Setting: Eight or Nine years before now.
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"Son of a Bitch!" Kach screamed, throwing down the hydrospanner. "This damned thing won't go on!"

"What is it?" Jesh shouted distantly from inside the ship.

"The Compensators for the Tractor Beam. I'm trying to set it so I can reverse the polarity, but the damn Compensators won't hook up to the generator anymore. We'd need an expert programmer to fix this, somebody too expensive for us to hire."

"That bad, huh?"

But of course Jesh knew how bad it was. They had both known the risks to adding an optional setting to reverse the Tractor Beams polarity and both had decided to go for it. It was just, that now, the damn thing wouldn't work. Sure, they still had the other one, but the rear Tractor Beam couldn't cover the front or flanks of the ship.

Kach pulled himself out from the cramped maitinence hatchway. He had been down their two hours with nothing to show, and on top of that while pulling himself up he pinched a nerve in his neck.

"Son of a Bitch!" he cried out, grimacing from the sudden pain.

"What now?" Jesh asked, emerging from his cramped "room" on the ships Starboard side. In his hand was a Plasma Torch, the source of an ozonish kind of smell that began circulating around the central hallway. "Well, what?"

"Ah, nothing. Just disappointed. All that time spent for nothing."

"Yeah, well, you know... Hey where you going?" he asked. Kach had begun walking down the ships access ramp.

"I don't really know where, but I do know what. I'm getting a drink."

"No. We agreed on the price beforehand, remember? Or is your cranium too full of
vacuum to understand that?"

The Trandoshen snarled out a response in his own language, apparently not appreciating the reference to his intelligence. Sylva Knight shrugged.

"You can take it or leave it. I don't care, as long as its at the promised price. Running these types of weapons isn't the easiest thing in the universe."

Another response, this time harsher.

"Fine. In that case, I'll go ahead and leave. I'm sure there's someone else out there who wouldn't mind such advanced technology."

The alien was practically screaming at her now.

"Oh, your boss wouldn't like that? I'm terribly sorry for you."

He rushed at her, intent on taking her throat in a pincher grip in his blind rage, but to no avail. As he neared her, Sylva slipped to the side, stuck out a foot that caused him to stumble, and pinned his throat to the wall with her right hand. He let out a few choaking, unitteligible words before collasping to the ground. She let go with a snort of digust and moved quickly out of the dark room, into a busy hall. People should at least have the sense to hire competent thugs.

"I see you took out Rashi. Impressive."

Sylva glanced up to see a tall human male matching her stride along the crowded corridor. He smiled, a malicious grin that plastered the cruel face into an even more hideous mask.

"I'm here to pick up Dainl's cargo."

"At the same price the trandoshen offered?" she retorted, quickening her pace ever so slightly.

"Of course." He kept up with her easily and quickly grabbed her left arm in a claw-like grip, guiding her toward a dimly lit bar. "Let's talk in here, shall we? Don't want to attract too much attention."

She only cast him a single annoyed glance before going along, silently fuming. A good day this is turning out to be.

Kach had visited three other, more upscale (at least as upscale got on a spacestation ran by Smugglers) before finally walking into a dark, grungy saloon called The Den of Thieves . It's dim lighting and secretive atmosphere made it the perfect place for Smugglers to conduct their "business" dealings or for one to go if they wanted to be left alone.

The interior was roughly rectangular with a bar in front of the rear wall. Behind the counter was a Bumbling Nemodian cleaning glasses, and further back in the Kitchen he could see a large, green Verpine cooking something on a hot stove. Seated at the bar were a few patrons: An Aqualish, another Verpine, and a pair of blue Humanoids.

As opposed to sitting down at the bar, which was dangerous since his back would be facing the door and anyone could take an easy shot at him, he settled himself into a corner booth along the same wall as the entrance. A few moments after sitting down, a blue tinted minifugure from a hidden holoprojector appeared in front of him to get his order.

"What can I get you to drink sir?" It was the Nemodian.

"Umm, Can you get me some Corellian Fire Ale? A recent vintage, if possible," he asked politely.

"Yes sir."

A few moments later, a small door slid open in front of him in the table’s center and a shot glass of the spicy ale rose out in front of him. Already its noxious but sweet scent was beginning to permeate the air around him.

He drank it in a single gulp, the ale burning all the way down. Disgusting stuff, really. It was something you had to aquire a taste for, but apparently his taste for it was wearing off...

"Hey, You!" someone shouted. The shout came from the entrance. A pair of Rodian Bounty Hunters were walking towards him, blasters in hand, when he looked up. "Yeah, you!"

"Yeah, what?"

"Put both your hands on the table, and they better come up clean. We don't want it to get messy, do we?"

"Alright, alright," he answered. He put his hands on the table just like the Rodian had told him to. They were empty.

"Now," he asked, "just what do you want?"

In response, the two bounty hunters lifted up their blaster rifles and changed their settings from "stun" to "kill."

"Uh-oh, I have a really bad feeling about this."

Sylva had taken almost as much as she could stand. The man didn't seem to have an end to his available breath for speaking, and he was starting to repeat himself. She had remained silent throughout the entire episode, except for the occasional "no." As of now she was simply fingering the mostly-full glass that held a mild wine. She wasn't much for getting drunk and losing her senses. The man, on the other hand, had collected over five tankards on the table space in front of him. All were, incidentally, empty.

"Sho wadya say?" His speech was hopelessy slurred, and Sylva decided that if he wasn't going to end it himself, she would have to do it for him. Leaning in over the table, she whispered a quiet yes. He leaned forward as well, a sudden leer crossing his face, at least until her right hand whipped out from under the table and caught his throat. She found the pressure point just below and behind the ears easily and squeezed with two fingers. There was a slight pop. Letting go in disgust, Sylva leaned back in the booth as the disconnected head rolled to the side, still attached to the neck by skin and muscle, and the body fell over. Idiot.

Turning around in the booth, she leaned up against the wall and put her feet up, sipping a little from the glass and looking around the room. No one had noticed herself and the thug; they were too far back in the shadows. That was good. The less attention she accquired the better. She relaxed somewhat after giving every patron of the saloon a thorough once-over, but quickly glanced again as two Rodians stood and began yelling at a man in a corner booth. Other customers as well as the bartender didn't give them a second glance, even when two blaster rifles were produced. To Sylva the situation became quickly clear. Two weapons against none. The guy was helpless.

Sylva considered the situation as she took another sip of the wine. She usually wasn't given to helping people, but this was just a little unfair. They hadn't even given him a chance to fight. At last she set the glass on the table, casually drew her hand blaster, and squeezed off two shots. They flew across the room straight into the backs of the bounty hunters. Mission accomplished. With just as much unconcernation, she holstered the blaster and turned back to her drink, hoping she wouldn't regret having done that. Sometimes it paid to stay out of other beings business. And sometimes it paid to buy in. One never knew until one tried it.

Watching the two blasters swing towards him, Kach slouched down. This gesture, one most would take as him submitting to them or being scared, actually was to put him into a position where he could flip over the table, giving him time to draw his blaster and put a pair of wholes in each Bounty Hunters head. He had just gotten ready to flip the table when WHAM! A pair of blaster bolts shot out from a darkined corner of the room, each hitting a Rodian square in the back.

Thinking the bolts were meant for him, he flipped the table anyway, though it was unlikely to do him much good.

When he looked up, all eyes were on him, including the pair of a slip woman on the other side of the room. In her right had was a smoking blaser of a rather late model. The weapon that possibly just saved his life.

The man was staring at her with a mixture of astonishment and suspicion, and he certainly had a right to. Perhaps she would shoot him now that the Rodians were out of the way, or perhaps she would turn away and not give him a second thought. He had no idea, and at the moment, she didn't either. Then an idea sparked in her brain.

She waited until interest in the man had worn off somehow before raising a hand and gesturing him to come over. He gave her a look of puzzled suspicion (which she had expected) so she moved both empty hands to the top of the table in an exaggerated motion and gestured again with a jerk of her head. All of those weapons were just sitting in the hold of the Starwind, gathering dust. If this guy would buy them, more power to him. If he wouldn't...well, she could always find out exactly what reward the Rodians were hoping to cash in on and take it herself.

The woman led him to the cargo hold of her battered but well cared for YT-2000 transport, revelaing to him a treasure trove of weapons and illegal systems. Gathering dust in the decently sized hanger were late model blasters, Proton Torpedos and their launchers, illigal high-strength sensor systems, and a nearly complete (though crated) Skipray Blastboat. The sight of these things nearly made Kach want to drool.

There must be at least 50,000 credits worth of weaponry in here, but he didn't have nearly that many.

"I'll give you 10,000 credits for the whole lot he offered." It was prettly hopeless, as she knew all the weapons value. But chances were most of the weapons were "hot" anyways, so she might be eager to get rid of them.

"Oh, and by the way, can I have a name?"

3/10ths of a light year from their designated target, the crew of the Vendetta were running through their pre-combat checks, prepairing her for the challenge ahead. Every man had a task, and every one of them knew their duty. The bridge was a bustle of activity, just like the rest of the ship was.

Just thinking about what was going to happen was enough to make Prince Gorma smile.

The attack on the seemingly asteroid was so much more than a petty raid. It was the first step in restoring Black Sun to its former glory. This was the beginning, the first step in its return to power.

Today would be a day he would long remember.

Sylva snorted and crossed her arms, eyeing him with a look of pure disbelief. "You must be kidding. That's less than I got offered by the people who actually ordered this stuff." She gestured behind him. "You can find their agents dead somewhere back there. I don't take kindly to threats, you see."

She watched as his eyes widened slightly, then reached for a switch that slammed the cargo door down. Turning on her heel, she walked briskly down the ramp, considering the issue closed. The man, on the other hand, apparently didn't get the message.

"Hold on a minute." She turned around at the bottom of the ramp and raised her eyebrows questioningly. "That's all I have. And you still haven't told me your name." Sylva crossed her arms impatiently, automatically flexing her organic hand. "One crate of those proton torpedoes is worth 15,000. And one launcher is 20,000. The only things you might even remotely wish to spend so little on would be the blasters. Ten of those is 5,000, and even that's pushing it. As for my name, I don't know yours, and therefore find no reason to trust you. On the other hand, you could easily find out. They call me Knight."

Well, he didn't blaim her for that, that's probably what he'd do too in that situation.

But he really wanted that Skipray, at least... But he didn't have the credits for what she was asking for unless he dipped deep into his reserves.

"Wait..." he said, not quite desperitly,"I can give you 100,000 for the Skipray..."