"Yes, hire the galaxies best gunman," Hond punctuated the thought with a burst of ion fire, "Then drag him half way around said galaxy," more punctuation, "And once you finally need him," continued punctuation, "Leave him on the ship. 'Cause that's real smart."Hond punctuated his final thought with a sustained spray of ion bolts at what was probably a TIE fighter.

"Shaydup, kids, don't make me pull over,"

"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU VASILI!" Bloodhound yelled, not bothering with the microphone.

"THEN WHO WILL FLY THE SHIP!?" The pilot yelled back.

"Fuck You." Hond said distractedly as another ship rolled into his sights.

Hond didn't really know much about ships, he knew this one was bigger than the Z. After a few moments of awestruck silence this momentous occasion was celebrated by no shortage of screaming bloody murder and haphazard ion fire from Hond's lovely little turret.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck; I'm going to die. I am really going to die. Here. This bastard is really going to kill me. Honds mind began racing, repeating this mantra faster and faster as the Z began dipping, dodging and diving in what felt like little more than an attempt to make Hond die dizzy.

The gunman was not at all pleased. And a little sick. With the constant spray of ion fire from hands that he'd completely forgotten he possessed he was managing to cause at least a little damage to it's shields. He had no idea what to aim for, and lacked the patience or presence of mind to figure it. Listening to Ydj might have helped, if the insect was even talking; but the ear piece had fallen out while Hond was engrossed in screaming at the top of his lungs.

He heard maniacal laughter from the cockpit. That was the last straw. Hond slammed the controls down, causing them to slowly bounce back towards him, but he was already on his way up the ladder. As he scampered out of the gunners well a button of his denim vest caught on the ladder, he was in enough of a hurry that he let the brass circle rip free.

Hond was in a self-preservation induced rage; and some part of that must have shone through his fiery red eyes as the every annoying Ydj gave a start as soon as Bloodhound looked his way and turned the other direction. Hond's right hand kept creeping up to his left side, near the pistol housed under the vest, each time he noticed he had to force it back to his side. He wasn't going to kill anyone. At least not right away.The ship rocked as laser fire found its mark, throwing the errant rogue off his feet and slamming his head into a bulkhead. He amended his previous resolution. He wasn't going to kill anyone on the ship. At least not right away.


When Hond stalked into the cockpit the pilot, in the greasy jumpsuit that was the only clothing Hond had ever seen the man in, was staring, no glaring, out the view port with a grin stuck on his face so tight Hond could only assume the man had forgotten any other facial expressions. He didn't even notice Moelik Hond's entrance. Hond kicked something expensive looking in lue of knocking on the door that was always open.

The crash and electrical sizzle from it made the pilot snap his head around, momentarily before twisting it back to the viewport.

"Shouldn't you be playing with guns or something?"

Hond's right hand twitched, he had to ball it into a fist to keep it from reaching for the pistol on his chest, "Shouldn't you be not getting us killed."

"Go play with fire."

Hond grimaced, loudly, before his body took over and he dove for the pilot, wrapping both hands around the pilots head rest and shaking it violently, "Vasili, get us the fuck away from here; because I swear to the Gods and Stars that if you don't and we survive this I'll kill you. I'll kill you a lot. You will be dead, and I'll probably be dead. We'll all be dead and I'm pretty sure I'm not even being paid for this."

"You're not helping, mutt."

Hond growled, but his anger was fading, grim fatalism slowly taking it's place as he caught tidbits of the battle outside the viewport. He really wouldn't have known what he was looking at if someone told him; but it seemed like there were lots of ships with the Osk Skull not blowing up, and a whole bunch without it blowing up, which was probably good. Even better the erratic shaking of the ship that had threatened to make him lose his last meal had slowed, it appeared they'd rejoined the fleet, which was also probably good. Hond didn't really know, he didn't even know if there was a plan.

He growled, took another look at the pilot, grimaced and left, back to the turret. Mostly to sulk.

“What the frak are you doing? Are you trying to get us killed?” Jubal yelled as Hunter completed yet another hairpin turn, narrowly avoiding a collision with an approaching enemy starfighter.

As they passed near it, it swung around to follow them, but was intercepted by a volley of lasers. Overwhelmed, it detonated in a brilliant flash of light that was quickly quelled. Mentally, Hunter thanked whoever fired the shot and continued on.

“That wasn’t the end result I was hoping for, no.” Hunter forced through clenched teeth as the ship weaved through the laser-filled space.

Before Jubal could retort, a badly damaged TIE fighter swooped down on them, spitting green lasers at them. Twitching his hand, the Firespray jerked into a spin while Jubal continued to fire, sending the bolts in a radial path that slowly tightened around the TIE until one found its mark and took out the bottom, disabling the propulsion systems. Slipping around the stranded TIE, the Firespray rocked as it took a few hard hits. No way could that be from a regular TIE fighter. That has to be something bigger, something like . . . Hunter’s eyes widened as a very large and very green energy bolt shot past, sending a shudder through the ship. He realized what it was the instant that Jubal, after taking a look at the sensor board, did.

“Star Destroyer!” Jubal yelled, a little high-pitched with fear.

Their focus on the dogfighting and their inattention to their surroundings had caused them to draw near to the Star Destroyer, nearly dooming them. Hunter cursed and began evasive maneuvers, sending the Firespray into a steep dive so quickly that black spots began to appear the edges of his vision and bringing it into a climb just as quickly, nearly sending him into unconsciousness.  Jubal was swaying in the seat beside him, fighting to stay awake. Shaking away the sudden nausea, Hunter pushed the throttle to the maximum and rocketed in the complete opposite direction, careful to watch the area in front of him for any extreme dangers like the Star Destroyer they were rapidly leaving behind. Still continuing to corkscrew, barrel-roll, and generally do evasive maneuvers, the Star Destroyer’s gun couldn’t get a lock on them and, so, was forced to switch to an easier target.

Jubal gulped down a few breaths of air before remembering their previous conversation, “Why does that not reassure me?”

“Why don’t you do something useful for once and keep your eyes on the sensor board like you were supposed to be doing earlier.” Hunter snapped, not even bothering to listen to the Echani’s response.

It wasn’t going nearly as badly as he thought, as he looked out on the battlefield that lay before him, everything was going quite good actually. The Oskers and their temporary allies seemed to be steadily gaining a distinct advantage as the enemy starfighters were whittled down by the combined might of the pirates’ capital ships and starfighters. A few more starfighters took potshots at the Firespray, barely even brushing against the shields, before they were forced to turn their attention elsewhere. Then, suddenly, the Firespray reached a temporary calm spot and took full advantage of the peace.

“Ok, Jubal. We’re out of the fire for the moment. Check all the systems and make sure everything is in working condition. I’m going to take us towards the Osk ships.” Hunter said, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Everything is good to go. No major damage other than a few scratches.” Jubal said with a grin.

“What all weaponry does this thing carry?” Hunter said, flicking his eyes to the seat to his right where Jubal sat, staring intently at the panels and displays before him.

Hunter noted that he hadn’t even touched anything yet. Great. I just happen to luck up and get the one being that doesn’t know how to operate a starship. Shaking his head, he pushed the throttle forward, slowly bringing the ship to full speed. Grimacing, he pulled back on the yoke and twisted it to the side. His stomach lurched as the ship did a corkscrew flip and he tore his eyes away from the battle long enough to glance over at Jubal, who picked that moment to finally figure out the display controls . He began to pull up the weapons systems, along with the current condition of the ship, and Hunter was rewarded with a complete schematic of which weapons were equipped and the location of each weapon.

Looking them over, Hunter made his decisions, “Ok. The two turrets on either wing are set to automatic, so they should have been . . . wait, are they even on?”

Jubal paused a bit before answering, “. . . Uh, no? They are not.”

“So we’ve been flying this entire time. Without weapons.”

“Er, yep. That sounds about right. What, you didn’t notice?”

Hunter didn’t move a muscle, except for a twitch of the face. Forcing down anger, he remained calm and simply opted to not reply. Thankfully, Jubal had enough sense to activate all weapons and set them to automatic, though he kept the top turret under manual control.

Surprisingly, Jubal proved quite adept at the operation of the turret, more so than the operation of the actual starship the turret was attached to. Destroying more than a few starfighters and crippling many more by the time they had reached the Osk-dominated part of space, he was actually impressing Hunter. It was quite amazing, especially considering how much Hunter had been throwing the Firespray around to avoid getting hit by enemy fire. Nodding in approval, Hunter slowed down a bit as he passed the line of Osk ships.

“So what now?” Jubal asked quietly, slightly engrossed in the display readouts.

“What now? Well, I suppose we’ll go where we’re needed. Where ever that may be.” Hunter replied, staring out the view port as the battle raged on, flashing bright spurts of flame against the star-riddled blackness of space.

“Well, boys and girls,” Garryll bellowed up the gunner’s turrets and into the cockpit. “Who wants to cause one hell of a ruckus on a Star Destroyer?”

There were general moans and groans from his mercenary crew of military cast-offs. There was nothing they seemed to dislike more than fighting, even though they were paid to do so at his expense, and that of his boss.

“C’mon, you pansies,” Gates replied. “Ain’t nothin’ to be ‘fraid of. We’ll be blastin’ our way in, kill some SOBs that are heckling the pay-check giver, and then we’ll be helping with the fighting. After all, there’s no need for hand guns and flamethrowers in a spacebattle, and this is the only patch of land for a few thousand kilometers.”

The fighter-bomber made another violent turn, but Gates kept his balance, braced as he was by holding on to one of the dozens of improvised hand-holds scattered inside the first of his two H6 Fighter-Bombers, Widowmakeer.

Some more chatter came from the gunner’s seat as one of his Longcoats let loose a fusillade of laser bolts from one of the turrets. A second later, a yell of triumph as another enemy star fighter was exploded. Garryll staggered back up to the cockpit, again activating the comlink that he’d so recently received new ‘orders’ (if you could call them that) from his old boss.

“Merciless,” he commed. “Form up on us; we’re making an attack run.”

“Ahn what?” drawled the pilot of Gates’ second H6. “Ah’d better nae be dooin’ somethin’ to damn dangerous.”

“We’ll be hitting the AT-STs.”

“Ha! Even ah know AT-STs are ground units, and last ah checked, we’d narry laid a foot on dirt!”

“Of course not,” Garryll snickered. “They’re inside the Star Destroyer’s hangar bay. Here’s the co-ordinates.”

That shut the hick up, Gates noted with another chuckle. “And make sure Griff’s got his boys ready for slaughter.”

Ahead of them, the space battle was in full earnest; laser bolts were flickering from the Pirates’ and Imperials’ ships so thick it looked like you could walk on them. Ships, some with the remnants of flickering shields, some without were trading body blows with cannon and missiles. Dozens of hulks and debris fields showed just how brutal the combat had been as so far. On the sensor screen, the action was chaotic, but Gates could see that his other ship was right on their tail.

Ahead of them, the stalwart image of Imperial might was looming in their view screen, turbolasers and TIE fighters flickering around it with no rhyme or reason. The hangar they were headed for was dead ahead, and Gates’ pilot slammed the controls forwards.

All it seemed to do was draw the attention of a trio of TIEs, but the light fighters’ long range shots weren’t much when the two Osk H6’s responded with a blistering blast of laser fire. Six laser cannons on each fighter opened up, blasting one of the TIEs apart and driving the other two off.

The hangar grew larger in their view, changing from the size of a fingernail to the size of a post-it note, then to the size of a datapad screen. All the while, the view was slipping up-down-left-right as the pilot jinked and juked the ship around heavy bursts of turbolaser fire.

“What’s our ETA?” Gates asked calmly as the ship screamed towards its target.

“Damn soon,” replied the co-pilot with a chuckle. “Or never.”

He thumbed the link and input Tanus’ code. “ETA damn soon, chief.”

“Hurrying would be good.”

“Hurrying would certainly explode the fusion cores. Current rate just might anyway.”

“ETA fuckin’ now,” the pilot screamed in exhiliration, slamming on the brakes and whipping the ship around to kill their momentum. Behind them, the other H6 zoomed in, and stopped with about as much flair.

“AT-ST, front and center,” the co-pilot said crisply. “Fire one, fire two.”

The man jabbed down on a control twice, then another, again, twice. Two blobs of plasma lurched across the hangar bay in a millisecond and incinerated the two Imperial walkers. Gates shrugged on his trench coat and clamped a new cigar between his teeth, before grabbing his chaingun from the floor.

The rest of his carde, five ex-soldiers and mercs armed to the teeth were already dropping down into the hangar and adding their firepower to Tanus’ rowdy bunch, or were about to. Gates jumped down off the eight-foot drop from the boarding ramp, letting his thick combat boots absorb the shock. Tanus was popping miniature rockets at Imperial targets while he swigged alcohol and yelled curses or orders at his men.

“Glad to see me, boss?” Gates asked, sliding into cover beside the man bearing the ridiculous hammer.

“Mm.”

Overhead, the two H6s incinerated a few more Imperials with precise laser blasts before they settled down, for fear of hitting their ‘comrades.’ There were still some Imperials in the hangar bay, and Gates spun the chaingun’s multiple barrels in preperation for firing.

“For blood and honor and that shit?”

“And profit. Don’t forget profit and rum.”

***Before Launch***

[i]He noted her approach from across the hanger with more than a little surprise. Assuming the manner in which he had left the information for Kami would leave no doubts about his interest in a personal meeting, he had expected to be airborne almost immediately. Signing off on the payment for the refuelling of his ship, he turned to face the temporarily appointed leader of the pirate outfit.

She walked right up to him with every intention of voicing an inarguable case for him to hang around a while longer, but as she reached him it dawned on her that she had no words prepared that matched her notions. He waited stoically in front of his ship for her to begin, raising an eyebrow when she remained silent.

“Thanks . . . for this,” she started, holding up the data pad that had been left for her.

“Thanks were not necessary. Only payment,” he replied. Outwardly he remained impassive, hoping Kami would soon leave him along. Inwardly he was extremely agitated. Over the past year he had only made conversation when assuming a guise for a mission and now someone who knew him – at least a portion of his true self – was talking to him. The whole notion of having any business with an ex colleague had been a mistake. Panic was something he rarely experienced, but it was overwhelming him at this very moment. A medical professional would probably have attached a neat little label to his current issues, something along the lines of “Social anxiety disorder.” From Raziel's perspective he just wanted to return to his self imposed exile and become a series of actions again; a small chain of events in the large Universe, not an individual with all the psychological issues that entailed.

“You undercharged us for this,” she stated. “I've paid as much in down payments to contacts to try to obtain this information as I did for you to bring me everything I needed within a month” she was watching him carefully and noticed just a flash of an emotional cross his usually passive expression. For some reason she was reminded of herself being dragged out of a drunken stupor by her Osk captains. The man before her was in full control of his functions, she realised, but no less lost than she had been back then.

“It wasn’t so hard to come by,” he lied. “I guess people had just been ripping you off!”

“Extracting this much sensitive information, directly from what is possibly the most insular and religiously zealous civilizations in the galaxy? I doubt it.” Kami continued, choosing to press the point. Still observing him closely this time she observed a hint of anger. Habitually taking stock of her tactical position she decided she would put a little more distance between them. He was clearly not in a great mental state, and whilst she was well aware of his shortcomings, with just a metre between them she didn’t particularly fancy her chances if he suddenly turned aggressive.

There was an awkward silence for a moment before he replied: “It wasn’t exactly easy to get at, truth be told I had to partake in what they called an “absolution of sins for an unbeliever” but I've been through worse. Consider it a discount for a favour I probably owe you,”

“Impressive stuff,” she replied, he smiled thinly and did a little mock bow with his head. “By the way, is that an Avanti mark three sensor package you've replaced the prow weapons with?” she enquired of his vessel. She moved closer to the vessel, taking the opportunity to get some distance between them whilst feigning interest in his ship. From this distance she had faith in her skills with a side arm to protect herself. An idea struck her then and her interest in the ship's equipment became real.

“There's something you want to say, please just say it,” he said, annoyance creeping into his voice. She turned away from the ship and regarded him again. Arms crossed passively and unreadable again.

“Look we've got a mission coming up and you’re ship might just be what we need.” the idea was being spoken as fast as it unravelled in her mind. The idea wasn't entirely without merit, they probably could do with a scout ship, but if she could keep him around a little longer she might just think of a way to save another lost soul, as she had been. “Nothing in our fleet this small has this kind of kit and right now we're thinking of flying blind into what could be . . .”

“What are you doing here? I mean really, playing pirates and all. Why?” he said, tilting his head enquiringly. He wanted out of this conversation, fast. However he had erred, now it was Kami's turned to be angry.

“Where else have I got to go?” she started, opening her arms in a gesture to encompass the world around them. “Really, where the hell else should I be, seeing as you seem to have better ideas?” she said, her voice raising louder with each word. Her escort at the hangar entrance quietly moved into a better position, but Raziel had been studying them all along.

“I'm sorry, I didn’t mean anything,” he said after an awkward pause.

“Damn right you didn’t, where exactly is it you're off to now anyway, I assume you've got some better place to go!?” she retorted. “Because I'd wager you haven’t a frakking clue.” she finished, lowering the pitch of her voice to a whisper.

He wanted to do something, he really did. She had seen right through him and it infuriated him. Part of him wanted to reach for a weapon, it had already been planned out by that dark, logical part of his mind that was always working. Two shots from a holdout blaster to the chest and head to drop her, then rail rounds to force her guard back whilst he made his way into his ship to heavier weapons. Another part of him wanted to turn his back, ignore her and just leave. Instead he did nothing, neither his hands or feet had the will to respond. She had also embarrassed him, and that left him motionless.

“Look,” she said after nearly a minutes pause, her voice softer now. “We're going to need you to break our king out of that ship,” holding up a hand to stifle a reply. “I know it will cost us and we don’t have the funds right now to pay you more. This next mission will fill our coffers again. So you have two options, stick around and wait or help out until we can pay you, or piss off back to whatever quiet corner of the galaxy you were hiding in before. Your call.”

With that she turned on her heels and strode away from him, her escort falling into step behind her after eye balling Raziel for a few moments.

The words “I'll stay,” never left his lips, stuck somewhere in his throat.



*** Present ***

A full scale battle was a surprising good place to hide. All the energy being let loose and the charged particles being thrown about made it very easy with a small enough sensor profile and the right technology to stay out of sight – or at the very least appear to be an insignificant target. Raziel's ship had the right technology, but he was still having a hard time just keeping his ship from being caught in the firing solution of one of the many capital ships taking part in the melee.

He was looking for the opportunity to bug out of this engagement, if he broke away without enough speed he was sure to be targeted and shot down. So for now, he used minimum power to manoeuvre his ship around whilst the computer tried to calculate the least risky escape vector. His intention had never been to be part of a large scale space engagement, just to help out and then let the pirates risk their necks grabbing the prize, a prize that would be used to pay for his next job. The dark, calculating part of his mind was trying to pretend his reasons for staying were purely professional, despite his conscious realising that Kami had shamed him into staying for other reasons. He just hadn’t figured out what those were yet.

Disaster struck with very little warning. His sensors reported that the Helm corvette he has been shadowing's shields were about to fail, a moment later turbo laser fire origination from the ISD lanced through the hull of the vessel. Bolts of energy surged around his ship and in full knowledge that a single hit would bring his end, he punched the thrusters. This drew the attention of a wing of TIE fighters who moved to intercept him. A directed burst of EM energy in their direction confused their scanners and they moved onto a more obvious target.

Raziel's hands were a blur across the controls as he desperately searched for a possible route out of this mayhem. The destruction around him was extensive as the rag tag pirate fleet suffered the wrath of a fully armed destroyer. For some reason they were clinging on, intercepted transmissions suggested they were trying to take out the destroyer from inside. Whether it was desperation, or some other reason, the pirates were fighting against the odds. Kami's pirates appeared to be dying in desperation.

He changed his mind in that instant. Loading up the very best infiltration subroutines he had at his disposal, he picked out one of the destroyers flanking frigates as the best target and plotting an approach vector to move within communication range. If his plan worked one of the enemy ships was about to have some inexplicable power failures . . .

The battle outside did not appear to be dying off. That much was rather obvious judging by the way that the Charlotte kept on being slammed around. The slamming part though wasn't all that bad. Heck, it meant that the ship's shields were still up... for the time being at any rate. How much longer they were going to hold however was anyone's guess. One thing was certain however, if things wouldn't start improving - and fast - then the whole ship would end up just another derelict wreak, doomed to forever float in nothingness unless someone or something would be kind enough to end its torment for good... Hmm, come to think of it that wasn't the only certain thing after all. Another certain thing was that Seth Qorbin had no intention whatsoever of sharing that fate. Certainly not just standing there at any rate. Heck, the Onderonian decided long ago that he would either die fighting or die in his sleep, preferably as a really old man - not that the latter seemed too realistic though.

Guess that's the guy i want right there...

The mentioned fellow was human, tall, well built, better equipped than the other riffraff running around and above all the man also seemed more confident... calmer yet obviously quite sharp at the same time. Considering the way others around the hangar and likely the whole ship if not the entire Osk fleet looked and acted Seth could only come up with one word to describe him - a pro. Of course this hardly meant the individual really was one, but all appearances thus far sure as hell pointed to that conclusion. Then again maybe it wasn't the man himself that seemed better than the other Oskers. Maybe, just maybe it was Osk itself that had rather low standards... at least as far as the general crew was concerned at any rate.

Regardless of which was true, this hardly mattered at this time however. To begin with Seth did not notice the fellow because of the way he carried himself but rather because of what it was that he carried himself in - an Ixiyen fighter. Of the dozen or so ships having remained in the Charlotte's hangar because of whatever reason, only 3 of them had hyperdrives. Although the Ixiyen wasn't Seth's first choice the presence of an assault droid protecting one of the other crafts as well as the final one's rather poor location if considering a thieving attempt... well, it was in the end what the Onderonian smuggler was left with.

Thinking or rather just reacting fast, Qorbin started making his way towards that ship. The same ship the previously described professional was heading for. Now under normal circumstances Seth would've not stooped himself to petty theft, even if come to think of it there was hardly anything petty about the theft of an entire ship though... Given the current set of circumstances however, well the Onderonian's survival instinct proved stronger than his already rather questionable morals. He could've just drawn his blaster and ended the other guy before anyone would realize what was happening but even if that would've meant his survival he would've ended up pretty much sealing his Osker career. He could've tried fighting for the ship in a good ol' fashioned brawl and he might've even won too but alas the probability of that happening wasn't high enough for his own tastes.

Sorry buddy...

The apology was only thought but never actually spoken aloud because that would've perhaps alerted the man to the smuggler's presence right behind him just as the latter was bringing down the handle of his blaster. Bringing it down right on the fellow's neck and leading to the man's collapse. In Seth's experience the fellow would remain unconscious for at least a few minutes before waking up real sore and most likely in a quite vengeful mood. Luckily for the Onderonian, he would not be there to deal with it... at least not right away anyway. Assuming they'd all survive a proper apology no doubt involving booze and credits might be achieved. But that was getting ahead of things.

"You there! Take that guy to sickbay..."

The order was given to one of the Oskers running around without an apparently obvious objective in mind. With most of those drunken fellows it was really hard telling when they were doing something useful and when they were just... ehm, pretty much doing nothing actually. Right before closing the fighter's hatch Seth decided to add:

"If he wakes up tell him i'm merely borrowing this."

Most cutthroats would not have given a flying frak about such excuses but Seth thought it was just as well he let the owner know of it anyway. Now that Onderonian was certain not to have his conscience suddenly start nagging him... well he was pretty much ready to get the heck out there and see what was happening for himself. Powering up the Ixiyen's engines Seth gracefully made his way out of the chaotic hangar and straight into the chaotic universe made even more chaotic by the multitudes of ships and laser fire going in all directions.

What the frak is this?

Seth's first instinct was to look at his scanners but the blinking blips there were just too many for him to take track of. Realizing it was more or less futile DeepSix then raised his eyes to look at the situation for himself. What he saw there was... well there really wasn't a better word for it other than chaos. For one thing a huge Destroyer appeared to be present on the battlefield and as luck would have it Osk ships were its targets. This was the first thing that made the Onderonian cuss. The existence of a heck of a lot more ships than Osk had apparently fighting there too was the second. From what he could tell the third party - whoever the heck it was - was also fighting the Destroyer. This was good. The fact their ships weren't of a singular design however wasn't. Fighting TIEs would be easy even without relying on instruments but how exactly were the Oskers supposed to tell themselves apart from the unknown participants?

Bah, for now guess i'll just concentrate on bringing down as many TIEs as i can. It would be nice to know who these other fellows are though and whether they're with us or not. Enemy of my enemy is my friend - that's all nice and peachy but what happens when that common enemy is no more however?

“Status?” Jegora questioned, his voice echoing across the command deck.

“Shields holding, Captain. Those new generators you had installed are something else,” one of the tech operators responded after quick moment.

Jegora only grunted. He had expected nothing less from the new generators. They had cost him a small fortune, and if they weren’t holding up he was going to have a long talk with the merchant that he had bought them off of. Assuming he could find the man again, which could prove to be rather difficult. For the moment, however, it appeared as if everything was working as it should. Jegora shook his head, refocusing: he had enough problems to deal with in the present without worrying about problems that might develop in the future.

“The advance team is away?” he inquired, turning this time to his executive officer.

Em nodded, her long, beautiful hair swirling about her face. “Aye, they just landed and are getting things set up to breach the facility, but they’ve encountered heavy resistance.”

Jegora grunted again. Picking up a comlink, he keyed Tanus’ frequency. “Tanus, is your ass off that Star Destroyer yet?”

There was some muffled static before the other senior captain’s voice broke through. “Yeah Jeg, we just took off. Now what?”

“Get your squad moon-side,” Jegora said, his voice purely professional. “An advanced team is preparing to breach, and I need you and your team to hold the airlock so we can get the rest of the men inside. I have no idea what’ll be meeting you either, so be prepared.”

Tanus’ language was a bit more colorful. “Kriffing hell man, are you trying to get me killed. Bloody good-for-nothing son of a space who-”

Jegora cut the link, having more important things to do than listen to Tanus insult him. The man would do his job, and he would do it well; he always did.

Still holding the comlink, Jegora keyed a differently frequency, this one linking him into Kami’s communications unit.

“Kami, Tanus is making a beeline for facility, and the rest of our ground forces will be right behind him,” Jegora said once the link was established, not wasting time on pleasantries.

Static crackled over the link before clearing suddenly. “Roger that, Jeg. We’re just leaving now. Tell Tanus we’ll meet him on the ground. I trust you can mop things up here?”

Jegora nodded, and then realized that Kami couldn’t see him. “I think I can handle that. Good hunting down there.”

“Same to you,” Kami’s voice echoed, and then the link closed.

Turning back and facing his executive officer, Jegora nodded. “Are the Maniot ships holding?”

Em turned and conferred with another bridge officer for a quick moment before turning back to face Jegora. “Looks like. They seem a bit lost without that Helm character.”

Nodding to himself, Jegora ran a hand through his hair before turning to look out the viewport into the deep black of space spread out before him. “Well then,” he said, a feral grin stretching across his face. “Let’s get in there and make sure they stay lost. Shields full front, ladies and gentleman, and bring all batteries online. Let’s see how we do.”

Up until this point Jegora had kept the Charlotte out of the thick of the fighting, well aware that within her bowls rested an extremely large portion of the Osk Company’s accumulated strength. Now, however, the tide had turned. The ISD having quit the battle, and with the Maniot ships in disarray, the Charlotte was now the big dog on the block. And she had something to prove.

As the Bothan Assault Frigate started to drift forward, Jegora noted with grim satisfaction that any defense forces unlucky enough to find themselves within the Charlotte’s firing arcs were almost immediately destroyed. Jegora had spent thousands of his own credits to upgrade his new charge, and he was glad to see that everything was working to specifications. 

The first real threat to come along was none other than the Maniot pirates’ flagship, the one that Kami and Raziel had just boarded. They had managed to kill the Maniot leader, Helm, and retreat successfully, but apparently without anyone present to actively threaten them into submission the crew of the flagship thought that maybe they could make a difference. Jegora intended to disabuse them of that notion. Hard.

“Targets, starboard side, on intercept vector,” one of the technicians called out. Jegora only nodded and motioned to Em.

“Thirty degrees starboard pull, maximum broadside,” the beautiful executive officer called out, and instantly the helmsmen obeyed. Jegora let a small smile grace his face. He had trained his crew well.

“On my mark, starboard broadside. Fire for effect,” Jegora said, his voice ringing throughout the ship as the comm systems carried his orders to the appropriate crews. “Mark.”

Instantly the Charlotte’s guns roared to life, and red turbolasers lanced out towards the enemy capital ship.  Jegora could tell by the flicker of energy around the enemy vessel that its shields were down, a fact quickly confirmed by the bridge crew. A few straggling bolts tore into her hull, exposing her precious innards to the hard vacuum of space before the emergency seals managed to slam into place.

Opening a wide-band communications frequency, intended for all the participants of the battle to hear, Jegora let his voice go ice cold and iron hard as he spoke to all the combatants of the bloody engagement.

“This is Jegora Fal, commander of the Charlotte,” he said, emotionless. “All ships not aligned with the Osk Company are ordered to drop shields and prepare for boarding. Failure to comply will result in annihilation. Attempts to undermine this command will result in annihilation. If your ship even looks threatening, it will result in annihilation. You have been warned.”

With that he cut the frequency and turned back to his own displays. One by one he noted that the Maniot pirates quickly dropped their shields and retreated a safe distance from the battle. Many of the defense forces did the same, but not all.

“Very well,” Jegora said. “Let’s go mop up.”

OOC:

At this point, if you want to participate in ground combat, get down to the moon. Tanus and Jager will be leading the assault, I believe, and Kami should be joining you. If you want to stay in space and kill shit, Jeg and the Charlotte are still up there mopping up defense forces. The Maniot pirates have surrendered, and are being boarded, searched, and stripped by other Osk forces. If you want, I suppose you can write about that too.

No, No, No, all wrong. Bloodhound poked his head out around a corner, nothing, but then what was he expecting? It was a mostly empty corridor drenched in blood. Which was about what he should have been expecting. If he'd been smarter. He wasn't and so some part of him expected to see an enormous pile of gold, gems or unclaimed property of a valuable and mysterious nature. D. None of the Above. So glad I went to school just to learn that phrase.

"Are you sure you know where we're going?" Vasili asked, lighting a cigarette and lounging against a wall.

"Of Course!" Bloodhound yelled, "Follow the bodies!"

"Yes, another remarkable plan."

"I'll fucking kill you."

"So you keep saying."

Bloodhound growled and stepped into the corridor, keeping his slugthrower at the ready. He saw the corridor through orange tinted lenses that lent it an even more disturbing air, as though looking at blood through blood. Moelik Hond barely noticed. Vasili looked carefully around the corner in the direction Bloodhound had stepped. Hond motioned him to hurry up.

Hond walked down the hall, running was far overrated, not paying an overmuch attention to the littering of dead bodies as much as keeping an eye out for anything that looked worth looting. There wasn't anything. It irritated him. They'd arrived late, all the good stuff was probably gone. Hond sighed and hung his head at the prospect. Pretty sure I'm not even being paid for this.

The corridor lead, well, it didn't seem to lead anywhere, Hond picked and random room and tapped the door controls with the muzzle of his pistol. It slid up, Vasili jumped, Hond groaned.

It looked like the room had already been tossed, and had once been a laboratory of some sort, Hond wasn't sure. It could have been anything really, but there were a lot of funny shaped bottles, so he assumed laboratory. I hate leftovers.

Hond stepped in anyway, letting the butt of a filter-less cigarette fall from his mouth. He poked a couple of the bodies with his toe. They didn't even twitch. This is boring. He started and spun when the door shut behind him; but it was just Vasili, holding his blaster pistol in both hands and looking around as though he expected the cupboards to attack him. Hond spit and continued poking around, opening drawers and cupboards with his pistol, shifting around the broken glass and random debris on the floor.

The room was fairly large, mostly full of desks and work stations and a few overturned miniature torches laying on their sides. Hond wasn't interested in fire, he was interested in shiny stuff.

"Look for anything of value, I'll take this side, you take that side."

"Bah!" Vasili had been wholly against this idea.

In fact, Hond considered just getting on the rock at all to be a monumental feat. He probably deserved a monument. Not that he paid the idea much mind, he assumed everyone with a monument was probably the worst kind of person; fat cat imperials who lived in floating villas and such. He didn't like that kind of person. Hond kicked a desk over.

Little of note in it, he pocketed a handful of loose credit chits and a fancy pen. Some of the equipment he was breaking was probably valuable also, but he wouldn't know who to sell it to, so he broke it. He liked breaking things.

"Stop. You hear that?" Vasili said, pausing.

"If you're pulling my leg. . ."

"Yeah, yeah, you'll 'fucking kill' me, I know, now shut up."

Hond gritted his teeth, Vasili was getting annoying. He heard it though, voices. Loud voices. He ducked behind the overturned desk. They were coming nearer, if they hadn't been as loud he'd have never heard them. They were moving fast too, first it was just noise, but above the bustle of their movements he could hear excited yells, things like:

". . .Rich!"

"Hell YES!"

"Finally a prize!"

"And what a prize!"

The voices passed. Quickly. Hond waited a second before standing, but Vasili was already on his feet.

"I think we got what we came for." Hond stated as mater-of-fact-ly as he could.

"No, really? Well shit, guess we'll have to cancel this lovely vacation then."

"Not yet, we haven't made credit one yet."

"Yes yet, we need to get back to the ship and pick up the Boss."

Stop making sense.

The space battle was subdued, but it was far from over. There were still several Lancer-class frigates in the fight, and they were holding formation relatively well considering the chaos of the battle. Upon further inspection, however, Jegora began to understand why the smaller frigates were fairing so well. They were anti-starfighter craft, armed with a vast array of heavy laser cannons designed to obliterate smaller craft. And while almost useless in capital ship engagements, those weapons were devastatingly effective against the multitudes of smaller craft that the two pirate organizations had fielded. In short, none of the pirate fighters, bombers, or even the transports could get close enough to do any damage without being destroyed themselves in the process.

To deal with the threat that the Lancers presented, Jegora would have to involved the Charlotte directly. This gave him some pause. Normally a Lancer-class frigate couldn’t stand toe-to-toe with a ship the size of the Charlotte, especially not in outright combat. These were not normal circumstances, however, and the Charlotte was out-numbered by the enemy frigates. On top of that, the Lancers would be quicker and more maneuverable than the larger Bothan Assault Frigate, and if Jegora tried to attack one of the ships the others would simply swing around and flank him. They might not have been heavily armed, considering their size, but the combined fire power of the three Lancers would be more than enough to break the Charlotte’s shields.

Running  a hand through his hair, Jegora thought furiously. He had no time, no time to sit here and plan. He had to make a decision, and as he sat staring out the viewport at the approaching enemy frigates, an idea suddenly came to him—an idea that just might be crazy enough to work.

“Signal the Last Chance and the Hand to hold formation,” he ordered to the communications officer, referring to the twin Marauder-class Corvettes flanking the Charlotte. “And someone plot me an assault vector.”

“Uh, where do you plan on going?” Em questioned, no doubt echoing the thoughts of much of the bridge crew.

Jegora let loose a rare smile, a feral grin that stretched across his face until it very nearly became a snarl.  “Right into the center of that Lancer formation.”

There was a moment of stunned silence on the bridge, and Jegora didn’t blame them. Logically, the tactic made no sense. He was literally ordering his ships into the middle of an enemy formation, was planning on being surrounded. In reality, though, the results would be massively different from what would normally be expected in such a situation. He hoped.

The Lancers were flying in formation, but it was a loose formation. If Jegora could maneuver his ship and the two corvettes into the center of the Lancer formation, they could safely fire outward while the Lancers would be forced to check much of their fire for fear of hitting their own ships. It was a tactic Jegora had learned from studying military history, and one he never though he’d have the opportunity to see, let alone use. Now he had his chance, however, and he was prepared to make the most of it.

“Vector plotted,” one of the navigators said after a quick moment. “Transmitted to the Last Chance and the Hand,” he added.

“Good,” Jegora muttered, “good. Divert power from the shields, forty percent. Feed it into the main turbolaser batteries. Gun crews, prepare for double broadside. Maximum effect. Helm, take us in.”

Orders echoed throughout the bridge, and Jegora imagined them being passed throughout the entire ship. Slowly at first, then more quickly, the Charlotte began to accelerate towards the Lancer formation. The two Marauder corvettes held formation, slightly below and behind the Charlotte and side by side. This allowed them to focus their turbolaser fire upward without risking friendly fire from the Charlotte’s broadside. Jegora’s chest was pounding. This was a different kind of combat, he decided, but it was still combat. The adrenaline rush was still present, and he still had to keep a careful reign on his emotions.

He was still a soldier.

The Lancer craft obviously didn’t know how to counter the three Osk company ships approaching them, so they simply held course, assuming that eventually the pirates would break off. When they didn’t, the Lancer captains truly began to panic, realizing their predicament even as it became too late to do anything about it.

The Charlotte slid into position perfectly. Two of the Lancers were directly on either side of her, and the third was directly in front a ways and slightly below—in perfect position for the Marauder’s heavy turbolasers to make short work of.

Jegora didn’t waste any time. The command he issued next was as simple was it was deadly.

“Fire all batteries,” he very nearly whispered, and all hell broke loose.

It went just as he had predicted it would. The lights on the Charlotte’s bridge dimmed from the strain of firing a double broadside, even with power diverted from the shields, but they held. The shields themselves, weakened considerably, also held. As expected the Lancers hesitated to fire, afraid of hitting their sister ships, and the shields easily absorbed the little punishment they did receive. The Marauders made short work of their target as well, the focused turbolaser fire literally disintegrating the front half of the third Lancer-class Frigate.

By the time the three Osk ships had moved out of the Lancer formation, none of the enemy ships could be considered operational. One was completely destroyed, and the other two had no shields and several hull breeches and were listing through space, obviously badly damaged.

Jegora let out a deep breath and motioned to Em. “Send out rescue shuttle for prisoners, and boarding teams. I want the two remaining lancers intact. Understand?”

For her part Em was just staring at Jegora, as if unable to comprehend that his strategy had actually worked. When she spoke next, Jegora thought he actually detected a bit of respect in her voice, something he had never even imagined receiving from her.

“Aye aye, Captain,” she said after a moment before turning away, and this time Jegora could detect no trace of sarcasm in her voice.

OOC:

Raz, feel free to continue whatever you were going to continue. This obviously doesn't effect you in any way.

On another note, we're winding down folks. Get a move on.

The Onderonian pilot did exactly what he decided upon previously. He avoided getting in range of any of the large ships stationed around and he maneuvered in such a way that allowed him to target lone and distracted imperial fighters. A rather cowardly tactic but one ensuring the maximum chances of survival. Duels - whether on surface whilst tightly gripping a blaster or in space whilst tightly gripping the yoke of a starfighter - were just not all that grand if you were the one happening to lose. And losing was something that was bound to happen to anyone sooner or later. There was simply no way to avoid that. Why then risk that outcome when a little bit of dishonesty could prevent it?

And another one becomes space dust.

The exploding TIE brought a smile on Seth's face. It was his fourth target already and he had managed to get it without any problems whatsoever. The Imperial pilot probably never even saw him coming, too busy going after another Osk starfighter. Why, all the Onderonian Osker had to do was get in a clean position behind and upon feeling confident that the shots would connect - open fire. A few moments and laserbolts later Seth was free to pick on a new easy target.

Good thing we at least outnumber them as far as small ships are concerned. Plenty of targets to choose from, and considering not all are affiliated with Osk... plenty of acceptable casualties. Acceptable and perhaps desirable even.

As the pilot continued his guerrilla style flying he couldn't at one point but stop to wonder what was happening as the huge and dreadful looking destroyer just turned round and began drifting away. The sight of the biggest threat around leaving the battlefield was quite wonderful to behold. Wonderful and awe inspiring considering how Seth doubted such a thing could be done. That is he did not doubt the possibility itself, but rather the sum of all variables involved. Like the fact that there were no capital ships strong enough to take it on. Or the fact that despite their superior numbers, they just did not have enough firepower to achieve that result. Not without getting themselves sacrificed in the process at any rate... The thought that a bunch of drunken misfits were good enough to deal with such a threat - well that showed the smuggler that Osk was a force worthy of notice if nothing else.

The bigger surprise however came shortly afterward. A decrease in flying skill was expected from the Imperial defenders but what baffled the Onderonian was that the other pirates were also apparently becoming more disorganized - not that they ever were properly organized to begin with but still... The cause of the latter became apparent when the Charlotte began firing at their flagship. So as he suspected all along the removal of one enemy led to the reconsideration of the current situation. If possible it would've been nice to assimilate the other pirates but that probably wasn't a possibility given the course of action adopted by his leaders. Part of him however wondered whether it was prudent to turn against their former allies so easily. Granted it was the smart thing to do right now but at the same time this backstabbing could end up having deeper ramifications in the future.

It would after all end up painting Osk as untrustworthy and the chances of another future alliance would pretty much plummet. There was also the lesser possibility that these guys had other somewhat powerful friends out there. Encountering them after this mission would as such become dangerous. The worst was that the threat might not even be an obvious one either. Seeing how they all operated outside the restrictions of laws and rules it would in fact be more damaging to let either the New Republic or the Remnant Empire to know about some of their dealings. The consequences of that - now those were really dangerous. What could be simpler than having a rival holding grudges simply let the Remnant or even the New Republic know of some future major operations? What would stop them from setting some traps for the Oskers then? Now these were the dangers that Seth pondered on as he switched his targets of choice from TIEs to Maniot pirates.

[[This is Jegora Fal, commander of the Charlotte. All ships not aligned with the Osk Company are ordered to drop shields and prepare for boarding. Failure to comply will result in annihilation. Attempts to undermine this command will result in annihilation. If your ship even looks threatening, it will result in annihilation. You have been warned.]]

Strangely enough most remaining combatants on the field actually went along with that. As far as Seth could tell that was just stupid however. Granted they may have been confused by the disruption in their chain of command but they were pirates for frak's sake. There couldn't have been that much discipline there in the first place. Seeing how the Maniot pirates still had the majority of the smaller ships they would've been capable to potentially take out at least two larger Osker ships. That would've probably been enough to even the playground once again. Even if they weren't brave or smart enough to think of that it would've still made more sense to turn tail and run away rather than surrender. Surrendering provided no benefits and no guarantees of any kind. Running away on the other hand would've allowed most of them to still make it and eventually reorganize. Well, it was in a way a good thing their opposition turned out to be this weak.

Making good use of his scanners Seth began taking care of any pirates that attempted to put up a fight or otherwise make a run for it. Seeing how most of the remaining Oskers did the same thing it was hardly a challenge getting to them swiftly and effectively. With each destroyed craft more rebellious ones were powering down, resigned to the inevitable boarding and salvaging that would eventually follow.

Throughout the mop up operation the Onderonian kept checking his scanners for something that he viewed as insane. His scanners showed three larger allied blips on a collision course with three larger enemy blips. Wanting to get a visual on what was happening Seth turned his own craft only to witness the Charlotte followed by two Marauders heading straight for the three defending Lancers. No matter how he tried viewing that maneuver however the Onderonian couldn't stop thinking that it was crazy. For one thing the Lancers could've turned and thus force the approaching Osk ships to deal with their broadside salvos. Even seeing that did not happen they would've still been able to gradually begin firing rather than unleashing full salvos. If they were to divert enough energy from shields into gun batteries then the combined power would've likely been enough to turn the Charlotte into scrap metal. The fact that by some miracle they hesitated enough for the latter to take them out, well that was as far as Seth could see nothing more than blind luck. Chances of a similar maneuver working again were too slim to even be worth mentioning.

This single battle managed to teach the smuggler that the Oskers were as such brave or crazy enough to pull off quite impressive feats. The problem however was that they were also taking large risks to do so and that meant that sooner or latter some of those risks were bound to no longer pay off. Question was whether they would all manage to get over or even survive such things...

Till that happens i might as well enjoy the experience... and other perks.

Kami limped from the ramp of the Zephyr with one hand curled protectively about her heavily bandaged chest. Her crew spread out behind her with their weapons loosely at ready as she stepped gingerly from the ramp onto blood-sodden soil. Before her lay the remnants of the battle, the dead intermingled with the bodies of the dying, some crying out weakly and snatching at her combat boots as she swept past, begging either for help or a swift death to end their suffering.  She paid them little heed, her gaze firmly set on the hangar and the group of imposing figures waiting for her a few hundred meters away.

“Lost more than a few,” Vasili remarked in a casual fashion as he sidestepped a pile of Osk dead, “Those batteries did their work well.”

“Quiet.”

Kami’s voice was empty of any and all emotion. She was physically drained from the events of the last few hours and hurting from the significant array of injuries littered across her body. But her wounds were not the main source of her weakness. No. It was her pride that had been dealt the mortal blow. She had let herself believe momentarily that the Osk Company’s legendary streak of luck would continue with her at the helm and had almost destroyed everything she had come to care about in the process. If anyone was to blame for the extensive death toll inflicted on the Osker’s it was her. The intel for the mission had been skewed to the extent that the odds were piled impossibly high against the Company from the conception of the attack. It was only through the collective efforts of the other Senior Captains and a select few Osk members that they had managed to turn the escalating situation to their advantage and survive.

“Kams, bout time you got here.” Tanus stood forward from the ranks of the Grave Robbers as she approached the heavily disfigured vault door at the rear of hangar. His dark gaze swept over the crimson stained bandages covering her chest, the dried blood streaked up her arms, and the severe bruising on the pale flesh of her throat before settling on her battered face, “Geezus.”

“Apoligies.” Kami swept her tired eyes to the other Captain’s, “You’ve done well.”

Tanus seemed to accept the lack of elaboration about her injuries in due stride.  He moved his hammer to one heavily armored shoulder and flashed a brief smile in her direction, “You’re always so damn politically correct. I’m just glad you’re here.”

“How did you get that open?” Deznim interjected, cocking his head to one side as he examined the remnants of the door and the surrounding walls.

“Well…we tried tact but the blasted thing wouldn’t budge.  There’s patient, then there’s dead. So we utilized the Victory’s guns.” Tanus gestured towards the interior of the vault, “The loot happens to be behind a secondary door so we didn’t vaporize it, which is grand. Shall we go?”

Kami nodded and turned to the others at her back, “Stay here.”

“What?” Hond stood forward, his mouth twisting into a snarl, “We don’t even get to see the bloody loot?!”

“All that matters is that you get paid…right?” Kami set her jaw as she spun as to address him, the strength of her anger at herself and the entire debacle of a mission bubbling to the surface, “So how about you shut the hell up and do what I say.”

Hond regarded her momentarily, matching her in a brief struggle of wills, before taking a step back and spitting angrily on a shattered corpse sprawled at his feet, “Fine.”

Kami forced her jaw to unlock and declined her head at Tanus, “Lead the way.”

The Senior Captain nodded and started into the vault, his men parting to make way as Kami slowly followed on his heels. As they moved beyond the damaged blast door she became aware of the spot fires littered about the corridors branching off from the main room.

“Security access from the barracks.” Tanus grunted as he noticed her interest, “We burnt them out as they responded to the alarms.”

A memory of Garryll wielding a flamethrower flashed abruptly into Kami’s mind as she considered the methods by which the Grave Robbers had dealt with the remnants of resistance. Repressing the shudder that threatened to travel up the length of her spine, she instead ducked her head to follow Tanus under a collapsed beam before a secondary security door.

“This one was easier to get through,” Tanus gestured at a group of technicians lounging about smoking nearby, “Lucky for us that a significant portion of the best slicers in the galaxy enjoy partaking in illegal activities as opposed to serving in the military.” He looked back at her with a strange expression on his face, “Fair warning: be prepared to be underwhelmed.”

Kami opened her mouth to query the abrupt shift in behavior only to snap it shut seconds later as she found herself within the heart of the vault. The room was immense, its smooth metallic walls curving out to encompass an area big enough to house the Zephyr five times over. Racks to store merchandise littered both sides of the space, their frames stretching up to brush the very ceiling. But it was empty. Completely bare of any product, credit, or indeed anything that could be considered worthy of the time and effort put in by the Company to reach this very place. Her voice caught twice in her throat before she could even manage to bring herself to speak the damning words aloud, “There’s…nothing here.”

“That’s not entirely true.” Tanus turned back about and walked to the wall just inside the doorway, stooping to pick up the small silver briefcase resting there, “There was this.”

Kami arched an eyebrow at the entirely unimpressive case, “Ah…forgive me if I don’t jump for joy.”

“I know right?” Tanus came to a halt directly before her, “But I didn’t open it. I wanted to wait for you.”

Reaching out, Kami ran her slim fingers over the smooth face of the case until her nails hooked on the lock near the latch, “What if it’s empty as well?”

Tanus shrugged his broad shoulders, “Then you get to tell Jeg.”

Kami grimaced at her companion and then flicked the lock back, lifting the featherlight lid to examine the interior of the case. For the second time in minutes she felt her jaw drop as she struggled to process what she was seeing, “Tanus. Please tell me I haven’t imagined this.”

The grizzled Captain of the Iron Victory looked equally as shocked, “Shut it. Quickly.”

Kami complied, snapping the lid back into place with an audible click that echoed about the immense space. Without waiting for Tanus to speak again she grabbed at the security cuff dangling from one end of the case and closed the cold metal about the breadth of her wrist, effectively locking the briefcase to her person.

“We don’t have a key for that.” Tanus murmured softly as he watched her.

“So cut if off me when we get back to the Locker.” Kami answered him, her thoughts running rampant as she considered the implications of their find. Pulling a deep breath to steady herself she raised her spare hand and swept it throughout her long hair, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Couldn’t agree more.” 

Tanus visibly straightened and brought his hammer down from his shoulder in a fluid, purposeful movement. Without a word he moved closer to Kami, close enough that his shoulder brushed hers as the duo moved out from the completely threadbare vault without bothering to look back. All thoughts of self damnation vanished completely from Kami’s mind as the pair swept back towards the relative security offered by the rest of the Company. Almost self-consciously, her hand tightened about the handle of the briefcase until her knuckles turned white with the strain.

“So?” Vasili called out from where he was squatting atop a particularly large chunk of duracrete with another cigarette between his lips, “Are we rich?”

“Back to the ship.” Kami bit out as she stormed past him at a half-limp, “Now.”

“What?”

Vasili’s confused query was echoed by the other Osk members standing nearby, the murmuring voices carrying back into the far ranks now beginning to drift in from other ships landing in the hangar.  Tanus moved away from Kami’s shoulder and turned to face the protesting crowd as Kami continued on towards the Zephyr, her pace picking up instead of slowing down.

“Where in the hell is she going?” One of the pirates demanded, his shout echoing after her, “Where’s our payment?!”

“Back on your ships!” Tanus roared at them with a fierceness borne of years of dealing with men used to intimidation, “Now! Move you bastards! Before I make you move!”

The order of the Senior Captain was taken up by the Grave Robbers, who slung rifles over shoulders and waded into the mass of their comrades to begin to forcefully direct them away from the still smoking blast door and Kami. Bitter grumblings became violent exclamations as Osk members were denied their chance to bask in the spoils of their victory.

The pounding of boots against the metallic floor of the hangar alerted Kami to the presence of her chasing crew.

“Kami!” Deznim appeared at her shoulder, his curious gaze darting from her implacable expression to the case in her hand, “What in the hell is going on?”

“No more questions.” Kami snapped back at him as the continued towards the Z’s ramp, briefly meeting the eyes of her crew one by one as she did so, “Alright? Not here.”

“Alright.” Vasili adopted a sidewards jog so he could address her as he sought to keep up, “No more questions as you have commanded. Save one. Can you at least tell us where we’re going?”

“Home.” Kami answered him without hesitation, “We’re going home.”