“I swear to shit, if that thing shocks me again, I’m kicking it out an airlock,” Snipes yelled, pointing one very angry finger at the small droid.

“She didn’t do it on purpose,” Havel said with the biggest, dumbest, puppy dog eyes, “she was trying to fix the power conduit, it’s not her fault you can’t walk a straight line,” he was crouched over the monstrosity of a mouse droid,  covered in stickers for terrible bands as it was, protectively, petting it; it beeped in perceived triumph.

“It’s my ship! I’ll walk however I damn well please!” Snipes yelled, emphasizing the sentiment by turning the accusatory figure upward; the mouse droid scurried off between Havel’s legs.

Havel, for his part, did a great impression of looking stunned.

The wind was taken from Snipes’ righteous anger and, with only a minor amount of aggrieved sputtering, he turned and walked away. He pretended not to hear Havel whisper “kick you out of a fuckin’ airlock,” though it was equally as likely he just imagined that’s what Havel said.

Besides, his mechanics were probably finding novel ways to break the ship.

The old DP-20 had been a wreck when he’d scavenged it from that star forsaken world, and even a few years later, it was still mostly a wreck. The kids were doing a good job, they learned quickly, well, they learned mechanics quickly. The galaxy, Snipes was still working on that.

Snipes knocked on one of the bulkheads as he walked back towards the engines. He’d spent most his life in some durasteel coffin like this, the rest he’d spent with a blaster in hand and mud on his feet.

“Alright, Echo, whaddya need?” Snipes asked as he pushed his way into the service area; it was a tight space, most engine work couldn’t be done during operation, but what could be done was done here.

“So Kanto here is telling me that the RS-feed needs to go into the exhaust bypass before we switch the draft circuits on, and I’m telling her it needs to be done after so the circuits can get a baseline model worked up,” Echo said, gesturing to the nervous blond woman next to him.

“Kanto?” Snipes raised an eyebrow. If he just told them the answer, they’d learn nothing.

“Engine 2 doesn’t have a holding valve. I’m sorry, I tried to. . .”

“Please, just the mechanics,” Snipes said, cutting her off.

Would the old fuck get to comms.

“It doesn’t have a holding valve, we’d have to open the injection port while the system was in operation and the engine would vent into. . .”

“It worked fine on Engine 5,” Echo interjected.

Snipes held up a hand, “just. The. Mechanics.”

“It worked fine on Engine 5 because it has a holding valve!” She yelled, shifting from nervous to exasperated.

old fuck. Comms.

Kanto had been right from a start, but about the only way to mediate an argument between the two was to let both of them say their piece. Usually one of them was right and the other was being pig headed. It reminded Snipes of the Corps and he didn’t really know what to do with that feeling, so he ignored it.

“Please don’t blow up my ship or the only two people on it that understand how uppy-downy bits make the spinny bits go ‘round,” Snipes said.

“Thank you,” Kanto said, with relief.

Snipes let out a sigh, and now she’d won an argument and the bickering would continue. It was truly the only thing in the universe that was endless. They were quiet, though, for the minute, until he turned his back, and turn his back he did, leaving the cramped service area.

OI! Comms!

The intercom never shut up on this ship. They probably just needed him to tell them what a bantha was or some shit. Again. At least twice a week he’d get called to comms, and they’d be there watching terrible holovids and call him up just to ask him if zabraks were demons or if speeders were really that fast or some other inane shit. As soon as Snipes ran across a comm-box on one of the bulkheads, and it took a solid minute because the first one he found was broken, he let them know he was on his way. Details were what captains were for, this is why he always appointed one.

“Yeah, on my way,” he said.

About time.

The galley was on the way to comms, which was one bulkhead away from the bridge, and Snipes stuck his head in.

“Hey, Zuke, toss me one,” he said to the gangly redhead.

“Huh, oh, right, heard ‘em calling you,” Zuke reached under the counter and tossed Snipes a bottle.

Ah, having a few drinks and telling stories about the glory days, and Snipes had to snort even thinking about them as the glory days, wasn’t such a bad way to spend an evening. They were good kids, most of them.

The rum was bad, cheap shit they’d scraped off the bottom of a salvage operation that Osk hadn’t paid them shit for, but it did the job. Snipes would take his kingdom back, but until then, there were worse ways to spend old age.

He’d barely taken the neck off the bottle when he stepped into a comms room that was not just well lit, but active. Unusually active. Active in a way it only was when they got a priority call from Osk, some job they were the only ones close enough to do.

Ogden, a pimply boy with bright eyes that never stopped started speaking before the door even finished opening.

“Old man, there’s a call,” he said, gulped, then finished, “for their liege.”

A wicked grin, something Snipes hadn’t worn much in a long time, spread across his face, behind the grey hair and beard. The first move would be made.

“Play it,” Snipes said, flopping into a chair and pulling from the bottle with a gusto he’d not felt in a long time.

“It’s pretty scrambled,” Gresh said, “not much of the audio made it through, but this holo did.”

The central console of the room, what everyone was circled around, lit up, throwing a blue light on all the ashtrays, energy drink cans, and scraps of half eaten sandwiches that littered the area.

Snipes knew a Star Destroyer when he saw one, even one that was missing pieces. These weren’t technical specs either, that was a full 360 holo made in person.

“Who’s sending it?” Snipes asked.

“Only identifier is the phrase ‘in a world without gold’” Ogden said, puzzled.

Snipes had to laugh at that. In a world without gold indeed.

“Any indication how long the message was in transit?” Snipes asked.

“About two days,” Gresh answered.

Snipes nodded, so not much time really if you thought on a galactic scale.

“Send a meeting point. What about that casino? The really tacky one?” Snipes said, “Ask for two pings back as confirmation the message made it whole.”

Snipes heard some frantic whispering between Ulrich and Tarot, most of it about something wrong with the comms, and Snipes guessed it was in the receiving, but he was too ecstatic to even ask, besides, comms was all math and if he asked, they’d just math at him, his eyes would glaze over and he would loose this delicious feeling of, finally, taking the first step in reclaiming his kingdom.

Merrick sat at one of the bars in the shabby, tacky casino, drinking her fifth - or maybe sixth? - drink so far. She’d honestly lost count, and didn’t really care to think too hard about it anyway. She’d been off the grid for a long time and spent most of her time just kicking around, drinking, occasionally starting a fight so she could finish it, and generally pretending she didn’t have a care in the world. She downed the drink and gestured for another. The bartender narrowed his eyes and looked as though he might try to tell her she’d already had enough, but seemed to think better of it. The cacophony of the gambling masses outside the bar bled through the walls a little, and the noise was making her uneasy in spite of sitting alone on this side of the room. When you spent all your time alone in a fairly small ship, crowds of people tended to have that effect. The next drink arrived and this one she sipped instead. She wasn’t even really sure why she was here. Somehow, for some unknown reason, there’d been a message from the King to meet at this backwater den, and she’d inexplicably altered her route to make for the moon. Space was an unbelievably big place, and the fact she’d even been within range of the message was.... Something. It could be days before anyone else arrived, too, since who knew how far and wide Osk was scattered.

She was feeling a little trepidation about how her presence would be received. She’d kind of just disappeared, and there was no predicting how the mad bastard of a pirate king would react even on the best day. Though, it would likely be better than the reception she would get from Fury if she ever returned… that train of thought was dangerous, so she cut it off. After she’d answered the last time he called her back, she’d thought the military life was definitely for her and tried to put the time spent with Osk, and wandering alone, behind her. Unfortunately that life hadn’t been done with her, so when she’d left that time it had been unannounced and without permission. All her gear had come with her - most of it wasn’t Empire issued anyway - the extremely unsubtle ship and a large chunk of her bank account, but not much else. Heading back to Osk had seemed too obvious, she’d convinced herself, and so it was back to the aimless wandering and working for credits if she needed it.

Her drink seemed to have disappeared again so she ordered another, and asked the bar tender who to talk to about lodging for the night. She could always sleep on her ship Straggler, but that had got old a long time ago. She wasn’t overly confident any rooms in this place would be nicer, but hoped they might be less cramped. They’d definitely be closer; an important consideration when one is setting out to get good and drunk. The barkeep passed over a room access fob with the next drink and Merrick slid him some credits before he went to the other end of the bar to deal with other customers. Drink number whatever disappeared, and she stood up unsteadily to go find her room. It was as shabby as the rest of the place, as expected, but it wasn’t on fire, full of bandits, or leaking, so it’d do for one night.

Waking up the next morning was something Merrick really did not want to do. The cot had been surprisingly not awful, and the hangover was as bad as any she could recall having recently. She cursed getting old and hauled herself up to her feet with a groan. At least sleeping fully clothed was better than in armour, but only marginally. She’d shed her weapons at least before collapsing, and now took a moment to make sure they were all present and accounted for. The big stuff stay on the ship with her old armour so that she made people less nervous, but the twin blaster pistols and at least four hidden knives were her constant companions. Her old constant companion, the nexu Vlad, had come to a messy end years before and she’d never bothered to get another pet. It was too much work keeping herself fed and the ship running without adding another mouth to feed, especially when its life would primarily be composed of confinement in a ship with a cranky drunk of a former trooper.

Merrick had often commented while in his service on Snipes’s constant drinking, and she wondered how much it would amuse him to know she’d joined him in the end. He had the right of it, though; he’d told her once that staying drunk all the time was better than dealing with a hangover. Food was out of the question for a while, so she ventured forth to see what else this horrible little moon might have to offer. Some caff would at least be most welcome. She found a passable, if too hot, mug of the stuff and set about wandering through the casino and surrounds. The vast majority of the place was dedicated to separating people from their credits in a variety of fashions, the rest was focussed on getting them drunk. She swung past the port to make sure her ship was where she had left it, and still in one piece, and to check for any more messages from anyone in Osk. She was briefly gripped by the urge to just flee. No one would ever know she’d even be there, but the feeling passed as quickly as it had come on. Much as she had grumbled about his deathwish and wild abandon, Merrick had actually missed the excitement and danger of keeping Snipes alive. If nothing else it had always supplied her with an excellent reason for dealing harshly with people who meant her harm.

Feeling slightly less dead after the walk, Merrick made her way lazily back to find something to eat. A hot meal and a decent selection of alcohol weren’t the worst way to waste time while she waited.

Well, he hadn’t shot her on sight, that was a good start. Though perhaps he was planning that for later, given he’d put her right beside him for the boarding party. Merrick bowed her head slightly as Snipes beckoned on his way past, but she eyed the child following in his wake and her right hand, as ever, rested on a pistol. The King stopped and let the others stream around them, off to enjoy the bars on his dime. He waved off the proferred pistol and the kid holding it and fixed Merrick with a curious stare. She stared back, a mixture of defiance and boredom making for a strange expression.

He sucked his teeth before stating bluntly, “Long time no see.”

Merrick raised her eyebrows and gave a curt nod. “Yup. Not dead then?”

Snipes feigned surprise and looked himself over. “Guess not, at least not entirely.” He put on that cheeky grin of his.

“Just your sense of style then.” she smirked.

He acted wounded then shrugged. “What’s wrong with simple, comfortable clothes? Hmm?”

This time she chuckled, “Not a damn thing. Sure beats armour.”

His turn for raised eyebrows, “And here I thought you were army ‘til the day you died.”

She looked away briefly and coughed, shifting her weight and looking around; a hard habit to break. When she looked back he was still looking right at her, so she suggested they find some place to sit, drink, and finish the conversation.

Snipes smiled. “That is something I definitely still do. By the looks of you, I’d say you drink more than you used to.”

They’d begun walking to the nearest place offering both gambling and alcohol. Merrick narrowed her eyes. “What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing, nothing. You look great, and it’s nice to see you. Yeah.” he nodded as if trying to convince himself. “Not come to kill me, have you?”

It was unexpected enough that Merrick burst out laughing. “Assuming you’re not planning on killing me, nah, no money in it.”

“Oh good, cause the new crew are uh... let’s just say, inexperienced.”

“Ah, so just gonna get me killed instead.” she was smiling as she said it though, a wave of nostalgia colouring the conversation with a pleasant familiarity. The long years spent mostly alone still kept her responses short and more than a little clumsy, but most of the trepidation had evaporated.

Snipes got them drinks, something cheap and nasty as usual, and they brought their glasses together before downing them. She sat and watched him waste his money at the gambling tables, ordering them both another round when he turned and gave her the same old signal. More than once he tried to get her to join him at the table, but she still wasn’t into gambling. She instead fell back into the habit of watching his back, even though there was no reason to expect it was needed here. She watched him as he almost invariably lost, noting the significant amount of grey in his hair and beard, and the worn out boots. His manner was less erratic than she recalled, and she wondered what the past few years had been like for him. He leapt up from the table angrily, all of a sudden, and stalked away with a sour look on his face.

Merrick offered him the drink she’d just procured for him. “Not your night hm?”

He flung his arms in the air before taking the drink. “When is it ever? Anyway, I bet you have some tales to tell… let’s find somewhere a bit more quiet, and drink a ton more.”

“You sure know how to sweet talk a gal,” and she followed him to one of the many bars around the casino, selecting one with the kind of semi-enclosed tables that smugglers and bounty hunters tended to favour.

Snipes ordered a whole bottle of whatever crap he was drinking these days and poured them a generous measure each. She was impressed he bothered with a glass for himself. For that matter, she would have happily gone without a glass too. He spent the next couple of hours pestering her for details about where she’d been, what she’d done, and refilling her glass every time it ran dry. She spent the time deflecting those same questions back at him. Eventually they both tired of trying to get anything about the past out of one another and he dragged her back to the card table, this time making her sit beside him.

Merrick grumbled. “I don’t gamble, it bores me.”

Snipes grabbed her arm to stop her leaving. “So just sit there and look pretty. And drink.”

She slumped in the chair and glared at him. “Fiiiine.”

It took a whole five minutes for Merrick to pass out on the table, laying half across Snipes’s station. The dealer looked at him and enquired, “Is this… a friend of yours?”

Snipes was scrutinising his cards, now resting upon Merrick’s back, rising and falling gently with her breathing. “Eh? Oh… bodyguard.” He added more credits to his wager, and the dealer eventually shrugged and carried on the game until he ran out of money. When his last credits were gone Snipes swore loud enough to rouse Merrick from her slumber.

She sat up with a groan and mumbled, “..time is it?”

Snipes stifled a yawn and shrugged. “About time we got moving.”

“Mm, need caff…”

Snipes dragged Merrick around behind him while she gradually woke up, and regretted every bit of it. When they got to the dock she stretched and produced several pops and crackles from various parts of her body.

Snipes was looking at the ship she’d started to turn towards. “Heh, you still have that thing.”

“Of course, you don’t get rid of a ship like that. So I guess I’ll see you at the rendezvous point.” she yawned massively. She stopped when he started following her.

“Or, you could leave it here, and come with me.”

“Why would I do that?” She wondered if she’d forgotten something they’d discussed last night.

Snipes crossed his arms. “So you don’t disappear again.”

Merrick laughed. “I beat you here by a couple days and didn’t leave then, why would I now?”

He shrugged. “Why did you before?”

She frowned, too hungover to be witty right now. “All my gear’s aboard.”

With a smile, Snipes started toward the ship again. “I’ll help you carry it.”

He was far too damned cheerful for Merrick’s taste, and she began to think back on how much he’d had to drink versus what he’d poured her. They argued for a while before he turned on her and stared with the expression that said he was done talking. She stood facing him and glared right back. Finally she broke eye contact and slumped. “Fine… let me pack some stuff and pay them not to steal my damn ship.”

Snipes smiled triumphantly and waited for her to pass him something to carry. Used to travelling pretty light, though, Merrick had everything slung over her back when she stomped past him and back out of her ship. She settled things with the dockmaster, secured Straggler and returned to where Snipes stood waiting. “Lead on then.”

---

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me… you want me to go into space in that?!” Merrick wasn’t impressed. Snipes’s ship appeared to be little more than a pile of trash vaguely welded together. “Does it even maintain pressure??”

Snipes was still smiling, though now it was less triumphant and more evasive.”Hasn’t killed me yet.”

“‘Yet’ being the operative word there.”

He scowled. “Shut up and get aboard.”

She opened her mouth to argue but she was too hungover to bother and just gave in, muttering, “fuck it”, and boarding ahead of Snipes. “I better have my own quarters though!”

Snipes paused to think about that for a minute, long enough that she turned around and stalked back to him with an angry scowl on her face. He concluded his rumination and grinned. She nearly hit him. “Of course you will have your own quarters. I wouldn’t want you killing any of the kids.” He led the way and Merrick followed behind muttering to herself.

OOC:

On the off chance we get into combat, I am still in possession of a set of ICDF armour provided by Fury some time ago. Reference pic here https://www.deviantart.com/mohzart/art/PBS-Recon-360639330

She was vexing?? Merrick bit back the annoyed response she really wanted to voice; something about all those times she had saved him from his own belligerence. She settled for rolling her eyes and following him to the mess hall. He accepted a chilled bottle of rum from one of the crew, whose name Merrick hadn’t bothered to learn, thanked them and made his way back out to where she waited in the corridor.

Snipes, remembering he hadn’t actually shown her around the ship, pointed a thumb over his shoulder and added, “Mess hall through there. Food probably won’t kill you,” before he made his way back to the bridge with Merrick in tow. He strode over to stand behind the crew currently seated at the forward stations, listening while each reported the status of their various systems. Merrick looked around the bridge, noting the lack of any command chair, and chose a seat at a vacant station behind where Snipes stood. She’d spent the past several years treating her body with too much disdain to go with her traditional old position standing behind him. The station was inoperative in any case, and she put her feet up on the console while she watched the king. In some ways he was the same old Snipes, but clearly much had changed for him over the years as well. Though the crew were young and inexperienced, they seemed loyal and they were definitely keen. She’d never got around to asking where he’d found them, and his silence on the matter seemed to indicate he wasn’t interested in explaining, so she had left the question unanswered. At least for now she was content that there wasn’t likely to be any cause for her to have to do any guarding.

Or much else for that matter. Aside from helping to repair parts of the ship, a job she was wholly unqualified for, there wasn’t a great deal for her to do. Even at their current speed the trip would take a couple of days, and there was only so much drinking and sleeping that one could do. Hence movie night, she guessed. It hadn’t been as bad as she had dreaded though. In fact she had quite enjoyed watching the kids pester Snipes incessantly about the meaning of everything in the terrible old holos that they seemed to invariably select. He hadn’t been kidding when he had said they weren’t well travelled. They also hadn’t yet figured out she wasn’t a people person, and occasionally tried to actually talk to her - usually because Snipes thought it was funny to suggest they should. She eyed the crewman in front of her who’d turned around to inspect her, and he turned hurriedly back to his station. Okay, maybe some of them were getting the idea.

All stations reported the usual boredom of a hyperspace jump that was going well, and Merrick quickly got bored with watching a whole lot of nothing happen. She apparently managed to nod off, because she woke with a start when Snipes swept her feet off the console.
He chuckled and beckoned for her to follow, “Come on, I will actually show you around this time. Then we can eat. I told Zuke to make something good for lunch.”

“Who’s Zuke?”

“The cook! Waved at you when I got my rum earlier?”

Merrick shrugged. “Sure.” She yawned and stretched and they set off around the ship. Mostly it was an exercise in listing what wasn’t working, or bits of the ship to avoid, but at least she had an idea of the layout. When they were done, she was actually feeling hungry. Most of the time she’d eat rations when aboard her own ship, so the thought of something that had actually been cooked was pretty enticing. The smells coming from the kitchen were even pretty good. Most importantly, there was more rum. Various other crew members not currently on duty were arrayed around the other tables eating and talking. Merrick watched them going happily about their days, apparently unconcerned about the mission that awaited them. She wondered if they even knew which end of a blaster to hold. Nudging Snipes, she gestured vaguely at the crew and asked, “Can these kids even fight?”

He nodded. “Not like troopers, but they can take care of themselves.”

“Maybe I could teach them a few things.”

Snipes smiled. “What, worried they’ll get hurt?”

“More concerned they will get me killed. Or you.”

“Ah huh. Some of them might be interested in learning something from you I guess. I’ll find out if the old training spaces on deck 3 are habitable.”