Two weeks and a day had passed since Roland and his crew returned to the space stations hanger only to find their ship had been hijacked. That's fourteen days that the crew of the hubris have had to squat on the 'Charlotte', which is three hundred and thirty six hours that Roland had spent sitting in one of the toilet cubical plotting acts of unspeakable cruelty against those who tore his pride and joy away from him... but the wait was finally over.

A flickering neon sign rested above the establishments doorway, the name 'The Dirty Hole' spelt out in harsh, bold lettering. The bar was wedged in between a speeder parts shop and a barren parking lot on a backwater merchant outpost a system away from where the trio had first lost the ship. Like something out of a bad action film Roland pushed the double door apart, pausing momentarily to eye the patrons who all bore a feint resemblance to Donovan. They too eyed him back before returning to their drinks.

He began to advance towards the bar in a calculating manner. The bar itself was filthy though its occupants didn't seem to mind, the occasional grunt or murmur drifting over head mixing in with the jukebox that chimed away in the background. A large, balding though heavily mustached man stood behind the bar cleaning a grimy glass with his apron. Roland paid him no heed as he took a seat at the bar, though the man followed him with a fleeting interest.

"What can' I do you for?" Roland said nothing as the most likely scenario's began playing out in his head. The bartender however didnt care for it, as far as he was concerned Roland was taking up a seat and taking up a seat meant he was losing money.

"Either start drinkin' or git" The barmen said, his bushy eyebrows rising slightly,

"Information..." Roland finally brought himself to say as he attempted to hold back the fire of homicidal rage that had been building over the past fourteen days.

"Read a newspaper" the remark earnt a few chuckles from the regulars but only poured petrol over the fire that was burning away inside of Roland.

"Landing pad four, the faded crimson YV-330..." he began, his eye's fixed firmly on the wooden bar-top, "Who owns it?" The bar went silent as the eye's of its regular inhabitants all placed themselves squarely on Roland... all but one.

A large-ish man stood by a pool table, his features obscured by the low hanging light. One by one the patrons eye's began to make their way over to him. Roland followed.

"Who's askin'?" Giving a knowing look at the men standing around him the large man approached him. His features began to reveal themselves as he moved further and further away from the table. He too donned a heavy mustache which joined with his sideburns to create a menacing beard. Roland was not intimidated by the mans presence, though it was clear that some people would be. Roland was not an easy man to intimidate in general, his warped sense of personal superiority to all things living and dead simply wouldn't allow it.

"How did you come by it?" Graves kept his tone as sullen and emotionless as possible. It was the only thing stopping him from screaming incoherently and tearing the mans throat out.

"Friend lent it to me almost two weeks ago, why?"

The dam that Roland had constructed to hold back the flood of raw aggression that he had been fostering since the theft had begun to crack the moment he set foot in the bar. Now would take was a slight nudge and it would all come spilling forth.

The man snorted impatiently as he looked back to his friends stationed around the pool table. "You gonna' answer me or what?". Graves twitched slightly, raising the eyebrows of those around him.

"Lets be honest. Where did you really get the ship..."

Again the man snorted, "Whats it matter to you?"

The pleasant guitar rifts that drifted out from the jukebox were drowned out by an ear shattering succession of gunshots which ended almost as suddenly as they had started. Again the jukebox was left unchallenged as the leader of the general ambiance, that was until the bar was filled with the harrowing screams of a man who had just been strafed across the knee's by a machine pistol. Revenge was an odd feeling, often leaving those who accomplished it feeling hollow and cheated. Though Roland had a disturbing leer painted from cheek to cheek, the smoking machine pistol still clenched firmly in his hand.

The starship thief bellowed and howled in pain as he grabbed frantically towards his knee caps. A torrent of blood spilled onto the surrounding floor boards turning their dark brown color to a darker crimson. The rest of the bar's occupants stood in a stunned silence, some peaking out from behind their newly acquired hiding places. With a steady hand Roland reached down and pulled a set keys out from the top pocket of the mans leather vest.

Things were going swimmingly and looked as if they would remain that way until the group that surrounded the pool table grabbed whatever blunt instruments they lay their hands on before moving to encircle Graves. A wise man once said 'only a loser brings a knife to a gunfight' and since none of the men had knives that probably made them twice as likely to lose.

"Who the fuck do you think you are!" a grizzled looking short one bellowed as he waved his pool cue menacingly. The leer on Rolands face grew as he eye'd his would be attackers. His disturbed gaze drifting across the length of the group.

"Oh.. My mistake. Allow me to introduce myself" his tone was calm and collected for a man who had just emptied half a clip into another man's knee caps at close range. A man who had only just blacked out from the pain and blood loss. Coyly he took a half step back as he continued to eye his new found friends.

"I, gentlemen... am ROLAND MOTHERFUCKING GRAVES!" For the second time that night his faithful machine pistol was raised. The kick back assisting in a clean and level spray of all those unfortunate enough to stand in front of him.

----

Seb and Donovan sat patiently in a 'borrowed' speeder that the trio had picked up outside the landing pad that a fellow 'osker' had dropped them off at. The two sat silent and stared towards the doors and neon sign of the bar, and although both wouldn't admit it they were worried about Roland. He had been quiet for the past two weeks, but not in a 'nothing to say' type of way... more a brooding and dark kind of way. Which scared Seb. He had gotten into the mindset that one day, when he least expected it, Roland would kill him. Which meant that one day he would have to either kill Roland first, or run away.

His eyelids began to grow heavy as he lent back in the seat, resting his head against the window. Sleep was going to have to wait though as a muffled succession of gunshots echoed out from the run down bar.

"Start the speeder" Donovan ordered as he reached for the shotgun he'd placed on the back seat, opening the rear passenger door in the process.

"Do you think they shot Ro-"

"Just shut up and start the damn' speeder"

Seb did as he was told, his eye's fixed firmly on the dark grey doors. It wasn't long until a second succession of gunshots rang out followed by Roland diving backwards out of the door, the machine pistol chattering away in his hand. The man wasted no time in dragging himself to his feet and diving into the speeder, panting heavily with a overly excited smile across his face,

"Didya' get em'"

"Did. Now go, I think I stirred up a hor-"

A shot glanced off the bonnet of the speeder, prompting the trio to turn and look at the door. The heavily mustached, thick eyebrowed bartender was standing with what looked to be an ancient but large caliber, bolt action frontier rifle in his hand. Frantically Donovan began screaming for Seb to 'punch it' whilst he returned fire with his shotgun. The second shot came as the speeder reached the end of the street, the round rocking the speeder violently as it scored a hit on one of the stabilizers... and then they were gone.

---

The trio barreled out of the speeder, leaving it still running just short of the loading ramp of the Hubris. Roland was the first to board, immediately dropping to his knee's and kissing the floor as he mumbled sweet nothings to it like it was his long lost love. Both Seb and Donovan made a B-line for the cockpit. The bar's occupants were dazed and wounded, but by no means done. It was only a matter of time before they gathered themselves and made for the landing pad.

The ship went through its usual start up routine. A sharp shudder there, a groan and the ascending tone of the engines firing up. A screen blinked with the words 'New message'. Seb out of curiosity and lack of a better thing to do tapped it turning the drab blue screen into a dark skinned, white haired women that the trio had liaised with when they began their search for their lost ship.

"Roland, if you're still alive get back here. We need all hands.. Oh, and congratulations on finding your ship. You can make it up to me later" 

Seb groaned. More work meant more near death experiences. "Guess we're going back.." he sighed,

"If we survive the next five minutes, that is" Donovan announced as he motioned towards the two and a half dozen men had begun to storm the pad. The muffled sounds of small arms fire ricocheting off the hull filled the ship, followed by the calls from their captain to 'Get us the fuck out of here'

Roland was on a high. The kind of high that only blowing away a half dozen people and a set of knee caps could bring. A high that was only amplified by the fact he'd gotten his baby back. It felt as if he was invincible and no large group of angered locals could possibly stop him, regardless of how many potshots they took. With a newly found swagger he strode over to the edge of the loading bay, releasing the magazine from his machine pistol and quickly replacing. The ship began to rattle and hum as it lifted off, but Roland was about to leave his new found friends without a final memento. For the third time that night the machine pistol was raised, and with a mad howl he began to unload its small caliber payload indiscriminately into the crowd who began to scatter.

"ROLAND GRAVES!" He called for the final time before the pistol let out a series of hollow 'clicks', indicating it was dry. The bay doors began to shut, dropping the lower cargo hold into total darkness.

With a relieved sigh he fell back onto the floor with a dull thud, spreading his arms out.

"Did you miss me, baby" he mumbled to himself as he rubbed the floor softly. The empty void inside of him was filled once again... he was home.

OOC:

Hard Luck

Snipes looked around at the people assembled before him. Roughly sixty beings that made up the five boarding parties of Corellian Hound.Plus a handful of technicians, Merrick and Kami. Merrick's appearance had been a surprise, but not an unwelcome one.

A nod from the technicians running a holorecorder let Snipes know it was time to start. He stomped his foot on the mess hall table, calling the group to order. They all turned to him, in their gray and blue uniforms of varying decoration. He stood atop the table, wearing his usual ankle length wool overcoat, the worn out black military boots, brown pants, white shirt and brown vest, completed with red sash and the gunbelt that cradled his shotgun.

"As you know, we are about to assault the casino ship Hard Luck. I gave some rough plans out to the captains before hand, but now I shall detail the plan in full," the holoprojector in the middle of the table whirred to life, displaying the image of a large, somewhat rounded vessel. Snipes used his triangular boot knife as a pointer.

"Alright, so I may of mentioned that she'll be refueling outside of Ord Mantel. That's true, but I feel I should clarify. When I say outside I mean outside; the refueling station is set outside of any system in The Black, in theory this is supposed to keep people like us from finding it. Unfortunately people like us are really good at our jobs." A round of chuckling, "Anyway," Snipes continued, the holoprojecter switching to an image of the station, "Last Chance and Iron Victory will dock here and here," Snipes gestured with the knife, "These are the two docks closest to the casino ship and those are the two ships with the best airlocks for boarding.

"From there their teams will move as quickly as possible onto Hard Luck. Grave Robbers are to move as quickly as possible to the bridge, secure it and force the bridge crew to jump the ship quickly away to another remote piece of the The Black to which they already have coordinates, the boarding parties of Last Chance are to roam around the ship causing as much of a distraction as possible.

"After that Corellian Hound and Leg Breaker will dock with the ship and our boarding parties will enter the ship. In theory they shouldn't give us much of a fight, but you never know. From there we'll move straight to the vault, by then the crew and guests should be subdued and we should have no problem unloading the loot.

"Now to detail the duties of the other ships. Essentially they will be providing cover, the ship is always escorted by two DP20 Gunboats and a small carrier with two squadrons of fighters. They are kept out of sight at most times so as not to alarm the guests, however they may prove a slight problem, also the station supposedly holds at least two wings of X-Wing fighters, not original, sure, but effective. They should also have two patrol ships, if not more, of makes we've not been able to determine. The fleets only job is to stop them from interfering. Captain Visha of Corellian Hound is in charge of coordination, so I advise you all listen to her.

"After we leave the system the rest of the fleet is to break off and follow us. Now there is still the chance of Republic or Imperial patrols interfering, so the ship needs to be absolutely defended while we're still onboard."

Snipes looked around, his eyes stopping on each of his boarding party leaders, the closest was Corlie Flaggen, he met her steely gaze, she had been on the ship a long time and it showed, she'd collected three scars on her face, one across it, over the nose and under her right eye, one that reached over her right eye and intersected the other, and another horizontal one across her forehead that intersected the second. The next was Mirkov Wave, leader of Fortune Seekers, a miserly piece of shit that would sell his own mother, also the most well groomed, clean shaven, no hair out of place and upright. The next was Marcus Torlen of Blade Team, partially insane, the man wore an oversized sword across his back and held a feverish grin, Snipes had never figured out what motivated him. The last was Gregory Kelevra, one of the few people he'd actually call a friend, Kelevra's wide face had an expectant grin, thick, cheap cigarra clasped in his teeth; he wore several days of stubble and his greasy, gray speckled hair was slicked back; he was still wearing the damn monocle from the last raid. Then again, Snipes couldn't say much, he was still wearing the crown.

"Let's remind the galaxy why they all fear pirates!" Snipes yelled, finally, "Let's remind them of thier shortcomings, let's  show them why they should cower in fear at the name THE OSK COMPANY!" Snipes finished at a scream, raising his cutlass above his head.

He was met with a resoundeing, "YYYAAAAAAARRRRRRR!" by the gathered members, as they stamped thier boots on the ground and shook thier weapons above thier heads.

It was time to take back crime.

Snipes hopped down off the table, replacing the boot knife and letting the burned out butt of the cigarette fall from his mouth. He replaced it with a fresh one and before he had the pack put away someone had lit it for him. He gave them a nod and pushed his way through the scene, signaling for Kami and Merrick to follow him.

Once in the hall it was back to business as usual, the rest of the crew going about their duties like good little soldiers, offering him a respectful nod as he passed.

"Alright, well, I haven't really had a chance to show either of you around the ship properly. So!" Snipes said, "If you'll look to your right you'll see the standard issue CDF interior plating, isn't it pretty? Coming up on the left is the medical bay, our doctor is half blind and barely made it through medical school, so if you get shot I would advise pouring rancor slime on the wound, wrapping it in barbed wire and waiting until we get back to The Locker; I assure you that you will definitely be better off." Snipes stopped suddenly, coming to a dead end at the turret access, "Alright, I fucked up, time to turn around and go right back through the mess." Snipes stopped for a second, taking a swig from his flask, "Wow, they named that really well, didn't they?"

Tanus left the meeting, excited and nearly shaking with anticipation. Amazing was not a close enough word to what he was tasked to do, and epic did not give it a rich enough sound. Jeg had come with him to the meeting, despite Tanus’ misgivings; the man wasn’t really a pirate.

“That may be so, but I figure I can use you for a ride and whatever else I may need. And Marcus still doesn’t know about what happened on board the station, which is something I’d like to keep intact. The man is half insane, and would be liable to kill as it is even without the knowledge of us killing his men.”

Tanus reluctantly agreed; he had a point. At any rate, the mission should prove to be a lucrative one. The payout was supposed to be extensive, and with that, the Osk Company could probably put it to good use. Or Snipes could get more liquor. Either way, all I need is my cut. Tanus walked down a long hallway, followed closely by Jeg and Dev Hotah, his second in command on Iron Victory. Upon his return to Eyesore, Tanus realized that he lacked a crew. I should probably work on that, unless Snipes managed to pilfer some cloning tech along the way that I don’t know about. The man was nearly as tall as Jeg, with olive colored skin and green eyes. He had scars along his back from his slave days, and some scars on his arms from when his master tried to stop himself from getting strangled. From there, the man had been a mercenary until he came into Snipes’ employ, working as an enforcer on the planet. This was just the man Tanus needed.

As it turned out, Dev had a few friends that needed work, and agreed to come out for the party. At the moment, Iron Victory had been retrofitted with downgraded weapons to increase power to the engines and shields, while some of Snipes’ techs had managed to rehaul the engine block and shields for greater power. The crew consisted of six technicians that were in need of work, and Tanus was rather happy with his picks. Lana, his chief technician and pilot, was a woman in her early twenties, and with a wit as sharp as a razor. It turned out that she was also know for being a brawler, and was said that getting liquor in her setting her in a bar was like letting a raging Gundark lose in a maternity ward; when Tanus thought about that metaphor, he cringed a bit.

They made it back to the Iron Victory via the airlock on the Hound. As they boarded, Jeg went back to the armory to polish his sword and check on his weapons. Tanus shrugged and headed to the rather large cockpit, where everyone was waiting for him. As he entered, Tanus took out his pipe, filled the bowl and lit it, breathing in the sumptuous taste of Onderonian Oak. He breathed out, filling the air with a woody scented haze. As it cleared, Lana started the questions.

“So, what hair brain scheme has our fearless leader gotten us into this time?”

Tanus took another long drag of his pipe before going on. But before he could, Jeg walked in, wiping down his sword with some oil. Well that was bloody quick. He sheathed it and pulled out his Westar and started talking.

“Our fearless leader has decided that we need a new reason to lose our money than just in the bars in The Locker. Instead, we’re going to lose our credits in a brand new casino ship, the Hard Luck. As it stands we’re going in and – .”

Tanus cut him; he wasn’t used to jst being talked over, and it agitated him.

“Jeg, I got this. Just sit down and I’ll take care of it.”

Jeg shrugged and sat down in the corner, calibrating his Westar, not paying much more attention to the pirates surrounding him. Tanus turned back to his crew and started.

“As it stands, we’re raiding the ship Hard Luck. That much is true. The ship is docked at a refueling port outside of Ord Mantel, somewhere in the void, and is flanked by a couple of warships to keep people like us away. Well for whatever reason, those deterrents never work. Both Iron Victory and Last Chance will dock in the station, as they seem close enough to civilian quality ships. After we dock, we are to break out the teams and take the airlock to the Hard Luck. Snipes gave the Grave Robbers the job of taking the bridge, ousting the crew and holding it until he arrives. Beyond that, we don’t have much else.”

There was a pause, followed by one of his other soldiers, Micah.

“So when do we leave?”

Tanus took another long drag of his pipe, feeling the heat and smoke fill his mouth and breathed it out.

“Whenever Snipes does. That said, I recommend we keep the ship primed at all times; Lana I’ll leave that to you. Dev, take Tommen and Arya back to the armory and make sure everything is in order and that my armor and hammer are ready. Also, pull out my DE-10 and come spare cartridges and set my M-5 out with some M1 Merr-Sonns near my armor; I want to be prepared. And will one of you get the Tac-Spec up and running; I want to give him some time out in the sun.”

Tanus took his final draw of the pipe and started to beat out the spent ashes.

“You have your orders people. Get to them.”

Merrick finished off a guard who had attempted to sneak up on her and watched Snipes head off towards the bridge... possibly. Some of the Laughing Bastards broke off their attacks on the civilians and followed after him. When it became obvious that the remainder of the people they’d attacked were too terrified to fight back, the Blade Team left in search of the vault. Merrick had discovered that this boarding party preferred melee weapons to blasters, and most of them wore body armour . They seemed like a group she could get along with, so she tagged along with them. A few of them eyed her suspiciously, probably owing to the large axe she carried and the fact that she wore no armour.

As they moved through the ship, they often came into contact with small teams of security as well as the private bodyguards of some of the more wealthy guests. Too shocked by the attack to fight as a group, they were quickly cut down by the Blades or Merrick. She managed to save the life of one of the crew members and demand to know where the vault was, but he refused to speak and Marcus, the leader of the Blade Team, lost his patience and ran the man through. He laughed as Merrick dropped the body and carefully set her expression to one of amusement. “We probably should have kept that one alive, Marcus, he could have been useful.”

He sneered and spat on the floor. “We’ll find our own way, the ship isn’t endless after all!”

Merrick shrugged and set off down the corridor once more, but Marcus didn’t let it go.

“Hey, I’m not finished! I don’t care what rank you used to hold when you were the Empire’s Dog, if you want to be a blade, you’ll do what you’re told missy.” He grabbed for Merrick’s arm as he caught up with her again.

She twisted out of his reach and took a step backwards, a grin firmly set on her face. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into here Marcus, calm down and let’s go find the loot.”

This time he snarled at her. “Don’t you try to tell me what to do! Now let’s get on with what we are here for.”

Merrick let him past and followed closely behind him. When she had met him onboard the Hound he had seemed a calm and commanding sort of guy but now he was staring to seem a little unstable. She wondered... but shook her head and just kept walking with the team.

--------------

After a fruitless 35 minutes walking up and down corridors, Marcus finally admitted that they needed to ask someone where the vault was hidden. Merrick went ahead on her own before he could stop her and before long, came back with a guard who had been too terrified to even fire at her. She held the poor man while Marcus questioned him with unhidden aggression. He quickly gave them an answer, but Merrick was dubious about it being accurate. His terror was obvious and he could barely speak sense. She managed to keep this one alive and dragged him along with them so that he could give them directions as they went.

When they finally did reach the outer doors to the vault, Merrick let the guard go in the hope that he would flee, but terrified as he was he just fell to the floor where Marcus ended his life swiftly. She’d now decided she didn’t like the man, but business first.

Wiping his blade, Marcus shouted, “Alright, bring the good for nothing droid up! Let’s get this puppy open!” The manic grin on his face was unmistakable. This man was driven by greed and bloodlust, which he kept veiled under normal circumstances but couldn’t rein in when he was on the job. Merrick had serious doubts he would let them all walk away with a fair share once he laid eyes on the contents of the vault.

While the droid worked on the numerous locks on the outer and inner doors of the vault, Merrick watched Marcus move through his men grinning and gloating. Most of them didn’t really seem to like the man now that he was showing his true colours. She had made up her mind, and damn Snipes’ reaction. This would teach him to tell her that he trusted her judgement.

“So Marcus, what are you going to buy with your share?” Merrick stared at him as she leaned against the bulkhead. As she suspected, it was just the thing he had been waiting for her to say, insinuating he was planning to take a bigger share than the others would get.

His face livid with anger, Marcus strode over to her and bent down a little so that their faces were level. “What is that supposed to mean, dog?”

Merrick shrugged and stared him straight in the face. “Nothing, merely asking.” She was ready when he made a grab for her free arm and brought up her axe gently to his throat. “And I told you already, you don’t know what you are getting into. Imperial Dog or not, I’m a trained soldier, boy. Don’t make me hurt you.”

He growled again and made to reach for his sword. In the second his attention was elsewhere, Merrick slid out from between the wall and the crazed man, using his slouched position to her advantage and cutting his throat before any of the Blades even had their swords drawn. She turned and looked at the gathered men, her axe hand limp so that they didn’t feel threatened. A burly man at the front broke the silence when he let out the breath he had been holding and his face split into a huge grin. “Imperial dog or not, she’s someone I want on my side!” The others roared with laughter and sounds of consent.

Merrick shrugged. Well that was even easier than I thought it would be.

Just as the other men broke their silence and started joking around and enjoying themselves, the droid finished with the final lock. An alarm began to sound throughout the ship but with Osk already controlling the bridge, this wouldn’t mean anything. It was turned off so quickly that it was obvious the battle for the bridge had gone in their favour. The Blade Team all stood behind Merrick, looking eagerly into the vault but not moving a muscle. She looked confused for a second. “Oh, right. Well... have at it then!” She was almost knocked over by them as they rushed past her. She laughed and shook her head. “Pirates.”

“Care for another game?”

Deznim regarded Kami keenly from the other side of her haphazardly constructed desk. A deck of sabacc cards flicked swiftyly between his two hands, almost a blur after years upon years of practice.

Kami glanced up from the scribbled notes before her and waved a hand, “No thanks Dez. I need to start deciphering these.”

Deznim blew a gust out air out from beneath his beaked nose, ruffling his braided mustachios, “And what are 'these' exactly? Or am I not permitted to ask?”

“Orders. I think.” Kami smiled at the Ryn. Ever since she had run across the alien pirate and his oafish companion Rex days before, the two had stayed unwaveringly at her side. Rex had taken it upon himself to become a personal bodyguard for a woman he quite obviously admired, despite his lack of knowledge about what it was that she did, whilst Deznim seemed intrigued by the workings of the Osk Company beyond what he had learned in his role as a lackey. The Ryn was incredibly intelligent, quick to learn, and an extremely good judge of character. He was also a welcome companion. For someone used to being surrounded by a full Stormtrooper squad at every hour,  Kami had often found herself becoming lonely despite the fact that the Hound was overflowing at the seams with warm bodies.

“How can you tell?” Deznim leaned over the sheet metal serving as the main component of the desk, one arm slotting casually through a large laser hole in the center as he did so, “Half of it is barely legible.”

Kami traced a finger over the sprawling cursive, “Well...I think the level of writing coincides with how much liquor Snipes had consumed at the time. See here, its pretty B grade. Further on, much slantier.”

“And the whiskey spots,” Deznim loosed a high pitched squeal of amusement, “They provide solid evidence.”

Kami laughed, “Yes. There is always that. You've gone and seen through my P.I. facade.”

“Ms. Sharpe?” Rex's large head appeared in the doorway, followed by his mountainous shoulders, “There's someone outside asking whether or not we're going to join the assault on the casino ship?'”

“You sound like a four year old asking permission to raid a candy store,” Deznim snapped back, his tone brisk. The two were still skittish around each other despite Kami's efforts at peacemaking since their first misunderstanding.

“No Rex,” Kami interrupted, watching the giants face droop with disappointment, “But you go on ahead. Seriously.”

“Nah-uh. No way.” Rex flashed a toothy grin, “You're always trying to get rid of me Ms. Sharpe, but I ain't going anywhere. I said I'd protect you, and that's exactly what I'm going to do.”

“Seems I'm not the only one who can see through you,” Deznim quipped, watching Rex as he lumbered back to his position outside the small room that Kami had converted into her office.

Kami sighed, “You know you're a horrible actor when Rex picks it up. I just wish he'd stop insisting that I set up a place for him at the end of my bed. It's a tad creepy.”

Deznim giggled in his musical fashion, the sound somehow irritating and interesting at the same time, “I do not envy your position Kami. But you have saved me a great deal of hassle in becoming his next object of fixation.”

“Glad I could be of help,” Kami retorted dryly, pushing a pile of the paperwork towards the Ryn, “These aren't covered in whiskey, but I have no idea what that sticky blue stuff is.”

“Ick,” Deznim didn't bother to hide his disgust as he caught a wift of the smell emanating from the pages, “What an uncouth way of conducting business.”

“Business isn't Snipes strong suite,” Kami murmured, her attention already focused on the sheet with pirates drawn in the margins before her, “He'd always prefer to shoot someone than write something.”

The hallways of the ship were sprawling and massive; it was no small wonder that Snipes wanted it for The Locker. Bright lights filled the corridor and plasteel plates shined the light onto the floor, which was a beautiful black and gold marble. Several cloth-of-gold tapestries hung from the walls and doors that led to nowhere and everywhere at the same time. It was easy to get lost, suffice it to say. Luckily, I have a map. Tanus was lucky not to run into much opposition while breaching the ship. The technicians near the ship had run off at the first sight of them, and the guards had not put up much of a fight. It was good that the bloodshed would be kept to a minimum; Tanus didn’t need to clean anymore blood off of his hammer. His burgundy cape billowed behind him as the fighters of the Grave Robbers walked up and down the halls, trying to find the simplest way to the bridge.

“This would have been easier if we didn’t alert them to our presence.” Dev said in a gruff voice as he wiped blood from his axe; the guard he used it on was now a head shorter. The TacSpec that Tanus had brought with him, Norvos, was to be used nto only as a soldier but as a hacker to get through doors.

“Aye, but we didn’t have any choice. If we didn’t take out the guards, more of them would have shown up and we’d be dead,” Tanus said as he grabbed some charges and set them on the door. Norvos snapped the final guard’s neck and walked over.

“Master, we could just hack the door open and go in silently. I’m sure Mr. Hotah is correct that the charges will only hinder our movements.”

Tanus looked up at the droid, who was a red and blue checkered droid that stood at about 5’8’’. He had ‘received’ him as a gift from a crime lord that he eliminated years ago. And then Tanus smiled a wicked smile.

“Of course it would Norvos. But where would the fun in that be?”

As it turned out, getting in was the easy part; getting anywhere else was the trial. Not only were the doors locked, but many of them were security encoded with ever changing algorithms; Norvos either couldn’t keep up with the changes or the computer terminals would just switch off. Of course this was going to happen. I should have brought along an astromech too for this. On top of that, the doors were blast proof and whatever charges Tanus and the Grave Robbers would not be enough to get through.

“There has to be another way in there. They don’t design them perfectly every single time. There has to be a hiccup in the system,” one of the fighters in back said.

Tanus knew he was right. From his adventures in the army and brief time in ARC, there was always one mistake that would cost you the game. Now I just need to find it. Tanus pulled out his blueprints and gave them a look over. He saw that some of the walls were thin between a locker room and a hallway that led up to the bridge. He pointed at the map so Hotah could see.

“We hit it here. Get the charges, set them up along the break points and then blow it out. From there, it ought to be a straight shot to the bridge, as all the other doors are in front of and off to the side of the locker. Let’s get going.”

The halls were deserted as they started the trek to the locker room. The door getting inside was not locked, and did not need to be hacked into. When they walked in, several lockers were lined up against the wall, and another two rows were off to the side. From what Tanus could see, the weakest points were right above the lockers and off to the sides near the corners. Tanus grabbed a bag of charges and started going to work, issuing orders.

“When we set these up, move back and wait for them to blow. We don’t know what’s on the other side, and I don’t want a surprise with guns to be waiting for us. After the charges blow, toss in a few grenades and then go in after they go off. I don’t need any heroes.”

Tanus set up the charges and fell back, loading an M-1 mini torpedo into his M-5 Westar. When all the others were out and ready, he nodded to Hotah. Dev flipped the switch on the detonator, and metal and plaster ripped from the walls in a cacophonous rumble. Smoke billowed out of the room, and Tanus heard the distinctive noise of coughing. He flipped out and fired the torpedo through the smoke, hitting a wall and hearing screams as fire ripped people apart. Several grenades went in, and when it was done they moved in. What Tanus saw was not so unusual to him anymore: engineers and soldiers alike lay dead on the ground from where the charges had gone off. He saw some others running up a flight of stairs and to the bridge.

“All right. Dev you take the right staircase and I’ll take the left. Split up in even teams and get in there. Go before they can lock the doors!”

Tanus turned around and sprinted down the hall and leapt up steps, his cape billowing out behind him in a dark tide. He flipped out his rifle and drew his pistol as he bounded through the door. As it was closing, he shot the panel, forcing it back open in a shower of sparks. Several of the guards raised their rifles, but Tanus and the others gave them all a quick end. He holstered his pistol and brought out his hammer, approaching the captain calmly and with conviction. The captain was an older man, perhaps fifty, with graying hair and pale skin.

“Greetings. This is a ship theft. Listen to what I have to tell you and you live. Try anything, and I’m putting you out into the void. Any questions?”

The man shook his head, trembling; he was too frightened to speak. Tanus liked that he had that effect on people.

“Good. Now take these and go to these coordinates. Give all weapons to my men and sit down and shut the hell up. Dev, send out a message to Snipes that we have the bridge.”

Dev turned back out to send the message, leaving Tanus to dictate on the bridge. When it was all done with, he took a seat in a chair and wiped off his brow, which was sopped with sweat. Now where the hell did Jeg go?

The remainder of the ships had finally made the jump, and they were free of the battle for the Hard Luck at last. The Hound docked once more with the casino ship and the Blades had begun to move the loot. Part of the Blade Team was standing guard along the corridors that the vault’s contents had to be moved along, just in case the crew or passengers decided to make another attempt at getting their money and other valuables back from the pirates. So far, everything was very quiet. When the vault was about half empty, Merrick called Snipes back on the commlink. “So, how is the bridge?”

She could hear him sigh. “I never want to leave. How is everything down there?”

Merrick gave him a quick run down on what had happened since they last spoke. She debated whether to bring up the death of Marcus, and decided it was something best discussed in person. “I’ll join you there when we’re done with the vault then?” He grunted a yes and cut the link. She shook her head. He didn’t seem to be having much fun, despite the copious amounts of cash and other goodies they were presently taking aboard the Hound and she suspected he had new plans for the ship.

…

Leaving the Blades to guard the dock joining the Hound and the Hard Luck, Merrick made her way to the bridge. She could see how they had broken in, but now that Osk well and truly controlled the place the doors were wide open for her. She stopped for a moment to wipe the blood from her hands and face and then entered. The crew were in a small group facing Snipes, who appeared to be telling them a story. Other Oskers were at the ship’s controls and monitors. She stood a few feet behind and to the left of Snipes, not wishing to interrupt him mid sentence. It wasn’t long before he finished, apparently to the relief of the imprisoned crew. She smiled, suspecting they had been subjected to similar since Snipes’ team had first entered the bridge.

Snipes had been about to start another story when he noticed Merrick standing there silently. He turned to her and started to escort her into another room, turned to excuse himself from his unwilling audience, and returned to Merrick. “Any problems with the loot?”

Merrick shook her head. “Not with the loot, no. It’s aboard the Hound and I left the Blades to make sure none of the pesky passengers or crew from here get anywhere near it.” She stopped for a moment and watched Snipes. He seemed to miss the reference to the Blades, as he was just nodding about the money being safe. He opened his mouth to speak, but she stopped him. “There was a problem before we got to the loot though and Marcus is dead.”

Snipes stared at her for a second. “Booby trap?”

Merrick shook her head. “No, actually I killed him and took over the Blades, at least for this mission.”

He stared at her harder, apparently unable to think of what to say. When he finally did speak, he wasn’t really shouting so much as pleading with her. “What the hell did you do that for? And why didn’t the others kill you for it?”

Merrick shrugged and crossed her arms over her chest. “He’d done several things that I felt were going to jeopardise the mission and when I voiced my concern, he pretty much attacked me…”

Before she could finish, Snipes shook his head and sighed. “Oh well, it doesn’t really matter. We got what we came for and the Blades have a good leader. I’m not really sure I want to know why or how you killed him, to be honest.”

She chuckled and shook her head. “Anyway, I thought I should tell you that in person. Shouldn’t we be getting back to the Hound now?”

Snipes kind of argued with himself for minute before he replied, “I’m not going to come back, we’re keeping this beauty of a ship. You go though. Hey, now you have somewhere to sleep!”

Merrick raised an eyebrow, but didn’t bother to argue. He would do whatever he wanted anyway. They were safe enough now, as long as they kept moving so that the ships that had been guarding the casino didn’t find them, and the crew were apparently too terrified of Snipes to rebel. He had his guards in any case. She left him to his fun and made her way back to the Hound, impressed to see that all of the Blades she had left to guard the entrance were still there. Apparently they took their new leader fairly seriously, and Snipes hadn’t sought to change that. She grimaced briefly, having wanted to avoid ending up leading people again, but quickly realised these men didn’t expect much from her. That was obvious from how long they had apparently put up with Marcus’ leadership.

Another thought occurred to her as they split from the Casino ship; now she had somewhere to sleep, and she was pretty sure Marcus had been living in Officer quarters. She smiled. I knew I would enjoy coming here.