Open Space and Hyperspace

Fel Nodded in reply when Rik laid out his terms, silencing Melia's unspoken complaint with a glare. He then voiced his counter to the terms. 

I'm aware that you've been put out by picking us up, but I'm also aware that you're about to be handsomely paid for doing so. Not sure what the going rate for a VCX light freighter is these days, but when you work that out to an hourly wage, I'm pretty sure I'm giving you the best two or three hours' work of your life. With that in mind, I have a couple of conditions of my own to add to your terms, Rik. First, I will be third across, not Melia. As trustworthy as you seem, I won't have her heading across the gangway to be jumped by what could be a squad of sec men. I'll go across, and only when I'm satisfied that everything is on the up and up, will I send for her, and the cargo. he paused to input coordinates into the datapad Rik had passed him No need to wait on the navacomp: jumps are laid in and set to auto-follow. It'll take the better part of a day to reach the final destination, but barring any mechanical issues, the jumps are fairly straightforward. he tossed the datapad back to Rik. You're more than welcome to check the ship over, but I assure you, it is mechanically sound and has not been sabotaged or tampered with in any way, other than the homing beacons. 

He crossed his arms, leaned against the closest cargo container and tried to look casual, but his stomach burned, his eyes watered, and he could taste crimson in the back of his mouth. He could feel a round of rictus coughing building in his throat, and swallowed repeatedly to stifle the urge, which would have meant spraying Rik with a fine mist of blood. Swallowing as best he could, he put on his very best 'don't kriff with me' look, but he had the distinct feeling he wasn't pulling it off. Rik's gaze lingered a moment before he made for the gangway, and Fel called after him. 

Two more things, Captain: You don't get to ask about the cargo. And, if I were you, I'd be real careful when you go to pick up your new boat. The people I'm working for are the kind that won't take kindly to having their eyes and ears removed from the Mark. Savvy?

He had one hand on the ladder when Surplus called him back again and he turned to hear the rest of what he had to say. He nodded when the other man finished. "Fair enough. They're too small to be slaves and I don't think she would have used them for cover if they could blow up my ship. Beyond that, I don't even want to know." At least I really hope she wouldn't use them for cover if they were explosives... He turned back to the ladder and climbed back into the YZ-775's gangway, then pushed off and floated back to his own ship, re-orienting himself mid-trip so he landed on his feet when the gravity kicked back in. "Ready whenever you are, Stormie." He called back down the short tunnel after deciding to make up his own name rather than use the one provided. He also made a mental note to have Figgy run a search on their hot little stowaway once he had a chance. Nobody acts that paranoid without a reason, and I'd rather know why than not.

"Ah, yes. The tour. Everybody always wants a tour..." His mask hissed as he released the seal it held and pulled it off his face, then folded it into itself and hung it on his belt. "Well that there is the engine room. Off limits to passengers." He hiked a thumb over his shoulder at the closed doors to the engine compartment, then began walking toward the front of the ship. "Below us is the hold, which is also off limits to passengers..." His pointing thumbs switched to fingers aimed at the floor, then transitioned into fingers pointed to either side of the ship as he strutted along. "You've got your medbay to starboard, your laundromat to port, and living quarters in both directions." He took a left at the intersection and proceeded forward. "Though I'm doubting you'll need a bunk on this trip. Over here..." A thumb jabbed toward the common room as he walked past. "...is the commons and galley, and up front you've got escape pods to either side of the landing ramp and the cockpit on the fore-end. Which is also off-limits without special permission." He spun around to face Stormie and Lia, walking backwards as he talked. "And I'm gonna guess you'll be needing that permission to illuminate your most greatly desired egress point." He backed into the wall at the hallway's end and crossed his arms as he leaned back and propped one foot against it. "So, everything look satisfactory? If you really wanna check the hold, Malora here can be your escort." He made a gesture toward the runaway, who now stood just behind Stormie.

Fel watched as they bickered like a couple of Toydarians. In reality the 'tour' had been necessary only to allow the minimal scanners built into the vambraces of his body armor to read for other life-forms. Mostly satisfied that they were the only ones aboard, Fel turned to walk back to the boarding tube. 

It's all fine, Captain. Wouldn't want to put 'Malora' out. I'll begin loading cargo, if that's alright with you. 

And with that, he left the woman glaring at Rik in the passageway, and moved back to the midships hatch that connected the two freighters. Peering down, he was greeted by Melia's E-11, mere feet from his face. Seeing it was Galdaart, she relaxed the firearm, and shot him a dirty look. 

I still don't know what you're up to, Fel -- and I have half a mind to pistol whip you, kill the other two, and finish our business. But the fact is, we're on schedule, and I'm content (for the time being) to play it your way. But you realize the hailstorm you're dropping on yourself, don't you?

Fel smirked and offered his hand, helping Melia into the larger ship and out of the cramped docking ring. 

Leave it to me. You've got my back, I've got our backs, both. I can see trouble coming from a few directions... I just don't want to have to grow eyes in the back of my head as well. This way is best Mel. Trust me. 

Asking her to trust him, Melia grimaced in that special way that was reserved for braggarts, morons and hard-luck cases. Riiight. As if she trusted anyone. But lately, if there had been anyone she'd trust to keep his word, it was the man she was sworn to kill if he stepped out of line. The irony of that wasn't lost on her. 

They started moving the crates across to the YZ transport. It wasn't terribly difficult work, thanks to the zero-gee envelope of the docking tube, but it still took some doing. After a few minutes though, they had a system in place, Fel passing the 2'X2' crates up from the VCX and sending them flying across the docking tube, Melia catching them at the YZ end, and stowing them against the Port bulkhead. It didn't take long. Cleaning out the VCX of their personal belongings took even less time. Fel could carry / wear everything he owned, and Melia brought her duffel across strapped to her back. When Rik reappeared a few minutes later, all were safely aboard the YZ. Fel leaned against the crates and looked to their host. 

This is an awful lot of ship for just the two of you to crew, Captain. Need an extra hand getting us underway?

Fel pushed off the wall, and strode towards Rik, holding a datacard outstretched in a gloved hand. 

Launch codes. Once you're unbuckled from the VCX and at least 5000 m away, upload the launch code to the remote server, and she'll make the jump out of system. Access to the remote server should allow you to monitor jump progress in real time, if you have hyperspace-capable comms. No other info needed really. She'll be where I promised in about nineteen hours, give or take. I'd come prepared to wipe all memory banks, and kill those bugs in a hurry. Don't dawdle, Captain. 

Now... did someone say Curamelle?

Fel couldn't help it. He winced slightly, like tasting something foul, when Rik mentioned a droid pilot, but he said nothing. Droids. They were useful, helpful, occasionally even trustworthy and on rare occasions, friends... but they were no pilots. 'Least not in Fel's way of thinking. But this wasn't his ship. Whatever suited the man was fine by him. 'Long as he got where he needed to be.

Yeah he produced the card the Red Bitch had given him on Kessel from under a gauntlet and passed it to Rik. It read 'XenoBoob - VIP Experience!' There was an animated Twi' on the card, dancing around a pole with comically big breasts I heard they got an Iridonian with three breasts. Some things you just can't pass up.

He clapped Rik on the shoulder non-committally, and received an appropriate eye-rolling from Melia, who stood impassively, looking a little more relaxed than she had been previously. The assassin moved off into the ship, securing the perimeter and checking the veracity of Rik's claims that there were only three aboard. For his part, Fel was beginning to feel like hell again. He stomach ached, his eyes were hot, dry, irritated like he was gripped by fever. The nausea was ever-present, like the enemy you love to hate. Time for another shot. He ran a hand through greasy hair, took a seat against the port bulkhead and tried to look casual. 

Then it hit him once more. Somehow sharper here in the larger vessel, than in the cramped confines of the VCX. Malora. Her scent, a heady mixture. Powerfully minty, as if someone had just shoved fresh peppermint in your nose. Sharp and fresh. He couldn't help but approach the uncomfortable-looking woman trying to disappear in plain sight. Woman had a mark on her head, that much was clear. It had been a lot of years since Fel had traded in lives -- was never particularly good at it, in fact -- but he'd have bet his last cred this woman was on the run. 

Weren't we all? 

He moved to within earshot of the woman, but not so close that she'd be easily spooked by his proximity, or by what he perceived to be a pall of death that hung about his neck like a severed noose.

So, Miss-- he faltered on the name, not wanting to refer to her as Malora... and couldn't come up with a substitute, so the title simply hung in the air. Don't take this the wrong way, but you aren't her. Actually, she's a little shorter than you. And the hair... hair's all wrong. And the way our Captain has given you instructions to follow... offering you up as escort... she would have fed him her left fist for that, am I right, Rik? Though I've never seen her wear this particular get-up, I don't doubt for a second it's hers. So I'd just like to know -- How do you know Malora?

Rik wiped the smirk off his face as soon as Lia pointed out it was there and brought his attention back to the not-stormtrooper and his questions. "She's got a point, you know. I've got just as much right to know your story as you do to know mine." He crossed his arms and his face took on a more calculating look, as if weighing his options before speaking again. "Suffice it to say, she tried to take my stuff and ended up leaving hers behind. You though..." Lia's right about his reaction. Too much hope and too much relief. Not exactly the kind of thing you'd get from passing acquaintances. "You talk like you know her, and from more than just a couple months of running around together. Spill." Why have you never shared this with me? If this Malora woman is half as fun as your daydreaming implies, I would very much enjoy it if you could "run around" with her again. It was an effort not to grind his teeth at that comment, but somehow he managed. As if having a creepy old guy stuck in my head isn't enough, now he wants to watch while I get it on... Go to Chaos, kriffer. I've already been there. You're not missing anything.

You should listen to the man. The last thing we need is the attention of a mysterious organization with enough power to break a man out of an imperial prison. Rik inhaled deeply, then let out a heavy sigh, using the pause it created to let the voice stop speaking. "Maybe you're right, Stormie. Maybe I'm just traipsing through life with not a care in the world about myself or the people around me." He looked up and met the man's eyes, as If he was searching for something more than the tired exhaustion that coated the surface so thickly. Whether he found it or not, he just shrugged a moment later. "Or maybe there are worse things in the 'verse than criminal organizations and women who want to kill you." And one of them is living inside my head right now. I heard that. "Either way, I appreciate the heads up." Then he turned back around and headed into the cockpit.

"Alrighty then, boys, girls, and assorted machine entities; next stop, Curamelle. Figgy, get us underway." He clapped the droid on its shoulder panel as he walked past and it replied in the affirmative, then dropped into the pilots chair at the very front of the cabin. It was this seat he liked the best, with the transparisteel viewport wrapping all the way around your field of vision. Feels like you're right out there... Sitting in the middle of the stars themselves with nothing to hold you back. Except for the blown generator and murderous passengers, you mean. An irritated huff was Rik's only response to that, and the stars outside the viewport began to shift as Figgy disconnected from the VCX and began the trip to the nearby planet.