so far I can’t stop thinking about it. I still have nightmares. And they probably did worse to Ryann, far worse than what that psychotic android did to me. Treat him with a bit more respect.”
   
“Respect?! Lyra, he’s a spice addict! All he’ll do is suck on that spice or…”
   
“Watch it, Vekis.”
   
“Hey!” Torin spoke up, turning his head so both of them were in his field of view, his bright cyan eyes clashing with their darker ones. It made Torin look less human than he really was, the eyes giving him the sense of mysteriousness and dark intent.
   
“Ryann knows the business, knows the contact, and he can fly this baby better than any of us could. But trust me, if he does slip…” Torin spoke quietly now, turning his head back to face the viewscreen with streaming data on the ship’s current cargo, cross-switching it with that of a former transaction and deleting the former. Disguising the ship’s cargohold to nothing is harder than Torin had expected, but he was doing it, and after a second of watching the data delete he turned his head back towards his crewmates. A soft gaze that was on his face was hampered by the death glare that was displayed upon his eyes, a serious tone to his otherwise light comical style.
   
“I’ll deal with him myself.”

Re: In the Shadow of the Black Sun

<B>Black Sun Headquarters on Coruscant</b>

In contrast to the approaching thumps of the boots of his henchmen, the heels of the majordomo's shoes made sharp, almost bulletlike sounds as he marched toward the main corridor. When he turned the corner, he nearly ran face first into the Black Sun agent who was leading the group; the agent spun but didn't slow down, and the majordomo fell into step beside him, now moving at a slow jog.

"We've received word from Nar Shaddaa. Ravensword has lost them again."

The Barabel couldn't see the human's eyes behind his visor, but he could hear the tenseness in his voice.

"How did they get past our bounty hunter?" Rawn demanded. He was so furious that he wanted to stop, grab this agent, and shake him as hard as he could. A foolish, immature reaction– this henchmen had nothing to do with the problem. He was just within range, the closest target available on whom the Barabel could vent his anger. And what was Tarsk Mal'fey going to say? It wasn't hard to guess. There would be repercussions here, <I>serious</i> repercussions. And here was this Ryann Ravensword, part of an elite bounty hunting force that was supposed to be the best in the galaxy, ones trained to deal with this.

The Barabel's face was pale green and his gaze was fiercely accusing; he was positive he actually <I>heard</I> the sound of the agent's throat working as he swallowed.

"I don't know, sir. Maybe if we contacted Ravensword himself he can explain. After all, I am just the messenger!" Panic made the human's voice overly loud and high, climbing toward the edge of strident.

But the Barabel's black glare was steady, with no patience or sympathy. "Then I suppose we take this to the Vigo and let him handle it."

His face set, the majordomo kept his silence and lead the agent with his henchmen in the direction of the inner sanctum of the Vigo of Black Sun.

+++

From the safety of Tarsk's inner chambers, the Vigo of Black Sun and several of his henchmen, including Rawn, stood frozen in front of a bank of surveillance screens, watching the footage of their quarry's escape. Mal'fey could feel the stress and anxiety building inside his skull like a massive migrane headache, the kind he'd gotten when Asshur Hellsponte had sabotaged his entire galactic network, no thanks to a few NR agents. His stomach churned with sudden nausea and little yellow lights sparkled at the edges of his vision. Yep, just like a migrane.

Gripping the edge of the counter, the Vigo finally found his voice. It came out raspy and low, almost a whisper. "Ravensword– I want him contacted <I>now</I>!"

"He must be in hyperspace, my Vigo," offered one of his henchmen nervously. He slapped his fingers against his face and wiped roughly at the corners of his mouth, the movement betraying his own fear. "His last transmission stated he did have a lead–"

Tarsk waved him away impatiently; he'd neither expected nor wanted an answer right now– explanations could wait for later. Right now, they had to think <I>forward</i>. "Well, wherever he shows up, he must be contacted." He glared at the monitor that showed the bounties he had posted: Aray, Jerva, Jono, and Johnathan, among a few others. By the Maker, how he wished he could reach right through the holoscreen and pluck them through it. He'd throttle each one himself. "Because I am going to double his efforts. It's obvious his small team can't handle such a task."

"What did you have in mind?" Rawn spoke up.

Without looking up from his desk, Tarsk snapped back, "I'm going to have assigned a few of our agents to help him. I will provide him with better firepower, better ships, better vehicles." Then he drew his mouth back in something that was part snarl, and part sneer. “The Andris must <I>not</i> be sold or divided among the other underworld coalitions, or else Black Sun will lose it's monopoly. I will do what I must to stop it."

The Vigo nodded to Rawn. “As soon as Ryann makes contact with us, have him directed to one of our safehouses. There, he will rendezvous with one of our agents. He will be provided with what he needs. His only drawback is that our agents will accompany him this time in order to get the job done.”

Without hesitating, he waved his hand again. “Now go…”

Re: In the Shadow of the Black Sun

The sound of a flushing toilet wakes me out of my stupor.  I sniff around, most people would try their eyes first, but I’ve always put more trust in my nose.  I’m on the Second Hand, I know that much, Aray’s smell permeates the whole ship.  Plus my scent’s here, Mack’s, Danner, Jerva’s, oh god it’s gotten worse.  There are two I don’t recognize.  One is a room or two away, and the other is exiting the head right now.  I must be in the infirmary.  Jono had made a comment once that it was weird to have the medbay next to the bathroom.  Aray had explained that the ship wasn’t that big and Corellian freighters didn’t come stocked with a proper medbay, so she made one.  I try to open my eyes, but they are tired and heavy.  I try and get up, but found my body just as lazy.  Getting frustrated I willingly forced my eyes open, and light rushed in.  I tried to sit up, but the blurred vision and dizzy sensations rapidly flooded my brain convinced me to lie back down and try again later.

 “Ugh…what hit me?”  I said out loud.  I wasn’t speaking to anyone in particular, just complaining in general, but I got a response anyway.  

 “What did you hit would be the more accurate question.”  A steady deep voice said from the sink.  He came towards me, and I tried to see his features.  He was a dark skinned man, and had white hair.  “How are you feeling?”

 I gave him a look.  I hated that question.  I just woke up from a ‘who knows how the hell long nap’, I’m still trying to see straight, how the frak do you think I feel.  “Lousy” I responded.

 “Well it must be better then you were the last few days.”

 “I guess” I responded trying to get my bearings still.  Then it occurred to me “Wait…who are you?”

“Ah yes, I was wondering when you’d ask that.”  He stood and bowed slightly “You may call me, Kite”

I noticed the lightsaber at his side “Jedi?” I managed.

He sighed, “I suppose, for lack of a better term.  Here, water” he responded offering a cup.

I sniffed it out of habit, and then gulped it down greedily, it was warm, but it helped my parched throat.  “Thanks” I coughed.  “How…”

“How did I get here?”  I nodded.  “Let’s just say our paths crossed.” He said smiling an old man’s smile.  You know the kind.  All friendly and trusting, and just below the surface you know there is a lot more that he is not telling you.  He put the cup down and changed the subject.  “You know, you’re lucky to be alive.”

“Yeah…I get that a lot.” I groaned.  *Flash* Falling, Aray’s face, a speeder *Flash* “Aray?” I asked him through tired eyes.

“Hmm…oh the Captain, she’s safe and sound.”  The ship shuttered and lurched forward, making Kite teeter back and forth a little.  “I believe that was her graceful exit from hyperspace now.”  He said with a smile again.  This guy seemed way too cheery for me.  

“Good…” I muttered

“She fancies you y’know.” He said as if he was telling me the weather.

She did?  What, wait…how did this guy know?  She seemed to be warming to me on Nar Shadaa, and if we hadn’t been rudely interrupted at the club, something might have happened, but what was this guy’s stake in it.  “Sure pops, whatever you say.”  I responded trying to brush it off.  Whatever there was to work out between Aray and I, we’d do it when we wanted to; IF we wanted to.  And I certainly am not going to do it lying on a table half naked.

“Just thought you’d like to know that she’s spent nearly the entire trip tending to you; even though by the way you heal, I don’t suppose you need my tending too anyways.”

 “You suppose a lot Kite.”  I wanted to dislike this guy, but my senses were telling me that he actually was sincere.  His heartbeat was steady, he wasn’t sweaty or nervous.  It’s sad that seeming to be a nice guy was cause for suspicious in this galaxy, but them’s the facts.

 “Like I said just thought you’d like to know”  Kite said starting to walk out.  “Well, I’ll let you get dressed in peace.” Kite said walking away.  I heard his footsteps fade into the main part of the ship.  I should get up and see how I was healing, but sleep just sounded so good right now.  I closed my eyes ready to slip back into dream land.  But my bladder had other ideas.   “Now where the hell are my…”  I started to say, but looking to the left I saw folded new clothes waiting for me, with the light-whip pommel on top of them.  “Oh…right”.  Feeling just a tad dumber, I swung my feet over the end of the table I had been lying on, I heard my muscles creek at the movement.  It’s a sound I’ve heard before, means I tore some muscles and they healed too tight.  It’ll go away soon, just like my headache would, though it was taking its dear sweet time about it.  I rubbed my head reflexively, and blinked my eyes a few times to get use to the light again.  My head a bit clearer now, I gingerly stepped off the table.  A few more creaks and pops came from strange places in my body from not having moved for so long.  After a few moments of cracking various joints I made it to the urinal.  As my bladder empties, I glance down to see the color, “Good, no pink pee, least the internal bleedin’s stopped” I mumbled to myself. I didn’t really know if I had internal injuries, then again it was a long fall.  Longest fall actually, now that I think about it.  Probably woulda killed me a few months back, course that was before all of Tarsk’s little upgrades to my skeleton.  “I’ll give him this much, whatever is inside of me is damn tough” I admitted as I finished my business.  Shaking the cobwebs out of my head I tucked the boys in and went to the sink.  I went to turn on the water and happen to glance at myself in the mirror.  Looking back at me was a face that I hadn’t seen for almost 10 years.  My hair was cut short against my scalp, and I was clean shaven…well relatively.  “What the hell?”  I said aloud rubbing my hand through my newly trimmed head.  “I’m gonna be havin a word with whoever is the jokester round here.”  I mumbled.  My stomach growled interrupting the inspection of my face.  “Didn’t Kite say something about food” I thought as I started to notice the smell of cooked meat coming from the main section of the ship.  I walked back over and started to put on the clothes laid out for me.  They were ok, don’t get me wrong I appreciate the new threads, but the t-shirt had some weird yellow and back pattern on it, and I’m not really a yellow kinda guy.  The outfit had black pants to go with it, but no boots.  “Damned claws” I cursed to myself, remembering that I had ruined the last pair by popping them.   

Walking out into the ship’s main section I see people gathered around a table.  Mack at the head, Danner and Jerva were squashed together on the left side, each trying to get more space, and Kite was sitting next to another member of the lightsaber carrying club.  
 
“Hey, look who’s up.” The other Jedi said.  This one was about my age, and seemed to keep my style of hygiene too.  “Vornis, nice to meet you, and this here is Kite.”  He said gesturing to the older darker gentleman with white hair.   

“We’ve met…hi” I replied.  Silence followed as I grabbed a bowlful of the stew with hunks of mynock in it.  Mynock’s are great raw, they have very sweet flesh, but cooking them always makes it rubbery and takes almost all the taste out of them.  Still, it was food, and I was starvin.

“He always this social?” Vornis asked.

“Actually, this is pretty friendly for John” Danner commented with a chuckle.

I sat down at the end of the table next to the Ryn who was looking up at me.  Without looking at him I said “So I guess I have you to thank for my new look?” while slurping some mynock into my mouth.

“Yes yes, I manage to bring you back to a half-way decent looking state.” Mack replied proudly.

“What if I liked it the way it was?” I growled lowly at him.

“You’re a little quick with the anger there.” Kite offered.  His voice seemed to have a way of garnering attention just by saying a few words.  His heart was slow and steady, very calm man.  Very unlike me.  “I would think a man recovering from your injuries would be more serene, and happy to be alive.”  The look he gave to punctuate his last sentence was uncanny in its ability to look like a disappointed father.

“Ha, John not get angry, I’m pretty sure that’s his default emotion.” Danner said started to laugh at his own joke.  I narrowed my eyes at Danner, in case you couldn’t tell I was not a morning person and Danner had already rubbed me the wrong way.

“Cool your jets Claw…Mack made you look better.” Jerva interrupted, always one to get to the point.

“Yeah, unless you like the char-broiled look” Danner added still chuckling.

“What the hell are you guys flappin about?”  I growled.

“Son, you had second degree burns over most of your body.  Your clothes were half disintegrated, and your hair was…” Kite started.

“Gone, poof, all gone” Mack chirped to complete Kite’s sentence.

“What?”

“It’s true, you were pretty ‘well done’ so to speak.”  Vornis said while Danner was nodding his head trying to stifle a laugh.  Guess that explains the lack of facial hair yet…the hair follicles would be the last to grow back.  “Guess thanks then…”  I added again without looking at the feathered member of the crew.  
“Welcome”, Mack said cheerfully as he got up, tossed his plate in the sink and went to the cargo bay, probably to sort the containers by the amount of dust on them or something like that.  I ran my hand through my hair again, still getting use to the shortness of it.  I knew it would grow out in a week, maybe two, but it still felt weird.   
 
“Well time to do engine maintenance.”  Danner declared as he tossed his plate in the sink.  He added “Come on Jerva, Captain’s orders, while you’re on the ship you help out.  Jerva grumbled something then tossed his dish in the sink.  I chuckled a little.  Jerva turned to me as he walked out “I wouldn’t laugh Claw, you’re on dishes duty.”  My face fell into a scowl, and I turned back to my plate as the mercenary walked off.  Tossing his plate into the sink with a gesture of his hand, Vornis got up and said something about going to meditate.  This left me and Kite sitting along at the table.

“Together again” Kite commented sipping his broth.

“Yep”

Kite sipped his broth again, “This might be a tad presumptuous…” he started to say.

“Yes it is.” I interrupted him.

He kinda sat back in his chair.  “Now that’s interesting.  Without even letting me finish, you’ve determined my question and your answer.  Quite the bag of talents you have there Mr. Claw.”

Remember how I said I wasn’t a morning person.  Standing up, the back of my legs pushing the seat back with a squeal “You were going to ask either A) How I survived the fall, B) How I healed so fast, or C) about certain aspects of my anatomy.  None of which I wanted to answer or you have any right knowing.”

Kite just stared at me very calmly, and took a napkin and dabbed his mouth.  “Actually I was going to ask if you liked the stew.  I made it you see.”  He smiled that knowing smile again and added “Now that you mention it though, those points you brought would make for an interesting story over dishes I’m sure; that is if you’d like some help.”

“Maybe later” I said marching towards the cockpit.  I wasn’t too thrilled about the dishes thing, and even less thrilled at Kite’s interest in me.  He had said that the Captain had wanted to see me, and right now a friendly face was just what I needed.  I entered the small hallway and smelled fresh café brewing.  The pot had just finished, so I poured a cup.  I heard footsteps, and then a red-haired vixen walked through from the cockpit.  She stopped in her tracks when she saw me.

“John, oh my god, you look so.  I mean wow, you look good, for an almost dead person that is.”  She said trying to recover her initial shock.  Her pheromone levels shot up almost immediately.  Maybe you should shave more often John.  I tossed the idea into the back of my mind.  Not a good idea John, she doesn’t know what she’d be getting into…and neither do you.   

“Yeah, so I’ve heard” I said looking back.  She’d dyed her hair, probably to try and avoid detection on wherever it was we were going.  “Nice hair” I said handing her a cup of cafe.

“Oh you like it…figured it might help with the bounty hunters.” Aray replied running her hand through her hair very feminine like.   

“I figured.” I said calmly sipping my cafe.    

She swallowed and stared very intently into her coffee cup. “Listen John…I…back on Nar Shadaa, I just wanted to say…” she paused for a moment. As if she was considering more then one option. “…thank you for saving us.”

I sipped my coffee. “Don’t mention it.” I said trying to breeze past the subject.

Her eyes widened a little and the cup left her lips. “Are you kidding? I have to mention it John…I mean…no one has ever done anything like that for me before.” She said clutching her cup. “You…you almost died.”

“Almost only counts in nerfshoes and thermals darlin.” I said reflexively. The truth was that I was just glad she was still alive. Y’know, for as long as I can remember I’ve always had the same flash before the eyes when I was about to ‘die’. When you can heal like I can, and live the life I live it happens far too often. Usually it was about survival, fighting through the pain, the training I received at BluNek. But it was never a person…not until now. She’d gotten inside somehow, through all that chattiness at 4 in the mornin, and now I wasn’t so sure that I wanted her out.

She smiled and responded “Apparently, well…” She said putting her cup down on the counter behind me. She brushed past my arm, she was just a tad too close for comfort, and I caught a wiff of her hair. It smelled familiar, and for the first time since I woke up I felt home again. Aray made this place home. “…so thanks again.” She said glancing up at me. Her deep blue eyes stared into mine. “Uh oh” I remember thinking. I tried to say “Yer welcome”, but her lips were on mine before I got the “Yer” out. The kiss was tentative, our lips barely touching, it was seriously the most chaste kiss that I’ve had in my entire adult life, but there was a sweetness to it. A closeness and warmth that was strange and new. Her arms rubbed my shoulders, and I felt my hand on her back. Then…“Unidentified freighter please adjust course to 0-945 vector 6, and transmit your identification codes please” a voice boomed from the cockpit, and I suddenly felt Aray’s hand move from my back to my front. She pushed me away, but her eyes said that she didn’t want to. Sighing heavily, she slipped out to the cockpit as blood tried to return to my brain. I heard her start to converse with Umgul ground control, and knew that whatever moment we had just had would have to be continued later.  

I made my way back to the galley and saw Kite doing the dishes.  Giving him a look, he just replied “Oh, I figured things were getting interesting enough for you without having to worry about dishes.”  
I didn’t know how he knew or if he knew, and I didn’t care.  “I gotta pee…again” I said and walked towards the bathroom to relieve myself.  I’ll give him this though, he was right about the more interesting part.

Re: In the Shadow of the Black Sun

“See them?”
   
“Of course not.”   
   
Ryann had a scowl on his face as he leaned back into his Captain’s Chair, staring out the main viewport’s screen, reading the details of each ship coming in within range. His eyes were glued to the main screen, waiting for his prey to surface. He really felt like a sand panther now, with his bait cornered in his trap, he only needed for them to surface.
   
However, the doubt of his validity of a trap was now beginning to ebb at him. Had he made the correct choice of Malastare? Is that pretty girl and her motley crew planning to go here, or to Umgul, like what some of the crew told him where to go? His eyes were staring still at the streams of data coming through, looking for anything that sounded remotely close to Second-Hand, or at the moment, anything that could belong to Garrick Farrell’s ship.
   
And now he had received no information with him. That was the worse part of it. If he was to double-cross Ryann, then not only would he be double-crossing one pissed off man who’ll find him and kill him, but he would also piss off Black Sun. Ryann sighed and shook his head, shaking that thought out of his head. He did not think the pod racer could, or would, do such a thing.
   
“That’s it.”
   
Lyra picked her ears up.
   
“Vekis, get me a communication link to Coruscant, and then try to get me to Tarsk. I need to send him an update.”
   
Vekis nodded, his fingers now working over the board itself, the veteran only concentrating on the job itself and not worrying about what Ryann was about to do next. Lyra, who was at the pilot’s chair, was sitting back into it with her arms crossed over her chest, her red hair under some sort of cap so it was kept out of the way.
   
When Ryann left, Torin looked over to Vekis. Both of them stared at each other and shook their heads.
   
“You two, stop it.”
   
“Look, Lyra, we can’t keep doing this. We’re not bounty hunters! I mean, we’re mercenaries, yeah, but we don’t hunt people like how Mal’fey wants us too.”
   
Lyra shook her head, waving Vekis off, tending back to the controls themselves as she overlooked them.
   
But what if he’s right? She stopped touching nobs and the such when her mind asked her that question. What if Ryann had gone off the deep end with the drugs and all of this? What if he actually had something…done to him back on Muunilinst? She didn’t know, Ryann had gotten the worse of the punishment, Lyra thought. Maybe his mind isn’t right at all?

   
“Mal’fey I—”
   
“This is a personal call to Tarsk Mal’fey, the CEO. I’m a friend. He will know me. Notify him that Ryann Ravensword wants to speak.”
   
“Hold on, sir. I’ll transfer your call to a private line.”
   
Ryann was now in the holo-room, sending off the transmission.
   
After a near-minute of silence, the image of the Bothan Tarsk Mal’fey simmered into view, his eyes peering at Ryann with a number of emotions, which Ryann concluded none of them to be good.
   
“I hope you can explain yourself.”
   
“When I was on Nar Shaddaa, I was about to capture them. I would have had all of them on their ship, and then I could of easily disabled their engines. But, since you decided that it was best to send more bounty hunters after them, I had to save them. You know the contract, right? You wanted them alive? These bounty hunters were shooting to kill! Not to mention the two damn Jedi, always one step ahead of me! There’s no way I can do this by myself.”
   
Tarsk studied him, still staring, expecting more.
   
“You didn’t tell me Johnathan Claw was some sort of beast-man with frakking metallic claws for nails! Or whatever the hell that is! The only good thing to this operation at the moment is that I know exactly where they are, however.”
   
His gaze seem to soften. That bit of news in Ryann’s speech seem to catch his attention.
   
“Where?”
   
“They went on the Hydian Way, and after a process of elimination, our collective guess is Umgul.”
   
“Where are you now?”
   
“We’re about to leave Malastare for Umgul right now.”
   
His head disappeared for a few moments.
   
In that span of time, Ryann leaned back into his chair. What was Tarsk going to do? Send a bounty out of him after the job was over or done? Or let bygones be bygones? He just didn’t know.
   
The face of Tarsk appeared back into view.
   
“I have secured a number of agents to help secure your targets. But make no mistake, Ryann. I want them alive, and if you don’t bring them to me like that with the andris, then you can consider yourself out of work, and possibly have a deathmark. Do I make myself clear, Mister Ravensword?”
   
“Crystal, sir.”
   
“Good. Do not fail me. Again.”
   
The holo cut.
   
Ryann immediately left the room, jogging from the comm. room with his mind set on what needed to be done. When he arrived at the cockpit, Lyra turned her head away from the controls to look at her captain, Torin didn’t look at him but continued to read the ship data, and Vekis lazily turned his head to look at Ryann.
   
“Tarsk wants us to head to Umgul. He’s set up some stuff for us to use when we get there.”
   
“Good.” Lyra said.
   
“Set a hyperspace vector to Umgul, and on the double.”

Re: In the Shadow of the Black Sun

A mad rush to the spaceport brought Kite and Vornis right into the middle of a firefight; Kite wasn't sure who was on who's side, although he could definately feel evil intent all over the place. He and Vornis carried John towards the docking bay, skirting around the edge of the conflict. Or at least, they did until a blaster bolt came flying at them. With the reflexes of a younger man, Kite's lightsaber quickly flashed out and deflected the shot. Vornis took a defensive stance with his own, and in good time they got aboard the ship John had pointed out, although not before Kite got to play a small prank on the Bounty Hunters that were shooting at them.

After much explanation to the crew, they managed to get aboard and get the wounded man into the med bay.


-Several Days Later-

Kite exited the bathroom just as John awoke. He smiled in his sly fox way, and sat down next to John. They exchanged a bit of 'pleasant' conversation, at least in Kite's view, and he walked away feeling both amused and excited. He hadn't been in the thick of it for a long while, and he was going to make the most of it. He made his way to the mess hall, where he began to employ some of the cooking skills he had picked up during his exile. After dinner, and another pleasant conversation with John, Kite began doing the dishes. However, he could sense John's unease at talking about himself, so he sent the young man off to the captain. It's where he needed to be, at least for the moment. And where Kite needed to be was here, at least for now. He had his own appointment with the captain, and he could wait a while still; He wasn't dying, after all.

Re: In the Shadow of the Black Sun

The Emerald Dawn’s landing gear softly touched down on the concrete of landing pad 2-014. Garrick Farrell exhaled, simultaneously with the exhaust system. Landing on Umgul had been easy enough. The mountainous terrain had been beautiful to look at, much better than Nar Shaddaa had been. The dense fog had made it a little difficult to land, but at least the auto landing cycle was working properly; Garrick thanked the Maker.

The engines began to cool down and Garrick turned his attention to the console. A few button pushes later and a holographic image of Umgul popped up and a red dot shined through the yellowish color of the holo. Joy’s eager eyes widened and she smiled.

“That’s us?” she said, scratching her nose.

“Yep, Umgul City,” Garrick kept glancing over the information about the planet. “Blob racing?…”

Joy jumped up in her seat, “Ooo! We can go to the Blob races!”

“This isn’t a vacation! We aren’t going to the Blob races,”

She plopped down, her arms folded, a nasty looking scowl on her face. The truth was, he didn’t want to go anywhere near an establishment where money may be gambled. Umgul was a gambling planet, and they gambled on everything, from Blob races to who would win a seat on the Senate and everything in between. Including podracing. If Garrick had the unfortunate luck of running into a gambler who had lost a large sum of credits on him, it wouldn’t take long for the lights to go out permanently. And the way his luck had been lately…

“Okay, here’s the plan, we’re…” Garrick turned to the co-captain’s seat and discovered that it was now empty. He whirled around in his seat and heard the pitter-patter of feet rushing down the corridor. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m going to change!” a girl’s voice yelled back.

“Change? Your clothes? This isn’t some social gathering, we’re here strictly on business!”

“Whatever. That doesn’t mean I can’t be a little more comfortable while we’re out there!” her retort was followed by the clatter of her belongings as they spilt from her upturned pack. Garrick leapt from his captain’s chair and followed the sound of her voice.

“Hey! A little privacy here!” She shrieked. He had gotten about halfway down the main corridor, and he hadn’t seen anything, so she must have heard him coming. Garrick heard movement coming from one of the storage compartments in the main corridor, so he stood next door inside the eating area. He gently kicked one of the many spilled tins of food that still lie on the floor.

“What was that?” Joy said from her changing area.

“Will you hurry up?”

Joy emerged from her small quarters, “So what’s the plan?” She had changed into a much more revealing outfit, her blue torso much more exposed, planting her hands on her hips.

“You’re not going out like that,” Garrick said dryly.

“What, are you my father now?” Joy said, raising an eyebrow.

“…I could be. I mean, we look so much alike,”

“Do you want me to help you or not?”

“You don’t even know what we’re doing yet,” Garrick said. But in all truthfulness, he didn’t really have an idea either. He knew the Second Hand was somewhere here in Umgul City, and he knew, after a brief battle with his conscience, he had to warn them that Ryann and the Black Sun were on their way. But finding them in this city would be like trying to find a stormtrooper in a snow storm. He also knew turning on the Black Sun could be a serious deviation from his plan on living a full life and it was a risk he had to take. Not only for the sake of saving Aray and the crew’s life, but because it was the right thing to do. It was the first time in a long time Garrick had wanted to do something not for his own benefit; he wasn’t sure how he felt about it yet.

Garrick stepped back out into the corridor and beckoned for the young Twi’lek to follow him. Joy was turning out to be a bigger problem than he had originally thought. He admired her curious, albeit somewhat naive attitude, as well as her willingness to help. He had known her almost as long as both Ryann and Aray, and in a situation where he had already almost seen himself killed multiple times, Garrick needed someone to trust, to rely on. Someone whose hands he could put his life in, and vice versa. The fatherly instincts he had developed during his childhood helping his mother raise his siblings had already put him in a position to protect the young girl. But when it came down to it, what would she do to protect him?

Garrick pressed a button and hydraulics kicked into gear, the loading ramp slowly descending to the ground. Joy threw her backpack over her shoulder. Garrick couldn’t help himself.

“What are you bringing?” he asked.

“Nothing I don’t need,” she answered coolly. Garrick raised an eyebrow. Maybe he would be okay after all…Another good sign: there wasn’t another welcoming committee.

— — —

It must have been some time during the midday, as the streets weren’t very crowded, at least compared to Nar Shaddaa. Most of them were human and looked friendly enough, but Garrick knew better than to judge something based on its outward appearance. Better to be safe than sorry.

“Give me your hand,” he said quietly to Joy, who walked just in front of him. Her head snapped around, a quizzical look on her face.

“What?”

“Your hand, I don’t want to lose you,”

Joy made a face and reached back. Her little hand felt cold wrapped around Garrick’s fingers. They had walked almost halfway down the street.

“There!” Joy shouted, pointing across the way. Garrick’s stomach filled with anticipation.

“Where?” he asked.

“A mechanic’s shop, right there!”

Garrick sighed, “We were looking for the crew, and Aray. Remember?”

“No, you were looking for her,” Joy shook her head, “I’ve been looking for a way to fix the hyperdrive. And I just found someone to help me do it,” Garrick felt her hand suddenly pull away. She was already starting toward the shop. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about it,”

Garrick fumbled to find the words to get her to stop, but it was too late.

“Alright! Just, uh…” his eyes searched the street for some marker that would be hard to forget. A glowing yellow sign that said Tynno’s caught his eye. It looked like a club or bar, situated on a corner just down the street between the landing platforms and what looked to be a public square. “Meet me in there!” She waved in agreement, at least he thought she did. Garrick headed toward the bar, taking a deep breath and wishing for a little bit of the luck he hasn’t had in a long, long while.

Re: In the Shadow of the Black Sun

She barely felt the landing - the slight jutter waking her from her glazing stare of the scenery the planet offered up to them through the curled glass of the cockpit, before it finally vanished behind the thick fog the planet was famous for.

It was then, the hologrid lit up her features, forcing her to hide her excitement by scratching her nose. "That's us?" frankly, holotechnology was just a bunch of mathmatics thrown into a fun blend of colours and light.

It was then, that he mentioned one of the many things she did know about for certain, forcing her to jump up with excitement and bounce on the co-pilots chair, the padded material absorbing her movements without issue. "Ooo! We can go to the Blob races!" she cheered, assuming he may feel similarly, only to be destroyed in hopes by a single sentence.

The short female dropped quickly to her backside, meeting with the chairs padding heavily, scowling at him for the time being as she thought of some kind of revenge or something she might say to avenge her point. Perhaps later. It was at that point she leapt off the chair, while he seemed to stare into space - something the pair of them had in common it would seem. With a soft sigh, she headed down the neck of the ship, to where she had left her gear as he began speaking.

"I'm going to change!" she called back, walking up to her newly claimed locker and swinging open the door, to rummage through her clothes and various other things, before upturning her things on the floor and scooping up what she wanted, hearing his footfalls down the hall as she cried behind her. "Hey! A little privacy here!” listening intently as he made any sorts of movements, before he kicked a can, causing her to jump in her own skin.

"What was that?" the girl squeaked in mid-dress, before bobbing out in her more species-orientated clothes. "So, what's the plan?" planting her hands onto her hips as a short pink dress made with what could be considered silk, a pair of arm-warmers that nearly fell past her hands and a rather more revealing 'X' band top, that demonstrated her pre-adolescance. To top it off, a base-wrap on her lekku made the girly outfit complete. Afterall, she wasn't going outside with a dirty white and blue setup.

She was quickly dismissed as not allowed to dress like that, forcing her to cross her arms defensively for the remainder of the arguement, which he easily gave up on. She was almost disappointed at this fact, before his hand waved for her to follow, the eager female trailing his steps with some jog before walking slightly behind and off to his right, slinging her backpack over her shoulder while he looked at her funny, asking a question that nearly insulted her intelligence. "Nothing i don't need." Came the response, witty and true.. Well, maybe a little towards an unlikely truth.

Her eyes eagerly scanned the street as they exitted the docks, the girl seating her thumbs to the straps of her backpack - which lovely enough nearly matched the same colour as her current garment. if only different to the texture. The city seemed enveloped in the typical races, Humans and various other races that may be considered sub-species or sub-human.. or whatever was being used at the time. It was then Garrick spoke, having missed what he said over the bustle of the city.

She was a little unsure at first, but eventually placed her own hand into his, warming hers for a few moments, she turned her head as she hated the truth - many Twi'leks were terrible in more cooler climates, she was almost beginning to regret wearing what she had picked out. A neon sign caught the corner of her eye as she looked up, smiling with confidence to point at it. "There!" a quick pause as he obviously didn't see it. "A mechanic's shop, right there!" her enthusiasm lead her to drag him a few steps towards it, before he stopped and belittled her find.

“No, you were looking for her,” while the girl shook her head “I’ve been looking for a way to fix the hyperdrive. And I just found someone to help me do it.” she began to relax her grip on his hand, and slip it between his fingers, as she made her way towards it  “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about it.”

She waved as he pointed to a bar, forcing her eyes to roll at his antics. "Alacholic.." she shook her head, before skipping a few steps into the workshop, and peering in. "Hello..?" she called, before walking in and browsing the junk that littered the shop walls, flicking part of an old droid that looked like it could be used for combat. The thing looked like it had taken a large blast to the mid-center. A noise behind her made her twirl about-face, staring up at a goliath of a creature, no idea of the species. But it was overweight, green, smelly and didn't appear too intelligent, to say the least.

"…Hi" she waved relucantly, as the beast snorted, looking her down - not that he could do otherwise.

"You owned?" the pig questioned her, forcing the girls bright eyes to stare somewhat confused at it before thinking of a reply.

"Oh!" she paused, thinking exactly what he ment. "Him!" she yelled loud enough so everyone could hear at this point, trying not to make it blindingly obvious. "He owns me." her finger pointed at a lanky male, examining a circular ball-like object before he lifted his head to the pair, his expression somewhat confused to the situation that had befallen him - right up until she jogged to his side, grabbing his inner elbow with both hands and hanging onto him for use of a shield, he was almost too tall for it too.

She mouthed to him. 'Help me.' before staring down the offending species, tempting to poke her tongue out - but right now help wasn't definate.

At least the bar was a quick sprint away.

Re: In the Shadow of the Black Sun

On board Aray’s Ship…

Vornis was in deep meditation.
   
The soft hum of the engine nearby was enough to drive him into a lull, hiding all of his powerful emotions swirling in a vortex within his body and digging them deep. That was the Jensaarai Way; and that was why Vornis always mediated. Each Defender sought his own way to meditate, and for Vornis he never did it in silence. He hated to do it in silence. It didn’t suit his personality at all, and he knew the real world wasn’t silent.
   
Vornis heard the patter of footsteps, and he opened his left eye.

He saw Kite sit next to him.

“Do you mind if I meditate near you?”

Vornis smiled back, his eyes garnering a look at the older Jedi. To him, Kite was a shining example of what a Jedi should be, and not the fallacy that his master and the rest of the Defender seemingly accepted. He didn’t bother keeping that thought in check, but he was keeping his mind on-guard. He was making sure that his dark thoughts concerning what happened on Nar Shaddaa was only concerning himself and no other.
   
He was now totally focused in his meditation, and only the background noise of engines and people talking was in his mind as he cleared it. He let his mind reach out towards the rest of the crew, save Kite himself, and their thoughts were guarded, but they definitely pooled his conscious forward. He let the darkness slowly begin to swirl, to vortex it into nothing, but he honestly couldn’t move it.
   
And that scared him.

   

---

   
The Dreamworld was something he could always count on.
   
Around him, within the contents of his mind, was all of the places that both haunted him and gave him hope. In this world as he delved deeper into meditation, he was free to adjust and review memories of a long-forgotten time, as well as view himself in a new light. He loved the view of the heart from here, a vast beacon of light, and of hope.
   
“Why are you here?”
   
The voice was silk, smooth, yet heavily accented, and Vornis could barely understand the language from which it spoke from. It was Karumei, his only apprentice, his only holder of the blade techniques that were taught to him. She was wearing her armor, but the face that she bore was smiling, tanned, a good face. She was in tune.
   
“I’m here to meditate.”
   
“No you’re not.” Her smile dropped. She crossed her arms over her chest, now speaking slowly.
   
“You’re still despondent over Amira’s death. Master, you need to move that away from you. She’s gone, she’s with the Force. Do you think that it’s your fault that she’s dead?” This, to him, did not sound like Karumei. But the train of thought, of whenever this was Kar or not, ended with the inclusion of another, that of a black-robed version of himself, his skin pale and his eyes white. He laughed.
   
“No, you are a fool if you view it like that. You can use your anger as a tool, to use it against people like Mankar.”
   
“You are naïve if you see it like that, Vornis. You know too well the power of the Dark Side, and how it affects people.”
   
Vornis was standing in front of the two: One the representation of who he thought was a paragon, and the other a darkside version of himself, although totally different in terms of feeling and appearance. The Jensaarai Defender stared at the both of them, making his decision.
   
He opened his mouth, slowly, but before he could talk, he was shaken out of his trance…

   

---

       
“Vornis.”
   
A dark-skinned hand shook his shoulder, jarring Vornis awake. He turned his head, realizing he was laying down on the ground, and it hit him that he had fallen asleep. His dream, as he realized it, was rather reflective of his inner self, but he left that thought, and the knowledge of the dream, slowly fade as he stood up.
   
“We’ve landed.”
   
Vornis stood up, albeit with a slight bout of hinderance due to stiff muscles, and dusted his robe off. He rubbed his chin, trying to clean off his moderate beard, but it wasn’t coming off easily, and that was annoying for the Jensaarai. He wasn’t used to the beard, but he grew it out for his disguise, and so now since the mission is over, and essentially a failure, he now had a personal mission.
   
Cut this damn beard.

   

---

   
When Aray had told Vornis that he needed to be back in a few hours, he told her that he would be back in about thirty minutes, so she was alright with letting him leave. He now wandered the streets, a clean-shaven face and his hair cut down once more, looking around for just a shop to waste time in; he had already contacted the Jensaarai and told him of his failure, but he only had sent a message. He would be returning back soon after he had made sure that Aray and her crew were safe enough to continue.
   
Plus, the whole Amira incident was beginning to flare up the Dark Side within him, and he had to quell that from growing anymore. He was now just walking, among the populace, trying to find something worth putting time into.
   
So when he pulled himself into a mechanic’s shop, he found that the shop had a lot of stuff that he could invest some time into. His first thought pulled him to this weird, large circular object that caught his attention. He looked at the model, the date of which it was made, and the description of it, but for the love of him he couldn’t figure out what exactly it was.
   
That’s when the twi’lek girl got his attention.
   
“He owns me.”
   
Vornis turned his head to the pair that were talking: A little Twi’lek girl and a large, hulking Gamorrean. He had a confused look on his face: What? He didn’t know her, but, more importantly, why was she lying about that? He didn’t have time to react as she gripped her elbow, mouthing ‘Help me’.
   
Jensaarai or not, he was going to help her.
   
“What’s the problem?” Vornis growled, turning his eyes, and his face, towards the Gamorrean. A subtle thing happened, since Vornis decided using the Force was a bit too much at the point, so all he did to make his point proven that he owned her was just to open his cloak just a little bit, to reveal his curved shoto blade, the small point getting the attention of the pig-faced alien.
   
“…Nothing.” The pig-alien said, turning his head and walking away with a bit of speed in his step. Vornis smiled, chuckling a bit to himself, before he turned his gaze to the Twi’lek.
   
“Do I need to help you find your guardian?”

Re: In the Shadow of the Black Sun

After musing in his slime bath for a while, Trahald poked his head out to talk it out with the wall. "It's Black Sun.  It's good money and lots of contacts.  Definitely beats waiting around here for a job."

"No, it's Black Sun, and it'll get you killed.  You're not cut out for bounty hunting, much less when it's for people that can get away with messing with Black Sun!"

"Ah, nobody can get away with it for long.  And they're good to know.  I just wish I was smuggling for them.  And they just want a bunch of humans.  They won't be able to stop you.  Just one ship.  Go in and disable the thing, then it's just a matter of time."

"So how'd they stop these mercenaries I'm gonna be working with?  They're smart.  And they stole some andris?  One ship stuffed with andris isn't going to hurt Black Sun that much!  They must have embarrassed them or something.  I wish I'd been there!"

He mumbled, "No, you don't," and climbed out of his bath to review the information he'd been sent. "Faast?  Where have I heard that name before?  And Force users?  Well, now I wish that I hadn't been avoiding all information on these guys!  Thought it was just the New Republic trying to make its heroes look good.  If this is serious, how do you capture one of these guys?  Half of the rumors can't be true."

He paced around for a bit, trying to remember all the rumors he'd heard. "Okay, if they can jump into my mind and convince me that I'm an astromech, there's nothing I can do but beep, 'Yes, sir?'"

Eventually and resignedly, he stopped on the plan of not planning too far ahead and humming the Imperial March over and over, just in case. "Their powers are all mental, anyway, it sounds like.  I just have to keep them on their toes, and they'll only be as bad as the others, which'll be bad enough."

"Maybe.  But what about the lightsabers?  These guys are some kind of ancient weapons experts, right?"

He stomped around The Spicy Lady, getting ready to lock up while jovially  and absent-mindedly arguing with himself. "Oh, please.  What's a lightsaber going to do against my swamp stunner?  I don't even have to distract them.  I'll stun them, just like everyone else."

"It won't be that easy, idiot."

"Probably not.  There are a bunch of them.  So!  Disable their ship, then go after them one by one?"

"And they will obligingly follow you into some alley, one at a time?"

"Yes, that would be nice, thank you."

"Oh!  What about this Ravensword guy and his people?  You might as well include them in your brilliant plan of, 'I stun them!'"

"Nah.  More money for me, this way."

"Okay, focus.  I should wait for Ravensword.  He'll probably have more information on these guys.  The targets should be here soon, or they're already here.  I should find them and make sure they don't fly off before the mercs get here."

"But wouldn't it be so much more impressive if you handled it yourself?"

"Shut up.  I don't want to impress Black Sun.  I made myself known to them, got my name on their books by a favor.  I said I was a ship for hire, would be happy to help them out in my down time.  I probably shouldn't have said something so general.  And Ravensword is going to get a bunch of upgrades!  What's better?  All of that or the goodwill with Black Sun from not charging much?"

"Well, it's my first time working for them.  Better to gouge them only when you need to.  This guy's ship is probably pathetic, probably the only reason these humans got away.  I'll get some points with him, helping him install his new stuff, at least.  Maybe I'll be able to help him out, and he'll tell Black Sun that I'd be better for smuggling."

He jumped into his usual flight suit, shot his tongue out at a few gnats in a corner, and lowered the Spicy Lady's runway.  His stomach still growling, he dashed back to grab a few capsules of insects to stow in a pocket and snack on later.  He thought about checking out the safe house of Black Sun's, but he decided to stroll around the spaceport, on the off chance that he'd spot a YT-2400 with a bunch of humans milling around, arguing over which of their many cultures was the best.  After noting the locations of a few and finding no humans around to claim them, he sighed, looked at his chrono, wondered how much time he had before his fellow employees would show up, and hunted around for a cantina.  Tynno's had some decent selections and wasn't far from one of the possible ships he'd seen.  

On his way, he grumbled to himself, "See?  This job is not for me.  I'm pretty sure I've heard the name of one those smugglers before.  I wouldn't want to get him mad at me."

"Don't be soft!  There's other people to work for, and the people you're working for are not the smartest ones to cross."

"I shouldn't have offered, in the first place!" Outside Tynno's, Trahald decided that he'd see what he could do along the lines of getting information out of a few spaceport employees, after a break.  It was very unlikely that they'd have given the same ship name that he had for them, but someone might remember something useful.  Just a little break, then he'd go back to trying to be a bounty hunter.  Inside, there were vidscreens all over the place, covering the latest blob races.  Knowing nothing about how to judge one blob from another, he hadn't drained any of his credits on them, but he knew how to deal with their fans.

 He ordered a lum and looked at a fan bemoaning his loss. "You lose a lot, buddy?  See, I heard that there's a rogue Jedi that fixes all the races.  Look!  They're showing that clip again!  Look at Number Fifteen!  Was that not your blob?  Well, he was mine, and he would have won!  Jedi slowed him down when he was doing good." While listening to the fan's evidence on why Number Fifteen had never had a chance of winning but how it was certainly possible that his favorite's many losses had been engineered, he kept an eye roving for reactions, just in case the Jedi were around.  He hummed the Imperial March.

Re: In the Shadow of the Black Sun

Kite walked down the lonely hallway of the ship, having spoken briefly with the Captain, and detailing his and Vornis' exploits before they had rescued John. His mind was somewhat disturbed, however. Why were Bounty Hunters after the crew of the Second Hand? It couldn't be because of Vornis or himself… He knew information flew by fast, but this was quite unheard of. In his wandering, he came across a meditating Vornis, who opened an eye to see who it was sneaking up on him, apparently. Kite smiled his Joker's smile.

"Do you mind if I meditate with you?"

Vornis simply returned the smile, and Kite sat. He closed his eyes, and reached out with the Force. He could feel Vornis doing the same, but he steered away from his thoughts, as well as the thoughts of the crew. Instead he retreated into his own mind.

---

"It has been some time, Master Exeter."

The voice, a familiar and comforting one, caused Kite to smile.

"Master Windu. It has been years. I trust you are well?"

The figure of his former teacher merely smiled at him, and sat down facing him. Quickly Kite realized this was simply a vision, and his smile faded slightly.

"I exist only in your dreams now, my friend. I come to offer you comfort. And wisdom, although I assume you do not lack the latter."

Kite's smile returned.

"Kite, there is much hidden from you at the moment. You must focus for the task that is coming ahead."

A confused look was on Kite's face.

"Task, Master Windu?"

The vision nodded.

"Yes. The Jedi have always faded and returned, as have the Sith. Right now, the Jedi are entering a period of rebirth. But the Sith will not be far behind. And you must be ready for when they surface. However, you have more pressing issues at hand. This Jensaarai… Do you trust him?"

Kite's smile grew wider.

"Well, he hasn't tried to kill me yet, so I'd say so."

Master Windu laughed, a rare occurence. Perhaps something that could only happen in a vision.

"I see. I know you have felt his lack of control over his emotions; It is due to his training. You must be watchful; Not all paths to the Darkside are shrouded in evil. The best intentions can lead one astray, as you well know."

Thoughts of Anakin Skywalker drifted into Kite's mind.

"But, you can't keep dreaming forever. You were my best student, Kite. I know you won't let me down."

---

Kite's eyes opened as the vision faded, returning him from the foggy darkness of his mind into the light of the ship. He turned to look at Vornis, seeing him asleep on the floor. Since the ship seemed to have stopped moving, he assumed they had arrived.

"Vornis."

Kite called, but no answer. The Jedi stood, lightly shaking the Jensaarai.

"Hello… Vornis."

The Jensaarai awoke with a start, a puzzled expression on his face.

"We've landed."

Vornis stood, seemingly stiff from sleeping on the floor. Kite watched as he left, rubbing his chin.

"Hm…"

Kite decided it was best if he stayed on the ship, just in case any of the crew left. Perhaps he could learn something in the meantime, while he waited for them to return. Sitting back into a meditative position, Kite once more closed his eyes. He would rest, for now.