Finally the sights were lined up properly. Despite a bit of a color difference, the parts taken from the spare DT-57 were more than enough to erase the damage done to the original. He stood from the makeshift workbench he had put together, aimed at the doorway and narrowed his eyes. The problem now wasn't in the blaster or the repairs or his tweaks. His hands were shaking. His whole body was shaking and couldn't stop it. He clenched his jaw and started to squeeze the trigger, but quickly shoved the gun in its holster. It wouldn't leave his side again. Not on this ship. Not with Him around. Iisska stood still, taking a few deep breaths. There was work to do before they could go anywhere safely. He looked out the door of his modest quarters but didn't move. The blaster wasn't helping at all. There was nothing he or anybody could do against that bastard if he snapped. Nothing. It was hopeless. He shook his head and rubbed his temples. Work to do. He picked up his tools and pulled a small data pad out of the bag. He fired up a blank file and left the room ready to compile what was sure to be a mile long to-do list. First things first: he had to check life support and and the hyperdrive. The two things most likely to murder them all. Wouldn't that be nice? --- The Batarian captain paced back and forth muttering to himself nervously. His hand occasionally put pressure on a painful scorch across the side of his skull. One of his men sat nearby in the shade of a small rock formation groaning and dying slowly of a gut shot. Another stood next to him, a blaster in one hand and his other arm in a make-shift sling. Every few seconds the captain would look up at the horizon and scan the rest of the skies. He rubbed his head and wrung his hands and hissed and kicked small stones in the sand as they waited on the canyon ridge high above their decimated camp. In the distance a large black ship appeared. It was coming toward them at an alarming rate. The captain stopped his pacing immediately and backed up a few paces. In no time the shuttle was upon them. The noise was deafening and it spewed dust into the air as it landed before them. The engines wound down and quieted. The airlock hissed open and a ramp lowered to the ground. Six armed men in black battle armor and featureless, eyeless steel masks filed out of the ship in silence. The Batarian captain bowed low, "My Lord!" Out of the dark ship stepped a giant. The humanoid's feet fell heavy on the steel and crunched into the sand. He was at least eight feet tall, with broad shoulders and a powerfully set body. He dressed in a very heavy, battle-worn, blackened set of armor that had been augmented by hydraulics and computers. He too was masked but had two very thin slits over where his eyes would be. The small openings revealed nothing. He wore a cloak and a shroud over his head and shoulders. He slowly and gracefully clasped his hands behind his back while staring at the captain. "My Lord! There was an ambush! We could not have seen it coming! They were bounty hunters! Demons!" he hissed and pleaded, "I-- We-- With just a few more days and a few more men we could make up our loses! I swear it to you! Please forgive us!" The captain continued to beg and prattle on and make excuses while the dark men and their leader watched in eerie breathless silence. The giant raised a gloved hand. The Batarian shut his mouth almost immediately. "Where are the slaves? And your men?" his voice was deep, grinding and mechanical. "They..." he glanced down into the canyon behind them, "The bounty hunters took the slaves that still lived. Aside from us three there are only corpses down there." The leader got on his communicator and spoke quietly, "Send the shuttles," then he turned to his guards, "Collect the bodies. And be quick about it. They need to be frozen. Now." The Batarian glanced around nervously as the giant stepped closer to him. He came within inches, towering over the slaver. "Your entire operation was crushed by... [i]bounty hunters?[/i] That is... upsetting. We will be taking what is left of the slaves. Along with the bodies of your men." "Y-- yes. Yes! Take them! Please!" he somewhat chuckled, "And... and our payment? We did have a contract, My Lord." There was a very long silence that left the Batarian squirming, he started talking again trying to make more excuses. It was several tense moments before he realized he could not see this horrible man breathing. His observation made his words trickle off into nonsense and quiet. There was a minuscule moment as the masked man looked at one of his guard who pulled a blaster and shot both of the captain's remaining men in the face without a word. In an instant the desperate slaver found himself high in the air, over the giant with a vice-like steel hand clamped around his neck. There was a pop as his trachea collapsed and his gasps turned into a sickening, breathy whistle. His thrashing stopped and his body went limp in less than a minute. He was dropped. "This one as well," the man ordered before heading down into the canyon to oversee the losses. --- Buried deep within the guts of the Harpoon Iisska was starting to feel calmer. Getting the ship [i]safely[/i] space worthy had consumed him after an hour or two. His mind was absolutely drowning in the amount of repairs she needed. Any other technician would have told the crew to sell the ship for parts and start over. They would see the huge piece of scrap as a lost cause. He saw it as job security. But that was only if he could keep Zen off his back. His stomach rolled over at the thoughts. He tapped a loose coupling and instead of adding it to the to-do list he just tightened it on the spot. As far as he could tell that was it for the parts he could access from the inside of the ship... Now for the outside. The Togruta wriggled his way back up out of the access panel reading through the already huge data file he had written. He pulled himself up and sat on the floor taking a moment to save his progress. Then he felt a hot breath on the back of his head. At first he jumped then froze when the growling started. Very, very slowly he turned to look over his shoulder. The growling was turning into a snarl and he found himself staring into the eyes of a not only hideous, but terrifying and furious creature. The tukata. Right. "Heeyyy, girl," he groaned but smiled and tried to look calm. When he moved his hands upward, her snarling turned even more viscous and she snapped her teeth only inches from his neck. He stopped moving all together. "Hokay, hhoookay. It's fine, I'm a friend. Not gonna hurt you or nothing. Promise," he said slowly through his teeth. She continued her growling and circled around to his side. He stopped looking her in the eye hoping that would help, but it made no difference. She continued sniffing him and bearing her teeth and tensing up ready to strike. "M-- Mar-- Sterling!" Iisska called only as loud as he dared, "Trinity! Need a hand here..."