Open Orbit

"Alright, I'm taking her in." *Said Jaid as he angled the ship towards the coordinates designated to them for landing. The cruiser dropped into the clouds and headed towards the landing zone.*

*The L19 freighter Cheveyo falls out of hyperspace near the gravitational pull of Mon Calamari.*

*Aboard the vessel, Priya had staked a claim on the common area, lounging on the sofa in naught but her bodyglove with one bare foot curled beneath her and various pieces to her power armor scattered about. She currently held one of her leg plates in her hand, carefully cleaning around its delicate circuitry. The Mirialan's outrageous purple hair was still damp from having freshened up herself, enjoying the luxury of the real water shower that Pago's fine ship boasted.

It nearly took her the entire length of the trip to clean the fine grains of sand from out of her armor, and inwardly, she was cursing the task. There were far more interesting things that had happened on Tatooine than getting a little dirt in her wires, and there was no denying she would much rather have been using this time to handle said interesting things. With a certain interesting Jedi. She had not made another move on him since he had drawn her into that steamy embrace, not for a lack of want but for a lack of opportunity.

Oh hell, Priya, you're lying to yourself. There is always opportunity, and you've never failed to find it before. Truth was, she had never felt so awkward and clumsy around anyone. He made her forget her own words, made her feel like she was brand new to the game. She could feel the tension between them, and though a lot of it was due to sheer physical attraction, a fekking hell of a lot, at least part of it was due to their butting heads, earlier. They had a different way of doing things, and Priya was still feeling a little put out that her mark, whom she KNEW she had laid eyes on first (unwritten code of bounty hunters, he who saw it first, got first dibs), was still being delivered to the authorities instead of to the Hutt whom hired her.

And here they were, doing exactly what Pago wanted. Bah, Priya girl, you're going to let yourself get pushed around by a pair of dark, dreamy eyes? A warm mouth that was gentle and rough? Hands that could...ah, kriff. You've got it bad.

Bad enough that you've cleaned this same circuitboard four times while your mind was wandering.

Fek.*

The trip to Mon Calamari had been strangely quiet. After the emotionally charged moments in their departure from Tatooine, Pago and Priya had almost ... avoided one another in a sense.

Maybe that was a bad word for it, Pago thought. She had seemed caught up in doing her own work, leaving Pago to help Val with taking care of the ship. He was used to it, in all honesty: spending time tinkering on his Headhunter, the Blue Oak, was a relaxing experience as it were. Helped him take his mind off of things. Like what she would have felt like against him had that damned armor not been in the way ...

" Distracted Mister Pago?"

The bounty hunter looked over to his Squib companion, tilting his head inquisitively at her. Val's ears drooped a bit even as her whiskers twitched as she looked him over, fiddling with some sort of contraption in her paws at the same time.

" Not at all, Val."

" Val does not think so. Val thinks there's a reason Mister Pago has adjusted the same bolt seven and a half times, you bet."

He stopped and looked at what his hands were doing. Sure enough, Val was right: she never missed details like that. The little ticks and quirks of his ... She picked up on them far more often than he did.

" I suppose I have ..."

" Does ... Does Mister Pago have something on the mind?"

" It's okay, Val," he reassured her as he pulled himself out from under the fighter's fuselage, grabbing his gloves and slipping them back on.

" Just a bit ... I'm not sure."

That was a familiar sensation, he thought. Being unsure. There were times where Val had noted that he simply stared off into space sometimes, zoning out the entire world. He couldn't right tell what it was. It was always this sensation as if he had forgotten something ... Something important. However, the longer he mused on it the more he became completely aware of the fact that everything was still alright. And then there were the dreams ...

Of fire and war. Of a life he was sure he was his own, but deeds and places he didn't quite remember doing or visiting.

But then again, dreams were dreams.

" Is it because of Pretty Metal Lady ..?"

Pago smiled. He supposed that Priya had certainly been a "distraction" of sorts. Then again, he wasn't quite complaining about that.

" You could say that," he offered with a grin, moving to leave the hangar bay and patting the small Squib on the head as he passed.

Val's ears popped up happily at the attention before getting back to work, adjusting the power levels on a sonic weapon, it appeared. Still, she worried as she watched her friend and savior leave. What if Priya distracted him just a bit more than was safe ..?

The crew of the Cheveyo were still waiting for their Republic contact as Pago came through the main hold, spying the "Pretty Metal Lady" still checking over her armor. He smiled in amusement.

" How's your side feeling?" he asked, referring to the knife wound she had sustained in Mos Eisley. He'd been stabbed enough times to know that it was not a pleasant experience, not in the least.

" We've got the ship stocked with medical supplies, you should know to help yourself by now, yeah?"

He was a bit concerned for her. Priya certainly seemed strong willed ... Almost stubborn, in a sense. Pago just hoped that that stubbornness wouldn't lead to her being injured again ... Or worse. He'd been that way himself, before meeting Val: he knew what it was like to strike out on your own, to fight and bleed and laugh at the stars for any misfortune that befell you, because you were the only way you were surviving. Nobody else was coming, not ever.

Thank the Force I met Val when I did, Pago silently blessed himself, Or I'd've been dead long ago.

*Priya glanced up sharply at the sound of his voice. Obviously, she had been a million miles away, but her violet eyes immediately focused. She lifted her arm and rotated her shoulder, testing the movement on her injured side.*

"...Little stiff. Feels alright. Already removed the bacta patch."

*She began to methodically reassemble her armor, beginning with her leg plates and locking them onto her armored boots. She snorted a laugh.*

"Stop staring at me with that look on your face. I'm not going to shatter into pieces from a little scratch."

*She slapped on her bracers, one after the other, before picking up her chest piece, sliding it securely over her abdominal armor. The tension was there again. She was consciously aware of every move he made, every look he gave her. And because she was so intensely aware, she could also sense that something was bothering him. She hoped it wasn't her. That thought sent a vein of ice running through her overheated blood.*

"...Everything alright with you, Cowboy?"

*Hadn't gone and changed his mind, now, had he?*

*Hearing that they were going to do a customs check gave "Dirk" a bit of a start, but he held fast, and remained calm.*

"So what we gonna do when them squid-heads come snooping around? According to you, this place was cut, dried, and ready for market. I seriously hope you have some magical way to hide a transport full of mercenaries all while trying to appear like a merchant vessel..."

*Thinking about trying to appear as something you're not, he decided to come clean. Dropping the fake accent, he tells his tale.*

"On the note of being sneaky about who you are, I suppose I should tell you, my employer, of all people that I have a little secret. My name is really Karbo Rohn, and I am an escaped slave from the pits of Orvax IV. Born a slave to a slave mother to an unknown father, my mother was ripped away from me when I was 5 years old. Since I managed to escape 11 years ago, I have been freeing slaves as I find them, and bringing their owners a bit of hard justice. Usually I bring justice to them at the end of my barrel, but hey, justice is justice. And the Force knows that slaves haven't been given an ounce of justice the entire time of their use. Owing someone a favor and getting them to do something to pay it back is one thing, but what did I ever owe these slavers? I was merely born to a slave mother."

*At this point, he rollls his sleeve up to reveal his slave code, badly scarred over, but still clearly discernable as a slave mark.*

"Now that you know that, I think it's time to let spill this master plan of yours BEFORE we get on the ground."

"...Everything alright with you, Cowboy?"

*Hadn't gone and changed his mind, now, had he?*

Damnit, was I staring off again ...!?

" I'm good, Sweetheart. Just hoping you don't keel over on me," he teased playfully.

Damn. He wondered just what precisely she had noticed. Nothing escaped her eye, apparently. Now it was just a matter of finding out what she saw without drawing too much attention to the fact.

Ah, but there was the way she looked over him too. It almost made him a bit self-conscious ... Like she was studying him. A hunter marking her prey, eh? But no, that wasn't it ... There was something more to her look.

Concern ...?

" It's honestly nothing," he reassured her, waving a wand dismissively as if to brush the troubles aside.

" Just ... thinking ..."

Pago trailed off a bit, being forced to shake his head a smidge to clear himself up.

" Wondering when our Republic friends are going to arrive. They're always fashionably late," he lamented.

Light conversation, hm, Pago?

Of course there were other things he wanted to discuss ... And do, for that matter. Seeing her with just the bodyglove on before she suited up again, her hair still retaining the sheen of slight dampness ... Well, there were some less-than-pure thoughts that had crossed his interest, that was for sure. But in the way he had left Tatooine, he wasn't really sure how to approach her, intriguing as she was.

Desire was a funny thing.

" Care to join me in the cockpit, Darlin'? Our pay'll be arriving any minute now, that it should."

*Ah, so, whatever it was, he was not wanting to share it. She let it drop, allowing her eyes to fall away as she leaned to one side, securing the last clasps of her armor and locking it in place. She reached for her helmet and tucked it under one arm as she rose.*

"Of course."

*She closed the distance between them, pausing briefly as she stood toe to toe with him. Her face was tilted up, as though in invitation, but before either of them could act on it, she broke the moment by continuing around him towards the cockpit. Business first. Succumb later.

She spun the co-pilot's seat before falling into it, as she did habitually.*

"Your friends aren't going to object to me being around, are they?"

*It was a genuine concern. Hope her face had not been on any 'most wanted' data holos lately.*

" If they object to you, they'll have to take it up with me first."

There was no playfulness about that statement as Pago sat in his chair beside Priya, looking over at her with a brief nod of affirmation.

" And they don't want to take it up with me."

The Republic had questioned him before on his methods, once.

Once.

Still, he was sure they wouldn't have any reason to object to Priya being there. For as good as it was on the outside, the Republic still had its price. What that was, Pago hadn't learned yet. Still, he knew it was there: when it came to dealing with a colossal government, the wayward Knight knew that handling the small fries that turned the gears was much easier.

It had not escaped his notice how Priya had led him on a bit back in the hold. Tease, he mused happily to himself. It certainly had taken them quite a bit of willpower in the past few hours to not simply throw each other into one of the available rooms. Hell, not like they even needed a room to begin with.

Still, her comment did cause a few wheels to begin spinning in his head as he pondered.

" On a similar note, should I be expecting any trouble?" he asked, though it was clear he was more joking than anything else.

Still, the way his eyebrow raised to her was indicative that he at least wanted a semblance of an answer. Knowing The Republic's stance on his new friend before dealing with them would be a huge advantage.

Especially considering they were attempting to trade a spice dealer for a kriff-ton of spice, to give to a Hutt.

Not that the Brass needed to know that.

*She blinked in surprise at the hardness in his tone. It was almost...protective? She wasn't sure. For some reason, it made her feel good. When was the last time she had someone watching her back, for a reason other than to aim a lasbolt into the center of it? Curious man, this Jedi of the Republic.

His raised eyebrow made one corner of her mouth lift in a sheepish, crooked grin, and she scratched her tattooed cheek.*

"Well...ah."

*Finally, she gave a helpless lift of her shoulders, spreading her gloved hands.*

"I can't imagine I'm off the record books, yet, but I've been low under the radar for a few years, now. I'm sure it'll be fine."

*She turned to face the viewport, bracing one foot against the console so she could lean back in her seat. She folded her arms firmly and chewed on her lower lip.*

"...I think it'll be fine."

*Heading out into space, the mandalorian finally gets his ship towards the hyperspace lanes, then jumps away.*

*a YT-2400 out of hyperspace and flies down toward Foawander City.*

" You think ..?"

Any further statement following that question was lost as the IFF on the Cheveyo pinged. The viewport was suddenly filled by a small Republic Warship drifting slowly towards the light freighter. Small, however, was perhaps just in the eye of the beholder: the vertical segment of the bow alone dwarfed the L19 immensely.

" Ah, I believe these are our friends ..."

:: Freighter Cheveyo, we have you on our scopes. This is the Corona-Class Frigate Dawning Dream. Captain Yuri Fjol speaking. ::

:: Dawning Dream, this is Pago Julastra aboard the Cheveyo. Permission to come aboard? ::

:: Permission granted. The hangar is being lit up for you. ::

A double-click on the comm band was all the affirmative that was needed as Pago put the ship into flight towards the frigate.

" Gotta love Republic stiffs," Pago laughed, giving Lita a pat on the thigh then jerking a thumb towards the back.

" Mind checkin' on Valen for us? Make sure the glitbiter is still alive so we can get some pay and some answers?" Mind checkin' on Valen for us? Make sure the glitbiter is still alive so we can get some pay and some answers?

*Reflexively quick, Priya made a grab for his hand just as it made contact with her leg armor, then shot him a grin as she released it. Friendly was friendly, but those hands were dangerous. She pushed out of the seat and pulled her helmet over her head as she left the cockpit, tucking her hair up beneath it.*

"Don't you worry about a thing, I'll get our Sleeping Beauty ready for the ball on time."

*In the cargo hold, Priya activated the door panel that would open the emergency food storage compartment, one hand placed against her armored hip as she leaned forward on her elbow with an arrogant sensousness. She purred through her helm, the blue eyeslits piercing the dim storage facility.*

"Wakey wakey, eggs and bacey."

*A flurry of curses and threats had her grin broadening as she slid Glen Valen out of the closet-like space and then forcing the man on his feet. The string of words stopped, briefly, as the small man was undoubtedly fighting off a bad case of nausea. She pulled at the cuffs around his wrists, double-checking their security.*

"Yeah, those darts'll make you sick every time. It'll wear off in a day. 'Course, if you're nice, the badges that take ya will probably give you something to make it tolerable. They're a fair bit softer than Hutts."

*She wasn't certain if his lack of response was due to his wooziness from the toxins, or confusion by her words. It really didn't matter.

That was how the officers of the 'Dawning Dream' found them within the cargo hold of Jago's freighter. The loading ramp lowered within the hangar of the larger vessel, and Priya silently held her breath and attempted to look as relaxed as possible.*

*There was a sudden flux within the darkness of space as a lone Firespray-31-class Interceptor registered as the Tal'din broke free from the tunnels of hyperspace and dropped in orbit over Mon Calamari. At the controls of the interceptor was Mandalorian bounty hunter/mercenary known as Kraval Ordo. He pilots the Tal'din down to the planet's surface so he may began his hunt.*

*Jaid rolled his eyes as he glided the ship through the clouds, heading towards the lesser known Foamwander city, rather than the capital.* "Custom agents are about as effective as a neighborhood watch my friend. They can blow a whistle but 9 times out of 10 they are lazy, hate their job or can be bribed. Mon Calamari sees thousands if not millions of new vessels in and out of it's ports every day, to them we are nothing new..." *He stopped as they hit some turbulence in the lower atmosphere. Gritting his teeth, Jaid leveled out the ship and proceeded to glide high over the ocean, past the Capital, further on towards foamwander city.

Jaid was take aback and a little uncomfortable with the heart to heart he was having with this Dirk character... no wait... Karbo Rohn character. Jaid was a mercenary and was not usually privy to these sorts of emotional and verbal explanations. Before Jaid could potentially give a rude response somewhere along the lines of "I don't care" the bridge lights flickered off, the control panels shut down and then a moment later returned with an eerie blue glow shining from the light and coming over the control panels... This was the tell-tale sign of The Illusive Man... Those under his employ new he had direct control over all ships on assignment and could authorize off-site self destructs and even take control of the ship... The Illusive Man was a different breed.

Jaid looked around nervously and several other more experienced member, whom Jaid had chosen to serve ont he bridge said in low murmurs.* "Jaid... What's going on?"

*The Illusive Man's secure and heavily encrypted transmission signal, piggybacked onto normal Holonet channels overrided the bridge's holoprojector and displayed . His eyes flickered with an unreal blue light and he stared at Karbo before speaking.*

:: Mr. Rohn, I hear you would like to know our master plan? ::

*Meanwhile, the regional GR defensive fleet flies patrol in the system. . .*

Mon Calamari - Galactic Republic First Outer Rim Battlegroup
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*Not too impressed, Karbo responded coolly.*

"Yes I would. What is the real goal behind this? I know that your man on Tatooine said we were going to cause a disturbance, but what for? Where does the REAL action lie? If we are just the kid distracting the parents, where is our friend stealing from the sweets jar?"

:: For a hired mercenary you ask a lot of questions, the answers to those questions are given only to my most loyal agents, like Jaid. You are perceptive, that is good. If you survive this, perhaps there will be a place for you in the new regime. I will say this, and only this. The actions you are to perform here will cause great ripples throughout the galaxy, the ramifications may not even present themselves until months or years after, however this is a piece of the intricate puzzle that is being created. ::

"The lack of questions gets people killed, in my opinion, but suit yourself. It's your party, and I'm just a guest."

*Remaining somewhat skeptical of this new person in the game that is his life, Karbo decides not to press his luck or it might show up in his paycheck.*

"So what do you want us to do? Cause mayhem and destruction, or are we to recover something killing everything in the way? These are pretty easy questions even from a hired mercenary, as you put it."

*Out of hyperspace exits a plain grey transport, though a large one. In it's hold are crates upon crates upon crates, each marked with varying food stamps. The true contents are quite different.

There are hundreds of blaster rifles, hundreds more blaster pistols, blast cannons and hunting rifles. There are durasteel knives of basic design, but not much else. As the ship gets into the shipping lanes, the human pilot begins signalling to land.

From hyperspace exits another vessel. Its crew consist of four human males. They wear black hooded cloaks and carry their personal lightsabers attached to their hips. Their armor is not usual beskar, but a light cortosis weave, colored jet black only. The pilot of this vessel also begins to broadcast permission to land.*