Star Wars: Omerta

The navcomputer pinged, and the Erewhon Noir dropped out of Hyperspace on the outskirts of OR-56-TH 911, informally known as Corban’s Folly, after the explorer who had first charted it.

In the cockpit, Tiberius and Mys can see the system, stretching out “above” them. At the heart of the system was the star, a giant red behemoth that had swallowed the innermost planets. The glow from it cast the cabin in a strange, bloody light. Around the star was a single, tidally locked gas giant, almost a second star itself, far too close for any habitation. Then, finally, past that was the vast asteroid cloud called the Radiate. The only reason anyone would bother with Corban’s Folly. In the Radiate lay precious metals, the trade of which drew fortune seekers, corporations, crime lords, and pirates, all trying to take their share of the treasures of the Radiate.

The largest population center of Corban’s Folly is Port Chiaroscuro, a independent subterranean city located on one of the larger asteroids, long since mined out. That was their destination. They had a delivery, of supreme urgency and secrecy.

In the hold of the Erewhon Noir, amid various other cargo-food and water, mostly, staples, and a few luxuries, Drewbacca was finishing his repair to the coolant system, while CH 3-RNO finished shifting the cargo out of the way, when the ping of the navcomputer signaled their arrival.

And in the center of the hold sat their package. An unassuming shipping crate, a two-meter by two-meter cube, made of thick durasteel, with no hint for it’s contents. On the side of the box was a complex lock, keyed to some code. For the entire journey, it had sat fixed in the hold, no hint as to it’s contents.

They had picked up the package at their last jump, a mid-rim resupply port. An old friend of Tiberius-one from his Republic army days, in fact, had contacted them. Told them that a he had a job offer for them-something that needed someone discrete, fast, and professional. What’s more, it wasn’t illegal. Perfect for the Erewhon Noir. The price was right as well-enough to keep them flying for another year. Half up front, half on delivery. It was addressed to a shipping company in Port Chiaroscuro- CaMor TradeCo. A small-time dealer in general goods, who often hired independent contractors for fast delivery. So they took the box aboard-it had just been sitting in some dockside warehouse, and set off for Port ‘scuro.

Myriss and Relian were jarred from their work by the navcomputer’s ping. They had been looking over what document he could find on their buyer, the CaMor TradeCo. Not an easy task, with the Holonet down, and only local segments to rely on. As best he could tell, they were a generalist company. Imports and exports, mostly, who tended to rely on private contracts for their shipping. Port Chiascuro based, with sub-offices all over the Omerta Sector. They were going to meet Loral Kofaxus, a high-up desk-jockey. Iridian Zabrak, spacer born. Not much information, but many records had been lost when the Holonet went down.

edited 9th Sep '13 8:01:20 PM by Drtentacles

"Good work, you didn't break the crate moving all of that," Drew told the droid as he looked up from his now-finished work. "Be just perfect if you break it right when the smooth skins walk in on the two of us. Last thing we need is something else the humans and the other one will never forget. But... what do you think is in it, anyway?"

Mys stands at the cockpit window, looking at the approaching Rocks.

"Well. Its a step up from out last stop. Marginally." she said, shrugging and beginning to check her weapon.

"Transporting bantha droppings would have been a step up from the last job."

Tiberius leaned back slightly.

"So, what do you factor the odds of this going south being?"

Mys snapped the Energy Cell in her blaster and flipped the 'On' switch, hearing the usual ominous Hummmm as the stabilizing rails powered up. Nodding, she shut it down again and holstered it.

"No more then usual."

"In other words, about even odds."

Tiberius started adjusting the scope on his blasted rifle.

edited 10th Sep '13 8:53:30 AM by math792d

"So, the Stoaway does the talking again?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"He does the talking, we find a vantage point to ensure he doesn't get shot if things go completely wrong. If they demand to see the captain, I'll step up." His voice was bored, like they'd done this a hundred times before.

"Five by Five, just making sure." Mys said and shrugged, leaning against the window.

edited 10th Sep '13 9:36:54 AM by 3of4

Relain rubs his eyes and stands, setting down his datapad. Busy work mostly, the tiring pencil pushing before he actually got to see sights. But hey, if that was the price for seeing planets and nebulae and stars then....

He shook his head and turned to Myriss. "Find anything more?" So far he hadn't had any major luck, beyond what they had already known. Without the holonet, the only thing to do was trade information with other ships- and so far no one had been particularly helpful, at least as far as he could tell. He could try meeting with a few, but he doubted anyone would want to take the time.

Myrissa shook her head.

"I didn't really find anything either. Sorry."

CH3-RN0 turned around ponderously to stare at the wookie. He didn't have a face to really express himself with but there still appeared to be disdain written all over it. The old droid didn't apparently care for the insinuation that it was incompetent at such a simple task as moving cargo.

"If fleshbag thinks I am so bad at cargo moving. Perhaps fleshbag would prefer to do it instead."

As the Erewhon Noir nears the asteroid cloud, ships start to appear on the scanner-miners moving among the asteroid belt, vast Star Galleons hauling ore, a couple blips of patrol ships. None take notice or approach, though, at the edges of their scanner, they can see small blips of starfighters, undoubtedly pirates looking for soft targets.

After a tense approach, they can see the asteroids of the Radiate just in visual range, tiny pinpricks of reflected light, a few ships moving between them. Port Chiaroscuro is almost within hailing distance, and they can see clusters of ships moving around the asteroid port on the scanner.

Suddenly, the ship pings-they’re being hailed. The source is a Turbostorm Class Gunship, with an IFF system matching the local authorities. It’s fairly close, by starship standards-having come from behind an asteroid. Not within firing distance yet, and the weapons are powered down, but it will be in a minute or two. It’s requesting they open a channel to talk.

Tiberius looked at Mys for a moment.

"No way are we going to be able to punch through their armor, and if they are the local authorities, that isn't a particularly safe cause of action. Patch them through."

"Sure. And not just because our weapons are at the moment some tubes I taped together to look intimidating..." Mys said and walked over to the com console, switching on a channel.

"Attention, this is the Free Freighter Erewhon Noir. We were about to request landing instructions from Port Chiascuro Control, how may we help you?"

The reply comes back in a few seconds, a calm, lazy male voice replying in Huttese.

"Routine customs check, Erewhon Noir. Standard procedure. Power down engines, prepare for a scan."

The ship moves toward them, it's engines powered up now, coming into visual range. It's a sleek, deadly looking gunship, though it looks like some of the weapons have been removed for hull space. It also looks strangely poorly maintained, with lots of "ugly" parts strapped onto it.

Mys looked at the Captain, shrugging with a questioning look. Then she switched to internal Com.

"Heads up. We got Custom Scan incoming. Might be genuine, might be not. Keep ready for either."

"You still can't take a joke, though you're able to throw them out. We need to look into acquiring a better humor module for you," Drew replied to the droid as he heard the announcement over the ship's comm. "Whatever this thing is, it better not set off the alarms and get us boarded."

Tiberius added his voice to Mys' over the ship's intercom.

"Everyone be on your guard, but be quiet about it. Something about this feels off."

"I'm going down to the freight lock. Just in case?" Mys asked the Captain.

"Go ahead. Anything sketchy happens, use the intercom and I'll be right there. For now, I'm staying here, in case we need to fly away fast."

"You are the one who needs humor module installed. CH3-RN0 was not designed to be a humor droid. As such, I did not make a joke."

The massive armored head of the droid turned towards the intercom as the message came. It then glanced back at the cargo it had just shifted. He trundled closer to the cargo to take up a guard position upon it if something did go south he would be then to prevent it.

Mys nodded and went to the ladder from the Cockpit to the freight area, sliding it down. Appearing down in the Hold she saw both the Wookie and the old Piece of junk, er Cargo Loader Droid.

"You ready? In case this goes south?"

"Why are you so negative, maybe this'll all go smooth, Mys," Drew replied with a chuckle. Still, he knew in this business it was always best to assume the worst. "So what do you think it'll be this time?" he added as he positioned himself behind a crate with his bowcaster out. Hopefully if they ran into trouble, whatever came through the door wouldn't need more than six bolts to deal with.

"What I think? Its either some really screwy customs ship or some idiot thinking he can get easy creds." Mys said.