Though not normally his food of choice, after not eating much of anything since the morning before, the crusty hunk of bread might as well have been the most tender cut of meat. Truth be told it was nothing like the "breads" he'd attempted elsewhere. This was really good. He dug into it ravenously on the way back to the ship to drop off Sterling's shopping and his bag. The Ithorian cleaners were sweeping over and through the Harpoon at an astounding pace considering the condition the flying casket was in. But they still had a long way to go.

"You must have offered them a small fortune," he commented to Sterling.

In the same room he had crashed the night before he dropped off his bag on the bunk. With a few minutes until Sterling would be ready to go he pulled the parts blaster back out and compared it to the melted one in his hip holster. Indeed they would be a good fit even though the metals had tarnished and were now different colors. No matter. He didn't carry the damn thing to look pretty. He only wished he had more time to fix it before they went out, but it would take him hours. What did that droid expect him to do on a bounty hunt like this? Wearing a puzzled look on his face he packed them both up again. Out of nowhere he heard something behind him that wasn't a humanoid shape and turned quickly. Only a fleeting movement on the edge of the entrance greeted him, but he could still feel it there. He took a few cautious steps forward and then it was gone. Creeping into the hall and poking his head around the corner his eyes confirmed it.

"Hello?" he said quietly. Nothing. He tensed upon remembering being told something about a... what was it? ... A tukata? Though he wasn't entirely sure what that was. If that had been "her," he didn't expect her to be so big... or creepy. Walking back out he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched and was almost running by the time left the air lock where Sterling was waiting of course.

With a gun.

"Where did you dig this up?" Iisska asked after being handed the rifle. That answered his weapon question.

"It's Zen's. Do not worry, he will not find out. A Tuskan Cycler. Very accurate and deadly. Not a lot of their type around these days." The rifle was light and ornate almost. Weathered from long years of use but kept pristine by it's master, Zen.

"That so?" he couldn't hold back a somewhat sinister laugh as he slung it over his back, "You're alright, know that? Where to next, boss?"

"Have to...borrow...a couple speeders from the garage over there. They may not enjoy us taking them, so a little tact may be needed."

"Borrow... Right..." he rubbed his chin in thought and felt a painful bruise there from earlier. Then raised a brow and smiled. There was more depth and purr in his voice now, "Actually, I know where there's a few that might be a little easier... and more satisfying to 'borrow.'"

"Lead the way, Friend."

Not long after the two of them ducked into a particularly shady neighborhood adjacent to the spaceport. Iisska was doing his best to keep out of sight as he had already discovered that foreigners were frowned upon in this part of town. They came to a run-down canteena partially cut into a large boulder. In front of the establishment nearly a dozen speeders were parked and ripe for the taking... As long as they were quick. He watched from his hiding spot as a group of patrons walked inside.

"This is it," he said quietly, "It should only take me a minute or two to get 'em up and running. Can you keep an eye out?"

"Is that supposed to be a cruel joke?" He looked at him, his one eye glowing white in the partial darkness."

He frowned and seemed to shrink as it hit him, "I-- Er-- No! No! That's really not what I was... It's just a phrase."

"And that was a joke." He looked at him, his eye becoming slightly pinker for a moment before he walked way to keep a lookout.

Iisska chuckled nervously, "Oh. Funny."

Taking the next opening he jogged out to where the speeders were parked, but he did not stop at the first two like any remotely intelligent sentient being would. Instead he skipped over them and the third and fourth and fifth before stopping and looking closer at the next two and grinning.

"That's them," he whispered to nobody specifically before wrenching a small side plate open on the first one. With a second or two of struggle he ripped a small circular electronic device off it's screws and threw it on the ground. Then he spliced two wires where it had been and moved on to wrenching two more out of the main console. Carefully he touched them together a couple of times, trying not to electrocute himself, and after a few more attempts the speeder roared to life. He gripped a paddle on the handle bar and clipped the plate back in place.

"Get on. Quick," he nodded to Sterling, "Keep the clutch in."

"I know how to ride a speeder, boy." He hopped onto Iisska's speeder and clamped his legs onto it via a bit of magnetism.

"I was just... Nevermind," he said jumping to the next speeder. He tried to work faster than before using the same magic trick, but this one was being far more stubborn. After at least ten tries to get current to the ignition all he had to show for it was sparks and singed fingertips. They were running out of time. [i]Come on you little shit...[/i] The canteena door swung open and three dirty looking Zabrak came out. Their eyes snapped to the thieves at the same second Iisska finally got the bike to fire.

"You!" the first one yelled, though he was a bit stunned. His friend was already racing down the steps to another speeder.

"Shoulda killed me, jackass!" the Togruta yelled back as he jumped on and threw the machine into reverse.

The furious locals yanked blasters from their belts, having been given a great idea and open fired.

Marquis jumped onto his own, revving it and firing off, unholstering his rifle for when the bikers chase after them. He turned and started off for the desert, intent on leading Iisska towards where they needed to go.

He didn't need to be told twice to follow the droid's lead. More angered Zabrak out for blood were coming out of the doors to get a piece of the action. They tore away from the steel expanse on the speeders going down a little used dirt path that followed the river. A few homes and a small ranch or two dotted the canyon floor. The occasional outcrop in the cliffs could be used as natural corals for the reeks and the other strange, lumbering livestock that could be seen grazing on the low desert foliage that grew out from the water and collected in the shady areas along the edge of the rocks. It would have been a rather peaceful and relaxing place had there not been a biker gang hot on their heels shooting at them like a bunch of psychopaths. 

Marquis seemed to be able to not only handle one of these old speeders at a neck breaking speed, but also take his eyes off the damn road, use a rifle one handed and hit targets at his back with an incredible accuracy all at the same time. He made it look as easy as walking. Iisska wanted more than anything to help but only got as far as turning to look behind him for a second or two before realizing that all he would accomplish was sending stray fire everywhere before more than likely wrecking and dying a burning, road-rashed, broken, mess. He couldn't out-shoot them, but they sure as hell couldn't out-ride him. Hunkering down, he put his eyes back ahead where they belonged and throttled the speeder into the red. The speed took him alongside Marquis and then he overtook him. The heart-stopping impacts from his cane-rifle still could not be drowned out though. Risking another glance back he saw one of the bikers get thrown off his bike by a well-placed shot right to the chest. The speeder touched the ground before snapping up, spinning through the air and tearing itself to pieces when it hit the ground again. It's owner's fate was little different. There were only two left and one slowed and turned back. Realizing that this was pointless alone the last one gave up as well. Iisska slowed his screaming bike down so he could follow Marquis once more.

Now they were well into the desert and unsettled territory. The farther they pushed away from town the less they saw any trace of sentient life. The last person they saw was an elderly Iridonian man with an abscessed horn, battle damaged armor on his chest and one shoulder, and a large blaster rifle across his lap. He reclined on his porch, a black cigar in his mouth, and glared at the strange pair as they zipped past his property.

"Such a warm and welcoming people," Iisska smirked and rolled his eyes.

From there on the canyon started to become narrow. A smaller waterway tumbled nearly a half mile down from a jagged vertical cut in the ridge above and joined the main river. Many more would join it in a similar fashion along several more miles. The added body and depleting space transformed it into an angry frothing beast, splashing through rapids and spraying into the air as it spilled over sudden drops. It became cool and dark as the walls pushed ever inward and blocked out the sun. The canyon took a sudden turn. Ahead, towering upward in a way that defied gravity, a massive stone monolith split the river again. Beyond that a jumble of alien rock formations, arches, pits, slots and spires, carved over millennia from the constantly shifting wind, sand and water, beckoned the foolish to become lost in them.