Gaibriel jerked awake, almost tumbling to the floor as he tried shifting across the narrow, unfamiliar surface. He grumbled sourly to himself as he sat up, rubbing one hand down the front of his face as he blinked. Starlight flooded across the space through the nearby viewscreen as the transport trundled slowly towards Coruscant, especially with the pale illumination coming from the halo lamps Corso had dimmed hours earlier.

He yawned wide, reaching his hands above his head in a regular stretch to pull against his muscles. He ignored the small cot against the terribly tiny wall set behind him. Hell, he'd wager real credits his backside would be aching for a month thanks to this little excursion. Corso had laughed when Gaibriel stared in stupefied silence into the small closet of a space they'd been allotted for the shuttle ride to the Republic home world. "Take it you're used to better, captain," Corso had chuckled.

"Corso, there are understatements galore in the galaxy. Would rather never have come across this one." He had kicked against the narrow cot, shaking his head. "Idiot Syrena. She should've known better. Anyone given a berth like this one should've suspected she was in line for a boot in her ass."

"What makes you say that?"

Gaibriel only tossed his head back, laughing, "Corso, you and me need to discuss the fine technique of positioning a woman under you, if you can look at that skinny little pillow of a bed and ask that question. Be lucky if it's only the bed you'd end up breaking, actually." He eyed the narrow cot. "There's no way Skavak planned on sharing this cabin with Syrena. Ever."

Corso scowled, "Stop, yer gonna make me puke thinking of Skavak with Syrena like that. Bastard had her twisted into knots."

Gaib only shook his head, "No sympathy from me. Her damn snot stained my jacket." Corso only eyed him with amusement, although he didn't say anything. Probably a good thing, or he might have marched right back off the shuttle to find the little twit and shoot her the way he'd considered as she blubbered over Viidu's poor corpse. Some people needed shooting, of course. But Syreena proved too pathetic, what with her caterwauling nonsense. He'd swear those were real tears the woman suffered.

Made more sense in the end to blame Skavak for Viidu's death. More satisfying, too. Now he deserved a good shooting. Preferably right up the damn ass.

Gaibriel continued stretching, rolling his shoulders until all the muscles were loose and wiry. He sidestepped towards the minuscule corner that passed for a refresher stall, eyed it balefully. There was a sonic shower, at least. Big enough for his lean frame, once he ducked his head. Didn't prevent him from bumping his elbow no less than three times against the shower wall, yelping every time. He muttered darkly, "Hair-brained fuckface Skavak! I want my ship back ... I'm going to drop-kick you into the nearest asteroid belt, watch you from the bridge of the Way as you choke!" He continued mumbling to himself as he finished bathing.

Gaib was yanking his boots back into place over his feet when Corso edged through the door, carrying a plate with something that even looked edible on it. The smuggler shot him an amused glance, "Please tell me there's nothing green on that plate. And sauce! I like dipping sauces." He twisted around, ducking his head under the bed to make sure nothing precious important had rolled under there. He muttered as he rooted through his packs, carefully counting his possessions. The thunk of the plate against the brief side table near the cot dragged his attention back to Corso, and Gaib turned to regard him again, his black eyebrow curving upwards as he took in Corso's stormy-looking expression.

"What bug crawled up your butt, Corso? I have medical training enough I might be able to yank it outta there," he chuckled.

Corso leaned back against the wall as he crossed his arms loosely over his chest. He'd knotted his own black hair into its customary braids, so that his hair wasn't falling into his face anymore. But his normally jovial features were tight with angry mistrust as he stared back at Gaibriel. Gaib thumbed towards the corner where Corso's rifle was stowed, smiling bemusedly, "Here's where I suppose I'm glad you're not prepared to shoot me. Even though I don't know what I did wrong. Yer not married, are you, Corso? Hate to think I slept with your wife at some point." He leaned to the side, trying to check Corso's hip. "You planning on gutting me with Hewie?"

Corso shrugged at him, "You talk in your sleep, captain." Gaibriel only blinked as he sat there, staring at Corso as he waited for the Mantellian to continue. His lips twitched as he tried to avoid laughing at him, even. Corso straightened up, standing there near the door as he clenched his hands into two hard fists, "You've got an accent you've been hiding!"

"Oh. That." Gaibriel shrugged as he jerked his pack across the narrow cot. He eyed the plate of food Corso had brought to the room, wondering why he'd gone to such a length if he was all hot and bothered with him at the moment. The food looked interesting enough. Some sort of meat sandwich, it looked like. He refused to ask what sort of meat it was, mostly because he didn't bother over such delicate considerations. Too many years scrambling for whatever food he could manage to snatch up made for no real aversion to any sort of food. Except for stewed vegetables, which every one of his owners thought was well nigh good enough - probably cheap enough, more likely - for the pitiful stomachs of the people they'd possessed.

Gaib clucked his tongue when he noted the fried crispics next to the sandwich, though. "Love these things," he admitted to Corso as he picked one up and popped the tiny meat-filled crust into his mouth. Corso cursed.

"You're an Imperial!"

Gaibriel chewed the crispic slowly, shaking his head. He gulped before responding, "Am not."

"I heard you!"

Gaibriel sighed as he looked up at the roof of their brief quarters. He tried remembering what it was he'd been dreaming about when he woke up. He had a vague notion of a dark rain-filled sky, which tended to dominate quite a few of Gaib's dreams so he didn't question it overmuch. He was still curious, though. "Corso, would you mind telling me what it is I actually said in this Imperial accent that's got you all bent out of shape? I'd hate to think I said something really damn embarrasing. Trying to remember if I dreamed I was walking around in nothing but my underwear, actually."

"So not funny, captain."

Gaibriel looked towards Corso sharply, his eyes looking quite suddenly like cold crystals there in his face, burning fierce. "Fine. No joking, then. Now what the fuck did I say?"

Corso stared at him, surprised. The captain looked well able to wrap Corso's braids around his neck a few times, actually. Corso frowned as he tried to recall what the captain had been mumbling in his sleep, rather than only the tone he used as he muttered. "You said something about going home, that you wanted to stay outside. There was a bit about getting your clothes cleaned up. And a name, I think."

Gaibriel's eyebrows went up. "What name?"

"Kas. You called to someone named Kas. Maybe. I don't know."

Gaib grunted as he reached towards the plate for another crispic, nibbled on it slowly. He looked away, distantly nodding, "She used to drag me outside to play in the rain. We'd get all soaked through, until we were soundly scolded. But it never seemed to matter." Corso watched him as he settled down to munch through the rest of the crispics. Gaibriel ate fast, like he wasn't certain he'd get another meal anytime soon. Not the first time he'd watched Gaib eating like that. He remembered Viidu laughing at the captain, "You're inhaling the stuff like it's going to disappear, captain ... bah! Enjoy it while we can, I say!" The habit seemed particularly pertinent suddenly, though, Corso thought. And why did he feel like such an ass all of a sudden?

Gaib jumped to his feet suddenly, "I'm still hungry, Corso." Corso knew it was a lie. Hell, the sandwich was still sitting there on the plate, unnoticed. The captain just wanted to leave their brief quarters, his eyes bleak with loss as he looked for an escape. Corso looked down at the floor as Gaibriel stepped out through the door, padding away. He wanted to kick something, not the least of which because he wasn't truly clear just yet on what sort of loyalties the captain could claim. But it didn't stop him from suspecting, that rather than being some fervent Imperial lackey, Gaibriel was a very real, very firm dyed and true renegade from Imperial policy. And for some really good damn reason, too.

The female wrapped her slim red legs around his hips as Gaibriel lifted her, leaning her up against the wall just inside the narrow quarters she'd pulled him towards. She hummed happily as he slid his mouth against the soft skin of her throat, deliberately rubbing the side of his face along her lekku to create the erotic thrill he knew Twi'lek enjoyed from such playful motions. She began rocking her hips into his groin, humping her sex towards his own in sheer demand, and then she backed it up by whispering against his ear, "Hurry ... I'm so damn close."

He grunted as he reached down to open his pants, tearing against the fastening, "Can't move much faster, darling. We're still dressed." She rushed, lowering her legs so that she could yank and pull against her clothes. He chuckled when he heard the telltale ripping of fabric, "Hot little thing. Or just hungry?"

"Both." She raised up her arms once she was completely naked, the red skin of her face wreathed with perspiration and eagerness. He caressed the ear bumps along both sides of her face, leaning down so he could grip her lips in a heated kiss, thrusting his tongue inside to taste her. She whimpered, "Now."

"I'm still dressed."

She grumbled, "You uncovered the important part, didn't you?"

Gaib laughed softly, before he reached under her to hold onto the backs of her thighs, lifting her back against the wall again. Her head fell back against the wall as he entered her forcefully. He didn't hesitate, though. Just pulled back to thrust into her again. And again. He set a hard, rough rhythm, so that her slender butt thudded steadily against the wall behind her. She lay her forehead against his collarbone, moaning in tandem with every push of his hard length inside of her, almost crying as the pleasure built. He hit against a sweet spot deep inside of her, something she'd never felt before, so that she yelped loudly. And then he nipped along the edge of her lekku, scraping his teeth gently where he knew she was most sensitive, and she came, tightening so much around him that he couldn't help but follow her. He tossed his head back as he orgasmed, hard, in one single rush.

She murmured, "You were hungry, too." She smiled lightly as he grumbled agreement, his head drifting downwards to rest in the curve of her throat. He panted softly as they rested for several moments. Then she lowered her legs down to the floor. He stepped away to straighten his clothes, while she reached out to wrap herself in one of the cabin's thin blankets, sitting along the edge of the tiny bed. She cocked her head as she watched him, "Do you feel better now?"

He laughed, "Sweetheart, I'm man enough to admit there are alot of things I'm stupid about. But telling a woman who's hugged me so hotly as you just did, that I'm feeling anything but pleased, is not one of them." She smiled happily as she plopped backwards onto her thin cot. She turned her head to watch him roll his hips, readjusting his pants back into comfortable shape over the bulge between his legs. She murmured appreciatively. He smiled at her, a crooked grin that she reached over to smooth a single red finger across as she hummed. He asked her, "What're you called? Not that I'll stop calling you sweetheart, mind you."

"Mirry. Although I don't really expect you to call me anything after this small ride to Coruscant."

"But it was such a nice ride," he crooned.

And she smiled at him, heartened by the compliment even as she acknowledged it wasn't any kind of promise, either.

She'd noticed him the night before, along with a young soldier, well-armored, who'd apparently come straight from some Mantellian battlefield. They'd both been covered liberally in dust and sweat, rushing on board as if chased by hounds. Gaib had remarked as he crossed along in front of her, "It's like a damn obstacle course getting off this world! And remind me to send Rogun a thank you note for his send-off party. Pricks!" He'd almost yelled that last, turning around to raise one of his middle fingers towards the spaceport as the hatchway doors slowly closed.

He hadn't looked any happier when he tramped his way into the lounge this morning, either. He'd eyed the sabacc tables thoughtfully, just before heading towards the bar where he'd proceeded to slam down several beverages she assumed were meant to thoroughly slosh his way towards oblivion. Not one to look such a gift horse in the mouth, she'd sashayed her way towards him. But he'd knocked her for a thorough loop, manuevering himself carefully to prevent her from getting too close to the packs slung against his back even while he chuckled and joked with her amiably.

Hell, she thought as she watched him now. He was still cold sober and never mind the drinks he'd tossed towards the back of his throat. She was the one who'd ended up swaying against the bar like a damn sot, with only the incredibly good-looking smuggler to hold her up. He'd finally leaned over to ask her, gently, "What do you need, sweetheart? I'll take care of you for a little while, hmmm." And he'd nuzzled her alongside one of her ear bumps, sending an amazing thrill through to her very core. No mark, she'd decided. Just pure pleasure. And she'd most certainly taken advantage of the pleasure he offered, she thought now, stretching.

But the sudden jolt of the ship's motion, the terrible jerk as some hidden enemy fired on the vessel, sent her tumbling to the floor. She cried out when her shoulder impacted roughly against the surface, felt the ripping pain as it was neatly dislocated. But Gaib suddenly pulled her closer to him, tucking her small body into the curve of his own to hold her until the terrible wrenching of the surfaces around them finally slowed and the ship was still. She whimpered against his throat, felt him shifting so he could look up and around them.

She peeled her eyes open, grimacing through the dull throbbing of her shoulder. The lights were flickering behind Gaibriel's head and she could see the red glow of the emergency alarms. He yanked at one of his packs, pulling out a small device that he placed against her pained side. She yelped when he applied a jolt to her upper arm, but the sudden numbness that spread through her afterwards was the most incredible relief and she grinned loopily at him. He smiled back, right before reaching out to yank her shoulder back into place. "Didn't hurt," she whimpered.

Gaib nodded at her, "Medicine will make you feel fuzzy for a bit. Let's get you somewhere safe. I need to find Corso."

"The guy who hurt your feelings?"

He looked scandalized, actually. She giggled at the affronted glance he sent her. He only snorted, "Guys don't get their little feelings hurt, dangit. He just pissed me off!"

"Whatever you say, tough guy."

"Are you making fun of me?"

"Who? Me? Nooo!"

Gaibriel's hair was soaked through with sweat by the time he finally found Corso.

Because of course Corso couldn't be trusted to keep his ass somewhere safe and out of harm's way, noooo! Although he had managed to get a goodly number of the weeping, wailing, and whining civilians into a nearby cargo hold where they could find some negligible security from the jerks wearing Imperial uniforms that seemed to be cropping up all over the damn ship. That's where he'd tucked Mirry, too. He'd have to thank Corso for discovering the hidey-hole. After he kicked him straight across the damn butt for not staying there with them, mind you.

He marveled that a transport he'd thought would prove comfortable and plush enough to make up for the piss-poor time he'd endured on Ord Mantell looking for his own ship could've ended up being so much of a damn headache, actually. He even said so to the last few Imperial soldiers he shot as he made his way down the corridor towards Engineering, yelling at them, "Even the fucking showers on this transport suck balls! Why the hell are you guys so intent on getting on board?"

And now this. Corso had planted himself between a thin Twi'lek woman and a rather unimportant-looking console. The woman's tiny blue finger poked angrily in the air towards him as she yelled, "You'll move out of the way! We don't have time for this!" But Corso only glared at her, mutinous as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Not going to let you flush them into space like a load of trash, whether you're an Ambassador or not. It's wrong!" Corso very nearly shouted back at the woman. Gaibriel was actually pleased he was willing to disrespect a female to that great an extent, honestly. He was normally bowled right over by anyone with tits. He glanced towards Corso's crotch, wondering when he'd grown a pair. Although he acknowledged, too, he was only angry with Corso, still. Which made his judgments where Corso was concerned a tad suspect, of course.

The pair of troopers standing to the side of the arguing pair caught sight of him as he stepped closer, although neither Corso or his Twi'lek opponent noticed his approach. Gaibriel just nodded to Simi, watched her blue eyes twinkle at him fondly right before she shot her attention back to the altercation. "You're right about one thing, ma'am. We really don't have time for this. The engineers indicate an alternative course of action. Why don't we try it, rather than stand here bitching at each other."

Gaibriel looked towards the pale amber glow of a force field which hindered access to the engineering section, considered the small group of men huddling around an angry-looking Chief who kept pointing at the Twi'lek. Smart guys, those engineers. Certainly kept the Imperials from accessing engineering. Only it seemed the apparently important, albeit unassumingly dressed Twi'lek was determined to force her way through their barrier, and never mind what it took to do it, either. The engineers were trembling with agitation there behind the force field, even. They kept screaming about the computer consoles that could reroute signals to the bridge, so they could get through to the crew kept hostage there.

A true stand-off, it seemed. One Twi'lek politician from the Republic versus a minor Mantellian soldier loosely supported by a pair of Cathar troopers.

Gaibriel would've called a greeting to Simi. He'd certainly appreciated the way she fit against him, all snugly tight and hot, when they found a room above the cantina back on Ord Mantell. One of the few decent memories of the place he'd taken away, in fact. But the stupid Twi'lek nabbed the Cathar's attention suddenly, turning her head to bark at the pair of troopers, "You, soldiers! Both of you! Get him out of the way! Shoot him if you have to!"

Simi scowled at her, "Pardon me, Ambassador Asara. But you're in no position to give me orders. I don't even know who you are, in fact. Have only your word you even support the Republic. Although I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. The Imps invading the ship don't seem to like you, at least."

Asara actually stomped her foot. "Fine! I'll do it myself, then. Wouldn't be the first time I had to do what's necessary." She yanked a slender blaster from the belt against her side, turning to face Corso as she gestured at him with the weapon. The Mantellian whitened, his face going taut as he stared down at the woman. Not that he made any move to defend himself, though. He only stood there, calmly watching as her finger tightened against the trigger.

Damn you, Corso! Fucking pansy-assed unwillingness to fight a female would get him killed someday, Gaib thought, cursing under his breath. Not today, though.

She froze when the barrel of Gaibriel's blaster gently touched the side of her head. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, watched as a bit of sweat, black from the grease and soot he'd fought through to reach Corso, rolled slowly down along the angled curve of his jaw. He was glaring at her, through eyes that looked like cut blue glass. He spoke to her, low, hard, "You put a bolt in him, and I'll give you a headache to match the one I'm currently suffering. Trust me, you won't like it." Her own eyes went wide and scared.

She murmured, "You're his brother, aren't you?"

Gaibriel shook his head, looking bewildered all of a sudden, "Why does everyone keep saying that?"

Simi chuckled over at him as she ambled closer. She was still a striking figure, all covered as she was in the softest pelt he could remember rolling against. Her armor wasn't able to hide the curves he'd stroked, either. Her male companion was frowning furiously as he loomed behind her, though. "All humans look alike, really. But you two share fur coloring, too."

Gaib smirked at her. "As I recall, you have no concept of the fur that covers him. Now, me on the other hand …"

Simi's pale-furred Cathar companion growled lightly.

Corso gasped, scrambling away from the electrical storm that poured from the fingers of the pale-skinned … thing. His mind was screaming, the word sizzling through his brain as he stumbled over his own feet trying to get away from it, yelling the truth, "Sith!" The monster, the bogey-man of all his mother's stories, all those tales she used to try and help him understand why bad things happened to good people.

His body jerked, a yelping scream whistling from him as the jolt of flaring lightning struck him suddenly, harshly. He collapsed backwards against the floor, dimly aware of the approaching Sith. He moaned as he glanced around, looking for his rifle. But then a shadow interposed itself, standing between him and the fast moving monster.

Corso looked up, watching bemusedly as Gaibriel raised Flashy high, steadily threatening the Sith. Like the man was hardly worth concern, in fact. Corso raised himself up to a single knee, reaching for the rifle he'd dropped down on the floor. He gripped his weapon, raising himself slowly to his feet, just as Gaibriel grumbled towards the Sith.

"I've seen enough of your fancy light show. It's pretty enough, I mean. But I've got better things to do, and you're in my way."

The youngish Sith stopped, staring at the smuggler with a confused look on his face. Then his pale features tightened into heady threat, as he glared at Gaibriel with brightly gleaming red eyes. Red eyes. Corso shook his head, wondering if the thing was even human as he considered the Sith's grey-tinged skin and unnatural coloring. He had the sudden thought he was glad the Sith was robed and hooded. He didn't want to see if it had hair. Anywhere.

The Sith lifted up a single slender palm, waving his fingers through the air as he growled at Gaib, "You will kneel so that I can mete your just dues. You will understand what it is to face the power of a true Sith." But Gaibriel only snorted. Corso watched as the Sith blinked, as if he'd expected the captain to do precisely what he'd been told. Hell, that thought almost made Corso snort, too. A lot of things he could imagine Gaibriel Duncan doing. But kneeling in front of a Sith - no way.

That understanding, the utter hard certainty of it – it made Corso stop, his mind whirling madly as he realized how stupid he'd been, how just plain dumb. He felt exactly like the backwater lout he was so often called, by all those fancy visitors who visited his home world to view its pink clouds and natural wonders. Mostly because his damn bungling had, he knew, really hurt the captain. Corso felt like even more of an ass, if that was possible. Especially as he watched Gaibriel defending him yet again.

Fuck, no, Corso thought. No fucking way was this Sith going to win the fight, was going to take down his captain. Not while he had a breath left in his body.

Gaib shrugged, though, "I know what Sith power is, idiot. Problem you have to deal with, is that I don't fucking care. It never impressed me, and certainly not when it's only your pitiful self that's waving it around." Gaibriel sneered at him towards the end, watching as the youngish Sith came completely unglued. Typical of the Sith, who relied on the strength of their emotions, without any regard for the even better ability to control them. They allowed themselves to become like mere dervishes of unfocused energy. Just accidents waiting to happen. And Gaib was a perfect architect of the most brilliant accidents, too.

The Sith was so damn engrossed in his fervent anger at Gaibriel that he never even noticed the careful steps of the troopers moving into place behind him. Gaib smiled when Simi whipped her rifle up, slamming the hard butt of the weapon against the back of the Sith's head. The Sith cried out piteously as the pain burst through his skull. He fell forward, onto his knees, as he clutched his head. And Simi followed through on the attack, pushing into the center of his back so that he tumbled even further, falling almost face forward on the floor. Then she leaped backwards, giving her comrade the chance to open up with that fucking cannon he held against his side.

The boom of the weapon's fire filled the place. That, and Gaibriel's shouting, too. "How's our light show working out for you, huh?" He laughed when the smoke cleared, enough they could discern what was left of the Sith lying there in a bloody sodden heap on the floor. Gaibriel only twisted a smile towards Corso over his shoulder, "You know, it doesn't look good on any Moff's record, when he loses a Sith to a minor boarding party. What do you want to bet Kilran goes back and tells them all it was a dozen Jedi who did it?"

Corso wrapped the blaster pieces he was working over into the soft polishing cloth, pushing the entire bundle into his bag as he pushed through the door into the larger quarters they'd been assigned after the assault. Part of Haken's reward, apparently. The officer had been grateful enough for their efforts in freeing the ship from the Imperials, after all. Gaibriel had leaped on the proffered rewards, chuckling when the troopers turned their noses up at the opportunity.

Gaibriel winked at them, "You sure that cannon your Jorgan lugs around will fit into the closets that pass for cabins down there? I mean, I haven't seen him undressed, so I can't say for sure. Just thought you should reconsider." The look on the sergeant's face had proved priceless. He'd looked at the captain like he was a bitter nexu preparing to strike, all bared teeth and fiercely raging eyes. Corso wasn't sure his laughing at him helped overmuch, either. But Simi only smirked, "Oh, I'm pretty sure he knows where to tuck it away so that it'll fit. No worries."

That's when Gaib bent over in a fit of laughter of his own. Corso had been gratified as he watched the captain laugh, if only because it was the first time in days he'd seen the normally effusive smuggler actually enjoy himself.

Corso stopped just inside the cabin, now, confused as he considered the unfamiliar voice trilling from the holoterminal on the other side of the room, "So that's him? You know, when I sent you off to Ord Mantell, Gaib, I didn't mean for you to exchange my ship for a Mantellian."

"First, the Way's mine now. Unless you're looking to come out of retirement once you've got Nikki away from the Imps, Wicks. Offer's always on the table, you know that. Second, the fucker who's currently leaving his skivvies on the floor of my cabin is going to regret every single germ he leaves behind, trust me."

Corso examined the figure Gaibriel was addressing on the holo, vaguely remembering Viidu's comments regarding the original captain of the Freedom's Way. He canted his head, confused as he considered Wicks Duncan. If only because the man looked almost nothing like Gaibriel, and never mind that they shared a name. And a ship, apparently. He muttered at Gaibriel, incredulous, "He's your father?" Wicks Duncan had black eyes, not blue, deeply set in his face. And his skin was darker than Gaibriel's, too. A rich tan he probably kept all the time, whether he got plenty of sun or not.

It was Wicks who laughed outloud, "Gaibriel won't let me call him son, even though he won't deny it when others do. Doesn't matter. We're kin the way it counts, is all. Doesn't matter if some other man actually made him." Wicks winked towards Gaibriel, "Not like Gaib's so much quicker to tell people it was an Imperial officer who can claim him as son, anyway."

Gaibriel snorted softly, "My father's dead, according to all records, Wicks. Won't claim anything in Imperial space. Ever."

Wicks shrugged. Corso sensed the man wasn't angry, didn't feel bothered or upset. This was an old argument between them, something they'd talked over and long since come to terms with, rather. Enough that the both of them were comfortable enough to banter over it, now. "Not like you don't remember the fellow fondly enough, though."

Gaibriel hesitated, glancing towards Corso. But he nodded, eventually, "Yea, well, that doesn't change much of anything. I'm no damn Imperial."

Corso lifted his chin, looking towards Wicks with a serious expression. "The captain certainly proved it to the Sith trying to keep us tethered to Moff Kilran's ship. Blew the bastard away, right there in the hangar of that Imperial cruiser!" Gaibriel tried hushing him, reaching out to grab against Corso's elbow. But it was too late.

Wicks roared across the holoterminal, "You're killing Sith and invading Imperial ships? Are you out of your fucking ever-loving mind, Gaib? Why don't you just write a damn sign, hang it around your neck - something that reads, 'Former Imperial slave, come find me now!' maybe. Son of a bitch!"

Fried Crispics were small snack rolls, usually filled with meat inside a crust, that were deep-fried. Normally found in cantinas, actually. They first appeared as a side dish that could be made by a trade profession in the MMO, Star Wars: Galaxies.