Rhijans shrugged, his color improving as his body cooled back toward a more normal temperature and the specter of heat prostration grew more remote.  "We'll figure it out as we go."  He gave a soft snort that could have been laughter, and observed, "It's not like we had any sort of cohesive plan when we landed on the Star Destroyer...and look how well that turned out."  Like most, he liked having a concrete plan...but he was getting comfortable with the whole 'making it up as we go' method.  After all, it was hard for an enemy to predict your actions and prepare to counter them when you, yourself, had no idea where you were going next...
This message was last edited by the player at 07:07, Thu 01 Mar 2018.

The Bantha drops into the atmosphere, and Yakusant spreads out below her in shades of ochre and tan, constantly shifting as the wind whips up clouds of dust.  Pitted skeletons of industrial machinery jut up from the dusty surface, lost remnants of Yakusant's hopeful past as a corporate mining colony.

Now the name of the corporation that owned the colony is all but forgotten, and they would like to keep it that way - multi-million credit failures don't make for good reading in a share-holders' report, so Yakusant's past is slowly bring eroded and buried, like ancient mining machines...

But there are still people here.

Jalt flies low over a settlement of some sort - a dozen or so domed structures, barely distinguishable from the desert.  And beyond, the ship settles down onto what looks like a landing field - a busy one.

Closer inspection reveals that the ships on the field, apart from Dancing Bantha, are derelicts...

"True enough," Shard murmurs as they approach Yakusant.  "Haarmon is the cursed King of Seat-Of-The-Pants." Then they're in atmo, and she heads for the cockpit for a look.  "Just relax," she shoots over her shoulder, "and drink lots of fluids."

Out and away before Rhijans can shoot any kind of irritated look.

Staring out the viewport, Shard shakes her head in dismay.  "Great place to live," she murmurs. "I wonder how many people are stuck on this dustball, unable to leave?"  And mostly forgotten, from the look of it; such planets are sadly common in the galaxy.  "What's the word?  Buy first, then salvage?  I think in this kind of place, we need to stick together."  She can practically smell the desperation, and Shard hasn't even left the ship yet.

Haarmon watched the planet as they landed, a frown on his face. You didn't have to be any kind of genius to know that there wasn't much going on down there that they wanted any part of.

He looked up at Shard's comment and the ghost of a smile crossed  his face.

"Pfft. Jester of Seat-of-the-Pants, maybe. I'm a strictly point-and-click sort of operative. You and Rhijans are, what you call it, the administrative wing."

He looked back out the window.

"Anyone know anything about this place? Is it, like anarchy with the warring tribes or whatever? Or is there some kind of government? Are we gonna get swarmed with starving scavengers when we land?"

"Was a mining colony that was looking all kinds of good about fifty or sixty years ago." Jalt offers as he powers down the drive.  "But the ore deposits weren't as extensive, or as pure, as the mining company was led to believe."

"And no, no warring tribes.  And swarming scavengers are right out.  Last I heard there's only 500 or so people on the whole planet, could be even less by now, and most of them live in three settlements that are a thousand kilometres, or more, away from each other."

He peers out of the viewscreen.  "Should wait a few minutes for the dust to settle."

"Anyway, where was I?  Oh yes... when you have a couple of hundred people in a settlement, with about a million square kilometres of territory to share between them.  And the next settlement over is just the same... well, I suppose war doesn't make much sense.  Raiding for resources is sort of a sport though.  Funny thing is, we just increased the resource value of the nearest settlement a hundred times, just by landing a working ship here." Jalt grins.  "Same time, we just made the place too dangerous to raid, because a working ship is a powerful weapon."

"Anyway, I've been here before.  Got a contact right here, in the old traffic control centre.  We speak to him first - it could save us some problems with his people.  There's just one problem... "

Rhijans snorted softly.  "Only ONE problem?" he asked, drily.  "That's good...I would have sworn we had at least seven or eight..."  He shot a look at Jalt.

"What's the problem?"

"Admin?"  Shard rears back her head, like a cat who sniffed a bowl of vinegar. Ugh.  "That hurts, Haarmon; that really hurts."

But Jalt is speaking, explaining the situation of Yakusant; Shard listens up, paying closer attention than she would have, oh, a month ago.  Getting off the drink, she muses, has been painful...but also useful.  She's not a hundred percent there yet, but she's closing in.

"Fantastic," the woman grouses.  "So we might have to deal with a cobbled together army...assuming there's one in range."  If they're that strapped for resources, if a single working ship is an enormous thing, the other settlements are rather far for a serious force to reach here in short order.

If there's a raiding party in range, though...or if there's a group not affiliated with settlements close by....

"Fully armed shore party, definitely with Juragga," she murmurs.  "And at least two people on the ship at all times, keeping it buttoned up and weapons ready."

Beyond that?  It's Rhijans' question that needs answering.

"His name's Dargo.  He's a Hutt." Jalt says, casually, as if it isn't that big a potential problem.  The other shoe comes down...

"The most even-tempered Hutt I ever met.  He has a chip on both shoulders.  So we'll need to tread carefully.  As I said, I've dealt with him before, and he owes me some favours.  But, at the same time, I owe him a few.  We should be okay, if we tread carefully."

Rhijans closed his eyes for a moment, an almost-pained expression crossing his features.  "How well does he get along with other Hutts in this sector?"  It shouldn't come up, but...

"If word's made it around that we liberated a bunch of slaves, are we going to have a problem?"

"I... don't know.  He never mentioned them, and I thought it might be better not to open up potential wounds.  None of his people ever brought it up either."

Rhijans grimaced.  "So dealing with him, if he recognizes any if us, is going to be a gamble..."  He shook his head minutely.

"I'm guessing he's not exactly a favored member of their Syndicate...or else he'd have a nicer location for operations.  That can either play in our favor...or really hurt us.  If he's got a grudge, the fact that we pulled a fast one on someone else could really entertain him.  Or, he could figure that handing us over might buy him favor and get him off this dustball."  He sighed and shrugged.

"Or, he may be remote enough that he's just never heard anything about it.  Or we actually did the job well enough that the Hutts don't care about what we did...they got paid and beyond that, it's not their business..."  He looked around the group, then back at Jalt, with a ghost of a smile.

"Are you sure there was only one problem?"

"Only one, as far as I know.  But a Hutt is a big one." Jalt says glumly.  "Even a friendly and cooperative one is out to get an advantage from any conversation.  I hate to think what life must be like on a Hutt world."

"I mean, even if you're on good terms with a Hutt, he'll still try to take your ship and sell you into slavery given a quarter of an excuse.  It's just the way they think."

The pilot gestures towards the viewport.  "Looks like the dust has settled down enough that breath masks could cope with it."

Rhijans nodded, a thoughtful expression in his eyes.  "Might be best if I stay and watch the ship.  I was the spokesman for the group last time we dealt with a Hutt, if word has gotten around...well, there just aren't that many gray-skinned humanoids in the sector."

He shrugged minutely, and looked around the group.  "I've got precious little experience dealing with Hutts...what do you think?"

"I've never met a Hutt I've liked," Shard states.  "But I'm open to the idea.  From what I'm hearing, I doubt it'll happen here."  Her lips thin, pressing hard against one another.  "We don't have a choice, here.  We'll need to deal with him, so we need to hope there won't be a lot of love lost between this one and the others."

She paces in a circle.  "We didn't do a lot of damage, before.  One interrogation droid killed, one guard and another negotiator saved.  That's all.  But Hutts...hold grudges.  I wouldn't be surprised if we were on a list.  The question is whether or not we're on ALL Hutt lists."

The older woman looks up, studying the faces around her.  "I don't think so," she finally concludes.  "My bet is Oomba wouldn't exactly want it to get out how things went down.  It's one thing to have a bunch of people show up, blast the place to pieces, and manage to escape; other Hutts don't want that to happen to them.  It's another to get...tricked, as it were.  Shows weakness, while the other Hutts can think to themselves 'Well, that wouldn't have happened to ME, what's with Oomba, anyway?  Again, not like we have a choice, but I think we can manage here."

Haarmon shrugged. "All of which isn't to say that Oomba isn't capable of plastering our mugs all over the place attached to some other kind of story. Or a bounty with no story at all. Lots of ways to get to someone without using the truth."

He looked out over the wasteland of ships.

"And, according to what Eddie Exposition over there laid down, we might be the first operational ship that's been seen in these skies for a long time. I'm sure the Hutt's palace is lousy with them, but here? Seems less so."

A moment.

"So I think we're going to have some company. Whether it's flower-wreaths or homemade firebombs I can't say. But someone's gonna come gawking. So maybe we ought to get scavenging while the scavenging it good? If we can't find what we need, and have to deal for it, then we're in a different story no matter what. But if our luck holds out maybe we can in and out before anyone's hackles get raised."

A small chuckle. A small smile.

"Or whatever Hutts have instead of hackles. Wattles, maybe."

"Yeah... somebody should stay here.  Dargo knows me, so I nee to go.  But I'm the only one who does, though I'd appreciate the support."  Jalt smiles nervously.  "But the ship needs to be guarded, so at least one person gets to stay behind and watch the store.  And the prisoner.  And Kourene."

He stands and stretches, before checking the charge meter on his blaster.

"Better to get it over with, I suppose.  Anybody who feels like they ought to tag along can do it." and he heads for the exit...

Rhijans nodded.  "I'll stay.  It's safer if we don't risk Oomba having said anything about me...and, with the exception of Juragga, I'm probably the best option for guard duty, anyway."

He gave Shard a glance.  "Jalt will need someone to watch his back...and you're probably the best choice.  They likely wouldn't expect much from you in the way of offensive capability..."  He gave a tight-lipped grin.  "I mean, until you're holding your lightsaber, you're not exactly a portrait of intimidating stature..."

He looked around at the others.  "Beyond that...stay or go as you feel inclined.  I could probably use an extra set of eyes and possibly an extra gun, but Kourene can help out in a pinch, I'm sure, and if anyone's going to try and give Jalt any trouble, they'll be less likely to do it if he's got a few people with him.  One man alone is an easy target...three or four can be a serious undertaking that requires some real motivation."

Shard sighs, nodding agreement. "As always, point to Haarmon.  Oomba might just have put a nice, fat bounty on our heads without saying why."  She purses her lips.  "I'm not sure why he would, either; a big enough bounty would cost him more than what we did.  But I'm not a Hutt, so maybe I'm missing something cultural, like we stepped on what passes for honor in their society."

"And right again, Haarmon, about getting moving."  Wattles.  Ugh.

A nod to Rhijans. "Thanks...I think."  Shard laughs, short and jagged, the murder-stick in her mind.  "I'm not terribly intimidating with it, either; people used to laugh."  And tell her to put it down before she hurts herself...when they had time.

That was, of course, when she was young, with hair like a shimmering black waterfall; certainly, she had never mastered Rhijans' trick with the unnerving, flat stare.

Adjusting her pistol - using the movement to check the location of said murder-stick - she offers a quick nod for a farewell.  "Hold down the fort, then, and be cursed careful yourselves.  I trust this place about as far as I can throw Juragga."  With Jalt vanishing out the door, some speed seems in order, and she hurries after him.

Jalt leads the way off the ship and across the crumbling, garbage strewn, dust shrouded ferrocrete field.  The group quickly discover they are not alone - some kind of hexapedal vermin, some as much as a half meter long, are scuttling around the mounds of debris and the derelict ships.

Occasionally one of the animals chitters angrily at them, and some of the larger specimens give vent to actual growls.

The traffic control centre is even more decrepit than the ships.  As they enter, they see even more vermin,  These aren't animals though, and one of them, a Keth, speaks.

"De watta chadooth cherboki?"

Jalt smiles, "De cherboki gar Dargo."

The alien waves them on, and goes back to sorting through the components of a wrecked console.

Jalt moves further into the ramshackle structure, passing through a broken, half-open door...

Shard keeps a wary eye on the local wildlife when it comes too close, especially the more aggressive looking, larger ones.  Her hand stays on her blaster; by now, they've probably figured out what that means, or at least what the sound and fury of blaster-fire presages.  It's a strong bet they'll keep their distance, or flee the second someone depresses a trigger stud.

A strong bet, but not a sure thing.

She nods to the Keth, glad to be mostly ignored, and continues to follow Jalt.  Unlike the pilot, though, her time is spent observing her surroundings.  She doesn't see anything out of place (for here, or what she'd expect), but the older woman nevertheless carries a crawling sensation between her shoulderblades.  Intuition - experience-driven - gives her warning.

"Someone's watching us," she quietly states for the others.  "Yeah, big surprise, I know."

She doesn't close her eyes, but Shard's stare becomes a touch more glassy for a long moment as she focuses, seeking that balance between fire and ice.

After some careful consideration, Haarmon decided to go with Shard. With Kourene AND Rhijans aboard, the badass quotient was about filled. And he didn't think he was likely to be able to provide much that they couldn't. Comedic relief maybe. But as for that, Kourene's cynical sarcasm plus Rhijans' straight-face meant they probably had that covered too.

He had a mental image of them both standing over some crisis, taciturnly nodding to each other over and over again. And he smiled.

Plus Shard would need whatever meagre backup he was able to provide. Plus it might provide some time for him to grill her some more about the Force. The Box. The Jedi. All that stuff.

And, although there was a NEARLY zero chance she'd let him hold her lightsaber, on the ship, where she wasn't, it was a zero chance.

Worth it.

All the same, he felt out of his depth almost immediately. His hand kept dropping to the hilt of his gun (even though he knew he wasn't much in a fight) and he tried his best not to look as scared as he felt.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:43, Fri 23 Mar 2018.

Jalt nods and mutters, "Yep.  Dargo has a good sized security team.  Not to mention all the usual low-life scum hanging about, and watching for opportunities to appear.  Mostly looking for chances to make their own deals with strangers - things that will make their position here stronger."

He continues walking along the corridor, rounding a corner which takes him further into the structure, passing several humans and aliens along the way.  He ignores the security scanners that he passes occasionally...

Rhijans closed up the ship after the others left, not ready to risk anyone sneaking aboard.  He checked on their 'guest', still under You-Why's supervision.  "Listen for anyone dropping the ramp," he told the droid.  "If I haven't told you anything about letting people on board, sound the alarm."

He checked with Kourene, saying basically the same thing, then headed for the cockpit, arriving just in time to see the others vanish from view on their way to Dargo's base of operations.  With  barely audible grunt and a nod, he settled into the pilot's seat, and settled his gaze in the landscape...or lack thereof...around them, watching for any potential trouble.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:28, Wed 28 Mar 2018.

Juragga followed along and kept his teal eyes pealed for trouble.  He had his bowcaster slung underneath his poncho.  That was the best he could do at looking non-threatening; he was a Wookiee, after all.

Shard pats Juragga's arm. "It's okay to be big and tough here, Juragga.  Probably a good change for you; we've been asking you to be servile and meek too much, and it just doesn't fit."  She offers a wry smile.  "We don't want any trouble, and bullies are smart enough to stay away from you."  It's one thing to pick on something that LOOKS tough in order to get a rep; it's another to pick on a Wookie with the same idea in mind and end up missing a few critical body parts.

"I'm all right with people trying to make deals with us; we can ignore them," she murmurs back to Jalt. "It's the security, the 'official' group that makes me nervous.  Another good reason to stay out of trouble."

It's hard to miss Haarmon's tension; while the young man does a fine job of not looking scared, he looks ready to shoot the first thing that wanders out of an alley in front of him.  "You feeling anything, Haarmon?" she quietly inquires, half to distract him and half...because he had displayed some pretty impressive talent in the past, and might be picking up on things she misses.  She gives a brief gesture to the walls around them.  "This place is packed with people.  They're living hip to hip, here."