He sighed. There was a hustle and bustle around him, but not one that was in anyway related to anything he was doing. Then again he wasn't really doing anything. Just lounging around in his bone covered throne, legs crossed, head propped up with one arm, staring out into the wastes of Eyesore. The serving wench at his side kept his glass full and a cigarette nonchalantly burned down, hanging from his lips. There wasn't really anything for him to do besides side in the throne, wear his crown, drink and smoke.

The Locker had taken on a life of it's own in recent days, more so than it had in the past. The command center had become just that, and now was filled with technicians and self proclaimed officials managing the flow of information, giving out jobs, selling information, distributing payment vouchers. Snipes had involved himself very little in the actual organizing, that had been mostly Kami and the a council of the more important captains. All Snipes had done was lounge around at the head of the table and grunt apathetically through each of the meetings. He liked shooting more.

The recent fleet actions had given the group a considerable sum of money and Snipes had decided that it was probably time to put some of that money into developing the locker a little more; it had also made the captains more agreeable to the size of the Company's cut. He did feel that The Osk Company had developed enough of a stable reputation that it might be time to turn towards developing the home front. He finally got them working on a spaceport, the construction could be seen outside the command center windows. It wasn't going especially fast, but the entire works crews were made up of pirates, and pirates could be surprisingly ingenious when they wanted to; they almost had to be.

Snipes caught himself doing it again. Thinking. Thinking wasn't something he should do, he might end up actually getting involved. He could look at The Locker and see many things he personally felt were glaringly wrong with it, things that needed fixed, but he knew if he started working on it he'd work himself to the exhaustion daily trying to get things to his standards. Much better to cloud the mind with alcohol and not think about it.

The door opened, it had been doing that all day, but each time Snipes ended up cast his eyes over; this time it was Tanus. Snipes was in a fairly gruff mood so he wasn't entirely sure if that was a good or a bad thing. Probably a mix of both.

"Hey Snipes." He said, lifting his hand in greeting.

"Yo."

"You're grumpy today." Tanus snatched a chair from a station the operator had been foolish enough to abandon.

"Someone tried to kill me last night."

"Really?"

"They weren't even that good at it. I'm severely disappointed the competency of our enemies."

"I'm sure you'll get really good assassins later," Tanus said absently, accepting a drink from the serving wench.

"Oh, probably. I rifled through this ones pockets a bit though, he had his datapad on him."

"Oh fun,"

"I'm getting bored, feel like going on a trip?"

"Depends."

"Ruins, loot, probably mobsters."

"Could be fun."

"I hope so. Fleet is mostly dispersed right now, and I don't feel like calling them all back for a rat hunt; I think Kami and Merrick are around though."

"When did you want to leave?"

"Whenever, I need to find a ship anyway. Boz Pity isn't exactly walking distance."

"Eh."

A moment of silence took them, Snipes mind wandered around in it's haze. Ship. He needed a ship; Corellian Hound was out on a job, Queen Tetra's Revenge was partially torn apart. That only left other peoples ships. Or 21 Hearts, which seemed like a bad idea. Snipes sighed. Then his pulled an ice cube out of his now empty glass and pelted one of the technicians in the back of the head with it.

"Oi!" He yelled, turning around.

"I need a ship, what's available?"

He glared at Snipes for a minute before turning to his screen and playing with it, "Last Chance just got back from a raid for resupply, they don't have a job lined up."

"Awesome, put me in touch with their captain."

"Yes, Lord."

Tanus laughed, Snipes glared. He didn't need to add the sarcasm. There was a several minute wait, Tanus continued to talk, Snipes continued to grumble. He was bored and grumpy and there was nothing that could be done about it at this point. Nothing at all.

"Eh, sorry your Lordship, but apparently they just left. Like two minutes ago."

The string of curse words were not polite in any company.

"There's always the wrecked Marauder," The tech said, half laughing.

"Perfect!" Snipes exclaimed, bolting to his feet.

* * *

"Three days."

"He hasn't slept."

"He's powered by kaf and liquor."

"What is he?"

Klaus stood around with a group of other members of his building crew; the work long forgotten, now the attention was focused on the single man, standing atop the Marauder Corvette, tearing this and that out, throwing parts around, kicking things, screaming through his breath mask. Tools flew all around him as he threw them in frustration. Goggles covered his eyes, his crown was lopsided and he moved with a frenzy that was more than a little disturbing.

Klaus was so caught up in watching him that he hadn't heard the footsteps behind him; just suddenly he could hear the hiss of a breath mask; it made him jump.

"Who's in charge?" It was the pretty one with black hair. The one without an axe. The one with the axe scared Klaus.

"Me?" Klaus said, unsure, it was always hard to tell who was boss when not on a boat.

"What's he doing?" The man stepped forward, a great hammer across his back.

"I'm not really sure."

"Wonderful; he promised an adventure." Axe Lady.

"He's been going at it for three days. I think someone tried to convince him to take a break yesterday. Not sure if anyone has seen them since."

"They obviously didn't try hard enough."

OOC:

I think is where someone sneaks up and knocks me out with a wrench for my own good.

Kami stalked out the command center, one finger pinching the bridge of her nose as the symptoms of yet another headache began to throb between her eyes. Between Snipes increasingly erratic behavior, and the building demands of abusive Locker personnel, she felt as though she was well on her way to losing her mind and joining the swelling ranks of the deranged pirates that called Eyesore home. She didn’t even bother to look up as a large shadow detached itself from the wall as she swept past into the bowels of the Locker. Rex didn’t disturb her with a greeting, his silence a welcome respite after the events of the day. Her slightly unorthodox bodyguard simply fell into position behind and to the side of her, his usually vacant eyes scanning the mass of bodies about Kami with a trained degree of vigilance.

The Locker had grown immensely over the space of the last few weeks.  Initial approval for new development had been difficult to receive, as Snipes was generally more interested in getting drunk than making decisions, but constant nagging by Kami and a select few of the captains she trusted had eventually won the Osk leader over. Grants for new businesses had been carefully drafted and logged after a series of intensive interview processes conducted by Kami and Deznim. If the interested applicant wasn’t a complete loony and had a semblance of business sense, they had generally been approved.  Budding settlements didn’t have the luxury of being picky in terms of laying the foundation for economy. Hopefully all the kinks in the system would work themselves out over the coming months as pirates turned businessmen established hierarchies and knocked the unworthy from the ladder of success.  That said, Kami was more than aware that average business practice wouldn’t apply anywhere on Eyesore. As a result she was already locked into talks with Merrick and the others to establish some kind of quasi-authorized Locker security force to retain a semblance of order and stem the flow of murders currently rising by the hour.

“Kami!”

Deznim scuttled through a group of scantily glad whores propositioning in the narrow corridor before her, a pile of paperwork clutched haphazardly in hand, “Where have you been?”

Kami kept walking, Deznim falling into step beside her as Rex unceremoniously shoved the prostitutes out of the way. The women squealed in indignation, swearing and casting haggard looking heels at the retreating back of the hulking guardian. One even grabbed the hem of her dress and cast it upwards to reveal her naked pockmarked body beneath in a bizarre hooker salute.

“Snipes,” Kami answered, leading the trio down a winding staircase and further into the bowels of the Locker, “He went on a bender and then tried to fix a Marauder Corvette.”

“By himself?” Deznim’s expressive white eyebrows lurched upwards, “That is a most insane sort of behavior.”

“That’s an understatement.” Kami mumbled, giving in to her imminent headache and dropping her hand, “How did it go with the Security Force applications?”

“Not so well,” Deznim paused to leap lightly over a sleeping pirate lying comatose between two of the metallic stairs, “More than half were drunk, and the other half were under the impression that the seminar was providing free booze. They got quite upset when they realized that we only had finger food and proceeded to destroy the place. In the end Rex....persuaded them to leave.”

“I bet,” Kami said dryily, casting a glance at the now grinning giant a mere step behind her, “So no qualified candidates? Not even a few that were actually interested?”

“Some were a little less enthused than their counterparts,” Deznim replied matter-of-factly, “I took down their names. Rex and I shall give them a visit once we track them down.”

“I don’t know how you find anyone in this warren,” Kami remarked as they reached the bottom of the stairs and entered one of the main open spaces of the Locker. Known to the pirates loosely as the ‘Grub Quarter,’ it accommodated over a hundred businesses specializing in food. Some of establishments were over two stories tall, chaotically constructed from scrounged materials, whilst others consisted simply of an owner and a wheeled cart.  Despite its immense size, this particular quarter was a third of the size of the entertainment district, home to bars, whorehouses and arcades. Other areas of the Locker had been converted to lodge more reputable businesses such as brokers, textile traders and armorers and weapon merchants.  Kami had already claimed a small office in this newly constructed district, but for the meantime was residing in the Grub Quarter where a substantial amount of day to day activity took place. Everyone had to eat, and that single fact made her job of locating and communicating with the hundreds of thousands of pirates and associated workforce required to maintain the fleet that much easier for now.

“Trade secret,” Deznim quipped in what was becoming a common tirade between the two. The Ryn had an uncanny ability to remember faces, names and seemingly irrelevant information that had made him a crucial asset in negotiations. Kami been pushing Snipes to give the Deznim some sort of set salary alongside other aliens and humans filling administrative and official positions.  It was a continuing battle. Snipes simply had trouble recognizing that not everyone was capable or willing to accompanying him on his often suicidal raids across the universe.

“Alright, well you do what you need to do,” Kami said, turning to the duo as she laid a hand upon the battered door handle of their temporary office. Consisting of only four rooms, it was currently the base of operations for around a dozen recruited pirates, “I’m going to get some caff and hope that whatever scheme Snipes is coming up with can hold for a few hours.”

“I’d say the chances of that are quite rare my lovely,” Deznim smiled in sympathy, “Get something to eat too, you look quite pale.” He gestured theatrically to Rex, “Come my mammoth companion! Let us go rustle up some interest in Kami’s latest plot to rouse the masses from their idiotic and self destructive lifestyle!”

Rex simply grunted, lay a hand the size of saucer on Kami's shoulder, then turned to follow the darting Ryn back into the crowds. Kami watched them go before organizing her thoughts and entering her office. Food would be good. Though finding something edible that wasn’t still squirming or glowing a neon shade of green would be difficult.

Jegora tossed the small duffel bag he had brought along down on a bunk in one of the Marauder’s larger cabins. He had had to kick a couple crew members out, but that was the price they paid for being on the bottom of the totem pole. Running a hand through his thick, black hair Jegora wondered just what he was doing here.

He was a soldier, not a pirate. One day he had been taking some nice easy leave time, the next he had been scooped up by a stormtrooper-turned-pirate who he didn’t really know and carted off to some hellhole of planet he hoped he never saw again. He had gotten in several fights, nearly killed several men, and had been approached by several women of highly questionable morals, all of which he turned away out of what he figured might be a misguided respect for Aeos. All in all, it had not been a fun time.

And now he found himself aboard a Marauder-class corvette that appeared to have been heavily modified recently, possible in the last week or so. The fact that only pirates and scoundrels had access to the ship in the last week, and therefore must be responsible for its modification, made him extremely nervous. He hoped they hadn’t breached the hull integrity or forgot to put in an air scrubber, otherwise Jegora and the rest of the small crew would find themselves in trouble as soon as the ship hit hard vacuum.

Sitting down on the edge of his bunk, Jegora’s thoughts drifted towards the upcoming ‘mission’, if the excursion could eve be called that. Jegora didn’t know the details, as he really wasn’t on the best terms with Snipes, but from what Tanus had told him it was going to be an interesting time to say the least. Lots of ruins, traps, and possibly people shooting at them. Yep, it was going to be just swell. And then, of course, there was the treasure, which may or may not exist, and a map, which no one could read.

Two words popped into Jegora’s mind, and it was not a phrase that was used in decent company.

Cluster fuck


***


Several hours later, a sharp rapping at the door of his cabin caused Jegora to rouse from his fitful rest, and he was not happy about it. He simply laid there for another minute or two, hoping that whoever it was would go away. They didn’t, of course, and the rapping continued unabated. Finally Jegora gave up on going back to sleep and rolled into a sitting position before standing up to answer the door.

Hitting the control panel on his way by, Jegora allowed the door to slide open, revealing his visitors. The minute Jegora saw them, he was instantly enraged. Before him stood the two men he had kicked out of the room earlier, accompanied by two more who seemed rather upset as well. None of the four were armed, but by the way they carried themselves and by they slightly slurred their speech Jegora could tell that they had been drinking, and that they were looking for a fight.

Right then, he decided to give them one.

“We want our room back,” one of the main said. Jegora just shook his head slowly.

“That’s not gonna happen, friend,” he said, his voice lacking any emotion what so ever. Jegora’s light blue eyes had shifted to a cloudy gray. If the men had known Jegora better they would have taken this as a sign to run away, but alas, this was not the case. Instead they persisted.

“It’s a double room,” the second man said. “We’re gonna use it.”

Jegora locked gazes with the man. “No, you’re not.”

One of the pairs’ friends stepped forward. He was a larger man, the tallest of the four, but Jegora still had a few inches on him. “Now see here, damnit, they’re--”

The man was rather rudely cut off by Jegora’s fist smashing into his face.

Weeks of pent-up frustration fueled Jegora’s first strike, and it knocked his victim out cold. Several of the man’s teeth shattered, and Jegora figured he had probably broken the bloke’s nose as well. It was of no concern. Jegora’s hand stung terribly, but one contestant was out of the fight, driven to the floor and into blackness by the sheer strength of the blow.

There was a stunned silence among the three men as they watched their friend go down, but they reacted fairly quickly, considering they were more than a little intoxicated and caught by surprise. They were dumb, however, and failed to realize that attacking in the doorway allowed Jegora to face them one at a time. The first man to approach threw a sloppy punch that Jegora batted aside. He came in again with his other hand, faster this time, trying to catch Jegora in the gut. Jegora would have none of it, and struck with a vengeance, catching the blow on his forearm and driving the fist of his opposite arm hard into the man‘s gut. The unfortunate sailor doubled over in pain, only to be caught by a swift knee to the face. With that the man was finished, and Jegora let him slump over to the floor, either knocked out cold or in too much pain to function.

The remaining two individuals weren’t so keen on fighting any longer. Neither was Jegora. His rage was spent, and once again he just felt tired. Taking a deep breath he waved the pair on.

“Take your friends and go,” he said, weariness creeping back into his voice.

The two nodded quickly and moved to collect their wounded friends. Jegora stopped them cold with a glare though, and reiterated his previous statement. “This is my room,” he said, his tone once again ice cold and hard as steel. He received no objections.

As he watched the two men drag their comrades out into the hall and away from his room, Jegora wondered again how he had found himself on a pirate ship.

It had taken Merrick no more than three minutes to locate Kami on board Snipes recently repaired Marauder. She’d stormed into her small room without saying a word before casting the files of paperwork arranged neatly on Kami’s cot unceremoniously to the floor. Before her work-obsessed colleague had been able to object, she’d slammed a bottle of whiskey on the bedside table and shoved a full tumbler into her upraised hand.

“To old times,” Merrick announced over the top of Kami’s beginning protests. She didn’t bother to wait for Kami’s echo of the sentiment, instead tipping the entire contents of her identical tumbler down her throat. She savored the burning liquid for the barest of moments before fixing Kami with an icy stare, “Drink damnit.”

Kami’s hand was raising her glass before her mind processed the fact that she had moved. After years of working as Merrick’s subordinate, it was second nature to respond naturally to her orders. She eventually relented and swallowed the liquor in one large mouthful. Wincing under the assault of the strong import, she attempted to muster her thoughts for a reprimand. But Merrick was too quick.

“Again,” She refilled both tumblers with a flick of her wrist, leading by example and downing the drink as soon as she was done. Kami hesitated with the tumbler before her lips,

“Merr...no, you know I can’t...”

“Just swallow the bloody thing,” Merrick snapped, “Don’t analyze it, just drink it.”

“Merr,” Kami found a degree of strength to lend to her voice, “I haven’t had a drink since...”

“Kami.” Her name was like a whip crack in the relative silence of the room. Merrick’s intense gaze locked mercilessly onto hers, “Drink. It.”

With a sigh of resignation, Kami complied. The two sat in silence for a moment afterward, each regarding the other silently. Kami had known Merrick ever since her enlistment in the army. The two women were around the same age, with similar slim figures, long black hair and vivid green eyes. It consequently came as no surprise that both were often mistaken for the other by ignorant fresh-faced recruits. These members had learned the difference the hard way, usually at the hands of an unamused Merrick. Whilst strikingly alike in appearance, each woman bore a vastly different personality. Kami was ever tactful, reasonably polite and borderline obsessive compulsive about her work. Merrick was as subtle as a brick, intolerant of idiocy and occasionally short to the point of rudeness. Both were incredibly skillful soldiers, and both respected the other despite the fact that they had never served together over an extended period of time.

Merrick had relaxed somewhat. She was now seated casually on one end of Kami’s cot, a booted foot swinging free over the edge as she swirled another glass of amber liquid about in her hand. Her voice was calm when she spoke again,

“So. Talk to me.”

“What?” Kami felt her eyebrows rise to threaten her hairline. Merrick was calmly ignoring the fact that she’d just interrupted hours of work and forced a recovering alcoholic to drink a significant amount of pure whiskey. And now she wanted to talk?

“Look Merrick,” Kami span about on the cot to face her friend, “It’s great to see you but I’m kind of in the middle of something now.”

Merrick simply arched an eyebrow and remained silent.

Exasperated that her obvious cue had been ignored, Kami tried again, “I know you obviously think I have something on my mind, but to be completely honest I’m fine. I’m more than fine. I’m better than fine.”

“You’ve been ignoring me since I got here,” Merrick countered, one finger extending in a reproving gesture, “I get that you’re busy doing what you do best but you never avoid me unless something’s up.”

“What?” Kami failed to keep the tone of her voice steady, “What makes you think that?”

“Cause I can see straight through your holier-than-now attitude and you know it,” Merrick replied bluntly, “You might have everyone else fooled, but I’m no easy mark.”

“Geezus Merr!” Kami cast both hands before her in a gesture of surrender, “What do you want me to say? I’m ok. Really!”

“Really?” Merrick leaned forward, her voice still infuriatingly calm, “So nothing happened then? You just disappeared for a few months then came back an emotional wreck for no reason? You just happened to slide into a cesspool of alcohol at the exact time of your return even though you’d never had a single black mark on your record till that day? And I suppose you just decided that in the same week you were going to stop wearing you and your sister’s Kuati blades even though you’d had the bloody things strapped to you at every moment since the first day I met you?”

Kami went deathly still, her thoughts jarring and locking into place within her mind. She opened her mouth to reply with a negative only to find that the practiced words failed to climb into her mouth.

“Then you and Angel start acting like children and ignoring each other,” Merrick continued relentlessly, “All before you pack up your things and run away from the only thing apart from Angel that you ever loved, the army.”

Silence reigned as the two stared at each other, each waiting for the other to break. Kami finally moved, dipping her head so the emotion welling in her eyes wouldn’t be visible. Merrick’s expression finally softened at the display. She slid a meter over on the bed to rest a hand on Kami’s shoulder,

“I’m...well. I probably should have paced all that.”

“No,” Kami pulled in a deep breath, “it’s alright. Some things just need to be said.”

Merrick nodded and dropped her hand. She reached for the bottle with the other, filling up Kami’s glass before replenishing hers. Kami didn’t waver in throwing back her third glass. The two sat in an abruptly comfortable silence before Merrick cleared her throat and spoke again,

“Will take us a while to get to Boz Pity. Don’t suppose you have any food lying around that would go with this?”

Kami looked back at Merrick and smiled, “Nothing in here. But I know where Snipes keeps his personal stash.”

Merrick’s answering smile was almost identical, “Atta girl.”

*        *            *        *        *        *

“Well.” Tanus was standing at the fore of Snipes throne, his arms crossed before his chest, “This is...nice.”

No-one answered him. The entire crew had gathered on the bridge as they’d entered the atmosphere of Boz Pity. Whilst the majority of the pirates were  jaded beyond all reason, more than a few had caught themselves thinking that there might have been something to this elaborate treasure story Snipes had whipped up in the last 48 hours. Some facts seemed almost solid, in a vague insubstantial way. And when it came down to it there was no man more charismatic, confident and convincing as Snipes when he was drunk. Not on this side of the galaxy.

Jegora attempted to give the situation positive spin, “At least it’s not raining.”

Kami stared out the viewport alongside everyone else at the desolate landscape beneath them. It was a virtual desert of rocky terrain and collapsing ruins, most indistinguishable from the other from above. Every mile that clicked by on the bridge display looked exactly the same as the previous except for a faint shift in the overall shade of ochre. They’d flown over no settlements. There were no man-made features to suggest that anyone had ever, or would ever attempt to live on the planet. It was, quite simply, just a giant mediocre spinning globe in the middle of nowhere.

“Non-believers!” Snipes waved a half empty bottle in the air, “It looks much, much different on ground.

“Here’s hoping,” Merrick murmured wryly at Kami’s side.

The whine of the Marauder’s engines announced the beginning of the landing sequence. Snipes leapt to his feet with only the slightest of staggers,

“Right! Quit admiring the scenery and get back to work!”

The crew broke away in small groups, each muttering and groaning as they complied. Kami looked over to Merrick and shrugged, before walking up the beleaguered pirate lord. Snipes seemed to notice her for the first time as she approached,

“Kams! You all ready to go?”

She nodded, “Got that map?”

“Er,” Snipes looked half-heartedly at the chaos that was the bridge, “It’s round here somewhere. Don’t suppose you could go help the technicians get the ramp down? It gets stuck and needs a fair bit of convincing.”

Kami simply nodded, already resigned to her fate. She turned and made her way from the bridge with Merrick a half step ahead, Snipes already cursing as he dropped down on his hands and knees to search beneath his throne for his missing treasure map.

"WHAT THE KRELL DO YOU MEAN WE'RE BROKE?!"

The slender datapad containing the Triumvirate's financial reports flew across the top deck of the Divinity, the organization's flagship. Smashing against the durasteel bulkhead, electronics flew in all directions, a few pelting the guards who stood stationed near the turbolift. The pair, one Barabel and one human, both flinched momentarily, but new better than to cast any sort of rebuke at their employer.

After many long years of facing them, Sala Naird was not phased in the least by Jikkyo's tirade. The dark skinned woman stood firm, slender arms resting on her very shapely hips. Her face was the same impassive glare she used on Jikkyo anytime he lost his temper; striking blue eyes sat above pursed lips, bearing a striking resemblance to a mother silently asking her tantruming infant Are you done yet?.

"I mean we're broke." She finally said, breaking the few moments of tense silence. "Dicer has been rotting in prison for two months, Slishu's bounties have starting drying up, and yours truly has spent the last three months using the last bit of our money to repair the damage to our ship caused by the New Republic!" In an uncharacteristic show of emotion, Sala had to inhale sharply after not breathing through her entire answer.

Shutting his still gaping jaw, Angel ran one hand through his blonde mane, while he slowly rubbed his temple with the other. Turn on his heel, he paced over to the viewport and stared at the glowing orb of Tadath rotating slowly in the infinite void of space. The dull fatiguing moroseness of reality was slowly sinking in, seriously killing the buzz he had acquired during the first few hours of his long awaited day off. His duties for the Corps had eaten up the majority of his time recently, resulting in his ignoring the Triumvirate. He hadn't even known Dicer was in jail for Sith's sake. Pulling the flask of Correllian Whiskey out of his interior jack pocket, Angel took a swig and let the fiery liquid coarse down his throat.

"So what would you suggest?" He inquired of Sala.

"You ever heard of Boz Pity? Sala said, the slightest hint of a gleam in her eye. Frowning at Jikkyo's negative head shake, she sauntered over to the console on Jikkyo's desk in the corner. Punching up a Galaxy map, she zoomed in on a orangish-green blob somewhere between Bimmisaari and Hutt Space. Joining her at the console, he gave her a inquisitive glare.

"Boz Pity is known colloquially as the 'Graveyard World'." Sala explained slowly. the tone of her voice and arched eyebrow indicated her frustration with Angel's ignorance. "It's literally covered in ruins."

"If you're sending me on a damn treasure hunt..." Jikkyo started, shaking a fist at her and starting to raise his middle finger.

"Most of the ruins have been cleaned out, but I have a decent lead on one big haul." Flashing a brilliant toothy smile at Jikkyo, she produced another datapad from the satchel hanging at her side. Keying in an access code, she handed it to her fellow commander with a wink. "Try not to break this one, ok? Giving him a quick slap on the cheek, Sala turned and made for the turbolift.

Staring down at the unintelligible map on the screen with a blank look on his face, he shouted after Sala. "What am I supposed to do with this? You call this a lead?"

Looking over her shoulder as she waited for the lift, the smuggler answered, "Decipher it of course. The rumors I've heard call it a chest with inconceivable worth hidden inside it."

Shaking his head in disbelief, Angel almost laughed at Sala. "That's ridiculous. You of all people should know that when they can't tell you what it's worth or what's inside it, the damn thing is worthless."

Feigning indignation at Jikkyo's lack of faith, Sala ignored the comment and left him with one last piece of good news. "You'll have to take your own ship on this one, the Divinity isn't repaired yet." Stepping onto the lift, she turned around and gave him a curt wave. "We don't really have options at this point, so don't screw it up, ok?"

The turbolift doors shut in front of her, cutting off any rebuke Angel had in store for her. Instead he was forced to say it inwardly.

Bitch...

OOC:

Figured it was time to try this again.

The first thing that Jegora noticed was the smell. As the small team made their way through the entrance chamber, they found that the only option available to them was a rather dark and ominous tunnel that began angling downwards, leading deeper into the tomb. It was from this tunnel that the musky, moldy scent of stale air and rotting biomaterial issued from. The dank air steadily grew colder as the tunnel began to descend more sharply, and after quite a while of walking Jegora began to realize that the entire complex was quite a bit larger than he expected. So far the ragged band of companions had walked for a good ten minutes, and there was no sign that the tunnel was going to open up into a larger chamber anytime soon.

Jegora didn't like it. He didn't like not knowing where he was going, he didn't like not knowing was in store for him, and he especially didn't like the people he had to face the first two with. Kami seemed competent, and Tanus had a reputation as a fierce warrior, but Snipes was just plumb crazy. The rest of the Osk employees Jegora didn't know very well, and because he didn't know them he didn't trust them. Especially the professor-type who had involuntarily taken the lead. The man seemed to know where he was going and what he was doing, but Jegora had interrogated enough people to know that most of the man's assured mannerisms were an act. 

A few more minutes passed and Jegora's unease began to deepen. His instincts, which were extraordinary to begin with and had only been fine tuned during Jegora's rather lengthy service in the Vast Empire Military, we're telling him that danger was close by. Extremely close by. It began as an itch at the base of his spine, and then progressed upwards until eventually his shoulder blades throbbed and all the hair was standing up on the back of his neck. Jegora had experienced these symptoms before, and they were always followed by a particularly sticky situation that was especially dangerous. Loosening his WESTAR-34 blaster in its holster, Jegora rested his right hand on the weapon, ready to hook, draw, and open fire at a moments notice.

He wasn't the only one, either. Many of the other Osk employees, a majority of them current or ex-military, were getting much the same vibes that he was. They were throwing glances around the dark tunnel, trying to figure out where an attack was most likely to come from, all the while caressing and thumbing their own weapons.

Eventually the tension grew too think to bear. One of the Osk members that Jegora didn't know finally spoke up, inquiring into the layout of the tomb.

"Hey professor, how much farther does this tunnel continue on for?" the young-ish man asked. From where he was leading near the front of the expedition, Trip turned and shot the man a scathing glare.

"We will get there when we-" the supposed history expert began.

He never got to finish.

As it turned out, the Osk expedition had found the next cavern...and the enemies that lay within it. Jegora caught motion out of the corner of his eye as something leapt out of the darkness at Trip and into the circle of light created by the companions' glowsticks. Apparently, so did Snipes. He quickly and not so gently pushed Trip to the ground, cutting him off mid-sentence, and causing the thing to overshoot and land rather awkwardly. Jegora couldn't really tell what it was in the dim, shadowy light, but he didn't really care either. He drew a bead on the attacking creature and depressed the WESTAR's trigger once, twice, and finally a third time. All three of his bolts connected with the creature's body, causing it to writhe in pain, but Jegora had no idea if he had hit anything vital. Fortunately, everyone else in the Osk party had opened fire at the same time, and the results were quite horrifying. The wide range of projectile and energy weaponry quickly decimated the offending beast, literally ripping it apart.

"Well," Snipes said after making sure the attacker was dead. "Guess things just got a little more fun."

"Fun?" Kami inquired, obviously not agreeing with Snipes' definition of fun. "What about this is fun? We're stuck in a tomb we know nothing about with creatures that want to eat us."

Snipes just glanced around the deep blackness that surrounded the Osk company's pool of light, and then back at the remains of the creature near the edge of the illuminated area. When he looked back at Kami, Jegora saw a gleam in Snipes' eye that he really didn't like.

"Think of it as a challenge," Snipes said before hauling Trip to his feet. "Off we go then. Lead on, professor. I want my damn treasure."

As Jegora followed Snipes off into the echoey cavern, he couldn't help but think that he had been wrong before. Snipes wasn't crazy. He was clinically insane.