The blue and green mottled orb of Chandrila, a lush jewel against the cold darkness of space, was a lovely sight through the main viewport. It was most definitely a lovely sight to see, considering the haven it would hopefully provide for the Nova Hound while they got things back in working order. Chandrila was the closest and, thankfully, most peaceful planet near Brentaal where they might avoid Imperial eyes for a time. And if simply for this fact alone, Marikk was glad they were here.
"Incoming vessel, this is Chandrila space station, what is your intended business?" Glancing up again briefly from the controls, he saw the small speck with sat in orbit of the planet in the distance, growing larger as time passed. He slowed the ship's speed as they approached and motioned for Craeldo to open the channel.
"Chandrila station, this is the incoming cruiser. We request permission to dock for repairs."
Several seconds passed as the crew sat there in anticipation before suddenly a cheerful feminine voice came in response. "Your request has been granted. You have permission to dock at repair bay 3. Welcome to Chandrilla. Please enjoy your visit."
The cruiser approached the docking rig inside of repair bay 3 slowly, various mechanical moans and whirrs sounding as the ship jolted a bit, secured in its place and now connected to the station by way of the primary airlock. Powering down the engines, Captain Marikk looked to both Sillek and Abras at his sides and then picked up his Comlink. "Attention all crew members, please gather in the salon pod in five minutes for a quick meeting. Thank you."
Abras spun around in his chair towards him, a curious look upon his face. "What's this all about, Captain?"
"You'll see," Marikk quipped, a smirk upon his face as he stood and made his way to the lift tube.
The eight person crew had gathered quickly and took their seats around the ovular greel-wood table, while "Leda", Dorm's LE-series Repair Droid, took up a position behind him. Back in the days of the Republic, this room would have been used for diplomatic gatherings aboard Republic cruisers; highly decorated and refined chambers that, in an emergency, could detach from the rest of the ship. These days, the salon was mostly used for crew meetings, such as this one, and business negotiations with possible employers or clients. It was slightly stripped down from the days when it served the Republic, but it still had that subtle, refined charm to it.
Marikk leaned forward on the table and steepled his elongated hands in front of him.
"Alright, people, I'll try to keep this brief. After our last few encounters with the Imps, the Hound has gotten a tad beat up, and our maneuvers over Brentaal left almost anything that wasn't welded down now scattered across the ship." He paused briefly and looked each of his teammates in the eyes.
"Now then, while we have this brief period of solace, we need to take time to get repairs made and things cleaned up. Dorm, I'd like you and Leda to go speak to the bay master about parts for the ship. You are capable enough to get this done without needing outside help, besides the fact that it'll save us some credits." At this, he noticed a significant grin on Loon's face while Dorm and Leda nodded silently in recognition.
"Now then, Abras, I'd like you to head down to the engine room and start getting things cleaned-up and set up for their return. Obbeo, you check our food supplies and purchase anything more you may need on the station. Shalla, Craeldo, and Sillek, you all go around the ship and clean-up any messes that may have occurred from earlier. In the meantime, I'll be going to pay a little visit to our guest and check some things out. You all have your jobs, now…" Before he could finish, there was a tug upon his sleeve from Loon.
"You never assigned me anything," his cousin asked, almost somewhat sheepishly, which gave Marikk somewhat of a startle. "What shall I do?"
The Duros rubbed his chin a bit, glancing up as he thought and then slapped his head. "Oh, well, that should have been obvious. Go with Dormanin and Obbeo in their rounds and make sure we don't spend over our means. Now then, as I was saying before, let's get to work people!"
The morning went uneventfully enough as General Steeds toiled away over various datapads and countless pieces of flimsiplast. It was just exactly how he liked it, especially when filling out unfavorable reports to his superiors. After the debacle in the Oradin spaceport yesterday, the loss of troopers and having allowed the fugitive to escape, there now came that ever dreadful datatrail he had to follow.
Having just finished reading over the officer-on-duty's report, the middle-aged Imperial officer leaned back in his chair and laid the datapad on his desk when he heard a commotion outside his office door. The voice of his secretary had suddenly begun to rise and was followed soon after by a colder, muffled voice. Steeds stood to his feet and lowered his hand to the blaster at his side in expectation.
When the twin doors to his office finally parted, he relaxed just a bit at the unexpected sight of a young woman walking rather commandingly into his office, followed closely by his secretary. The woman was rather attractive with curled red-gold hair draping down over her shoulders and wearing a form-fitting black overcoat, dark red slacks, and finely polished gray dress shoes.
"I….my apologies, General, I couldn't stop her. I know you said you didn't want to be disturbed, but…" The young Lieutenant paused as the other woman raised her hand and silenced her, glancing back at her with rather cold emerald eyes, and then looking back to the General.
"I am Agent Jerda, here on orders with an AT3 directive."
AT3, the General thought, standing rigidly as he looked her over. She's not joking around. This is big business. If it's true, she's under authority of the Emperor himself. Steed cleared his throat a bit as he glanced back at his secretary, "Return to your post, Lt. Keva. I'll call if I need you."
"Yes, sir."
The young woman bowed curtly and retreated back to her desk in the antechamber, leaving the General and Agent Jerda alone. Straightening his jacket, he began to sit down and then motioned with his hand to one of the chairs in front of his desk. "Please, have a seat."
Jerda's face betrayed no emotion as she glanced from his hand to the chair and then back to the General. "No thank you, I prefer to stand."
"As you wish. Now then, might I assume," he gulped momentarily, briefly cutting off his sentence, "that this visit is about Professor Ardina?"
She nodded, saying nothing.
"I was just about to fill out my final report on the situation before you came in."
"Well then, why don't you practice on me before you fill it out?" The tone of her voice was rich with something quite near sarcasm as she looked over the pile upon his desk and her spartan surroundings. "Tell me exactly what happened, General."
Steed clasped his fingers together in his lap and then locked eyes with Jerda as he told the tale. Her face grew increasingly agitated as the story went on, especially when he got to the incident at the docking bay.
"And thus Captain Ven and his troopers surrounded and began to board the ship to apprehend the professor. However, some opposing force within managed to push back several of our Stormtroopers from the ship, all of whom lost their lives by either direct attack or falling from great heights as it ascended from the planet."
"So… what you're saying was that it was the incompetence of you and your men who allowed the professor and his cargo to escape. Be assured, General Steed, this report will be reaching the ears of the Emperor himself. You best hope he is feeling unusually forgiving when he receives it." General Steed was obviously shaken as those words hit him; sweat beginning to pour profusely upon his brow. With a shaky hand, he picked up a particular datapad and slid it over to her. Picking it up, she scanned it over and then looked at the General with an arched eyebrow. "Is this what I think it is?"
"I…um, I….yes. Captain Ven did manage to have a tracking device attached to the outer hull of the ship in case the worst happened, w…which it did. We would have sent ships in pursuit, but by the time word got to me, these outlaws were out of my reach to pursue."
"They may be out of your reach, General," she said, narrowing her eyes and dropping the pad back on the desk, "but not for the Emperor. His hand reaches farther than you could ever realize." Agent Jerda turned, having finished without another word and began to step outside, but paused and looked back at the General momentarily. "You have been most helpful, General. Thank you."
"A…and your report… to the Emperor?"
She said nothing, moving quickly out of the office and leaving General Steed sitting in silence, resigned to what images might now come into his mind.
Hushed whispers and the hum of electronics were all that could be heard in the corridor. Imperial officers seemed rather anxious, some even scurrying towards the walls or side chambers as the quartet made their slow progression forward to the Destroyer's docking bay. Two words heard most amongst those whispers as the officers stood and watched were "Bounty Hunters."
"How very pathetic," the former protocol droid, 4-LOM, remarked callously as he kept at an even stance beside his partner. "These people are supposed to be the 'best of the best', and yet they cower like scolded animals."
Zuckuss turned his head slightly towards the droid in response to the remark, but said nothing. Likewise, the other two hunters, a pairing of a Dashade and a diminutive but long-necked Phuii, competitors in this hunt, continued on as if they hadn't heard the comment. The Phuii, however, almost at an antithesis to the precision and complementary behavior of Zuckuss and 4-LOM, seemed to buzz about his far more serious master with an untamed enthusiasm.
"We're gonna gets it!" he chirped with a somewhat frog-like voice as he bobbed head and neck from side to side. "Gand and droid will be eatsin our exhaust. No one can beats the duo of Satoorn Fwee and Helt Darquc!"
At that last comment, the Dashade, towering over all the others by at least a foot, gave a guttural growl and raised his lips to reveal much more of his already naturally visible fangs, which sent the officers in that area fleeing and Satoorn into a somewhat pensive state as he revised his statement. "Whats I meant to says was Helt Darquc and Satoorn Fwee, yes… Master first befores his apprentice."
"Please," Zuckuss prodded, shaking his helmeted head. "Even with a Dashade assassin as a master, what chance do you two have against 4-LOM and the 'Uncanny One.'?"
The protocol droid clicked his head a bit, pausing in step before moving on. "I concur. Even with Helt Darquc's skill, the addition of the Phuii's incompetence to your equation greatly decreases the chance of your success. You currently have only a 35.67543 percent chance of obtaining the bounty over Zuckuss and myself, and a 43.55321 percent chance of success over our remaining competition."
Satoorn seemed to grow uneasy as heavy footsteps suddenly began to thunder behind them, coming up the corridor at an ever increasing speed, the source yet unseen. "M…m…master could beats him in his sleep. The T'surr no scares u…us!"
"Not to mention that artificial brain of yours seems to be degrading, scrap heap," Helt then commented in an almost animalistic growl. "Your calculations… are nothing! How hard could it certainly be to capture a decrepit Alderaanian Xenoarcheologist. For us it should be a simple task, though I'm sure for the two of you it must be quite a chore."
"Boast all you want, but Zuckuss shall be the victor."
The Dashade barked a quick laugh, accompanied in term by his apprentice in imitation soon after.
"I think the ammonia is affecting your head, Gand. You make such elaborate claims you in no way could defend, and you have a defective partner. A droid with an ego is not a good thing to have around. Perhaps you should have its memory wiped or just scrap it altogether and get something useful made of it."
As the two pairs continued to spar back and forth with competitive boasts, the heavy footsteps that were behind them drew closer until, finally, a monstrous beast in crimson armor appeared behind them and pushed Zuckuss and 4-LOM out of the way with one arm. Satoorn and Helt were likewise brushed aside with the other arm. The Phuii scurried up and was about to say something in protest, but his master quickly grabbed him and clamped his clawed hand over the little one's snout. The great T'surr glanced backwards momentarily, four red eyes glaring from an azure face that looked like a flash frozen Thermal Detonator blast.
"I dare you to say anything, vermin," he spat back at Satoorn. "I grow hungry for a fresh meal."
The four said nothing as they entered at last into the docking bay, yet all continually keeping their eyes on the T'surr, Karyk. His species were violent and voracious hunters, and surely he was no exception. The possibility still remained that while their backs were turned he'd kill them, despite the Bounty Hunter's code, to claim the hunt for himself. It was best to be cautious.
Within the matter of ten minutes, each had crossed the boarding platforms, entered, prepared, and then subsequently launched their ships from the Star Destroyer, first the Mist Hunter, then Helt's Void Prowler, and then Krayk's Razorfang.
The hunt for Professor Ardina was on.
A brief knock and the twin durasteel doors parted as Marikk strode slowly into the darkened second floor stateroom. Like the others not currently in possession by one of the members of his crew, it was sparsely yet stylishly decorated. A small table with two chairs sat closest to the door to the right, with a computer console on the wall next to it. The entrance to the 'fresher sat in the farthest corner of the room with the single bed laying a little away from that and opposite the front door. It was here that Professor Ardina lied, staring motionless at the stars through the viewport.
"Good day, professor, I apologize for that bit of a rough ride, but we had a few Imperial entanglements we were dealing with at the time." A grin upon his face, he grabbed a chair away from the table and pulled it towards the bed, sitting backwards upon it. "I hope you're enjoying the accommodations. It's not the Imperial Plaza on Coruscant, but it's still not bad. We try to make sure our guests are comfortable."
Professor Ardina sat up, fluffing his pillow and using it as a cushion against the wall as he leaned upon it. "Indeed, you all have been most kind to help a total stranger in his time of trouble. If there's anything I can do to repay you all…"
"Now now, your contact said he'd take care of all of the finances once we arrived on Tatooine."
"My contact?" A strange expression framed the elder man's face as he repeated the phrase slightly under his breath. "I… I'm sorry, but I don't know what you mean. I have no contact."
The Duro's brow furrowed as he began to flex his hands and locked eyes with Constantin. "You mean your not Villie's contact? You're not the guy who wanted passage off Brentaal to Tatooine."
"Well, I am a man who wanted passage off of Brentaal, but I'm afraid I don't know any person by the name of 'Villie.'"
"Well then, this is a fine twist of events," Marikk grumbled under his breath, scuffing his boot against the floor. "Should have figured someone with a title like 'professor' tacked to his name wouldn't be working for guys like that."
Ardina looked genuinely regretful as he leaned forward towards Captain Danar and placed a hand on his shoulder, "My truest apologies that I unknowingly deceived you when there was someone else in dire need of your help…"
"Eh, don't worry about it," he quipped, trying to force a smile onto his face. "He was probably just some low-life thug anyway, trying to save his skin for one crime or another."
"Ah, I see…"
There was a tense silence in the room for a few minutes as both seemed to glance away in opposite directions. It was Marikk, though, that spoke up first, trying to put on the best front of a courteous host he could. "Well then, professor, what business led you into such hot water with the Imps? What story do you have to tell?"
Removing the blanket from over his legs, Ardina revealed the intricately carved wooden box he had been carrying earlier, hugging it close to his body. It was an odd looking object. The wood was a dark color, so deeply red that it was nearly black, with cryptic images and some unknown language carved upon it, the indentations in the wood almost looking as if they had been scorched into it.
"Well, I serve as professor of Xenoarcheology for the University of Imperial Center and have done so for the past twenty-five years. I and an associate of mine, an Ithorian by the name of Dowan Modow, had been leading a dig of an old Clone Wars-era Separatist bunker a few kilometers from Oradin.
"As we were clearing away some of the debris in what I suspected was once the commander of the installation's quarters, I found a hidden hatchway beneath where the bunk had been. Within it were scattered pieces of equipment and a few weapons, nothing spectacular, but as I drew closer to the bottom I discovered this box and its most unique contents nestled away in one corner. On one of the old datapads that had been amongst the rubble I discovered the Commander's personal log and in it found some most interesting tidbits of information.
"Apparently this which I am now holding was discovered on Dantooine by scouts for the Confederacy early in the war and ferried off the planet shortly before their forces there were defeated by the Republic. It was transported here for safe keeping until it was to be transported to its intended owner, Count Dooku of Serenno. According to the Commander, something began to come over him and he coveted the device for himself. It would seem that, in his desire, he hid it away from all sight to keep as his own. However, not long after that, the planet was liberated by the Republic, the base destroyed, and this treasure lost in the dust of time."
The professor glanced down again at his lap, or more specifically, at the box, and ran a hand over its surface, caressing it. "Shortly after we found it, I filed the report of my… our discovery back to the University, and, the Imperials got wind of what we had found. They killed Dowan, shot him down in the street, and thus they began to pursue me and, well, I believe you know the story from there."
"Well, what is in there? What could you have found that it was so important it would have drawn the Imps out like that?"
"Here, allow me to show you." Flipping open the lid, the professor watched as Marikk's eye began to glow as he saw the blood red crystalline pyramid nestled against the inner fabric casing. Almost yearningly the Duros began to reach over and touch it, but the professor snapped the lid shut and pulled the box back close to him, almost pinching Marikk's fingers.
The captain shook his head and bowed his head slightly. "My apologies, professor, I… I don't know what came over me. I just felt this urge to… to touch it; to hold it."
"It seems as if the device has that effect." He relaxed a bit and let the box go from against his stomach ever so slightly. "What happened to the commander, happened to you, and so has happened to me. Sadly, before he died, it even caused Dr. Modow to get in a rather serious scuffle over it."
"What is that thing, professor?"
Thick mists swirled around his head and thoughts raced about his mind at the speed of light. Zuckuss took another breath, inhaling a small amount of ammonia but not releasing as he sat there in the pilot's chair, deep in meditation. He searched through the ever moving clouds of the future, using the ancient traditions and techniques of his kin Findsmen who came before him, searching for the information which he sought.
"3,540 respirations," 4-LOM stated as it worked away at the ship's controls. "Have you yet received intuition?"
He received no response as the Gand remained both silent and motionless. Being in hyperspace, he could more easily search the feelings and futures of countless people and places throughout the galaxy, but, more importantly, he could sense that of the one they sought. It was only a matter of time. Zuckuss, though his eyes were closed, could feel the droid's gaze observing him from behind as he continued to focus. It was odd, but he had the feeling that his partner was growing anxious.
Several more minutes passed, as did a few more respirations, when finally his eyes came into focus and he jumped to his feet. 4-LOM quickly came up behind him as the Gand's six fingers quickly entered new coordinates into the NAV computer. "Ardina is on Chandrila. He's in the hands of mercenaries."
4-LOM stood mostly motionless as he watched the Mist Hunter come out of hyperspace momentarily. "It is an impossibility that they know of the bounty. It is logical, therefore, to assume that he must be with them for protection."
"No matter," Zuckuss remarked with a smirk, "Zuckuss and 4-LOM will get him."
With but a moment's pause in the void, the bounty hunter's ship jumped once more into hyperspace, another ship appearing and disappearing between jumps to lightspeed in the exact same spot seconds after.
The repair bay was ripe with the noise of machinery and worker, droid and organic, as they all went about their assigned tasks and gathered whatever they needed to accomplish their work. Dormanin took a deep breath, taking in the odor of coolant, burnt ozone, grease and a thousand other different things, and let out a deep sigh. This was his element and he relished it in every form.
Hunching down through the doorway, he made his way slowly around equipment and scattered parts with the white-chassied Leda at his side and Loon moving cautiously behind them, holding up his robes and stepping carefully around any puddles or spills. The sight could only make him laugh.
In the center of the forward wall of the chamber, working at a control console and manipulating various mechanical arms and scanners in the outer bay where their ship resided stood a greasy little human in jumpsuit whose original color could no longer be determined. The man paused momentarily at his controls, coughed slightly and then ran his hand back through his oily black hair.
"Excuse me," Dormanin's translator bellowed, trying to be heard over the excess of noise. "Might you be Jo'eno."
"Yeh, what's it to ya," the man spat, making a disgusting slurp in his throat as he worked away at the controls. "Who wantsta know?"
"My name is Dormanin Vebis, chief engineer for the Nova Hound. I was just coming to check on the condition of the ship."
"Yeah, well ya must be a poor engineer if ya need guys like u…" As Jo'eno made to spin around and place a finger firmly in where a being his size's chest would have been, he stood slack jawed as he quickly glanced up at the Vurk towering over him, a grin upon its face which seem to contrast the scene. "…errr, rather, what I meant to say was, 'ello! Yea, I'm Jo'eno Finn, chief of bay operations. I was jus' completin' the last scans on your ship. You guys have certainly dinged up your old barg…er, fine craft quite a bit. Ya gonna need quite a bit of work on her."
As the computer let out a ringing buzz, the Jo'eno reached into a lower compartment on the console, withdrew a worn datapad and offered it to Dorm. He took the pad in hand and scrolled through it, eyes widening as he saw the scope of all they had determined needed repaired or replaced on the ship. "Oh dear."
Shuffling up to his side, Loon looked over Dorm's arm to the pad, just in time to catch a glimpse at the bottom of the list and the estimated price. "By the moons of Neimoidia! Are you out of your greasy little mind!? Do you think we're made out of credits!? No amount of work could be that much!"
"Yeah well, it is, slimo. Ya pay it or get outta my bay and let someone who will in."
Letting go of his robes, the half-Neimoidian seemed as if he were going to pounce on the mechanic, but Dorm quickly intervened, placing a hand on his Loon's mouth and pushing him back with one arm. The Vurk handed back the pad, a sympathetic look upon his face as he tried to smile.
"My apologies, Mr. Finn, but I am afraid my friend here can get a bit carried away. You know Neimoidians and credits after all. Anyway, what he meant to saywas, while we are appreciative of your help, we are afraid that your price is a bit too steep for our current budget. While I myself could do most of the labor and hopefully lower the price a bit, I am afraid that still would not be enough."
Jo'eno shifted over to Dorm, placed a hand over his mouth and motioned him down, then whispered into his ear. "Listen, ya seem like a nice guy, so I'll cut ya a break. We'll service the ship and at least get the hull stable for four thousand creds. Then, when we're finished, I'll give ya the name of a guy I know on Vaynai. He can probably get ya most of the parts for about a half to a quarter of the price if ya tell him I sent ya. Ya all just better not go handin' this information out. I got a business to run here too, ya know."
"We are most appreciative, sir," Dorm muttered, lowering the volume on his translator.
"Yeah, well don't be expectin' such favors from me too often." Turning back to his station, the man quickly returned to working steadily away at his station. "I'll transmit the coordinates once we finish business. Oh, and something else."
"What? What's wrong?"
"We found what we think is an Imperial tracking device on the bottom outer hull of your ship. I removed and disabled it for yas, free of charge."
Turning quickly, Loon wriggled from Dorm's grip and sprinted out of the bay towards the ship. "You all do what you need to finish, I'll go tell Marikk!"
With a nod, Dorm and Leda turned away as he made his way out, gathered around the console with Jo'eno and began to talk shop quietly amongst themselves.
With a lurch the civilian transport came to rest in its dock and a great rush of beings flooded through the airlock and dispersed across Chandrila station. Amongst them Mara Jade moved swiftly, covered all but face and feet by her black cloak, as she began her hunt for the ship. She felt both conspicuous and inconspicuous at the same time, pushing through the crowds to cover as much ground as she could as quickly as possible, looking around at what were uninteresting sites for typical tourists.
As she broke away from the crowds and down a much less busy corridor, she happened to come upon a small office whose doors were left open. Much to her joy, inside she found a working computer terminal and, after slicing through the station's security protocols, began to scan through the dock logs for ships that had arrived on the station within the past twenty-four standard hours. The list was of a moderate length, mostly transports and a few private yachts and bulk freighters, nothing that particularly caught her eye until, nearly at the bottom; she found an unregistered ship docked in Repair Bay 3. It wasn't this, though, that perked Mara's interest but the ship description: MODIFIED CORELLIAN ENGINEERING CORPORATION CONSULAR-CLASS CRUISER. This has to be them, Jade thought, pulling up a map of the station to find directions to that particular repair bay. There can't be that many old Republic ships docked around here. My master's prize will soon be in my grasp.
Mara stared intently at the screen for nearly a minute, burning into her mind the path with which she had devised to take to the ship. If all worked according to plan, she would sneak aboard, find Professor Ardina, and take from him what she sought. Whether he came out of the situation unscathed or not depended on how cooperative he was feeling. Secure in her plans, she executed one final measure of precaution and disabled the surveillance holos in that section of the station before logging out of the system. Quickly making sure the room was arranged the way it had been before she arrived, she made her way out and disappeared back into the corridor.
The path was smooth as she traveled, so to speak. Avoiding all contact with others, she stuck to the shadows as best she could in the mostly well lit corridors, sneaking past the station's crew, ducking through side passageways and, within a matter minutes, found herself close to the airlock where the ship was docked.
It was silent there in the hallway as she made her way to the wall-mounted control display and began her work. It was simple enough to slice through any security codes for the airlock, and she had gained access with little effort. A smirk of success and Mara pressed down on the control pad, watching as the hatch parted and revealed the shadowed entranceway to the mercenary ship. Cautiously, she reached out with the force to feel for any presence near the inside of the door, but thankfully found none.
However, as she began to slink inside the Nova Hound, both her sense of hearing and the Force sense detected an approaching presence from the direction of the main repair bay. Reaching out with her power, she manipulated the control console and closed the hatch doors, leaving her to move quickly in the darkness to remain undiscovered.
Marikk furrowed his brow and tapped his foot impatiently as he and Craeldo stood guard over the airlock entranceway to their ship. His cousin's report was ill-timed news; completely killing the feeling of triumph for what he thought was a well-executed escape. If the Imps had tracked them, it wouldn't be long before Star Destroyers or Bounty Hunters or who knew what else from a thousand dreadful imaginations might converge upon the system and take them. He had already gotten a hold of Obbeo who had returned within the last few minutes, and from what he heard Loon was now resting in his quarters, but Dorm and Leda were dawdling at some corner of the station or another, though they had said they would be there shortly.
"This is a fine mess," Craeldo muttered under his breath, leaning against the wall with arms crossed over his chest. "We can't seem to catch a break. If this Ardina isn't our guy, why not just leave him here and let him find his own way of escape."
There was nothing said in response, at least not at first. Nearly mimicking the Rodian's posture, the Captain rested in the doorway, staring down at his boots. "To be honest, I can't in good conscience do it. As much as we could lose off of this, I know I can't take the chance of letting the Empire getting their grubby little talons on him."
"Why do you say that? I can't see why they'd want him so badly unless he just crossed the wrong person or something."
"Well, he's carrying something that…" as the words began to slip from his mouth, Marikk noticed some movement out of the corner of his eye and a figure approaching from the inside of the ship.
"My apologies for interrupting," came Ardina's voice as he emerged from the darkness, "but I noticed a tenseness in the air on the ship and I was coming to see if there was anything wrong."
"The Imperials placed a tracker on us," the Captain said, frustration filling his words. "We're gonna have to make the run for Corellia as soon as the last two of our crew members get back."
"Corellia?" Craeldo inquired, cocking his head curiously. "Why are we heading there?"
"I have some family who resettled on Corellia shortly after Alderaan's destruction. I'll be hiding out with them until we can get in contact with the Rebellion, hoping that they can ferry me underground." Professor Ardina paused briefly and seemed to be staring at the ground but quickly recovered from whatever was going through his mind and stepped forward to place a hand upon Marikk's shoulder, a look of concern upon his face. "Is there anything I might be able to do to help in light of the current crises?"
The captain placed a comforting hand in return on Constantin's shoulder and smiled. "While I really appreciate the offer, it might be best if you went and locked yourself in your quarters. Did you take those precautions I told you about?"
"Yes, yes indeed. They are done."
"Very good. Now go get into a lockdown and I'll come get you when we arrive at our destination."
With a bow, the professor disappeared once more into the ship, Marikk eyeing him as he did so, a smile upon his face. "He really is a nice guy."
"Yeah, well, I hate to sound like Loon," Crae snorted, tapping his left boot against the wall, "but 'nice' doesn't pay the bills or prevent an Imperial bounty from getting slapped on us." In a bitter turn of events, the rather casual atmosphere they had been resting in was quickly replaced by the hissing 'whoompf' that echoed from the opposite end of the corridor. Before he could react, a small canister flew within a half a meter of his body, burst, wrapped him in a near instantaneously hardening spraynet, bound him and forced Craeldo to the ground in a near fetal position.
Reaching for his pistol, Marikk was greeted by a bolt of blaster fire that just about grazed his right hand. A pair of figures emerged from around the two corners of adjacent corridors, a Gand and an insectoid Protocol droid armed with Snare and Concussion Rifles respectively. Marikk raised his hands in the air and took a step forward from the doorway as he marched towards them, two beings that by both reputation and appearance he knew: the bounty hunters Zuckuss and 4-LOM.
