POOHEAD189

Out on the Rim

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

Men vs. Women Race to 1000: Version 2.0

-15

Men vs. Women Race to 1000: Version 2.0

-11

Men vs. Women Race to 1000: Version 2.0

-12

nice try

Men vs. Women Race to 1000: Version 2.0

-12

Out on the Rim

Out on the Rim

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

Men vs. Women Race to 1000: Version 2.0

-14

Men vs. Women Race to 1000: Version 2.0

-4

Men vs. Women Race to 1000: Version 2.0

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