.
[FONT=Georgia]THE[/FONT] hull of the Fortunate Son was smooth and silver and shined brightly against the stars in the system. It let a sickly screech out as it came out of hyperspace, as if exhausted or relieved of the strain it’s hyperdrive systems were under.
The Captain too let out a sigh of relief. The bionic eye in the left socket shifted around as it scanned the area trying to spot if that son of a Hutt managed to follow him. He then secondarily checked the system scanners. A couple of chirps came from Zanker, his astromech droid. The Captain grimaced.
“Yeah, don’ I wish. Reckon we’d better get ta port ‘fer we run up dry.” He told the droid.
He could only hope his pursuer hadn’t made it from their last encounter…
TWO WEEKS AGO
[FONT=Georgia]The ‘Rig’ (Trader’s post HRRIG3955)[/FONT]
“I reckon so,” Captain Race ‘Raygun’ Ghent admitted.
Raygun wasn’t a fan of Anzati, they were ill-tempered and quick to pull a blaster if a deal went sour. Right now he was calm, but Grodo had a reputation as a psychopath. But Race had a reputation himself; they didn’t call him Raygun for nothing. He prided himself as the quickest draw in the quadrant, but it was just a lie really it wasn’t really possible to know.
“Well good.” The Anzati enforcer said in familiar Basic. “I don’t expect any troubles Ghent. At least you’d better hope not, because I will not be forgiving this time.”
“Yeah I gotcha Gro’ ain’t no need to be so threatenin,” This was of course Raygun’s way of feeding Grodo’s ego just so he never thought anymore of Race other than him being a simple ship captain.
As the Anzati walked out of the hangar bay Raygun Ghent thought about just firing a few into the Anzati’s back and walking out with his cargo. But he owed a few favors to Grodo’s bosses and they were the type of people you do not cross. Even if they deserved it. With Z2-KR followed close behind him, Raygun pulled a hand off his holster and walked up the plank of the Fortunate Son a Firespray-class vessel. He stopped by the holding cells on this level, the false walls hiding his precious cargo of firegems. If he managed to botch this job Zix would send Grodo and a few others after him; surely with a big fat price on his head.
He watched Grodo disappear in the tunnel before he finally boarded and finished the pre-flight check. The ‘Rig’ was his home away from home, well that is if there was a home for Race anymore. The aged spacer was Alderaanian by birth had nothing, but the Graveyard to remember his homeworld. But things like this didn’t bother someone of Raygun’s age, close to being 60 and spending a good portion of that in space he was used to not having solid ground to put his feet on. This was of course the way Race liked it; space was where he was at his best and being in the pilot’s chair was what he enjoyed most about it. Not what you would call a formidable combat pilot he still enjoyed the thrills of smuggling and all type of fringing alike. And after spending some much time on ships he’d acquired some useful mechanical skills too, able to fix whatever went wrong with his ‘heap’.
Yeah, all was well in the eyes of Captain Race ‘Raygun’ Ghent…
… at least for now.
Listening to the roar of the engines as they pushed for all they were worth, Master Vurvo Revrock was trying his best to get his hunter’s off his tail. The Devaronian Jedi Master’s X-Wing wasn’t much help in it’s current state, those hunting him had better equipped ships, and they had taken his only advantage in speed when he took a nasty hit triangulated between the trio of freighters on his tail.
“Sithspawn..” He spat as another blow struck the shields and alarms sounded again.
He looked over the display that was reading a less than 10% in shields which were pushed completely to the rear as he tried to distance himself, and that his last torpedo was dead in the sleeve. He never liked flying much anyways. He flicked the comm. switch upon realizing he was being hailed and threw the headset on rather carelessly, it didn’t quite fit his head since it was made for the human he’d bought the fighter from. Hanging off on, he made a sharp maneuver and it was tossed off. Cursing under his breath he pulled the plug from the console and the voice filled the canopy.
“I say again give it up Jedi, we’ve got you cornered. If you fly into the Graveyard it’ll be suicide.” The voice was condescending and judging from the chuckles he heard in the background the Devaronian Jedi Master gathered that his hunting party was rather confident the chase was over.
“Jedi?” Revrock responded sounding baffled. “I’m a simple spiritualist! I’m of the Libitur Dei denomination. I have done nothing to earn your ire, please let me go in peace!” This was of course a lie on Revrock’s part, but they couldn’t have been sure that he was a Jedi, he hadn’t been flashing a saber about and wasn’t one to wear the robes of old. His hopes of them believing this deception were somewhat tarnished when the Voice muttered back some sort of phrase. “Teedo be sey moome?” It was Rodese of that Revrock was sure and coming out of the Rodian system he knew it was some sort of phrase a Libitur Dei (it’s foundation were solid in that system) follower used, he cursed again under his breath. If only he was close he could find the answer in the speaker’s mind.
“Alright so I’m not religious, that does not mean I am a Jedi.” Vurvo retorted. He was looking at the Alderaan graveyard wishing that a planet still existed there. Why he’d been drawn to this planet he still did not know. The Force was often mysterious in its clandestine-wordless-and-sometime-annoyingly cryptic leads.
“Nice try Jedi, but the bounty’s big enough on your head to make sure you aren’t you we think you are. Dock and we won’t kill you, your worth even more alive, but enough dead.” The voice revealed. Whoever, whatever the speaker was he meant business. The Jedi Master had no doubt that they would send him to oneness with the Force without a second thought, but Revrock had other plans.
He yanked hard on the control yoke going into a barrel roll and pulled up straightening now in a different firing vector. With all the chit chat he was sure they had lined up their shots for his previous position. Shoving the throttle to full thrust, alarm claxons blared a warning of over exertion on part of the engines. He paid them no mind. Instead he just pushed them for they had left and entered into the flurry of asteroids and junk that was Alderaan’s remains. He darted back and forth slowing his speed as rock after rock slammed against the battered hull of his fighter. When finally he found what he was searching for as missiles as if on cue to the Jedi Master’s plan exploded in his wake. Numerous explosions rocked the field as his hunters gathered at the edge hoping for that miracle shot. And then an explosion came and only wreckage was left behind.
Their scanners combed over the field two dozen times and one even ventured far enough in to earn a scar on the hull before they backed off and departed into hyperspace. The Graveyard seemed lifeless now, the souls of thousands of murdered residents piquing the hidden Jedi Master’s senses.
He was certain the coast was clear now, make sure they hadn’t left behind probe droids to search him out or record any footage and broke away from the asteroid. Having attached his fighter to it – one of the oldest piloting tricks in the book – he was surprised they hadn’t anticipated this.
Not one to push his luck Revrock jumped to hyperspace with great haste.
There was someone waiting for him at his next destination and this time they didn’t want to kill him…
…at least for now.
[FONT=Georgia]THE[/FONT] hull of the Fortunate Son was smooth and silver and shined brightly against the stars in the system. It let a sickly screech out as it came out of hyperspace, as if exhausted or relieved of the strain it’s hyperdrive systems were under.
The Captain too let out a sigh of relief. The bionic eye in the left socket shifted around as it scanned the area trying to spot if that son of a Hutt managed to follow him. He then secondarily checked the system scanners. A couple of chirps came from Zanker, his astromech droid. The Captain grimaced.
“Yeah, don’ I wish. Reckon we’d better get ta port ‘fer we run up dry.” He told the droid.
He could only hope his pursuer hadn’t made it from their last encounter…
**
TWO WEEKS AGO
[FONT=Georgia]The ‘Rig’ (Trader’s post HRRIG3955)[/FONT]
“I reckon so,” Captain Race ‘Raygun’ Ghent admitted.
Raygun wasn’t a fan of Anzati, they were ill-tempered and quick to pull a blaster if a deal went sour. Right now he was calm, but Grodo had a reputation as a psychopath. But Race had a reputation himself; they didn’t call him Raygun for nothing. He prided himself as the quickest draw in the quadrant, but it was just a lie really it wasn’t really possible to know.
“Well good.” The Anzati enforcer said in familiar Basic. “I don’t expect any troubles Ghent. At least you’d better hope not, because I will not be forgiving this time.”
“Yeah I gotcha Gro’ ain’t no need to be so threatenin,” This was of course Raygun’s way of feeding Grodo’s ego just so he never thought anymore of Race other than him being a simple ship captain.
As the Anzati walked out of the hangar bay Raygun Ghent thought about just firing a few into the Anzati’s back and walking out with his cargo. But he owed a few favors to Grodo’s bosses and they were the type of people you do not cross. Even if they deserved it. With Z2-KR followed close behind him, Raygun pulled a hand off his holster and walked up the plank of the Fortunate Son a Firespray-class vessel. He stopped by the holding cells on this level, the false walls hiding his precious cargo of firegems. If he managed to botch this job Zix would send Grodo and a few others after him; surely with a big fat price on his head.
He watched Grodo disappear in the tunnel before he finally boarded and finished the pre-flight check. The ‘Rig’ was his home away from home, well that is if there was a home for Race anymore. The aged spacer was Alderaanian by birth had nothing, but the Graveyard to remember his homeworld. But things like this didn’t bother someone of Raygun’s age, close to being 60 and spending a good portion of that in space he was used to not having solid ground to put his feet on. This was of course the way Race liked it; space was where he was at his best and being in the pilot’s chair was what he enjoyed most about it. Not what you would call a formidable combat pilot he still enjoyed the thrills of smuggling and all type of fringing alike. And after spending some much time on ships he’d acquired some useful mechanical skills too, able to fix whatever went wrong with his ‘heap’.
Yeah, all was well in the eyes of Captain Race ‘Raygun’ Ghent…
… at least for now.
**
Listening to the roar of the engines as they pushed for all they were worth, Master Vurvo Revrock was trying his best to get his hunter’s off his tail. The Devaronian Jedi Master’s X-Wing wasn’t much help in it’s current state, those hunting him had better equipped ships, and they had taken his only advantage in speed when he took a nasty hit triangulated between the trio of freighters on his tail.
“Sithspawn..” He spat as another blow struck the shields and alarms sounded again.
He looked over the display that was reading a less than 10% in shields which were pushed completely to the rear as he tried to distance himself, and that his last torpedo was dead in the sleeve. He never liked flying much anyways. He flicked the comm. switch upon realizing he was being hailed and threw the headset on rather carelessly, it didn’t quite fit his head since it was made for the human he’d bought the fighter from. Hanging off on, he made a sharp maneuver and it was tossed off. Cursing under his breath he pulled the plug from the console and the voice filled the canopy.
“I say again give it up Jedi, we’ve got you cornered. If you fly into the Graveyard it’ll be suicide.” The voice was condescending and judging from the chuckles he heard in the background the Devaronian Jedi Master gathered that his hunting party was rather confident the chase was over.
“Jedi?” Revrock responded sounding baffled. “I’m a simple spiritualist! I’m of the Libitur Dei denomination. I have done nothing to earn your ire, please let me go in peace!” This was of course a lie on Revrock’s part, but they couldn’t have been sure that he was a Jedi, he hadn’t been flashing a saber about and wasn’t one to wear the robes of old. His hopes of them believing this deception were somewhat tarnished when the Voice muttered back some sort of phrase. “Teedo be sey moome?” It was Rodese of that Revrock was sure and coming out of the Rodian system he knew it was some sort of phrase a Libitur Dei (it’s foundation were solid in that system) follower used, he cursed again under his breath. If only he was close he could find the answer in the speaker’s mind.
“Alright so I’m not religious, that does not mean I am a Jedi.” Vurvo retorted. He was looking at the Alderaan graveyard wishing that a planet still existed there. Why he’d been drawn to this planet he still did not know. The Force was often mysterious in its clandestine-wordless-and-sometime-annoyingly cryptic leads.
“Nice try Jedi, but the bounty’s big enough on your head to make sure you aren’t you we think you are. Dock and we won’t kill you, your worth even more alive, but enough dead.” The voice revealed. Whoever, whatever the speaker was he meant business. The Jedi Master had no doubt that they would send him to oneness with the Force without a second thought, but Revrock had other plans.
He yanked hard on the control yoke going into a barrel roll and pulled up straightening now in a different firing vector. With all the chit chat he was sure they had lined up their shots for his previous position. Shoving the throttle to full thrust, alarm claxons blared a warning of over exertion on part of the engines. He paid them no mind. Instead he just pushed them for they had left and entered into the flurry of asteroids and junk that was Alderaan’s remains. He darted back and forth slowing his speed as rock after rock slammed against the battered hull of his fighter. When finally he found what he was searching for as missiles as if on cue to the Jedi Master’s plan exploded in his wake. Numerous explosions rocked the field as his hunters gathered at the edge hoping for that miracle shot. And then an explosion came and only wreckage was left behind.
Their scanners combed over the field two dozen times and one even ventured far enough in to earn a scar on the hull before they backed off and departed into hyperspace. The Graveyard seemed lifeless now, the souls of thousands of murdered residents piquing the hidden Jedi Master’s senses.
He was certain the coast was clear now, make sure they hadn’t left behind probe droids to search him out or record any footage and broke away from the asteroid. Having attached his fighter to it – one of the oldest piloting tricks in the book – he was surprised they hadn’t anticipated this.
Not one to push his luck Revrock jumped to hyperspace with great haste.
There was someone waiting for him at his next destination and this time they didn’t want to kill him…
…at least for now.