The sound of the sub-light engines thundered in the darkness like the beating heart of a vast sea beast. Leyla tried to calm herself, controlling her breathing and keeping the panic of being enclosed at bay. The maintenance passage was tight even for the lightly built Pantoran and had probably been intended for droids rather than organics and though she wasn’t exactly claustrophobic, she didn't relish the tight quaters. A distant light blinked at a steady increment, casting brief illumination along the dark tunnel. It was a pure white that made her bluish skin appear purple and her white hair shine like silver. She squeezed her large eyes shut against it, fighting against the tide of memories that assailed her.

The night sky flashed by as the dropship fell into the atmosphere. The distant horizon was lit with the steady flash of distant fire of heavy guns coming from the Separatist positions. Padawan Leylanda Edals, sat in one of the jumpseats trying to project a calm face to the world as white armored Clone’s chatted and joked about getting to grips with the Clankers.

“Ease your mind young one,” Tsuillin said, the Jedi Knight not deceived by something as transparent as facial expression. Tsullin was a tall Quarren, an aquatic native of Mon Cala with a squid like face of pinkish grey. As he spoke a pair of horizontal nictitating membranes closed over his large dark eyes. He wore the armor of a Jedi General that had replaced robes in this warlike time. Leylanda had heard that the war had turned against the Separatists, but it had been a fixture of her life as long as she could remember and, mentally, she found it hard to imagine a time after it was over. Tsuillin had been her teacher for nearly two years and he was a patient and insightful teacher despite the reputation of his people as being hot tempered.

“We will not pass close to the fighting, I wouldn’t have bought you if I thought…” Tsullin trailed off and cocked his head as though listening to something. All around them clones straightened, the buzz of cheerful conversation cutting off as though someone had cut the volume to a holo unit. Something suddenly felt very wrong, like an inky pus bursting forth from a blister that had nearly healed. Leylanda opened her mouth to exclaim but before she could form words Tsullin whipped his lightsaber from his belt and powered it on, the blue blade hissing to life a heartbeat before he swept it through the barrel of a blaster rifle being lifted to point at his body. The clones surged to their feet grabbing for weapons. Leylanda had no idea what was happening but she leaped up as she had been trained and pulled her own lightsaber free, igniting its greenish blade with a tap on the control stud. Almost instantly it moved as though of its own volition parrying a blaster bolt that ricocheted around the inside of the drop ship widely before striking a clone in the back and pitching him across his brethren. Tsullin’s saber sliced a clone in two from hip to shoulder and then decapitated a second before snapping with impossible speed to parry the storm of blaster bolts that the surviving members of the dropships ten troopers unleashed. Leylanda’s saber moved by instinct, just like in training keeping scarlet bolts of energy away from her body. With a shout and a grind of metal Tsullin reached out with the force and ripped the door of the dropship open. Fridgid air tore at the occupants like icy knives and one of the troopers, a friendly sergeant named Blackie or Blockie stumbled and was sucked out into the screaming air. With a second shout Tsullin thrust with the force shoving the remaining troopers off their feet and sending them tumbling after their sergeant to face the two thousand foot fall to the ground below.

“Master what do we…” Leylanda began but even as the Quarren turned she saw the flash of a missile launch from one of the escorting fighters. Without thinking she dived onto Tsullin smashing him flat a heartbeat before a colossal boom seemed to swallow the world. Leylanda felt herself hit the ceiling of the dropship as it staggered under the blow and the scream of metal and tearing air was so loud that there was no more room for sound in all the world. Her body was smashed against something hard and she had only a confused impression of motion and movement and her nostrils burned with the stink of burning metal and melted electronics. The sound of screeching air grew louder and she had a momentary glimpse of the ground below rushing up to meet them she could….

Leyla opened her eyes, brushing sweat from her brow with some difficulty in the tight quarters of the maintenance shaft. That had been a long time ago. A lifetime ago. She was Leyla Slade and she was stowing away aboard this rust bucket because an Imperial Moff hadn’t taken it well when she had sold the secret recordings of his love life to a tabloid holocast. Her hand strayed down to touch the pouch that contained the two thousand credits she had been paid for the job. Instead of a lightsaber she found the butts of her twin pistols, that change more than any other drawing her out of her reverie. She was Leyla Slade, and she was going to be all right.
@POOHEAD189

He brought it out of Hyperspace smoothly, the old bird still unrelentingly fast for its age. Cleo had been in the cockpit for the better part of a galactic day, keeping a practiced eye on Hyperspace and guiding the ship gently along. Often times you didn't need to keep an eye on it if you had a good navigational system and an astromech droid or two, but Cleo was thorough. It's how he kept such a clean reputation among smugglers and mercs. It was just a job.

This one was a bit less reputable than others, it had to be said. He was hauling twelve crates of Czerka made 6-2Aug2 hunting rifles and three crates of ammunition. Strange gun, using solid slugs enveloped in a specialized energy rather than the normal blaster bolt. On the surface he was bringing it legally to Tattooine for local hunters to keep their bacta farms safe, but what his papers didn't say was that the farmers were actually Tusken Raiders that Bogga the Hutt was hiring to assail Jabba's trade in the region. Cleo stayed out of politics, but he wished he was ignorant rather than unbiased.

He switched to sublight and eased on slowly into orbit, passing the orbital sensors and recieving a comm from his ship's destination signal. A woman's voice popped up on the comm. "What is your business on Mos Elrey?"

"My own." He said, and sent out his credentials. There was momentary radio silence. The Iridonian's helm hid his slight smirk when the woman replied. "Welcome to Mos Elrey, Captain Cleo. Your landing pad is 309C on the western side of the city. Be careful of sudden sandstorms as you land. Thank you and have a pleasant day." Once the Zabrak turned the comm off, he muttered "Bantha fodder." As if he had never been on the planet before. He was one of Bogga's regular shippers, though the Hutt's trade war with his brother Jabba brought tensions and more calls for using blasters rather than shipping them.

"R5," He said through his helm. "Get in here and change the stock conv-"

Out of the vastness of space, lasers the size of a human were suddenly shot three kilometers to his west. His main cause for concern was the rapidity of the firing and that it was arcing close, and another three sources of the bolts opened up. He didn't know whether to laugh or feel pathetic as the four G9 Riggers closed in on his position. He lived to see the Seperatists defeated on the battlefield, he watched the Jedi fall and the Emperor rise and here he was being attacked by a bunch of junkers on this nowhere of a planet. Cleo switched the non-hyperdrive shields on.

"R5, get on the cannon!" He called, and a series of beeps accompanied the comm as his astromech droid went about his orders. Just like Agesilaus II, he had saved the Droid from the junk yard. He never gave it too much thought, but he had always thought the three of them worked well together, two thrown out machines and a washed up soldier like him. Plus, they were reliable, and he knew even as he spun clockwise twice to dodge enemy fire, R5's electromagnetic wheels would keep him grounded. The anti-grav was on but the new gravity of the planet still made it a bit difficult to stay still in the ship before Cleo 'grounded' it and kept it steady.

G9 Riggers were shoddy ships used by low-end smugglers and theives, with bad guns and worse speed. But four of them attacking by surprise had Cleo worried for a moment. It was like a Nexu from Cholganna being harassed by four jawas with shock sticks. He had a straight shot to the spaceport, but something in him woke up. He decided he wasn't going to let them leave without a few scratches of their own, and Cleo turned Agesilaus II to get in line with the approaching Riggers, speeding past their lasers and unleashing a stream of lascannon blasts himself, taking out one of the Riggers in a clean sweep.

R5's cannon bolts managed to ruin the side of another Rigger, and Cleo decided to show off a bit by flying between their pathetic formation, flying a circle around them before making his way planet side. "Tell Jabba he can suck fertilized Bantha Poodoo!" He called, though not on the comm system. He doubted they had comms compatible with his as Riggers were very old models, but he wasn't going to take the chance anyway.

It wasn't very practical to insult a potential client after all...
@Penny

Leyla was jolted around violently as the ship maneuvered. Cursing she thrust out both hands, attempting to brace herself against the walls of the shaft. The slick metal rendered this only partially successful but she was able to avoid having the side of her skull caved in against a bulkhead. The shuddering of the shields being hit was unfortunately familiar but there was no sound of circuits overloading or consoles exploding which seemed to her to be a positive sign. The deck vibrated with return fire, though the ship was clearly very heavily gunned for its size as the weapons seemed to shake the very frame. When she choose this ship to escape Moff Parnel's troopers she had picked the most beat up looking freighter she could find, the logic being that the more out of place a ship looked, the more likely it was to be headed into the outer rim. She might yet be proven right in that assumption, but she hadn't considered she might be blow to floating atoms as the result of some battle she knew nothing about.

After a few minutes the ship abruptly steadied and began, what she imagined was a decent into the atmosphere. There was a brief buffet of turbulence, but even the most under-powered of freighters had no trouble except in the worst weather. She was about to breath a sigh of relief when there was a sudden snap of arcing electrical energy and her right leg convulsed, slamming her into the side of the maintenance sharp. The pain bought tears to her large eyes and she instinctively tried to wriggle away from what she thought was an unfortunate short. A chittering binary war cry followed her retreat and she managed to look back to see a beat up R5 unit advancing on her with a sparking electrical arc.

"Cut it out!" she commanded, but the R5 trilled in victory and charged in for the kill. Leyla kicked out with her numb leg and fetched the droid a blow to the body that flipped it into the air. Her sense of smug satisfaction evaporated as its wheels hit the roof and stuck fast so that the R5 hung from the seeling like a stalactite.

"Oh you have got to be kidding ..." the R5 trilled its war-cry again and drove into her, the electrical arc catching her across the chest and sending her stumbling out of the maintenance shaft, gasping for breath and clutching her chest where tendrils of smoke rose from the burnt polymer of her dark gray field jacket.

"I said cut it out!" she yelled and the droid fell from the ceiling, before it could hit the ground, there was a hiss of propellant as the droids thrusters, intended for maneuvering in zero g, fired. The droid rocketed up the passage way and hit her across the chest, driving the air from her lungs with an audible whoosh and pitching her halfway across a cargo hold to crash into a heavy plastic packing crate.

"That is so it!" she snapped, whipping both her pistols free of her belt and leveling at the droid which froze in mid charge, electrical arc still snapping. Leyla blew a lock of pinkish white hair out of her eye in exasperation and the looked up to find a figure standing in one of the circular hatches that lead to the cargo hold. The Zabrak looked between her and the dented droid. The R5 appeared to be leaking coolant from where she had kicked it, and her face had an irritating tick from the electrical shocks she had received.

"Well," she said somewhat lamely, "this is awkward."

The sliding hatch opening was the only sound one would hear when Cleo Ortega stepped into the main bay. He had his armor on, though not for any real suspicion of combat or even coincidence. He felt more comfortable with it on ever since the war and his escape from Iridonia. He only really took it off for special occasions or when he met old friends. Because of his attire, his face was unreadable behind his helm, but it was clear he wasn't amused.

After a tense moment of silence, with even R5 completely void of sound, Cleo drew his DL-44 heavy blaster pistol out with surprising speed. He wasn't a born quick draw like some smugglers boasted, but he was fast enough to manage. "What the hell are you doing on my ship?" he asked. The woman pointed one of her pistols at him, looking between him and the droid. Cleo chuckled darkly. "My armor can take a few shots. How many can your flak jacket hold?"

The silence was heavy, so he broke it. "Drop 'em. I need to pilot the ship in, and if you take too much time as we enter the atmosphere, I'll shoot you so I can get back to piloting." He warned her with a pragmatism. Iridonians were known for their ardent tempers and passion driven lives, and Cleo had his moments, but time in the field gave him a cool outlook on dangerous situations. He wasn't about to take a chance.

"Now drop your blasters."

R5 gave off a series of agitated beeps, and Cleo glanced his way. "Stand down R5. Go navigate. I'll be there in a moment while I deal with our...friend here." The droid whined a whistle, then closed itself up, the myriad of shock sticks and small blaster points disappearing in its unassuming conical bulk, and he whirred away without another sound. Cleo's attention was fully on the "Now kick them to me. You'll get the blasters back when we land, as long as you haven't stolen anything."

When the conflict was over, he holstered his heavy blaster. "Now answer me. What's a Pantoran doing on my ship?" he asked, his voice as hard as starship steel. "Speak quickly."
@Penny

For a heartbeat Leyla weighed her chances of taking the Zabrak down. She was quick, and she thought she might be able to get a shot off before he did. Aiming at the neck of his armor she stood a good chance incapacitating him or at least distracting him long enough to get to a better position. Still he was talking rather than shooting, and it seemed reasonable that he would probably continue to do so. She flicked the butts of her pistols with her thumb, letting gravity rotate the barrels towards the deck before slipping it back into the holsters strapped to her calves. Slowly, she raised her hands and stood up using only her legs so that she faced the Zabrak directly, keeping her hands up and well clear of her weapons.

"We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot," she said with what she hoped was a disarming smile. The Zabrak was tense and she let her mind relax. She didn't think much about the Force anymore, but she didn't get the feeling that he was likely to shoot her out of hand now that she was clearly not a threat.

"My name is Leyla," she said, indicating to herself with the finger of one raised hand.

"I uhh, got into a little trouble back on Maldor," she explained, referring to the planet the Agesilaus had recently left with its undeclared passenger.

"I needed somewhere to hide and I thought this ship might be headed out to the Rim," she went on, diplomatically choosing not to mention that she had selected the most dilapidated ship she could find.

"I didn't really have time to discuss passage, what with the Stormtropers looking everywhere for me," she continued, taking a chance that the Zabrak would have no love for the Empire, not that many did outside of the Core.

Cleomenes did not drop his pistol. In fact, he raised it up and pointed it at her, making it clear he wasn't going to brook for half measures and promises when it came to the security of his ship. No matter how little he liked the Empire, Stormtroopers never stowed away on his ship. "I said" He remarked slowly. "Drop your weapons, and slide them to me.. The barrel was merely 3 meters from her face, and her eyes were looking down the barrel. "Now."

There was a silence, and he knew she was debating on whether or not to foolishly try and kill him while he had an aimed blaster at her. He'd known the type before. Relentless survivors, looking for anywhere and anything that helped them escape their past. He could emphasize, but that didn't mean he would open all doors in life for them. That sort of life easily bred traitors and brigands, and he would have known on his freighter.

"Fine," he said, and even to Leyla, it was clear his pointer finger was in the middle of pulling the trigger when an alarm began to flash over them. He relaxed his hand for a moment, and realized there wasn't time for this. "Very well, keep them. But you stay here." He told her, and backed up into the main access corridor, gun still on her. Once he was free of the main bay, he spoke aloud. "Lockdown 12B," and suddenly his door slipped shut.

All of them did.

Leyla found herself in the room with no exits save perhaps a vent that likely had unstable chemicals that would, if nothing else, make her particularly light headed during the landing process if she chose to use them. Meanwhile, Cleo headed to the cockpit and hopped into his seat, slowing the starship down and bringing up the planetary piloting system on the display. Flying in an atmosphere was vastly different than flying in the void. You had to make adjustments for gravity, gases, and even wind temperature.

The ship began to shake, but even then he checked the cam to make sure Leyla was still in the hanger bay. Satisfied she was, he looked back at the display and transitioned the ship to slowly and more gracefully descend until they were a thousand feet above Mos Elrey, floating onto the landing pad that had been assigned to them. Outside of the ship, the Zabrak cursed. He didn't know if it was fortunate he had let her keep her blasters, or if he should have killed her there to gain the favor of the local forces.

But there were eight storm troopers moving in formation towards his ship, with an Imperial officer watching cooly imperious just at the exit. "Fuck," he said, and moved as fast as he could out of his chair toward the locked door to the central chamber. He tapped the steel with his blaster. "You, can you hear me? I'm going to come in now. But we need to help each other. Stormtroopers are wanting in, and I can't be caught with my cargo just as you can't be caught by the law. If you help me and we both survive, I'll give you a small cut of my earnings from my shipment. Deal?"
@Penny

Leyla sat up at the knock on the door. She had been slumped against one of the walls awaiting landing. Waiting for a situation to change was one of the hardest things to do but it was also often one of the best strategies. There was some old Jedi aphorism that stated as much but she could no longer remember it.
“Alright come on in, I’m not planning on shooting anyone,” she called. That probably wasn’t completely true if there were Imperials waiting for them, but she didn’t even know where they were headed so she didn’t have enough information to go on. She held up her hands to show they were empty as the Zabrak entered.

"You have yourself a deal," she declared.

“Well they can’t be here for me, news doesn't travel THAT fast,” she protested.

“Could it be something you are carrying?” she asked glancing around. The look on the Zabrak’s face answered the question for her.

“Spice? Guns?” she asked. The Zabrak stepped towards a crate and pulled aside the canvas cover that had been concealing it. The familiar logo of Czerka arms was prominently displayed. Leyla winced slightly.

“Are they legal?” she asked skeptically.

“Legal is a fluid term out here,” the Zabrak replied, “I have papers for them if they don’t look too closely.”

Leyla blew out a breath as she thought things over. The Empire was a big place and coordinating a galaxy spanning bureaucracy was no easy feat. The problem was that Imperial troops on out of the way worlds were a law unto themselves and just as likely to harass the locals as enforce Palpatine’s laws.

“Ok, I think I can help bluff our way past them, but first, can you tell me who you are, and where in the galaxy you have brought me?”

For the careful and meticulous gun runner, discussing terms with a rogue stowaway wasn't his idea of a safe way to face his problems. But he had little choice, and he wasn't about to fight what Stormtroopers held the city. He had no illusions that there were more than the eight that were outside, and the Iridonian was going to keep himself and his ship unharmed if he could help it. Did he have enough fuel to make it to another star system? He doubted it, but there was little choice.

With that, the Zabrak finally took off his helmet, revealing the sculpted Zabrak face, with markings like that of rivers cascading down from the top of his head to his jawline. The spikes ringing his head were notably large for one of his people. His helmet was tucked under his arm as he sized up the Pantoran woman.

"You can bluff them?" he echoed incredulously. He wanted to ash how she would do that, but if nothing else it would be a distraction for him to ready his defenses. "Tell you what, you bluff them and I'll consider it payment for the free shipping here," he said with a smirk. The look disappeared though when he set to introduce himself. He had a strong chin and he squared it when she asked who he was. "Cleomenes Ortega of Iridonia. Trooper of the Old Republic, and since then I've been the Mercenary and Gunrunner known as Ryloc for the horns," referring to one of the mandalorian myths of legend, Ryloc being one of the more notable mythosaurs from their mythic past.

He held out a hand for her to shake. He might not know if he can trust her, but they were working together now and he was a professional. "We pull this off you can call my Cleo." R5 began to give off a cornucopia of noises and it shook back and forth. Cleo placed a hand on his droid to keep him strady. "Calm down R5. We can panic later. Now get into the port where you belong and jumpstart the ship if you need to."

He turned, ready to grab his rifle when she said. "And the planet?" The Commando stopped, and glanced back at her, giving a huff of a laugh. "We're on Tatooine. The ass end of the universe."
@Penny

Leyla looked around, wracking her brain for a plausible ruse. Unfortunately the logo of the weapons manufacturer was too common an emblem to disguise. Her eyes drifted to the sealable doors.

“Ok,” she said, walking quickly across the cargo bay to the maintenance shaft and fishing out the nondescript grey duffel bag that held her few possessions. Unzipping it she pulled out a grey black uniform, the kind low level imperial technicians wore. Without ceremony she stripped out of her travelling garments and wiggled into the technician jumpsuit before adding her jacket and one of her two thigh holsters. The resulting ensemble was a combination of the familiar and the exotic, making her look a little more mysterious than she had in her more comfortable spacers garb. She turned to find Cleo looking at her with an unreadable expression.

“What,” she said defensively, “I pulled a scam back on Mechlan, this was my disguise, sort of.” Reaching into her bag she pulled out a standard comlink, checked the frequency and then tossed it to the Zabrak.

“Find somewhere to hide and then lock the bay down like you did when I was in there,” she explained. They didn’t have much time for her to explain the intricacies of the plan, so she had to hope Cleo was fast on his feet. If not, well shooting it out with a bunch of stormtroopers wasn’t a good idea, but she would do her best.

“If this works you should get a call from their officer, say something Imperial sounding and then open the doors,” she explained as they headed out of the bay towards the main hatch.

“What do you…” Cleo began but a firm knocking on the exterior hatch interrupted any further conversation.

“No time, find somewhere to hide,” she implored. Cleo gave her a final skeptical look and then turned and headed down a side passage. Leyla smoothed her jacket, took a deep breath and then stepped to the hatch control, toggling it open when a hiss. Hot dry air rushed in and an Imperial officer in dust stained gray stood flanked by two troopers. A half dozen more white clad soldiers stood at the base of the boarding ramp. As always the sight of stormtroopers, so similar in appearance to the clones she had known in her youth, made Leyla queasy, but she pushed passed it. Speed was important here.

“Ah, Excellent timing Lieutenant, I’m glad to see that posting to Tatooine hasn’t eroded your efficiency, I only wish I could say the same for our forces on other outer rim worlds,” she told the officer in a brusque professional tone. She reached out her hand and took the startled officers hand, shaking it firmly. She stepped a little closer than she needed to the officer, and while her right hand gestured theatrically, her left hand slipped the comlink from his pocket, adjusted the frequency to the one she had given Cleo, and slipped it back into place.

“Well, come on in,” she told the officer, turning as though to walk back into the ship.

“Wait just a minute Captain, we are here to inspect this vessel for …”

“Yes, they told me someone would meet me, as I said come on in,” she repeated. The officer arched an eyebrow in bafflement and then gestured his men forward. The Pantoran led the Imperials into the ship and back towards the cargo bay, only to arrive at the sealed partitions Cleo had erected.

“What is the meaning of this,” the officer demanded, regaining his composure somewhat.

“I need to know what are you carrying Captain…”

“Slade,” Leyla provided, turning and standinding straight, hinting at a posture of attention.

“Leyla Slade. As for what I'm carrying, you will have to tell me,” she explained gesturing to the closed partition.
“What do you…” the officer began, glancing at her Imperial clothing and taking in her military bearing. The barrage of contradictory inputs was designed to keep the officer off balance, to make him uncertain enough that when an explanation presented itself he would jump at it.

“This is how it works, you guys give me a cargo, its sealed away until I get where its supposed to go. They pay me not to ask questions,” she explained, spreading her hands slightly to indicate she wanted no part in it.

“Captain Slade, open these hatches immediately,” the officer demanded. Leyla heaved a put upon sigh.

“You guys are the only one with the codes, call your superiors, tell them that Blue Talon has arrived and that you need the code to verify the cargo,” she explained nodding at the comlink in the officers pocket. The Imperial scowled for a moment and then picked up the comlink.

“Base this is Lieutenant Haben, I have a ship captain down here claiming to be something called Blue Talon, claims that we have codes she needs to unlock her cargo bay? Please advise?”

Leyla nodded and slouched back against the bulkhead, arms folded in a show of unconcern

"Say something Imperial..." He echoed to himself, his voice filtered through his helmet. Whoever this Leyla Slade was, she had spunk but she was also a low-life drifter. But she could think on her feet at least, and it was a good idea...maybe. He sighed and waited under the cargo bay, under the walkway rafters. They might be able to hear him if he was close, but he was at the opposite end of the ship.

He picked up the officer's frequency on his comms, thanking his Gods that they were on the same frequency. He cleared his throat and received the voice on the other end.

“Base this is Lieutenant Haben, I have a ship captain down here claiming to be something called Blue Talon, claims that we have codes she needs to unlock her cargo bay? Please advise?”

Briefly Cleo considered what it meant when he granted them the codes to open the cargo. That was all of his hard earned delivery gone by one sweep of the Empire, even if it meant potentially saving his own skin. He paused for one long agonizing second, and if Leyla was watching she would have likely mouthed 'come on, talk!' Luckily, he realized he could use his position now to make sure he kept them. "Confirmed Lieutenant. It's here on our roster. The code is L354 M837 D940. Open them up, and if you see any Czerka firepower, make a way for the Captain to transport it where they need it to go. Over."

He turned the comm off, and back up top the Officer turned his own off and thought for a moment. The next second he shrugged, and called his men forward as he placed in the code. "Open them up!" He ordered. The familiar clatter of Imperial boots filled the air as they moved in unison, grunting as they pushed off the heavy crate tops to reveal the Czerka 6-2Aug2 hunting rifles and accompanying ammunition. The leader of the stormtrooper squadron spoke up. "Sir! Everything seems to be in order except the ammunition, should we con-"

"They would have my head if I took the ammunition over a technicality, get moving!" Haben barked, and the troopers stood at attention and formed up, before hustling out through the access bay, past Leyla. The Lieutenant strode forward, head held high as if he still had any dignity. "Carry on Captain. We appreciate your service." He said, and handed her a holopad for her to sign to acknowledge everything had made it on time. Clearly the pad was meant for something else, but there must have been various checklists Haben needed to keep. What's one more?

Meanwhile, Cleo breathed a sigh of relief. A part of him had wanted to see action against any branch of the Empire, but he didn't need this heat. Not on this planet, where he had always been able to get business before.
@Penny

“I’m having a speeder truck put at your disposal,” Haben said as he ended his communication.

“I can provide men if you require them.” Though his face was the same stoic mask, she could sense his excitement. Duty on Tatooine was certainly boring and he must imagine he was playing some important part in some byzantine black operation. Leyla shook her head.

“Best not attract any more attention than we need to, keep a low profile they told me,” she lied.

“You have been a great help Lieutenant,” Leyla said, reaching out to clap him on the shoulder. The action allowed her to surruptiously pluck the comm unit from his pocket, reset the frequency and slip it back into place. He clearly wasn’t comfortable being touched by an alien, but that only made it a better distraction.

“Please tell your men to forget everything they saw here today,” she finished, removing her hand. Haben nodded.

“If I can ask, what is this stuff for?” he asked, nodding towards the weaponary. Leyla shrugged her shoulders.

“Above my paygrade I’m afraid,” she said feeding into the impression that she was nothing but a cut out for some shadowy deal.

“Maybe for the locals to shoot at aliens, maybe for aliens to shoot at the locals, whatever is needed to remind people of the benevolent and civilizing hand of the Empire,” she exlained. It was a wonder she could keep the words from sticking in her throat, but lying was like any other skill and she had gotten rather alot of practice. Haben put a finger to his nose and smiled before turning to his men.

“We are done here, move out,” he snapped, and they Imperials turned and marched off the ship. The hatch hissed closed behind them as the clanked down the ramp. Leyla kept her posture errect for a minute before slumping in relief.

“Idiots,” she muttered, though as always, duping the Imperials brought a smile to her face.

There was a sudden grinding noise, and Leyla would see one of the walkway graters get shoved up by a strong hand, and Cleo lifted himself out with ease, as if he was used to lowering into and pulling himself out of vehicles and the like. He took his gloves off, and stepped over to the guns to make sure everything was still in order for his shipment.

"That was far too close," He said aloud, and began locking the crates once more to keep any other prying hands from opening them en route. Hopefully with luck, no one in Bogga's employ would notice or care if anyone had tampered with the guns. He glanced at Leyla. "You think on your feet well," he admitted, unused to having to pay anyone who has stowed aboard his ship any compliments. R5 raced through, scanning the area for any devices the empire might have left behind to bug the place.

"R5, are there any more Stormtroopers in the hanger?" he asked, and the Android halted for a moment and stopped as if lagging, then beeped out a myriad of sounds that told him the coast was clear. "Good. Now let's get this stuff out of here. The sooner we sell this shipment, the sooner we can get paid and leave. Maybe next time we come to this stinkhole, there's less Imperial presence."

R5 let out another binary noise, and Cleo looked at Leyla at the suggestion. "I'm sure she wants to get out of here." He said to the Astromech droid, only for a series of beeps to follow once more. Cleo snorted, and shrugged. He turned to the Pantoran. "We need some help transporting this stuff, and I don't think you want to be trapped on this planet since it's swarming with Imps... Tell you what."

He wasn't in the habit of offering this, but she was useful so far, and he could sympathize with her hating the Empire. What's more, this last shipment had been particularly large and he needed an extra set of hands, both to transport the guns and to keep an eye on any thieves. The irony that she was likely a thief herself wasn't lost on Cleo, but he had little choice.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "You help me transport this to Bogga and I'll let you stick around for a bit until we find a planet more suitable for you." He reached out and held his hand for her to shake, all business. "Deal?"
@Penny

Leyla hesitated for a moment. It had been a long time since she had worked with anyone. Since the purge she had survived by keeping to herself and working alone, keeping distant from people as best she could. You couldn't be betrayed or blindsided if you never relied on anyone. Cleo did make a good point though. She had never been to Tatooine and without contacts and with only a few thousand credits her only option for leaving would be to stow away on another ship, a difficult prospect considering the small tramps that frequented these outlying worlds. There was also the matter of the Imperials. She trusted that Taben's inflated sense of importance, at having been privy to some sort of nebulous black op, would keep his mouth shut for a while, but the temptation to brag would eventually get the better of him. If she wasn't off planet by then it would mean trouble, it wasn't as though there were hundreds of Pantorans to choose from afterall.

"Deal," she said, thrusting her hand out and shaking.

"Our Imperial friends appear to have made good on their end," she said as she heard the sound of a grav truck pulling up outside.

"Lets get this stuff where it needs to go and then get out of here."

Cleo stepped off the Agesilaus II, fully armored with his helmet on. The grav vehicle was stationed just beside the exit, with a Bith in the front seat. One of the more peaceful aliens in the galaxy, Bith were dome headed and practically hairless, eyes as glossy and black as saucers. Cleo knew them as fine people, at least all of the ones he had ever met. The Empire might be corrupt, but they hired good help. Across the small sand covered yard, Cleomenes caught sight of someone more noteworthy approaching.

An old friend.

The Dug loped toward them, wearing a jacket worn upside down to accommodate for the Dug's strange anatomy. He walked on his hands as used his feet as his primary limbs, as most Dugs did. Still was a strange sight though. Small tendrils framing his snout gave the look of facial hair, and he spoke in his harsh language. "Toogi! Chuba! Ni chuba ni?" Cleo motioned for Leyla to push the first crate down the ramp as he turned to speak to the hanger master.

"Volpa, how long has it been?" Cleo asked. "Still the same rates?"

"Cleo?" The Dug asked as the first crate slid down. The Iridonian halted the floating crate with an impressive show of stance and strength, dragging it to the Grav vehicle to hook along it's back. They'd need to hook them in a line and drive around Mos Elry. Luckily the hanger was located on the outskirts. Vola followed Cleo with his unusual walk, grinning like a rabid dog. "Eh, che bana do mullee ra." He said, and emmited a throaty laugh. "Toe hoga wupe upee."

"Imps got to you too." The Iridonian sighed, and he turned away when he realized he couldn't bargain a better price. "Well, it can't be helped." Cleo wen to catch and continue to move the crates as Leyla shoved them. R5 slid down the ramp as the work continued, the Bith staying in the Grav vehicle listening to a catchy jingle they would likely hear in a Cantina at some point. "Keepo pa peet droid nah cho-passa! Peet droid joka shag."

"For the last time, you can't have R5, or the one shoving my crates out to me." He said, testy. "But if you keep my baby safe and I finish this job, I'll give you something extra between friends. You can buy how ever many slaves you want to with it."

The Dug waved his feet around comically, as if to mockingly worship Cleo. "Tooney! Cha porko ootman geesa!" He said with a bow, one hand taking the small cap he had off in reverence. Cleo laughed, and kicked his remaining hand out from under him so he fell on his alien ass. The Dug cursed and snarled, but Cleo didn't take it seriously. "Keep it up, Dewbacc and I might not pay you. Maybe I'll tell the Imps the shipments you've been running."

"Choy! Spateelya Zabrakki sleemo?" He cried, but with less enthusiasm. Next moment, he gave a smile that even a newcomer like Leyla knew was a sleazy one. "Aaaah, un ni joka Cleo..."

All of the crates were now hooked and ready, the Bith poking his head out of the window, indicating for Cleo and Leyla (who now approached) to sit atop the back loading port, just in front of the trailing crates. "Konchee? (Where)?" He asked, his voice sounding like gravel. Cleo patted the backside of the vehicle. "Fifteen miles out, near the Krayt skeleton! R5, guard the ship."
@Penny

Tatooine turned out to be a desert world. The heat was blinding as the small caravan of containers left the settlement of low whitewashed buildings, many of which were partially submerged as protection from the blazing hammers of the twin suns. Leyla drew a pair of goggles from her baggy clothing and slipped them over her eyes as protection from the blowing grit that the windrush carried as the speeders slid over the waste of rock and sand. If there was any roadway or path Leyla couldn’t see it, but the Dug seemed to know where he was going. As the drove east the landscape became rockier and they climbed several small ridgelines via switch backs that were probably the natural result of erosion rather than any kind of construction.

There was something eerily familiar about the place, or perhaps a presence that lingered over the area. Leyla hadn’t used her abilities much since the purge, at first it had been too great a risk with the Emperor’s hunters scouring the galaxy for survivors and over the years they had grown dormant, dulled without the discipline and practice her instructors had insisted on. Something about this place seemed to carry her back to when she had been a padawan and that made her uneasy. Almost tentatively she reached out with her feelings and almost immediately felt a flash of other lifeforms nearby, lurking with hostile intent.

“Down!” she snapped at Cleo, throwing herself flat behind the lip of the cargo carrier. The Zabrak obeyed instantly ducking his head a moment before a salvo of blaster bolts stabbed from the ridge like scarlet darts. Most of them flew wide but one ricocheted off the front of the grav struck and two more sliced through the air that she and Cleo had just vacated. The vehicle began to slow as the driver instinctively let off the accelerator.

“NO!” Leyla shouted, “GO GO GO!” She rose into a crotch, both pistols appearing in her hand as if by magic, and opened fire on the ridgeline though at this range and without a clear target it as little more than suppressing fire. She leaped down atop the cab and shouted through the window for the driver to floor it. The Bith did so, kicking the powerful engines into gear with a jolt that nearly threw Leyla from the cab. They rocketed up the switchback pursued by blasterfire that shattered rocks and kicked up plumes of dust. The grav truck raced over the ridge and down the other side towards a sea of sand dunes. Gunfire from the ambushers slowed as the angle worsened.

“I think we might be ok…” Leyla began clambering back up to her original position beside Cleo. A heartbeat after the words left her mouth a half dozen swoops leaped from behind the ridge, along with two heavier skiffs, racing after the fleeing grav truck. The swoops lowered towards the ground, their thrust lifting vast trails of dust behind them. Leyla saw that each of the skiff had a half dozen armed and tough looking thugs riding it, firing wildly with a variety of weapons. The motley appearance made them gang members rather than Imperials, which was at least something. Heavy blaster fire stitched the sand beside them as their driver swerved wildly to avoid the train tracking blaster cannon bolts. Leyla caught hold of a handle, firing with her other hand as the swoop raced past them pulling up and away. Their was a flash of light and a plume of dirty black smoke as her bolts struck something important, though the swoop didn’t crash or explode. They were clearly racing models rather than armored military variants.

“Friends of yours?” she called to Cleo as she turned to track another of the swoops, firing with the steady precision of a metronome.

Blaster bolts struck the sand around them, causing large 'splashes' of the grains that fell everywhere. Cleo was thankful Leyla had such great senses, or else they might have been toast, literally. He surged upwards once the last volley of fire had quieted, in his hands a E-10R Blaster Rifle. It was getting up there in years and he needed to replace it, but it would serve at the moment. The robust rifle, barely longer than a carbine, let off a stream of burst fire blaster bolts into the line of pursuers.

One lucky bolt struck a rodian dead in the face, glassing his strange visage and causing his body to loll strangely off the side of the swoop transport. Cleo continued to fire into them as Leyla provided closer range assistance with her blasters. "Friends is a relative term. They work for Jabba the Hutt, my clients biggest rival!" The Iridonian cried out to her, sending another stream to supress them and keep the swoops back before he reloaded.

As he did so, the Bith driving needed to suddenly slow to avoid a vast stone that had appeared from behind a dune, causing the swoops to come perilously close. One speeder bumped into the line of cargo they had, aliens and humans laughing as if their prey was already theirs. They veered around the weapon crates and sped closer. Cleo desperately tried to finish reloading while Leyla held off the other side of the speeder.

In a moment of clarity, Cleo recalled he had something and dropped the weapon. The speeder took it as an invitation for a quick kill and began to aim at him, only for their eyes to go skyward as a metal sphere, tossed from Cleo's hands fell inside of the swoop.

"Thermal! Thermal!" A human cried, and suddenly a large sphere of energy exploded outwards, capturing all of the swoop within its diameter and vaporizing every atom within before disappearing as if it had never been. It didn't even rock their cargo speeder, and Cleo picked up his E-10R and finished his reload, taking careful aim, cool under the following barrage of fire as he cut down another swoop by taking out its pilot, spinning the vehicle out of control to burst into flames among the sand.

"We're almost there! Go faster!" Cleo called. The Bith gave an acknowledging grunt.

The hovertruck screamed around the side of a shallow hill kicking up a rooster tail of dust and grit. The blaster cannons on the swoops whined as they spat powerful bolts at the truck, though fortunately with more enthusiasm than accuracy. The pursuers seemed to know the rendevous point was coming up as well and they redoubled their attack. The enemy speeder truck, loaded as heavily with troops as Cleo’s convoy was with surprise edged closer, blaster bolts striking the back fender and ricocheting wildly of the steel. Leyla tried not to think about the fact that Cleo had mentioned that the ammunition they were carrying was an explosive rather than the more forgiving power packs that moden blasters used. The question was very nearly decided then and there as a Sulustan in the cab opened the door and stepped out onto the running board. He unslung a long fat cylinder that could only be a missile tube. Leyla fired, hitting him in the chest. There was a sudden fizzingly flame before the Klatooinian driver, realising his peril, threw the control yoke sideways tossing the screaming Sulustan into the air. The rocket reload Leyla had hit cooked off, fratriciding the remaining round in a multi stage explosion that tossed a fine gravel over half a mile and nearly flipped the troop carrying truck.

“I really hope your friends are going to be happy to see you!” Leyla shouted at Cleo as he tracked one of the swoops with his rifle. The smuggler waited till the last minute and then fired, smashing the lateral stabilizer and sending the lightly built air craft into a broad turn that ended in a cartwheel of exploding metal that left a cork screw shaped smoke trail through the air.

As though in answer to the statement the Bith threw them into a hard turn and the ground momentarily went out from under her. Leyla floated upwards as the hovertruck crashed down into a dry swale, Cleo narrowly managing to snag her belt before she went overboard. The truck came down hard, compressing its repulsor fields so low that the undercarriage came within a handbreadth of touching the rocky ground which at this speed was have flipped them like a tiddlywink for the few seconds it too the ammunition to go off.

At the end of the swale sat a battered looking skiff of a harsh looking triangular design. Around it lounged several Garmorean’s looking distinctly uncomfortable in the hot desert suns. As the car and the pursuing vehicles burst on to the scene they leaped to their feet and grabbed up vibro axes grunting and growling in agitation. More usefully a Klatooinian who had been relaxing on the deck sprang to the prow of the skiff where a short barreled blaster cannon was mounted on a pintle.

“Uhhhh, these guys know they are on our side right?” Leyla queried as she touched the quick releases to drop her near empty power cells to the deck of the truck, slapping new ones into place and continuing to fire at their pursuers. One of the swoops exploded into flaming fragments as the deck mounted blaster cannon screamed. That was probably luck rather than marksmanship, but there was nothing in the universe better than good luck.

“Apparently so,” Cleo replied with what sounded to Leyla like relief.

Disturbingly, the Gamorean's laughter at the erupting swoop sounded as much childlike glee as violent, and the flames only grew hotter as the vehicle grounded into the sand and the bodies within began to cook in the fire and unrelenting sun. The other swoops, having lost their evident gusto decided it was time to report their failure to their boss. Or more likely, they would send one of them to report their failure and the rest would do their best to remain scarce until Jabba had forgotten of the incident.

The horking from the Gamoreans continued as Cleo and Leyla approached, with the Bith driver turning the vehicle in a wide arc around the landmark so as to present the weapons in a more easily accessible fashion. Though Cleo simply theorized the Bith was making it easier for him to drive away in case it became dangerous again. The Iridonian didn't blame him, but kept his eye on him just the same. If the Bith made a getaway before he and Leyla were back on the transport, he'd find him and make him pay.

Through his visor, he took the measure of the pig-like Aliens. Most Gamoreans were the same. Lazy and brutish, but much of their fat bodies were muscle and they made fine body guards. The Klatooinian was harder to get a bead on, as they were more versatile like humans, and yet he needed to worry on him less, likely. The Klats might have a variety of skills, but they had been serving the Hutts since before there was a republic or an empire. He was no traitor, if anything.

A lead Gamorean approached, Vibroaxe at the ready even as he oinked a primitive Huttese, asking Cleo why it took him so long. Cleomenes snorted, feeling refreshed that the Gamorean wasn't expecting a passcode or any confirmation. These creatures did simple business. 'Wait for the man with a transport and a line of supplies' was likely the only orders they had received. Cleo spoke back in the same strange language, telling him they had some trouble on the sands, and asking where his money was.

The green brute grunted to his companion, who went behind the large skiff to likely retrieve their pay. Another Gamorean stepped forward, but instead of looking at Cleo, it stalked over to the crashed vehicle. Somehow a human had managed to survive, likely having leapt out before the thing had exploded. He was crawling across the sand, clearly hurt with likely a few broken bones. He turned his head just in time to see the Gamorean raise its Vibroaxe. The man held his hands up futilely, only for the spike of the blade to pierce his chest cavity. He spasmed for a mere moment, and then died on the spot.

Cleo wasn't a fan of stark executions, but that one had been trying to kill him a minute before. The murderer Gamorean laughed, his mirth carrying on only long enough until he realized he had been shot, a hole having gone straight through its gut. Dumbly, it looked down and touched the blood flowing from his chest, only for him to be shot again. It fell dead, and the other Gamoreans looked around with sudden fear and held aloft their Vibroweapons as the Klatooinian turned the cannon around anxiously.

A telltale cry from the distance told Cleo all he needed to know, and the Iridonian relaxed, albeit only somewhat. He held a hand in front of Leyla to calm her.

"It's just the customer." He said, as dozens upon dozens of figures began to simply appear from the dunes. Man-like things covered in wrapped cloth and wearing rebreathers and goggles, grunting into the air in a way no other people did. "The Tuskans probably didn't like the Gamorean stepping so close to their number lying in wait. As long as we stay calm, they'll get their guns and we'll get paid." He told her.
@Penny

Leyla slipped her pistols back into her thigh holsters and kept her hands ostentatiously clear of the weapons. The surviving thugs did likewise though they must have been ordered to do so and none of them looked happy about it. The aliens were dressed in flowing robes the color of rock and wrapped in bandages that left only metallic eye pieces visible. They called to each other in their own language as they cautiously approached. Leyla sensed that these were young males, proving their bravery by approaching, while older more experienced marksmen provided overwatch from the ridgeline.

“Just idle curiosity,” Leyla observed sotto voce, “but is there anything to stop them just killing us to avoid paying. If Cleo had an answer he didn’t provide it, merely standing by as the aliens approached. One pried open a box with the end of a bladed staff and lifted a long rifle, still slick with grease from the darkened interior. The weapon didn’t seem to fit quite right in his hand but he had no difficult drawing one of the metal magazines from another section of the crate and loading the weapon. He pointed it into the air and fired off a deafening burst before brandishing the weapon overhead and shouting what might as easily have been a warcry as instructions. The other raiders surged forward grabbing boxes and dragging them away into the desert. To Leyla's surprise, despite their burden, they vanished completely within a few dozen feet of the rendezvous. After a moment there was nothing but silence and the whisper of desert wind.

“Well that was exciting,” Leyla commented to no one in particular.

“What's say we get the Hells out of here before someone tries to shoot us, eat us or both?” Before a decidsion could be made on the point a heretofore unseen Weeqauy slank out from behind the skiff.

“Space trash,” the thing grated in Huttese, “Da boss want to see you.” The Weequay made a gesture towards the skiff with a quad barreled shotgun that must have weighed half as much as it did.

Cleo kept his silence as the Raiders took their weapons. He kept himself completely still, as if he was a statue set here by colonists long forgotten. The toughs beside him kept themselves back, but calling them 'still' was an overstatement. They still grunted and oinked and shuffled without any grace, and with only the barest hint of discipline. Cleo and the Gamoreans were just as impressed as ever when the Tusken Raiders disappeared as if they had never been.

Even if he had wanted to answer Leyla's question, he would need to explain far too much in a place where he didn't feel comfortable being at all. He didn't expect her to truly figure out the politics of the region with a short explanation. She'd have to be a Jedi, and everyone knew they had all but died out decades ago. The fact of the matter was, they didn't pay the Raiders nor did the Raiders pay them. It was an agreement between Bogga and the Tuskens. He provides the guns and they attack Jabba's shipments above all others, and it gave some protection for Bogga's own transports.

Cleo turned to Leyla when he was called in, about to tell her to stay out here. But a look at the Gamoreans and other Aliens, he had second thoughts.

"Follow me," he told her, and turned to stalk down the path the Weequay had indicated. A small measure of 'the bright side' was that there was a noticeable lack of sand on the wind when they entered the Skiff. The walls looked like they were made of natural stone, lightly carved to provide a curved walkway. A servitor droid poked and prodded at a scrapped vehicle, sparks flying where it's appendage touched.

Further in, they passed four Klatooinians and two humans playing a modified version of Pazaak. A Klat with a scar over its jowls lifted its head and grunted something in its native tongue to Cleo, who waved back. "Glath," He acknowledged by name. The hall soon gave way to a large antechamber that likely filled half of the Skiff's considerable size. Two Rodians were being ushered out by a Chagrian in psuedo-Imperial regalia, who stopped and imperiously gazed at Cleo. His stony expression was a stark contrast to the
Twi-Lek girls gyrating behind him on the stage.

"Come forth. Bogga has been expecting you," He said, his eyes slapping onto Leyla for but a moment before turning and marching back to Bogga's side. It had to be Bogga. A Hutt, with a dark blue hide and a tan underbelly, currently devouring a strange delicacy of what had to be Bantha and Dewback guts. The meal was inhaled in a span of seconds, and he beckoned Cleo and Leyla to step forward. "Ah, Cleo! My favorite freelancer."

"Good to see you, Bogga." He said simply, his hands away from his blasters. Even with someone who was trusted, there was always at least 20 blasters in firing distance to protect the Hutt.

"How is work? Not taking any other contracts I hope."

"You know me, Bogga. I'll take what I can get as long as it doesn't conflict with your interests."

The Hutt let out a 'ho ho ho' laugh, shaking his massive belly. "You are always an ambitious one. And what is this?" He pointed at Layla, who was suddenly pushed forward by a Rodian. "Have you brought me a gift?" It was clear what the Hutt meant, or rather, it was clear he meant one of two things as he licked his lips. Cleo held a hand behind his back to indicate that Leyla shouldn't arm herself.

"No Bogga, this is my new...partner."
@Penny