1: Come Fly With Me
The rain sizzled as it came in contact with the quadanium landing pad. A corrosive mixture of industrial pollutants, high grade chemical cleaner, and just enough water to be considered rain; even the weather on the Smuggler's Moon was intent on screwing a guy over. Doctors recommended limited contact with the droplets especially in any exposed orifices do to irritation and in rare cases lasting damage. Most of the populace preferred to stay indoors waiting for such weather systems to blow over - the lack of bodies casting a strange calm over the typically pulsating city.
Despite the weather a motley group gathered on a dock somewhere within the decaying urban labyrinth. It's not like they really had a choice in the manner. Released little over a week ago from a Hutt Prison deep in the undercity where they stayed chained to a wall and forced to listen to the screams of those less fortunate than them. They were released under some very specific instructions and an understanding that they were to be ready when contacted; if they wanted the baradium charges 'given' to them to remain undetonated and safely tucked within the body cavity. So when a profanity soaked message appeared on their datapads along with a series of coordinates and a time in the ungodly hours of the morning, they all did their best to arrive.
For the past hour or so they stood clustered around the various crates of supplies to be ushered into the ship ahead of them. A Loronar E-9 Explorer-Class Armed Long-Range Scout Vessel apparently called the Bounty if the chipping paint on its side was to be believed. The craft looked much older than its eleven years with damage current with a lifetime of use and abuse. The number of loose metal panels, exposed circuitry and general bearing in that the whole ship seemed to tilt slightly to its left for no reason at all as if at any moment it would just tip over. They waited in painfully elongated silence casting occasional glances towards the small building - more of a fancy shed than anything else - off to the side.
Their ‘leader’ was inside talking to the owner of the dock. Judging from the yelling that could be heard from there position and the ever increasing delay in their schedule it became apparent that some sort of altercation had taken place inside. Three times someone had debated entering the shack to see what the problem was and three times they were deterred as the sounds of yelling began to escalate and grow louder. This cycle continued until a silence fell over the area stretching on just long enough to produce the faintest hints of worry.
Then the sound of a scattergun tore through the air followed by several uninterrupted seconds of screaming. The door to the shed was kicked open a moment later and out walked Mus dragging with her a still screaming Quarren whose right foot now consisted of a bloody mangled stump. She walked right past her charges not even acknowledging their existence as she tossed the Quarren to the ground in a crumpled pile near the edge of the platform. She cocked the scattergun as she looked down at the squabbling man before him.
“On your knees.” she ordered and the only response she got in return was muffled whimpering. She rolled her eyes sighing as she pointed the scattergun to the ground and pulled the trigger. The distinctive boom of a slugthrower going off causing the Quarren to flinch backwards.
“Now.” Mus stated as she cocked the gun. This was the Mus Rosh that everyone heard rumors about. The one that was wanted in a dozen systems, whose exploits included everything from assassinations to bombings. This was the figure that had allegedly broken out of the Kessel Spice Mines not once but twice. Far flung from the jovial character that they first met in the Hutt Prison that introduced herself as their new boss. This was a different animal altogether, an animal that enjoyed the hunt.
Ever so slowly the Quarren began to move right foot still bleeding heavily into a kneeling position. Without waiting Mus thrusted her hand forward into the perpetually ajar jaw and with a surprising level of strength forced it open just large enough so that she could shove the barrel of the scattergun down the Quarren’s throat. His eyes widened and he tried to speak but his voice was muffled and distorted by the foreign object blocking his throat.
“Just shut your kriffing mouth. You had your chance to talk.” Mus explained half-shouting, “Now you listen.”
The Quarren’s protests began to dissipate as he looked up at her and nodded very slowly.
“Good.” her posture seemed to visibly relax, “My employer's trust you. They appreciate you. And in return we give you good business. We always have. Is that not true?”
Another nod was given.
“Then why are you trying to screw us over? Huh?” she asked the question almost innocent if not for the gun jammed down the throat. “Try to scam us over? Try to bump up prices? Another 500 credits? For that piece of shit we keep locked here? I wouldn't be surprised if the thing is filled with mynocks!”
She sighed, “Do you think I’m an idiot? Is that what's happening here?”
The Quarren shook his head vigorously holding his hands reaching up to her in a pleading motion.
“Good.” she swatted the hands away, “So here is what is going to happen. You’re gonna give me the access codes to open that piece of shit for free and you get out of here with your head intact.”
The Quarren began to protest angry noises that needed no translation even as they were muffled behind the barrel of the gun. Mus sighed before pushing the gun slowly forward deeper into the throat. She raised a brow at him. He tried to look past her towards the others still clustered around the ship but his view was brought back down towards the ground as Mus yanked the gun downward. Shoulders sagged in defeat as he nodded his head slowly.
Mus produced the datapad from her back pocket and presented it to him. His hands quickly moved across the screen typing in a series of passwords and conformations never leaving eyes with the Zabrak ahead of him. As a list series of digits was entered the screen flashed green for a second before transition back to a cool blue. Nodding her head in approval Mus put the Datapad away and withdraw the gun from the Quarren’s mouth.
She emptied a slug into his chest before he even had a chance to grovel. At this close of a range the high-powered scattergun easily punched a hole through the flesh and bone of the chest leaving an angry fist-sized hole. The force of the blast knocked him back with enough momentum to send his body spinning with a bloody pirouette over the edge. Mus turned around and walked back towards the group the rain already washing the viscera off of her and the ground.
“You see that’s everyone's problem.” she explained flashing a loose smile, “They think they're worth more alive than dead.”
As she approached the Bounty she pressed a button on her cufflink and a heavy metallic clunk was heard. The ramp that lead into the bounty did not descend so much as it fell smashing into the flooring with a loud harsh noise nearly crushing any of those close to it. A light stuttered before flickering on producing a low buzz. Mus sauntered over and picked up a large rectangular crate labeled Handle Carefully: High Explosives and flung it haphazardly over her shoulder. She walked up three steps up the ramp before she turned around to look at her crew.
“We got five minutes to bring all the supplies onboard. You got another five to find yourself a hammock to call home. After that we’ll all meet in the kitchen so I can tell you what fish we hunting.” she turned took a few more steps before freezing and called over her shoulder with a wink, “Oh and if you're late your head might explode. Sooo don’t do that.”
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