"Well, that wasn't too bad, all things considered," Bane says, sounding pleased with himself as the blue-hued tunnel of hyperspace fills the viewport before them.

"Speak for yourself," Stro'to groans, poking his bruises gingerly.

Xizran makes a derisive noise.

"That was some pretty nice shooting," Biggs grins at Fennec as she returns, running his hands through his shaggy hair, "Remind me never to cross you."

"It would certainly not be a wise choice," Fennec replies with a thin smile.

"I told you she was a good shot," Xizran sneers, mostly at Bane.

Bane mutters something inaudible.

"We'll, it's a two day flight to Telos," says Biggs, rising, to lead the way out of the cockpit, "There are some beds in the crew quarters where you can make yourselves comfortable. No medbay unfortunately," he adds to Stro'to as he passes.

“Is there a medibay?” Stro’to asks, poking a bruise on his shin plaintively.

“I’m not sharing a room with any of you while I sleep. If crew quarters are all we have then everyone except Fennec can set up camp in the storage room.”

Bane shrugs.

"I've slept in worse places."

Stro'to makes a piteous noise, even though he almost certainly also has himself.

"Any room that does not contain you or Stro'to will be sufficient," Layla replies to Xizran with a bland smile.

Biggs frowns at Xizran.

"You can have my quarters," Biggs informs Layla, "I shall make myself comfortable in the lounge."

"That is very kind of you, but I am more than happy to sleep in the lounge," Layla nods gratefully to Biggs.

"Are your quarters better or worse than the quarters you offer your crew?" Xizran checks, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"Well, I don't usually have a crew..." Biggs clarifies evasively.

"I'll take your quarters if you are offering," Bane says, seemingly amused as he climbs out of his chair to follow after them, "Although I am not an attractive female Twi'lek, if that is a requirement."

T3 gives a series of mirthful beeps.

"That has nothing to do with it," Biggs says firmly, if not entirely honestly with a reproving frown at Bane.

“If anyone is having the superior quarters, I am, so don’t even dream about claiming them, Bane. And you, where are they?”

“You’re not an attractive female twi’lek either, you know.”

"You know what, forget it," Biggs says with an irritable glance at Xizran, "Follow me, I'll take you to the crew quarters. You can decide whatever you all want to do from there."

"Yes, I think that would be best," Layla agrees firmly with a reproving glance of her own at Bane and Stro'to.

"Some of us will decide, anyway. Others of us like Stro'to and Bane will merely obey."

"I will be sleeping in the passageway outside the escape pod," Fennec says with a venomous glance at Stro'to.

"There isn't actually an escape pod attached to the ship," Biggs admits, "This mission was kind of a rush and the Republic is short on ships to spare so I had to take one that was under maintenance..."

"So you did find this ship in a trash pile," Bane exclaims in a tone which suggests this explains a lot.

"Maintenance bay, thank you," Biggs repeats firmly with as much dignity as he can muster, "Almost all the systems are operational. However they didn't have time to install a new escape pod."

"You are still welcome to sleep outside a non-functioning escape pod airlock should you wish to, though," Stro'to says generously to Fennec.

Fennec doesn't grace this comment with a response as they reach the crew's quarters.

"All right," says Biggs, gesturing to the rectangular room with pairs of bunks on the far and right walls and a narrow refresher built into the left, "Knock yourselves out. Lounge is up that way if you prefer, or over there is the cargo bay down that corridor there if anyone feels like sleeping on a hard durasteel floor."

"As one does," says Bane lightly, making no move to head in the direction of the cargo hold.

"And the captain's quarters are...?" Xizran says expectantly, making no move to go into the crew quarters.

"You're not having my quarters," Biggs replies flatly, crossing his arms.

"If Xizran wants them, Xizran will have them," Fennec replies coldly, placing a hand on the grip of the blaster pistol holstered at her side.

"You really want to do this?" Biggs replies evenly as his hand strays to where his own blaster is holstered.

Bane props himself back against the wall and watches on, seemingly enjoying himself.

Layla gives an exasperated sigh as she moves between the pair.

"Seriously, it isn't a long trip to Telos. Let's not kill each other over a cabin."

"You tell that to them," Biggs replies, his gaze still locked with Fennec.

“I don’t see the issue. You said she could have your room, clearly it’s superior and clearly you don’t care if you get it or not yourself. She rejected it, possibly because you have the same leering attitude towards her that Sto’to does. She doesn’t want it and you said we could suit ourselves where we slept. I’m not going to shoot the captain mid-hyperspace, but I’m also not the one being unreasonable in this conversation.”

"That was not why I rejected it-" Layla begins quickly, but is cut off by Biggs.

"Leering?" Biggs fumes, "I offered it to her because it was the genteel thing to do! Because she is a female. And I didn't want to say this, but because she also seems to be the only decent one of you and not a gangster or a swindler like the rest of you appear to be. But you know what, fine," he throws his hands in the air, "Take my quarters if it really matters that much to you. I can sleep anywhere and I'll not have you casting aspersions against me for being polite. I'll move my things out, but if I find one thing broken or missing..."

What he actually will do he finds such a thing is left to the others to work out as he storms off down the corridor in the direction of his quarters.

Xizran makes an approving noise, looking smug.

"I knew you'd see it my way."

"For what it's worth, my friend, I would much rather be sleeping in the same room as you than with either of them," Stro'to says.

Bane glances about as the others retreat down the corridor, and deciding that Stro'to must be talking to him shrugs and nods.

"Indeed. Certainly beats the storage compartment. So, you want the top or bottom bunk?"

Biggs meanwhile, storms all the way down to the captains' quarters and punches the panel beside the door which slides open with a slight shudder. The room is roughly the same size as the crew's quarters, with a single bed built into the center of the room beside which a nightstand is bolted. A refresher also leads off from the left of the room, slightly more spacious than the one in the crew's quarters, and a dressing table is bolted to the right of the room.

Biggs moves swiftly over to the nightstand upon which a holoframe of an attractive young human woman with blonde hair stands beside a datapad. He snatches both of these up, before opening the top drawer of the nightstand to grab a couple of energy cells and a holoprojector. He finally pulls the blanket from the bed before making his way back to the door.

"You'll find fresh blankets in there," he says coldly, gesturing to the footlocker which stands at the foot of the bed. With that he sidles past and begins to make his way down towards the lounge.

Fennec ignores Biggs as he departs, giving the room an appraising glance before shrugging and turning to Xizran.

"It certainly beats those crew quarters."

"Indeed. He can pretend to be as noble as he likes; in the end, every captain reserves the best quarters for themselves," Xizran says, motioning for Fennec to handle things like fresh blankets and incinerating the used sheets and replacing them with clean ones.

Not having an incinerator at hand, Fennec contents herself with bundling up all the used bed clothes and striding down the corridor to throw them into the crew's quarters.

"We need to find you a new personal assistant," she grumbles to Xizran once she has returned to the captain's quarters, "Assuming Zerand didn't survive the destruction of your palace."

Xizran mms agreement, clearly agreeing that simply doing things for himself is entirely out of the question.

Fennec closes the door once this is done before moving into the refresher. With a wince she removes her damaged armorweave jacket and examines the burned flesh of her shoulder through the singed hole in the dark bodyglove she wears beneath.

"We'll have to move quickly once we reach Telos," she calls matter-of-factly to Xizran as she begins to mop the congealed blood and soot from the wound, "If that bounty on our heads attracts a major player like Caldos or Shae then we'll last about as long as a Tach in a Gundark nest. Besides, as you know I'm not particularly welcome on Telos..."

"Indeed. Well, moving on shouldn't be hard. Even if our ship is immediately impounded and misplaced per typical Telosian incompetence, Czerka still have a foothold there. I think the law suit they're pressing against Telos over illegal contract termination in favor of the Ithorians is still ongoing. I'm sure they would be open to loaning a starship in return for some less beaurocratic help."

Fennec snorts at Xizran's disparaging comments regarding the Telosian authorities, but frowns at his mention of Czerka.

"I'm cautious of putting ourselves in Czerka's hands. If they have any connections to whoever is hunting us then there is a good chance of them double crossing us. Some unaffiliated spacer or small time smuggler would probably be a safer bet."

"True. We need a spacer outfits with helmets for that to work though, otherwise they're going to Holosearch us and turn us over to the highest bidder."

"True. A pity that Bane isn't a bit taller or we could take his," Fennec says, only half joking as she finishes mopping her wound and proceeds to examine her damaged armor, "We're also going to need to find a Baragwin craftsman. That blast has torn right through the Baragwin shadow circuitry."

Layla, meanwhile, has followed Biggs into the lounge.

"Just to set the record straight, I did appreciate you offering up your quarters and I never thought there was anything untoward about your motives for doing so."

Biggs glances back at her as he places the datapad and the holoframe on a table in the corner of the lounge and tosses his blanket onto the couch.

"Thank you," he says with a dignified nod.

"Also, unlike the others, I do also appreciate you giving us a lift to Telos," Layla continues, "We were in quite a tight spot back on Ord Mantell and were fortunate that you showed up when you did."

Biggs once more gives a dignified nod as he continues to place his effects onto the table.

"Who is she?" Layla enquires after a moment of silence, nodding in the direction of the holoframe.

Biggs follows her gaze to the holoframe, his expression going grim.

"Her name was Kanji," he says, "She was a... close friend. She died when Karath and the Sith bombed Telos."

"I'm sorry," Layla says, her expression also going grim.

"It's all right," Biggs says, "It was many years ago now. But she reminds me of the very real evil that we are fighting against in this galaxy, and the real people who we are fighting for. She's only one of many innocents to die in this war and I'm not the only one who has lost someone to the Sith or the Mandalorians before them."

"It has certainly taken it's toll," Layla agrees, an expression of mingled regret and weariness falling across her features, "Well, it has been a long day and I find myself in need of rest. I shall retire to find an unclaimed room and spend some time in rest and meditation I think."

Biggs nods grimly.

"If you need anything just let me know."

"Thank you," Layla bows and departs.

"I guess this puts us in the rejected corner, eh, Bane?" Stro'to says dryly, eying off the two empty beds in the crew quarters that Layla and Biggs have rejected in favor of a lounge and possibly the floor. "Well, I bags top bunk for my gear in this case."

"Indeed," says Bane, glancing at the small belt pouch which along with his rifle and pistol comprises of all the gear he currently possesses, "I don't really see the problem with these quarters personally. Clean beds, no vrelt or conduit worm infestations and no danger of waking up to find a vibrodagger in your neck, what more can you ask for, really?"

The party spend the first day or so of flight mostly sleeping or resting after their ordeal on Ord Mantell. Fennec sets up a mat and blankets on the floor inside the doorway of Xizran's recently acquired captain's quarters, while Layla sets up a makeshift bed in the corner of the storage room. Bane attempts to switch on the Dejarik table beside Biggs' couch and is disappointed to learn that this too appears to be one of the devices which the maintenance team had not had a chance to make functional.

The next day sees more activity, as Fennec's bandaged wound heals significantly and Layla continues to use the Force to heal her own wounds. Layla spends her time in meditation, sitting cross-legged in the center of the storage room with her eyes closed and hands resting on her knees. Biggs appears to have a gravity treadmill set up in an empty room which looks as though it was once a medbay, and spends most of his time jogging or walking on the machine, playing upbeat Ryl-pop music on a headset he wears. Fennec remains in the captain's quarters, going through a series of exercises and movements of Teräs Käsi.

"So," says Bane as he appears at the entrance to Biggs' exercise room to lean against the doorway, "Your mechanics didn't have time to get the Dejarik table working or even install an escape pod, but they had time to install a fully functioning gravity treadmill?"

"Yep," Biggs pants, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow as he lowers the volume on his headset, "It actually belongs to me. I asked them to bring it aboard for the journey. I enjoy running almost as much as flying and it keeps me fit and helps me process."

"Uh-huh," Bane replies, crossing his arms, "I personally can't imagine that anyone truly enjoys running. At least there is some strategy and stimulation to Dejarik... Still, it's your ship, you do what you want."

"Thank you, I will," Biggs replies as he increases the volume of his music once more and continues his jogging.

Bane surveys him for a moment longer before appearing to lose interest and with a sigh he shakes his head and makes his way off to find Xizran.

Xizran, who certainly doesn’t believe in wasting his life exercising when stims and Fennec exist, seems to be overseeing the T3 unit, who has been tasked with getting the holonet working.

Stro'to, meanwhile, also migrates towards Biggs, chewing a nutrient capsule and watching the human exercise with fascination.

"How far have you run, my human friend?"

Biggs turns the volume of his headset down once more as he glances over at Stro'to.

"Hmm? You mean today? 8.4 klicks so far. I usually try to hit 15 klicks per day when I can," he pushes off his headset to rest on his neck as he pants, his expression turning curious as he continues to glance at Stro'to, "So what exactly is your deal? Layla mentioned you are some kind of Exchange boss and so is Xizran, and yet you two are trying to kill each other? And these people chasing you are trying to kill you both?"

"Wise of you. You would need to be in practice at running, being in the Republic defense force," Stro'to grins sharply. "Alas, poor Xizran. Poor me too. Dear Layla has it wrong. We have changed our ways, my good friend, I assure you. These days, I would not farm a tach if one hopped in front of me, I swear. Would that we both knew why we were being targeted though. It is... troubling. Not to mention bad for business."

Biggs sends Stro'to an unimpressed look for his comment regarding the Republic defense force. He also raises an eyebrow at Stro'to's mention of changed ways.

"Uh-huh," he says, before frowning, "So how exactly is it that you and Layla met? She was pretty tight lipped about the whole thing, but I can't imagine a Jedi --or former Jedi or whatever she is-- working with you guys if you really were as bad as most of the things I've heard about the Exchange."

Stro'to does his best to look as earnest and like a changed twi'lek as possible, which is to say, not very.

"A human of insight, I perceive, like so many humans! Indeed, that she is with us speaks for our character indeed. You'll find most things you hear about the Exchange are somewhat exaggerated, however. We really aren't as bad a lot as they say. We are not upstanding citizens, perhaps, but I would still rate myself higher than Czerka."

Biggs looks understandably skeptical of Stro'to's words.

"So all that stuff about slavery and spice trafficking...?"

"Come now. If there is a problem with spice and slavery, does the fault lie with the seller, my friend, or with the buyer? We would not ship them within Republic territory if upstanding Republic senators and businessmen were not buying. It is not like we force them to buy, and it is not like they won't get those if they don't go through us, so why not profit off their greed?" Stro'to smiles reasonably. "If you are not going after them, why look down on us just because we are easier targets?"

"The Republic does go very hard on any senators or businessmen or anyone else who is found to be dealing in slaves or spice," Biggs replies firmly, pausing in his jogging to send Stro'to an even glance, "However if they are powerful and well connected it can be difficult to discover or prove anything against them. I'm not a peace officer or investigator, but if you've got information on anyone in the Republic involved in trading slaves or spice or are willing to testify against them then I'm all ears."

"Go very hard my foot," Stro'to snorts, leaning back and tsking gently. "Slavery is everywhere, but provided it's not you being enslaved, you will find few in the Republic who care. Our very own much-respected twi'lek senator walks around with two very attractive 'indentured female servants' who are alas not free to leave until they have 'repaid their debts,' debts that alas climb each year, and Czerka's 'indentured servant' count is in the millions. They pay a wage that is alas wholly negated by the cost of food and living quarters they provide their indentured servants. Everybody knows what they are doing. You know what they are doing. They are classed 'upstanding citizens' and not even fined."

Biggs' even glance deepens into a frown.

"I'm not a lawyer or a bureaucrat," he says staunchly, "But wiser people than I have made decisions about what constitutes reasonable indenture. And besides, the situations you have described a a far cry from Hutts torturing slaves or feeding them to pet monsters, which is where a good number of real slaves end up."

"As I said," Stro'to smiles, exposing a line of sharply filed teeth, "the Republic talks a great deal, but in the end, none of you actually care about slavery, so long as it is not you being enslaved. We can call what the Exchange does 'indentured servitude' if it makes you feel better. Remember, the Exchange is a Republic-sanctioned and fully legal operation too. We used to have offices on Telos as well before this recent mess started; even the Grenns have no fault to find with the way we conduct business."

"I don't know what galaxy you're living in but the Exchange is most certainly not legally sanctioned," Biggs shakes his head, "And if you're talking about the Bumani Exchange Corporation on Telos then I can assure you Dol Grenn would love nothing more than concrete proof of them being tied to the Exchange crime syndicate to have them arrested and removed from Telos for good. I'm half tempted to take you straight to Dol the moment we arrive, since it seems you have so much you wish to share about the workings of the Exchange."

“Now now, my dear fellow, that is harsh. Did Czerka not openly murder an entire enclave of Ithorians a few months back? Grenn did nothing to them except fine them. If you don’t have a problem with Czerka, why do you have a problem with us?”
This message was last edited by the player at 06:06, Sun 28 Aug 2022.

"I believe a bunch of their mercenaries did go out of control and on a rampage," Biggs replies, "I don't know the ins and outs of it but I do know that Czerka have been banned from hiring external mercenaries on Telos since then. Look, Czerka doesn't have a very good reputation and I'm not saying I'm a fan of their business ethics, but they are still a legal entity who are subject to Republic laws and are held accountable when they cross a certain line. Anyway, it's clear that you are determined to disagree with me on this so maybe we should just drop it."

Stro'to pats Biggs on the shoulder comfortingly.

"Indeed, my good human, indeed. It is so much easier to just not worry about inconveniences like ethics, is it not? There's good and bad in all of us, but not caring if other people do spice or slavery doesn't make us bad people ourselves."

Biggs does not look at all impressed as Stro'to moves forward to pat him on the shoulder, but with difficulty he restrains himself from responding to Stro'to's remark. However as Stro'to returns to the doorway and is about to exit Biggs' resolve appears to fail.

"Not caring about the mistreatment of others does make you a bad person," he blurts out, "And I do care, just like every self respecting citizen of the Republic cares. There may be good and bad in all of us, but there is a good deal more bad in some than others."

His tone makes it clear just who he feels one member of this 'some' is.

Stro'to pauses, looking back with a sliver of empathy.

"My brother is much like you. My late father, too, and my dear niece. Do you know what it is like, living on Ryloth? The winds in the Bright Lands are scorching. The temperatures reach as much as 300 degrees. The Nightlands are cold as ice. The local wildlife-- protected, under various Republic Fauna protection acts; we cannot exterminate it because biodiversity matters more than we do-- eats the foolish who walk on the surface amidst the scattered tropical regions of surface that are actually habitable. We live in caves; when gundarks chew the power cables or the generators, it can take days to restore it. They do not care who needs surgery or life support. In places where insufficient food was imported from traders, we live on fungi. One child in two does not make it to adulthood; most adults do not live to see 60. If we sell our brothers or our sisters or our children into a life where they are stuck filling out datawork for Czerka 10 hours a day or dancing in a comfortable cantina with a warm room and free meals until they are 35, at which point-- so long as they do not anger their employers-- they are generally released with an ID card and enough credits to eek out a living on till they can find employment that is actually legal, can you truly blame us? Or if we choose to mine spice or sell it so that we can buy passage off-world to a better place-- since spice and slaves are all we have to export, and the Republic in its wisdom has outlawed both-- can you also blame us? Even if we choose to sell our bodies, you should not despise us. The rich can afford ethics and self-respect. The poor do not have such luxuries. The dead are dead regardless of how little or how much you care about them, and the sound of crying children does not get less painful because you tell yourself it is not your fault they have nothing to eat. Telling yourself you are a good person may let you sleep better at night, but means nothing to them if you care they died if you will do nothing for them to save them. If others will not save us, why despise us for doing what we can to save ourselves? You fight in the military to save others precisely because you understand that we all have a right to live and nobody wishes to die, do you not?"

As Stro'to speaks, Biggs' expression slowly morphs from self righteous indignation to sheepishness.

"Huh," he says pensively as Stro'to finishes, chewing his lip, "I guess I don't know much about Ryloth and what you and your people have been through. I suppose I shouldn't be so quick to judge or jump to conclusions. I'm sorry."

Layla, who was passing by the far end of the corridor as Stro'to spoke, seems to stop and pause to listen for a moment. But even as Stro'to glances in her direction she quickly hurries on once more and is gone.

Stro'to laughs a bit self-consciously.

"It is no matter. My brother has been getting upset about the same issues that you are for years. Father, too; perhaps that is why it stings. He did not invite me home on his deathbed, even when my aunt would write to me weekly to ask for the credits to pay for his medical bills. I am-- let us say-- a slightly black nerf in my family. I understand why you despise slavers and spice dealers though-- do not imagine that I don't see how a galaxy where everyone is free, no one starves or dies a needless death because they do not have enough credits, and nobody ends their life a crazed spice addict would be better than the one we live in now. But life is life. Where there is freedom of choice, some people will choose to buy spice, from the Hutts or from Kessel or from Ryloth. They will not part with credits for charity, but they will part with them to have a good time and kill themselves. And while there are bad masters, there are bad bosses who shoot their employees everywhere. I sold myself to the Exchange when I was 13 to pay for my sister's medical bills, since Father refused to sell any of us, and my mistress was-- demanding, at times, but kind enough when I didn't displease her. There are worse fates than slavery. Enough of all that though. I must seek out the refresher. All this emotional honesty is bringing out my allergies. It is much easier when I only have spoiled nobles' children like dear Xizran to deal with whose biggest concern in life is their next promotion or how awful it is that the newest speeder released is 0.0001 kmph faster than the one they bought last month, or how to get their 10 million credits doubling to 20 before they're 30. Or 300. However old dear Xizran actually is."

With this, Stro'to makes his escape.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:33, Mon 29 Aug 2022.

Biggs stares at the empty doorway as Stro'to departs, continuing to chew his lip. At length he turns back to his gravity treadmill, flicking a switch and resuming his jogging. However he does not put on his headset, opting to run in the silence of his own thoughts.

Bane, by this time, has located Xizran, who stands, arms crossed in the corner of the lounge. In front of the Falleen stands T3, an appendage plugged into the communications terminal as it attempts to achieve Xizran's objective to get the holonet working. The astromech seems less than impressed to be assisting the being who kicked its master out of his sleeping quarters, however it eventually gives up trying to argue with Xizran's persistence. Not that it makes much progress in the endeavour.

"Any luck with the holonet?" Bane says brightly as he approaches the pair.

T3 makes an unimpressed beep.

“My T3 droids don’t need luck to get something as basic as the holonet working,” Xizran sneers judgementally.

"Beep-boop-beepity-dwoop," responds T3 indignantly.

"I don't speak 'beep-bop', Fennec, what is that incompetent pile of scrap saying?"

Fennec, midway through a Teräs Käsi exercise on the other side of the room, rolls her eyes.

"I have no idea," she says as she continues her workout.

"I believe it suggested that the endeavour might be easier if someone hadn't pulled out the entire communications array," Bane says helpfully, clearly pleased to be the only one who can understand the astromech.

"Shooting people in the head is easier when they aren't dodging, too. It doesn't mean Fennec doesn't hit them. Fennec is competent," Xizran sneers judgementally.
This message was last edited by a game editor at 00:47, Mon 29 Aug 2022.

"Just passing on the message," Bane says, raising his hands to stave off any responsibility.

"Beep-boopity-dweep-boop," T3 beeps irritably to itself as it continues working on the communications array.

"Useless scrap pile."

T3 opens a hatch containing its shock prod and seems to consider giving the Falleen a zap but thinks better of it, reluctantly closing the hatch once more.

"So," says Bane, pulling himself up onto the non-functional Dejarik table, legs dangling a few centimeters from the floor, "What exactly is our plan once we reach Telos? I'm assuming any Exchange contacts you two have there have been wiped out?"

"Bane, even if I had a plan, remind me why I would share it with you?"

"Because I'm one of the only mercenaries in the galaxy who isn't trying to turn you in for the bounty?" Bane offers.

"Or so you claim," Fennec puts in darkly.

"You also can't hit a moving target and you ruin medipacks every time you inject them. Do a better job of selling yourself."

Bane makes an indignant sound, crossing his arms.

"I can shoot just as well as she can," he jerks his head in the direction of Fennec, "Okay, the medpacs I'll give you, though it's hardly my fault that the blasted things have it out for me. I also have telepathic powers."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:06, Mon 29 Aug 2022.

"Telepathic powers?" Fennec snorts, pausing in her exercises to send Bane a skeptical glance.

"That's correct," Bane replies staunchly, "I wasn't going to make a fuss about it but since you want me to sell myself..."

"You do, do you? What's Fennec thinking now? For that matter, what am I thinking now?"

"Fennec..." Bane sighs, "Is thinking she would like to throw me out the air lock."

"Hardly takes a telepath to know that," Fennec smirks as she resumes her workout.

"As for you," Bane turns back to Xizran, "You would like me to get the location of the Compeer's treasure vault from-" he breaks off with a cough as Stro'to strides into the room.

"Stro'to," he addresses the twi'lek with just a fraction too much enthusiasm as he pushes himself down from the Dejarik table.

Xizran narrows his eyes, looking slightly more intrigued.

Stro'to gives Bane a distracted smile as he approaches-- a smile that becomes a touch less sincere when Stro'to spots Xizran behind him.

"Bane, my dear fellow," Stro'to enthuses. "I was just on my way to the refresher. I do not suppose this ship has a working mesh-cleanser, or anything else in the way of cleaning one's garments and socks?"

"Uh... great question," Bane replies, "Given how lacking this ship is in most essential systems," a glance at the Dejarik table accompanies this, "I would say your chances are about as slim as a credit chip in a trash compactor. Speaking of credit chips, you don't happen to know of the location of any treasure vaults, do you?"

"Subtle," Fennec mutters dryly.

"My dear Bane, of course I know one," Stro'to says with a slightly forced laugh. "Why do you think I am still alive and not lying in a ditch with a blaster bolt in my head? But you will need to wait in line behind Xizran if you wish to know where that vault is; I am afraid he is first in line."

Bane gets a general impression of a planet with trees, vague fears of Sith-related rumors, the general impression Stro'to would prefer to put off becoming redundant for as long as possible and would also prefer not to be present when said treasure vault is discovered, and vague, half-formed plots to work out how the twi'lek can get some bodyguards on-side before Fennec shoots him in the back.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:10, Wed 31 Aug 2022.

"Wouldn't dream of pushing in front of Xizran," Bane replies smoothly, "I suppose it would be on a planet that is out of the way of the known smuggling routes? Duxn, perhaps?"

"We already know it is on Kashyyyk," Fennec puts in, balancing on one leg with her arms stretched out before her.

"Is there some reason why you are trying to milk me for information, my dear fellow? I assure you, I am already going to take Xizran and anybody else he chooses to accompany him directly to the treasure," Stro'to promises earnestly.

(Bane gets the impression from Stro'to's thoughts that the twi'lek intends to be as indirect about doing this as possible, and several shuddering memories the twi'lek clearly has of some of the less reputable horror holovids about people whose ships crashed in the jungles of Duxn.)
This message was last edited by the player at 13:19, Wed 31 Aug 2022.

"I wouldn't call it milking, per se," Bane counters, "Call it professional curiosity. I mean, I would assume there would be plenty of treasure to go around if you really do know the location of this vault?"

"You won't be getting a decicred, no matter how much treasure there is," Fennec interjects coldly.

Bane gets the worrying impression from Stro'to's thoughts that the twi'lek fears no one may be getting a decicred, since even the compeer's aide who was sent to fetch that treasure was ripped apart by the local wildlife-- a fate Stro'to would prefer to avoid sharing.

"That, I fear, is true. Their stinginess is legendary, even in the Exchange," Stro'to says mournfully. "Do not worry, my dear fellow. If I come across one, I will give you a decicred if I come across one in our travels."

"Generous of you," Bane replies dryly, before shrugging, "Well, whenever you feel like revealing the location of this vault just let us know. In the meantime, good luck in your search for that mesh cleanser."

Bane gets flashes of regretful memories of times Stro'to could just wave the company credit card and throw around millions of credits, as well as the general impression that 'whenever Stro'to feels like' is never, followed finally by the vague relief that Stro'to has survived yet another instance of being in the same room as Xizran and Fennec intact.

"Indeed. Indeed. Luck looks like it may be needed, but I have been told by more than one sentient that I was born lucky. T3, I do not suppose you know where the refresher is?" Stro'to says hopefully to the stocky droid still working dutifully on the holonet repairs.

"Beep-boop-beep," T3 responds, not looking around.

There is a pause before Bane translates.

"He says you know where the refresher is."

"...I may have been told, but I fear this mind is not as young as it used to be," Stro'to says mournfully. "And I certainly have not been introduced to the mesh cleanser."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:53, Thu 01 Sept 2022.

"Boopity-dweep-boop," T3 replies briskly, still not looking around.

"There is a refresher connected to our sleeping quarters," Bane reminds Stro'to, sounding unsure whether the twi'lek is serious or not, "And T3 has just confirmed that there is no mesh cleanser. No matter, Telos will have plenty I'm sure."

"Can you two continue this conversation --if it can be called that-- somewhere where the rest of us don't have to listen to it?" Fennec scowls at them, balancing on one arm and one leg.

"It really isn't an unreasonable thing to not wish to wear the same underwear for two-- or more than two for you, I would guess-- days in a row, Fennec. Just because you are fine with that doesn't mean everyone is."

Fennec shoots Stro'to a dangerous glare.

Stro'to beats a hasty (and wise) retreat in the direction of the refresher.

Bane waits until Stro'to is out of earshot before turning to Xizran.

"The vault is not on Kashyyyk. Or Duxn either."

"Where is it then? I'm sure it's not on Hoth either but knowing where it isn't doesn't help me."

"That is a... good question," Bane replies elusively, "Somewhere with forests, certainly, and perhaps something to do with the Sith. He has a slippery mind, with more fear and plotting than a Neimoidian. Still, given time I'm sure I can glean something more tangible."

"So basically, you found out nothing. What makes you think it's not Kashyyyk if it has trees and Sith? If memory serves me they had both 5 years back."

"I know it wasn't Kashyyyk," Bane says firmly, "When Fennec mentioned it I sensed a subtle relief that she hadn't seen through his deception."

"...Hmph," Xizran scowls. "Well, at least the upside of him being a lying worm is that we won't have to put up with any wookies whining about slavery."

OOC: End of Chapter VI...
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:58, Thu 01 Sept 2022.