"Unidentified vessel, this is the Imperial Star Destroyer Abdicator. You have entered a restricted area. Please lower your shields, halt your engines and prepare to be boarded."

Worried faces glanced back and forth as the announcement echoed over the comm system, each unsure of how to proceed.

"Alright crew, pop quiz time," the captain said as he worked furiously at the ship's controls. "An Imperial Star Destroyer is on your tail and ready to take down your ship, what do you do?"

"Stay far enough ahead to avoid their tractor beams, look for a free opening and jump to hyperspace?"

The captain, a Duro, cocked his head to the side and looked quickly to the corridor behind him where his Rodian comm officer sat. "Logical, Crae, but no good at this point. We're already within tractor range. Anyone else?"

"We could turn about, charge forward full speed with canons flaring. Of course, that would be…"

"…suicide, absolute suicide. You're right, Abras. Next?"

From the captain's left, a pale Quarren rotated around from his console, but just enough that he could keep within quick reach if need be. "Perhaps we could let the ship get pulled in by their tractor beams close enough to be within their shields and fire a torpedo straight into the projector."

"Well, then…that's quite a risky maneuver there." The captain paused, cupping a blue hand over his chin. "Chance of success is…."

"…minimal at best," the Quarren remarked.

"But still better than getting 'vaped or facing a blizzard of stormies. Craeldo, open a channel to the Imps, audio only."

"Channel open, Captain Marikk."

"Abdicator, this is Captain Danar on board the cruiser," he paused a moment, trying to get the right amount of hopelessness to sound in his voice, "I sincerely apologize for entering the region, merely a mistake of navigation, I assure you. Seeing as we are left with no options in light of your great power, and are at your mercy, we submit to your requests. Powering down now."

With a motion of the hand, Marikk had his crewmen lower their shields while he cut power to the engines. Within seconds, the old Republic cruiser buckled a bit as they were snatched into the clutches of the tractor beams and slowly towed towards the destroyer's docking bay. Anxiously, he watched as the destroyer grew ever closer with the passing seconds, the tension mounting as the crew stood ready to pounce. 500 meters….400 meters…..300….200….

"Now, Sillek, fire torpedoes!"

With a flash, the twin orbs of light fired from the cruiser's forward batteries, those closest to the projectors, and detonated against the twin orbs embedded just outside the bay. The Star Destroyer shook at the impact as a great blaze filled the stern side and inside of the bottom cavity, sending debris flying away at an incredible speed and rolling the mercenary cruiser into a descent, causing it to drift away at an awkward angle.

"Now, shields up! Let's get outta here!" With fingers flying, the captain moved across the navigation board, moving the ship out of their plummet and accelerating forward, opposite the way they had been traveling. Almost immediately, the Imperials responded as their turbolaser batteries blazed to life and filled the area with the sizzling green bolts of energy. "Everybody hold on to something, I don't have time for neatness. We're gonna have to make a blind jump."

Though there were some protests coming over the comms, the captain knew that either way could mean certain death, but this was their best chance. Anyway, better to let a star or a planet have their deaths if it must happen than to give the Imps the pleasure.

Reaching over, he pulled down the activator lever on the boards and watched as the stars began to wrap around them, launching the crew of the Nova Hound into the unknown void.


Leaning back in his chair, Marikk could do nothing but sigh happily and close his eyes in rest. It had been at least an hour since they reverted back to real space just off the Rima Trade Route, near Sullust. Such trips into heavily guarded territories, such as they had just had, he tried to keep at a minimum, unless whoever was paying them was paying them BIG or something special was involved, and this prize was most special.

When he finally opened his eye once more, he smiled as he saw that great expanse of stars through the front viewport, the peace and utter quiet as they drifted there. Of course, they really couldn't do anything but drift until repairs were made to the engines. Despite what he had previously thought, the Hound had taken a bit more damage than any of them wanted.

"I guess we really should be happy we didn't come apart when I made that jump," he muttered quietly under his breath, drifting in his rested daze.

"Captain Danar!" The sounds of the voice, breaking his wonderful silence, nearly made him jump out of his seat, but knowing to whom the voice belonged and most likely what was coming made him want to cringe.

Spinning his seat around, he looked up into the crimson Neimoidian Duros eyes of his cousin, the crew's financial advisor, and flashed a coy smile to try and disarm him.

"Why, Loon, to what do I owe the pleasure."

"Are you out of your little blue mind, Marikk!? Do you realize the danger you put me through back there!?" His eyes flared with that last comment, a fire which seemed to remain throughout his whole tirade. "It's a capital offense to traipse about restricted Imperial space like that! You know prison is not a hospitable place. What would I do!?"

"Well, I'm certainly glad you're concerned about everyone's well-being, Loon. Truly, heart-warming." He couldn't help but grin as he watched Loon pace and flail about before him, spouting off every concern that seemed to enter his head. His grin, however, was the pseudo-grin of one who desperately wanted out of his present situation. "Last I checked, though, Cousin, mercenaries weren't exactly always the most law abiding people in the galaxy, not to mention that we have been in worse straights then that. And anyway, we are alive aren't we?"

"And what about repairs? Our finances are getting awfully thin. We haven't had a good job in weeks. I hope this...whatever it was… we picked was worth the expenditure."

"Oh, indeed it was…300-year-old Vhasarian ale is not something you can get just anywhere, you know. It was at a great expense that I was able to get this for myse….for the crew."

The half-Nimoidian's eyes nearly bulged from their sockets when he heard what they had taken on board and were nearly killed for.

Leaning into the captain's face, he let all fly loose what he felt. "Ale…ale…you mean to say that we risked life and limb for some stupid? We SPENT money on a trip into Imperial territory and had some serious damage inflicted on this already crumbling cruiser for some alcohol! Have you….I mean, do you……Agggh! We're getting down to our last reserves, financially speaking, Marikk! You dragged me on this little pleasure trip saying we'd be rolling in credits."

With a brief pause, He reached into his robe and withdrew a datapad from a hidden pocket, and nearly shoved it into his cousin's face. "Well, where are they!? I don't see credits, do you see credits? Where are they, Marikk? What are we going to do!?"

Pushing the pad from his face, Captain Danar stood, wrapped an arm around his taller cousin's shoulder and led them both down the bridge's corridor to the lift tube.

"Listen, Loo, you're looking at things a little too grimly. Yes, our funds are running low, but I have Craeldo checkin' the nets as we speak and searchin' his contacts. He's a crafty guy, he'll get something good. Now look, you're doing a great job as our financier, as I knew you would, but leave the worrying to the big guys. We'll be fine, I assure you. Trust me."

And with that note hanging in the air, Marikk slipped his arm away from Loon, jumped into the open lift and disappeared, leaving his companion standing there in silence.


In a huff of exasperation, Loon gathered his green and crimson robes around him, and marched off the lift, bounding into the crew lounge. Several other of his crewmates sat around at the scattered table, taking advantage of their brief freedom before they had to get back to their work.

Abras Seaskimmer, a human jack-of-all-trades, and Shalla Zarr, the Twi'lek medic, sat huddled in the far corner table from him, quietly chatting. Dormanin, the Vurk chief mechanic, sat overflowing on two seats, reading from a datapad dwarfed in his hand. Sillek, the white-skinned Quarren weapon's master, was there as well and sat at the table closest the Neimoidan half-breed, his two pale hands reaching out from under his consuming cloak and lifting up the glass of steaming tea to his lips. All watched cautiously as Loon entered and dropped heavily down on his seat.

"That bubble-headed conman!" he steamed, crossing his arms over his chest. "He thinks I can't see through this charade of his. He's got nothing planned for us. We're just drifting, physically and metaphorically. I knew this was a mistake…."

"I'll take a shot in the dark and say that you're conversation with the Captain didn't go well," Shalla called, turning slightly in her seat to face towards Loon.

"He says he's working on it. He says he's looking for work. He says to not worry about it, but these so-called promises of his are neither repairing the ship nor filling our accounts with credits."

A few slithering words and barks echoed from Dormanin at the room's center, quickly translated into understandable basic by the small unit hooked onto his hip. "I trust, Captain Marikk," it stated in its crackling mechanical voice. "He hasn't lied to us yet. He has always come through when it counts."

"Blind faith. I say he was just trying to save face so that he could run back to his quarters to hide. He's so irresponsible sometimes, always has been. I knew it was a mistake to come on this little 'adventure' of his…."

"I happen to know for a fact that Craeldo is off in his quarters getting in touch with his contacts, as per the Captain's request." Sillek raised his head from his glass momentarily and let his ice blue eyes lock onto the Neimoidian. "Thus I suggest you quit your meaningless grumbling and either quiet down, change the subject, or leave, lest you ruin the tea and the peaceful atmosphere any further. I would have thought you, as family, would have tried to have exercised the most faith in, or at the most restraint towards, your cousin, at least around the crew, but what can I say, then. Neimoidians shall be Neimoidians."

With lower lip extended, Loon said nothing in response to the Quarren's rebuke, merely glanced off to the side, sulking. "Well, anyway…..Obbeo, where are you!? I hope you've got my dinner near ready! I sent down the order nearly half an hour ago."

"Yes, yes, keep your pants on." Almost at beck and call, a squat blue Ortolon waddled his way through the side entranceway, serving tray pressed up against his red silk chef's outfit. Wrinkling his trunk, he dropped the plate down in front of the accountant, a bit of food splashing onto the table as he then placed down a mug of Corellian cider and the utensils. "May my fine food hang in your gullet, you unthankful grub."

With an obscure wave of his hand under his trunk, Obbeo turned on heal and disappeared the way he came, mumbling under his breath as he returned to the galley.

Sighing, Loon picked up his fork, pierced a piece of bantha meat and lifted it to his mouth. "What in the world have I gotten myself into?"


Marrik slipped the heavy blue jacket from his shoulders and laid it gently across his bed, rubbing his temples and turning on some soft Jizz music to calm his nerves. He never liked these confrontations with his cousin, and sadly they seemed to be increasing as their time together progressed.

He knew Loon had grown accustomed to a steady income from his accounting practice on Muunilist, and that the credits weren't exactly rolling in for them now. A greater income of credits was the number one reason his half-Neimoidian cousin had agreed to come on board to begin with; besides the fact that he knew deep down Loon was showing a rare expression of familial compassion in joining the Mercs so that start Marikk could start a new life for himself.

A sullen look upon his face, the Duro pulled out a glass from his cabinet, poured himself a glass of his newly acquired ale and dropped onto the couch, sitting and facing the sealed doorway. He would be the first to agree with Loon that business was far from what he had envisioned it to be.

With the war between the Rebellion and the Empire, he figured the needs for more 'unregulated' business would be booming, whether smuggling or body guarding or whatever they might be needed for. Instead, it seemed to be quite the opposite, at least in his regard. Were people simply too afraid of the wrath of the Empire to deal with the likes of mercenaries? From what his own connections would tell him, others seemed to be doing quite well for themselves. But his crew …

His crew. They were a fine assembly from all walks of life and from all corners of the galaxy. Each was either a personal acquaintance or the friend thereof, all excellent in their respective fields. In his opinion he had formed one of the best groups he knew of navigating the stars. "Marikk's Mercs", second to none. If ever there was a motivation to do the best job he could, his crew was it. Each had their own lives and their own obligations, but had laid them down to follow him on what was quickly becoming a fool's errand.

His eyes scanned the amber liquid in his hands and then narrowed them in disgust. Even if it was fine liquor, was it REALLY worth the cost, of both their dwindling credits and the potential loss of life, to stare down the Empire in order to obtain it?

"Blast it all," he muttered, reaching over and pouring his liquor back into its flask.

The last drop had just fallen into the pool beneath it when a voice called for the Captain in the midst of his melancholy meditations. "Marikk, you there? Cap'?"

"Ahh, Crae, yours is a voice for sore ears," the captain quipped, unclasping the comlink device from his belt and raising it to his mouth. "Please tell me you have good news."

"Yes, yes, indeed I do, oh my captain. I came up with a lot of bad turns in my search, but at last I've finally found us something. It's not much, just a ferrying job."

Marrik could only chuckle under his breath. "Hey, as long as it brings in some credits, I don't care what it is at this point, my Rodian friend. What can ya' tell me?"

"Well, have you ever been to Brentaal?"