Date and Time: Unknown/ ERROR / Mission Clock + 2: 38: 19

Star System: Unknown

Covenant Corvette, Ardent Prayer

"I just want you to give it to me straight," Ricc said calmly as he leaned against one of the cargo crates the strange humans had brought on board. "Are you Mandalorians? I know you bucket heads are real secretive and stuff, but I don't need-"

"What the hell is a Mandalorian?" Bryant interrupted with a sneer.

"Shut up, Corporal. " Healy ordered.

"Big armored up guys? Military-grade weapons? There isn't a whole lot of that stuff lying around for grabs, you know." Ricc said. "Especially you, big guy. You look like you're the cream of the crop. What do they feed you?"

"Soy protein." Jorge answered evenly.

"Get me some of that stuff." Ricc shook his head disbelievingly.

"We're actually part of the military back where we came from." Healy offered, trying to steer the conversation back on its original course.

"Which is from where, exactly?"

"We already-" Bryant said angrily as Jorge glared at him, quieting the soldier.

"When we were talking earlier, we meant that we weren't really part of the known galaxy." Jorge half-lied. "We're from the outer-most area of it. There are other systems like that, correct?"

"You mean the Unknown Regions? Yeah, that makes more sense." Ricc sighed. "Here I thought you were spewing something else entirely."

All the marines looked quizzically at the Spartan, who paid them and their facial expressions no heed.

"Could you provide us transport?" Jorge asked.

"You mean my ship? Sorry, pal. Not going to happen." Ricc shot down the idea with blinding speed. He began walking to the other containers already stacked up in the ship's cargo hold. "This pretty lady is my lifeblood right now."

"How else could we get our hands on a ship with an FTL drive?" Jorge inquired.

"You could always buy a ship." Ricc suggested flatly as he tripped over a small crate of frag grenades. "Frak!"

"We don't have any money in your standard." Jorge replied.

"Steal. I meant steal a ship." Ricc said, picking himself off the bulkhead. "That's probably one of your better options."

"We couldn't pilot the ship." Jorge rattled off yet another problem from his mental list.

"Then I guess you're going to have to just stay put then, huh?" Ricc stated with growing irritation. "I'm not risking my neck and my ship for some people I met literally half an hour ago."

"This is bullshit." McCarrey said in exasperation.

"At least give us something to work with." Jorge asked.

"Look, my hands are pretty damn full." Ricc vented. "I've got my employer breathing down my neck for a shipment of spice that was due two weeks ago, a ship in need of some serious maintenance, and four war-equipped lunatics asking to hitch a ride!"

Ricc rubbed his temples as he paced back and forth. The ship, upon closer examination, did indeed look like it had seen better days. The walls of the cargo room were dented in several places, gray paint fading and chipping at various areas. The large, black canisters Ricc was apparently transporting littered the floor haphazardly.

"I'll tell you what," Ricc's face lighted up considerably. "I can drop you off on the planet I'm already heading to. From there, we'll figure this out as we go."

Seeing as there were no other options to be found through the conversation, Jorge nodded at the proposition.

"We'll leave you to pilot your ship then." He acknowledged.

"Make yourselves comfortable. We have a few hours." Ricc said before walking through the retracting door that led to the cockpit.

"I'm just saying," Bryant motioned for McCarrey and his superior officer to calm down. "We could always just kill him and take the ship. No one has to know."

This wasn't particularly one of his best ideas he had ever come up with, and his fellow marines would have none of the nonsense. McCarrey had his hand on his head, a new headache coming into existence.

"Enjoy flying the alien ship, smartass," Healy's voice was drenched in sarcasm. "I'm sure you'll figure out all the do-dads and such through the instructions manual, eh?"

"Hey, it's better than leaving Reach to the Covies!" Bryant exclaimed. "I know we're not worth much on the payroll, but we've got a Spartan in mint condition with us. He's got more kills than the rest of the battalion ever had, sir. You know that. HIGHCOM needs all the killing machines they can get."

"We're not leaving Reach to the Covenant, Corporal." Healy said. "We've already got a plan at this point: Get to Ricc's planet."

"That's not much of a plan, sir."

"We have a good chance of coming up with a better one somewhere with some real dirt. Thinking up plans is always better on the ground," Healy sneered. "That's why all strategies made by the Navy suck ass."

McCarrey chuckled softly at the statement as Bryant thought through it. Their options were extremely limited in their current state. Trying to force a plan wouldn't solve anything.

"I'll give you that, sir." Bryant conceded.

"Damn straight." Healy said as the doors to the cockpit opened to reveal a calmer-looking Ricc Andolo.

"Corporal McCarrey?" Ricc asked, trying to pick out who was who. "The big guy needs you and your datapad. Something about downloading all the information you can get on the galaxy and such."

"At least it's something to do." McCarrey said, lifting himself up from the UNSC supply crate he was sitting on.

"I would have liked to stay at the controls, but that Spartan guy takes up half the space in there." Ricc smirked as McCarrey left the cargo hold. "I suppose it wouldn't be so bad to get to know you both."

"And that's my cue to take inventory." Healy said quickly, moving himself to the other side of the room containing most of the salvaged containers from the Pelican. Bryant shifted uneasily on his crate.

"I'm not great with names. You're…" Ricc prompted Bryant to finish the rest of the sentence.

"Corporal Nolan Bryant" Bryant answered.

"Right. So, Nolan, what's with the slugthrowers? Haven't you guys developed lasers or plasma rifles yet?" Ricc inquired.

"Some of the spec ops types take all the real goodies, but yeah. We have laser weaponry and some use of plasma, but for construction purposes." Bryant said, the word plasma coming off almost as a word of disgust. "The aliens we were fighting before we came here are the ones who make full use of plasma as weapons."

"The Covenant, right?"

"Right." Bryant assured.

"You don't see a lot of projectile weapons in the galaxy. Pretty gory beasts, from what I hear." Ricc said, moving the conversation along. "You ever get tired of reloading every few seconds?"

"You don't want to know." Bryant cracked a smile. "What? And you don't?"

"Blasters last a long while. I don't remember the last time I had to change ammo." Ricc answered. "Would you ever want to try out a blaster?"

Bryant cocked an eyebrow. "Why are you being so chit-chatty with me?"

"Because I heard your little idea about tossing me out the airlock via the ship's surveillance system." Ricc said with a hint of bitterness. "I'd prefer to be on your good side than having the constant possibility of you putting a slug in my chest."

"Sorry 'bout that, by the way." Bryant said apologetically.

"It's no problem. You're not the only one." Ricc said, walking towards one corner of the hold and feeling around on the floor with his foot. Finally his foot found purchase on a concealed button on the bulkhead, lifting up a small portion of it.

Ricc reached down into the hole and brought up what seemed to be a black pistol. Its design was blocky and familiar yet exotic to Bryant.

"Think of this as a gift in the hope of friendship." Ricc tossed the blaster to Bryant, who caught it in mid-air.

"What am I supposed to do with this? I already have a sidearm, pal." Bryant asked, examining the weapon closely.

"I think you might like this just a bit more. It's a SoroSubb A-20 blaster. Well maintained." Ricc informed. "Got it real cheap from a black market dealer, so you know it's good."

"Right." Bryant said. "Speaking of shady dealings, what're you transporting in those canisters? Alcohol? Explosives?"

"Spice." Ricc answered.

"I'm not going to pretend like I know what that is." Bryant said as he inspected his new blaster more thoroughly.

"A narcotic. Hallucinogen. Nasty stuff, I tell you." Ricc explained. "But damn expensive. Great way for people to make money if you've got nothing left to lose."

"I'm guessing it's illegal?"

"Oh, incredibly. Especially glitterstim. That stuff can kill you after the second use." Ricc chuckled.

"Haven't you ever gotten caught?" Braynt asked with a scoff.

"With spice? No, never." Ricc answered. "The Republic's too lax with the main hyperspace lanes and they're basically non-existent on the lesser-traveled routes."

"Sounds like your government is crap."

"It's not great." Ricc conceded. "It's child's play for someone, anyone, to do some illegal work for the cartels and pirates. Those black market dealers and gangs pretty much rule everything. Out here, they're the authorities."

"Well let's make sure we don't get on their bad side." Bryant said.

"Yeah."

Date and Time: Unknown

Star System: Tatoo System, Tatooine

Anchorhead, Docking Bay 19

"Ricc, I swear that when you touchdown, I'm going to punch you in the gut." Jek Tarr muttered to himself as he futilely tried for the fourth time to reach Ricc Andolo on his holocommunicator.

It wasn't easy trying to eke out a living dealing with shady corporations. He wasn't much of an entrepreneur, nor was he adept in haggling. His options for a career that didn't involve moisture farming numbered in few.

He had two other smugglers to worry about, but at least they had delivered their shipments on time and with about the same amount of cargo they were supposed to have started off with.

Ricc was cutting into profits, and Jek's employers did not like cut profit one bit.

He practically owned Docking Bay 19, albeit the actual document. That had been lost in a "freak arson attack" on the previous owner. Jek hoped that if he did his job as a middle-man as he should, he wouldn't be targeted for one such attack.

"Jek, my friend." A low voice sounded behind him.

Jek turned his head from the computer terminal of arrivals and departures to see that the voice belonged to his current employer, Niko.

The tall Iridonian looked anything but pleased to see Jek, his four bodyguards behind him looking rather restless about something. Niko headed the corporation responsible for at least a third of the illegal dealings on Tatooine, the Hutts notwithstanding.

"Mister Niko, I was just going to tell you that your cargo will be here within the next few hours." Jek reported, trying to rid the bodyguards and their aggressive demeanor from his mind.

"It's been two weeks. Three weeks if you count the original supply date." Niko said softly but aggressively. "We've missed out on seventy thousand credits in that time to the damn Hutts."

"I know Ricc is always a bit late, but he gets the job done well enough. The cargo is always there and in the right quantity." Jek shifted nervously.

"I want you to give me a reason why I shouldn't burn you and your contract here and now." Niko stated forcefully, his guards reaching for their blasters. Jek began to panic.

"But I… I mean I just, you see-" Jek sputtered.

It wasn't one of the bodyguards that pulled the trigger on their blasters, but Niko. The crimson red bolt drilled its way into Jek's chest, killing him instantly.

Jek's lifeless body fell onto the sand in a loud thump, the dust settling on his mesh jacket.

"Incompetent fool." Niko spat as he holstered his blaster pistol.

{A/N}

Please forgive me, readers, at this unprecedented delay. My personal life (Yes, I do have one, surprisingly.) has only just recently calmed down to the point to where I can focus again on this story.

I won't go into details, but I ope you can understand and forgive me.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter, the next one will definitely be longer.

Keep it clean!

{END A/N}