Havock made her way through the less crowded corridors of the Broken Bitch on her way back to the hanger bay. Brightstar was commanding her own ship somewhere nearby as they sped through hyperspace towards the Atorian Hegemony. The ships in her small fleet had a purpose on this mission. The Bonniereade fleet in her first appearance would be ripping apart the trade lanes near Fedalle, cutting off the Ator worlds from the Hydian Way just above Vuma. The group led by the King himself would be striking Columus clear on the other end of the Hegemony. Havock was on her own for this mission and she planed on making good use of the opportunity to show what her fleet could do.

The walls around her started to shake violently, then a sequel from the motor seemed to scream and the vibration stopped. Havock placed tentative hands on the durasteel walls and hoped they would get the chance to show their stuff, if her flag ship could managed to stay in one piece.

"Bird, what the hell was that?"

Milly, her co-pilot answered for the often distracted pilot. "Just a stabilizer Cap'n, we have several in the storage compartments. Should probably take a look to see why we keep losin' those stabilizers though."

"Aye, well not until we are out of hyperspace, tell Bird to keep my ship in one piece or I'm going to kick his ass from here to Ator."

There was a reply but Havock shut her comm off before she could hear it. Lately it felt like her life was full of stress, and the fact that she spent her time in Osk to get away from stress made it all so much worse. Between Jaenna and Brightstar constantly glaring at each other and the ship never seeming to work correctly no matter what she did, Havock was ready to go on a killing spree. At least her chance to blow off steam was only a few short hours away.

"Yer being a twat, now find my rum then go away."

Havock slowed to a stop just before crossing the threshold to the hanger. The BroBit didn't have a huge hangar area, even Aero had to store his personal ship on a clamp under the hull. After seeing the amount Jaenna had been drinking lately, especially right before the mission, it was clear that they needed to find a way to get the Datastream to fit.

Aero had his head down as he rushed towards the Captain, he slammed into her sending them both against the wall.

"Hi there Aero. Trouble in paradise?" Havock smiled as she said the words then frowned as she became aware of the wetness in his tunic which was seeping into her own coveralls. She raised an eyebrow at the freelance member of the Company.

"She threw a container of water at me when I suggested she slow down on the rum." He muttered sheepishly.

Havock smirked. "Aye, that's my girl alright. I'll handle it, go...change."

He nodded and they both started to walk towards their respective destinations. "Hey Havock."

She stopped and turned to look at the man that was now several meters from her. He seemed to be struggling with the words he wanted to say. She braced herself for more information she would need to discuss with Jaenna.

"You think I could ride with you?"

Havock shrugged. "I don't need a pilot Aero, you may be bored again. But if you want you're more than welcome."

He nodded and continued towards the crew cabins.

Havock entered the Datastream through the open entryway. The ship had been heavily modified, mostly to incorporate several slicing programs Havock didn't know the first thing about. She flashed a two fingered salute at Rivet as she passed the droid sitting in the cockpit. Jaenna had programed him to be a capable co-pilot, and frankly knowing Rivet he was probably programmed to fly the thing if need be.

She smirked and leaned against the wall of the small crew area and watched Jaenna search through some cargo containers for what she assumed was more rum. Several curse words from many different languages filled the room the way some people used radios for music. Havock slid her hands into her pockets and enjoyed the show.

"Aero!!! Where did that little prick run off to?" Jaenna growled as she tossed several items. from hydrospanners to high ball glasses out into the room.

"I think you scared him."

Jaenna stopped digging in the crate but didn't turn around. "You." The word was spoken in such a way Havock almost mistook it for another curse.

"Aww you did miss me." Havock smiled widely and raised her eyebrows.

Jaenna dropped whatever was in her hands causing a cascade of clanks as she stood and turned slowly towards the other Captain. She walked over in purposeful steps then grabbed Havock's coveralls with both fists and slammed her into the wall.

Havock looked into the sea foam green eye that made it clear Jaenna wasn't really angry. "You know I remember the last time you pinned me to a wall. You know what?" She leaned in close enough to touch the other woman's nose. "It was better than rum."

"But I want rum, and Aero wouldn't find it for me." The edges of Jaenna's lips flinched upward for just a second.

Havock leaned back and shook her head thoughtfully. "I bet I know where it is."

Jaenna perked up instantly and released her grip on Havock's coverall. "Where?!?"

"Your quarters."

Jaenna looked away with her one eye as she tried to remember the contents of her newly set up quarters on the Stream. Havock found her ability to miss the point absolutely adorable.

"Here I'll show you."

* * * An hour-ish later * * *

"So then Havock came running through this pitch black forest yelling about yellow eyeballs, we thought she was nuts." Skarr, Trix and Wes erupted into a loud roar of laughter.

Havock had changed into olive cargo pants, a black tank top and one of her favorite military style black jackets which for some reason had ended up on the Datastream. It was good to be out of her dirty coveralls after several hours spent in the guts of the BroBit her clothes were getting less than fresh.

"Nivek?"

Skarr spun around at the sound of his former Squad Leader and current Captain's voice. The other two continued to look amused by the story and now the situation.

"Hey Havvie. Yea Nivek, good times right?"

Havock ran a hand through her damp hair and nodded. "Aye, have you found any way to be useful around here other than telling stories?"

"I reorganized the armory." His voice raised a few pitches in the hopes that was good enough.

Havock tilted her head from side to side. "I guess that's useful, Jae's been saying I need a maid."

Before he could object to the title she flicked on her comm and continued. "Okay folks we are just under ten minutes to our target if I'm reading my dataterminal here correctly. I want you guys loaded up and ready to roll out. When we come out of hyperspace the Datastream is going to fly clear." She was interrupted by a loud woot over the comm. "Right, so anyone on that ride better make there way there. The three ships will intercept the first lucky transport we find, board them and get their transponder codes so we can get on something more interesting around Fedalle. Let's go people."

OOC:

From the meeting:
[16:09:53] @TheKing> The first group, lead by yours truly will operate out of Columus, making sure that the lovely Corellian Run there becomes rather less safe for travelers, traders and old ladies trying to cross the street
[16:10:48] @TheKing> The second group, led by the lovely Senior Captain Havock and her Bonniereade's will ply the lanes around Fedalle, closing off Ator from the other-side

If you are with the second group then YOU'RE WITH ME SUCKAAASSSS. So enjoy.

http://vastempire.com/wiki/File:Atoran_Hegemony.png <-- REFERENCE!!!!

Half a sector away, the other half of Osk’s presence lingered. Snipes’ Corellian Hound, Tanus’s Iron Victory, and Gates’ own Bloodfist were the notables. The ships were scattered across a empty gravity well; the only part of the well worth noting was a tiny space station that offered fuel and some basic supplies, and orbited sadly around a small star.

The sole reason they were there was because the long arm of authority did not stretch this far into the Run, and they could still achieve their goal: strangle the Corellian Run into Ator. So for this reason, Captains and the King of Osk and their ships idled in the void.

Didn’t mean they had to enjoy it.

“Cap, this is boring,” complained Gates’ pilot, in a red-light lit bridge. They were trying to stay stealthy, which meant minimal power output to hide their signatures. Minimal power meant lights were on low, engines were idling, and shields and weapons were barely warm.

“Deal with it, Baillo. At least you get to play games on your console until we see some action,” Gates replied, chewing on a cigarette, the stick half-lit. “The Longcoats are bored and they haven’t seen the outside of the mess and bunks in days.”

The last two bridge members were dead asleep. Gates’ navigator, an ex-military pilot who went by Tyrell Pyr, had his feet on his console and an unlit cigarette jammed into the side of his mouth, chin stuck in chest. Across the bridge was the gunnery chief, a mercenary named Brandon Yi, who was drooling on his targeting screen.

Gates yawned, snatching the cigarette from his mouth as it toppled from his lip. “Shit.”

He’d crushed the thing, and he tossed it to the floor in disgust, squishing the rest under his combat boot.

The Osk Captain dug in his jacket’s pocket, looking for another, and asked his pilot for the tenth time that hour - “Any activity?”

Baillo tapped his console apathetically, bringing up their scans of the local cluster. A half-dozen dots appeared, the exact same ones that had been there ten minutes ago and twenty minutes ago. “Well, there’s still us, still...”

A new contact appeared on the sensor net. Baillo smoothly kept talking “...still that one. That’s a new one.”

“Hail Snipes,” Gates said, kicking Pyr in the shin and slapping Yi on the side of the head. “This is the Captain speaking. Action stations, people. Let’s pretend like we know what we’re doing.”

A chorus of yells came from down the ship’s hall, in the crew quarters, and the ship quite burst into activity as the bridge crew flew to their positions. The main screen switched from sensor data to a split-image of Tanus and Snipes on their respective bridges.

“Contact. Our first prey,” Tanus said in greeting to the two men.

“About damn time,” Snipes grumbled, looking unhappily and surprisingly sober.

“Let the rookie strut ‘is stuff, boss?” Gates asked. “Haven’t had a chance to put the Fist through ‘er paces yet. And my crew’s damn bored.”

The King mused for only a moment before nodding. “I want them good and scared.”

Gates nodded, then closed the comm. “Longcoats! Load up! We’ve got work to do!”

“Hell yes!” Baillo yelled, flipping switches across his control panel. “Lock and load, boys and girls. War’s arrived!”

*** *** *** *** ***

Bloodfist went from practically drifting in space to battle-ready in a dozen seconds. Its shields popped up and its engines roared, glowing blue as Baillo slid the sticks up to max. Auto-loaders in the guts of the warship cycled a pair of concussion missiles into the tubes, and the four quad-linked turbolasers rotated in their cradles.

Fifty kilometers away, the mid-sized transport that had jumped in-system couldn’t miss the action of the Bloodfist waking up.

“Captain! Contact on the sensors!” called the First Mate, a scrawny, pale man. “They’re accelerating for us!”

“Pirates! Blast it!” cursed the Captain. “Turn us about and pump everything you’ve got into rear deflectors and engines!”

The Trader Captain was confident his ship could escape; though it wasn’t particularly fast, it did boast strong shields and was only a short distance from the edge of the gravity well. And a ship of that size could only carry so many cannon.

Still, it was much faster. In under a minute, the Bloodfist bore down to within a dozen kilometers of its quarry, and launched two missiles. The missiles were far faster than either ship, and covered the distance nearly instantly, slamming into the rear shields of the transport. The ship shook, but its shields held.

“Twenty percent, sir!” the First Mate called, wiping a blot of blood from his forehead where he’d cut himself from a fall as the ship shook. “But we’re almost within jump distance!”

“We’re away,” the Captain said confidently.

The Bloodfist had closed to within spitting distance, however - and they were within weapons range. A virtual deluge of close-range turbolaser fire spat from the ship, cycling each of the cannons over and over again until the shields simply melted before them, and the engines slagged from their firepower.

The Trader swallowed hard. They were dead in space, and the Osk vessel, the skull of its faction printed prominently on its brow, was closing in.

“Prepare for boarding.”

*** *** *** *** ***

Ten men and women huddled around the airlock entrance, short, ugly carbines in their hands. Each wore a long, armored trench coat that gave them their name - the Longcoats. At their head was Garryll Gates, Osk Captain. He’d finally found another cigarette, and was trying to find a match.

“Un-shitting-believable!” he swore, patting each of his pockets - a dozen-odd in all, scattered from his combat pants to his vest and jacket - “I don’t have any?!”

One of the men, Van Pelt, proffered his flame thrower. Gates mentally shrugged and stuck the tip of his smoke into the pre-lighter. “Thanks. Though now it’s going to taste like napalm.”

The Longcoats’ preferred weapons for boarding sat in their hands - flame throwers, carbines and shotguns that spat fat, slow bullets that would flatten on contact with a ship’s hull, but messily explode any biological target they found. Lasers bounced about too much, and faster bullets could breach the hull.

“Phoenix, let’s get this on,” ordered Gates, cocking his rifle dramatically and sticking the stock into his shoulder. “Open this can o’ worms and let’s get to thievin’.”

The explosives expert nodded with a grin, and detonated his thermal tape. The stuff burned through the hull door in moments, and the door toppled into the transport. Laser fire spat back, but none of the ex-military or well-traveled mercenaries that Gates had picked up fell.

“Predictable,” grumbled Gates’ second, a man named Griff. He yanked a tear-gas grenade off of his webbing and tossed it through the opening. “Masks and goggles, boys and girls.”

Each Longcoat yanked low a pair of goggles, custom-fit and heavily customized with HUDs, warpaint or other personalization. Fat, ugly breathers were wrapped onto their faces as well. The hacking and crying of the transport’s crew echoed back at the protected Oskers.

“Comms check,” Gates said as they proceeded into the ship. “Orders are fire at will. Mlin, O’Brien, wrap these ones up.”

“Volle, good.”

“Cipher, a-okay.”

“Thomer a’ight. Uh, Skelham’s got issues with his. I’ll stick with him.”

“Roger that. Break up, ‘coats. Let’s clear this place out. Shoot if they’re asking for it,” Gates ordered.

The Longcoats scattered across the ship, some moving to secure the cargo hold, while others went after the reactor and Gates proceeded to the bridge. Gunfire echoed throughout the ship for minutes.

“Cipher and Volle here,” crackled Gates’ combat-slicer. “Reactor secure. Got a couple deaders ‘ere.”

“Thomer here. Main hold locked down. Couple men surrendered without a fight.”

Gates listened to the combat chatter without returning any, and arrived outside the bridge without a fuss. Van Pelt and Phoenix were with him, and Phoenix began to wire up the door with just a nod from Gates.

It took the man only a few minutes to complete his work, and, with another nod from Gates, blew the door in. The bridge crew of the transport stared down the barrels of the Pirates’ guns, and looked rather sad.

“We’ll be here for your shiny things,” Gates said calmly, gesturing with his carbine. “And let it be known: Osk has arrived.”

The image of the BR-23 Courier filled the viewscreen in the cockpit of the Broken Bitch. Havock stood in her black large brimmed hat and long black trenchcoat leaning against Mille's co-pilot's chair as they waited for a response from the vessel.

"Send the warning again."

Millie smirked. "Feeling anxious, Cap'n?"

"No just bored, and eager to get to shooting."

The truth was that it had been way too long since Havock had involved herself in some random violence. She had spent the last several years of her life being 'responsible'. She longed to return to the days when she was in Retathorn gang or her first few months in RAIDERS that she spent mostly in medical. The days when it didn't matter if she wanted to bash a few heads in just for fun. There would be no reports to file or debriefings to attend. Just a large pint of ale and her favorite lady to rescue from some spice dealer she pissed off somehow.

"Here we go again." Bird leaned over and spoke into the comm. "Transport Grassland this is the Brobit, we represent the NR trade commission, lower your shields and prepare to be boarded for inspection." He severed the connection and fell back hard in his chair.

"Have some faith Birdie, I"m sure Havvie knows what she's doing." Trix bounced through the door and grabbed Skarr's arm.

Havock raised her eyebrow but didn't move from her location. "Trix, looks like you have a crush. Don't get too attached to him. I may need to send him to do things I don't feel like doing."

Skarr's eyes became wide as he looked from the young girl holding his arm back to his former squad leader.

Wes scoffed from the doorway. "I think we all are well aware who Havock's Bitch is now."

The rest of the crewmembers nodded in agreement. Skarr looked even more horrified then before and just groaned loudly.

"Umm this is Captain Groven of the Grassland, we are on our way to Loket Station for a pit stop on our way to Ator. I don't have any boarding scheduled on my manifest documents nor do I appreciate NR agents forcing my ship out of hyperspace."

"Oooo Cap'n, he doesn't appreciate having to push his brakes. We may need more guns." Millie winked and she and Trix broke the silence by laughing loudly.

"Inform Captain Groven to expect the boarding party and to keep his opinions of our operating policies to himself. Get Bright and Jae on the horn and make sure they maintain orbit and tell us if anyone gets curious."

Havock tipped her hat to her pilot and co-pilot then walked to the boarding ramp to find Aero waiting for her.

"Decided to ride with us did ya?" She rolled her shoulders to loosen the tight muscles and touched her weapons to make sure she had everything she would need.

"Boarding party is where I need to be, I mean someone's gotta fly that thing we are boarding eventually."

"Sound logic mate." Havock smirked as the docking clamps clanked into place. Skarr and Millie appeared at her side. "We ready?"

"Left Trix in the co-pilot chair, lets hope she doesn't touch anything."

"I'm just glad she stopped touching me." Skarr muttered.

Havock rolled her eyes and hit the controls for the docking tube with her fist. They walked in single file due to the size of the passage and were greeted by two men and a woman all in tattered coveralls.

The man with the beard, who looked to be the oldest in the trio, stepped forward. "Captain said to bring you lot to the cargo hold then get you off his ship so he can be on his way."

Havock nodded then seemed to think about his words. "Yea, sorry. I'm not in the mood today." She produced her DT-57 pistol in her right hand and fired before anyone even noticed that she had moved. The sound of the bolt echoed through the corridor as the faces of the other crewmembers turned from dutiful protocol to shock.

The man with the beard coughed sending a spittle of blood down his chin then collapsed to the floor. Havock leveled the blaster at the girls head and smiled as Millie did the same with the other man. "So, I'd really appreciate it if you showed us where is this bridge of yours is.  If you are not inclined to show us I'm sure my bloodhound here-" she motioned her head towards Skarr, "will have no trouble sniffing it out."

OOC:

Take the ship, kill em' all, pillage the cargo, YAR!!!

Trix paced back and forth between the cockpit and the crew area of the Broken Bitch. She brushed her dark hair back as her eyes nervously glanced at the viewport on her most recent fly-by.

"Geeze Trix you think you could chill out?" Reg "Bird' Klein was leaning back in the pilots chair with a dirty cap covering his eyes.

"They should have done something by now, and has the Hellcat responded? No? That's not like Bright, somethings wrong Bird." Her voice was young and impatient, and giving Reg a headache.

"Look kid, I'll call them again but they are in position so its not like we gotta rush."

He tossed his cap to the console in frustration and started to flip buttons activating the comm system. It was common for the crew to dismiss Trix's ramblings as being juvenile. She was often underfoot and had an endless supply of questions for anyone who would listen. The crew had learned to tune her out, but found her endearing in a really annoying sorta way.

*** On board the Hellcat ***

"They want an answer and you sedated our Captain, you do realize we are in a battle right now?" Conrad's voice rose as the words spilled from his mouth in anger. He knew none of the members of his new crew, yet found himself somehow in charge of them.

The red headed Captain seemed frequently distracted but competent, the few times he spoke to her. There was a shadowy fellow that kept mostly to himself, but something about the way he looked at Conrad always sent a shiver down his spine. Lastly, there was the bloody insane medic.

The man burst into his cockpit spouting nonsense then ran about the ship then promptly locked himself in the closet. Conrad did enjoy that little spectacle, but now he was stuck listening to hails he wasn't authorized to answer.

His last Captain hadn't been a kind man. Conrad learned quickly not to cross the old, overweight ruffian or suffer a yelling full on with spit included. Brightstar seemed more pleasant a person to be disciplined by, but being on his first assignment he also didn't want to be booted off the ship until she'd seen what he could do.

The banging from the crew cupboard was like a mallet being beaten against his skull. Between the comm beeping non-stop and the damn medic pounding on the durasteel door, Conrad was ready to lock himself in an escape pod just for some peace.

That's when the idea struck him, a way to quiet both the distractions which would only result in a minor consequence from his sleeping superior. Conrad jumped out of the chair and slapped his hand against the door controls for the closet. A sweaty medic fell into his arms with a dazed look on his face.

"Good you're awake, come with me."

Conrad half dragged the man against his fruitless words and kicked him into the lone escape pod on the Hellcat. "Do me a favor and let the Bitch know that our Captain is incapacitated, thanks to you, and can't answer the comm."

Without another word Conrad leaned back and keyed in the pod controls, waving as it fired off into space towards the Broken Bitch.

*** On the Broken Bitch ***

"Enough Trix, I'm not going to dignify that question with an answer." Bird turned around and put his feet back on the console struggling to return to his nap.

Trix smirked at the older man's frustration and was about to continue her assault on his personal life when movement in the viewport caught her eye. "What's that?"

"That ridiculous question you just asked me-"

"No." She slapped his shoulder then pointed. "That!"

Bird grabbed his cap and threw it against the viewport. He was about to give Trix a large piece of his mind when the glint of metal amidst the stars caught his eye too.

"Umm" He started to check his instruments and had to jump to the co-pilots chair to look at her detailed NavCom. "It's an escape pod."

"Wow, genious." Trix's dry voice responded. "Why is the Hellcat launching escape pods?"

Bird grimaced then hopped back to the pilots chair. "Why don't you walk over to the Hellcat and find out? Because they are still not answering the comm." He ran an exasperated hand through his blond hair. "Okay, great, just go to the back hanger. I've got a lock on the thing, so go find out who the hell is in it and why. Oh and take Wes with you."

Trix walked quickly through the ship, thankful to at least have something to do. She pounded on the wall next to the medbay as she passed. "Wes, aft hanger now."

The escape pod was dwarfed in the hanger that had previously held the Datastream. Trix walked up and keyed in the controls for the door controls to open. A very disheveled looking man collapsed to the ship floor.

"Well what do we have here?" Wes wondered up looking distracted as always.

Trix shrugged. "Hey?" She nudged the man with her toe. "You okay mate?"

"Just help me get him to the medbay, we can figure out who he is later."

OOC:

And so Karash arrives on the Broken Bitch, not much for story advancement but yea.

***On board the Hellcat***

“Listen to be me you vacuous little cretin, let me out of this cupboard!” Karash shouted while banging his fist against the locked door.

The medic could barely breath, there was so little air in the confined space and all the shouting and thrashing about did not help things. He knew that at any moment he could pass out but that did not stop him from continuously bashing the door with his fists and feet. Just as he was about to throw his whole body into the door in an attempt to break it down, it opened but this did not stop him from falling into the arms of the man standing before him.

“Well about bloody time, you are lucky that your Captain is still unconscious because if she was...” Karash’s body finally gave up as it gasped for air.

The next few moments were a blur to him; he was drifting in and out of consciousness and was not entirely sure whether what was happening was real or not. He could feel himself being dragged but did not know who was dragging him or where it was he was being dragged to.

“What’s going on? Get your filthy hands off of me, what’s going on?” A few slurred words intermittently came out of the medic’s mouth but they fell on deaf ears.

After a few futile attempts at breaking free Karash gave up and everything went into darkness, if he strained really hard he could remember being thrown and told to do something.

‘You are a complete moron.’ Were the dazed man’s last thoughts.

***On board the Broke Bitch***

‘Not only are you a moron, you are also a complete tw... Where the hell are we?’

Karash was clearly no longer aboard the Hellcat; he was in what appeared to be a more or less fully functioning medbay. He recognised the various paraphernalia that went with a place of medicine, he also recognised the smell; a feeling of helplessness quickly engulfed the bewildered medic. He had no idea where he was, whether he was with friend or foe, what had happened to Brightstar or what he was doing in a medbay.

“Wes, he is awake.” A female voice rang in Karash’s ears.

“Of course he is.” The man spoke with a deep sense of impatience, “The question is whether we want him awake?” Wes then turned his back to Karash and began to fiddle with an unknown object.

Karash closed his eyes and forced his body into an upright position and proceeded to shake his head in an attempt to stop the buzzing in his ears. “Where am I and who the hell are you and what happened to Brightstar and why am I...”

“We will be asking the questions for the time being.” The female voice became notably more firm.

“Don’t be so ridiculous, I won’t be answering anything until I know the basics of what is going on and what do you think you are going to do with that?” Karash spoke with an unjustified authority and shifted away from Wes, who had revealed the object to be a needle.

“What’s it got to do with you?” Wes once again sounded impatient and did not take kindly to being questioned.

“What do you mean what has it got to do with me. No one in their right mind would let some quack stick some unknown substance into their arm.” Karash responded in an equally impatient way.

“Quack, who are you calling a quack?” Now Wes was quite obviously insulted.

“Alright ladies, you can talk to Bird.” The woman’s voice lost some of its determination, “But try anything and you’ll regret it.”

Karash stood up and swayed slightly, he could feel that he was still on a ship but it was certainly not a ship that was running smoothly. Walking through the corridors of the ship he could see that it was not in the best of shape and every now and then there would be a whine or splutter that would apparently come from the engines.

Upon entering the cockpit Karash noticed another man at the controls of the ship but the man did not pay any attention to the three who had just entered the cockpit. He was clearly busy dealing with other problems but after the woman who had escorted Karash made her presence obvious, the pilot turned to face them.

“If you have brought me more problems Trix I don’t want to know about them.” The man looked slightly exasperatedly at the woman.

“He said he wanted to talk to the person in charge, I guessed that was you in our Captains absence, Bird.” Trix answered playfully.

“I hate to interrupt you two but where the bloody hell am I?” Karash said with an air of desperation.

“You’re on the Bitch, now what’s your name?” Bird asked.

“Mr. Norgath to you. Now what the hell is the Bitch?” Karash once again spoke with undue authority.

“It’s a ship. Now why were you sent on an escape pod from Hellcat and what is Bright doing over there?” Bird probed further.

“The Broken Bitch? You mean I am on Havock’s ship?” For a moment Karash allowed himself to be slightly excited but that was quickly replaced by dread.

“How do you know Havock?” Trix asked, pushing herself forward.

“How do I know Havock? The story is far too long, complicated and horrific for your ears. The things I have seen of that woman are not to be spoken in civilised society.” Karash temporarily lost himself in the past, “Where is she?”

“Hav, Skarr and the others went to...” Trix’s voice was cut off by an icy stare from Bird.

“If I know her she is probably off getting herself killed. Yes that will be it; if it wasn’t for me she would still be stuck in a cave on Kalee with those bloody diamonds.”

Trix and Bird seemed to be mesmerised by Karash, he had just appeared from nowhere and was now reciting the history of their Captain. Though they were both still clearly suspicious of him. Wes on the other hand still seemed to be distracted, in his own little world.

“Wait, did you say Skarr was here too?” Karash looked intently at Trix who nodded slightly. “There isn’t a spice smoking woman, a gungan and over-sexed man on the ship is there? Because if there is we can have one hell of a reunion party.” Karash had to suppress a laugh but was more concerned when he looked at a clearly bemused Trix and Bird.

‘A complete twat, why do they care about “Karash – A Study of the Past”?’

“I think it would be best if I just sit and wait for Havock to return. Though rest assured she will be getting a piece of my mind when I see her.” Karash sat and scanned the room.

‘I wonder if there are any cupboards in this room.’ He thought nervously.

Yuri’s pistols had been resting in their holster under his greatcoat for some time when they left the cantina. He exhaled a long, slow plume of smoke. Keeping an easy pace a step behind Kami Sharpe. Osk’s mad king had paid him well for this, it was the only reason he was working with the ever disturbing Queens.

“We’re losing the sun, Miss Sharpe, best to find somewhere to lay low for the night.” Yuri said around an expensive cigarillo.

“There is time,” Kami said, absently, “We still have stuff to do.”

“Not tonight,” Yuri said, quietly but firmly, “I’m paid to make sure you live through this, nothing else. The Queens have found us a safe house, we should go there.” He turned his head and his cycloptic gaze down the street, “Let’s go” He said motioning to his left with his head.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and started walking. Kami followed after a hesitation. This was Yuri’s job, he didn’t expect her to trust him so much as give him a chance to show that he knew what he was doing. And he did. He had grown up a mercenary, from a long line of mercenaries. His family were feared or at least scorned on his home planet because of it. That had never changed them. They were soldiers of fortune, and this was what soldiers of fortune do.

“Right around here.” He said, dipping into an alley.

The Stray Dogs had usually been used as a private military by the ambitious, or a supplement to small local militaries, but things like this were not new either. He walked about half way down the alley and kicked over a garbage can. Reached down and brushing the refuse out of the way he found the handle to sewer grate and yanked it up. It groaned against it’s hinges with misuse, but revieled a black hole and rusted ladder. Yuri pulled a chem-light from his pocket, cracked it and shook it until it lit up, then dropped it in. Yellow for all was well.

“All clear, captain.” One of his soldiers said, picking up the glow stick and bringing it to his face, so Yuri could see the speaker.

“Alright, down we go, Miss Sharpe” Yuri said with an overstated bow and a wide grin.

Kami Sharpe descended with caution, and again Yuri couldn’t blame her for the reluctance to trust. He followed her down, pulling the hatch closed behind him. Once it was closed light bloomed into the place from an overhead lamp.

It was no five star hotel, but as far as safe houses went it was one of the nicer ones. A bit damp, but not esspecially dirty. The room was about 8x2 with an old desk in the middle around which four Stray Dogs sat looking at maps and drinking coffee. There were two military cots set up on opposide walls and a door to the left and opposite the ladder. Yuri opened the one to the left and turned on the light.

“This is an old office for public health workers,” He said, brushing dust off one of the shelves in this second room, “Nothing fancy, but secret. Place was abandoned when the city expanded the other direction.” Yuri noted a cot had been set up in this old storage room as well, then he stepped back into the main room. “Back door leads into the sewers, run long enough in either direction and you’ll find a ladder upstairs, this room over here,” he said jesturing, “is yours, Miss Sharpe. There’s a hatch behind the box of manuals that will also lead you into the sewers incase this place is discovered. My boys will be watching this place day and night, so feel free to get some rest. We’ve got the security.”

* * *

Snipes watched Gates’ ship speed into the freighter and laughed. It was good to be in space again, to watch plundering and pillaging, to feel the deck beneath his feet and that slightly musty smell of recirculated air. The fact that he was doing this with a group like minded and equaly as ambitions (also greedy) individuals made this a truly glorious experience.

He took a pull of the rum in his hand and inhaled deeply on his cigarette.

“Gates has this, Visha, take us closer to Columus. I want them to get a glimpse of us, nothing more. Avoid starting any fights, we’ll most likely be a curiosity at first.”

“Aye, Boss.” She said, giving him a wary glance before issuing orders.

There was little else Snipes could do from this throne, but it was too early for any direct attack. For now he could only sit and watch and wait for another trader to make the mistake of coming too close to his mad little fleet.