It's all about having a good latitude. (akaTMMFKM)

[Kella]

Naavechi loved space. She loved the vastness of it. How it kept going forever and ever and ever...

There was always something new to be seen, something untouched to explore. And if she ever ran out of planets in this galaxy, there were more in the next one, and the next one, and the next one, the places where only legends had gone...

Maybe, one day, when she was old and had little left to offer the world, she would sail off into the unknown regions, and then she, too, would become a legend.

But those days were a long, long way off, and Naavechi still had a great, great deal to explore.

And that was precisely why she was here on Ord Vaug. Well, there were other more concrete reasons. There was the Republic contract, of course. And the fact that Naavechi was a cartographer by trade. But even so, at the root of it all, she was here simply to see the unseen.

The Republic usually only called in for specialty jobs -- there was a great deal they could accomplish via satellite imagery. Mapping an entire planet could take years, but with satellites, things such as coast-lines and general depths above sea-level could be easily calculated.

However, such technology could not see everything. So, as it were, about two weeks worth of good solid work was required to top the job off. Work out the more... finicky parts of the terrain.

Naavechi looked around the space-port. Or, more accurately, the roof of the space-port. It was here on the roof where all the ships landed. Most did not stay long enough to require the shelter of a hangar, but those that did needed special clearance. This place was open to the air and the sunshine -- Naavechi appreciated it. In the building below lay all the processing, and the shuffling, and the red tape that needed to be overcome before she would be set loose in the forests. Naavechi decided not to think about that yet. She stood near the stairwells that led down, through the roof and into the building. Here she lingered, among the various merchants peddling wares to those on their ways, in or out. They mostly sold to the guards and transport personnel, observation revealed.

Across the permacrete, a ship marked with bold red stripes finally opened its doors. While Naavechi had been waiting, she’d watched the paperwork volley back and forth. A row of men in bright orange cover-alls stepped out, each cuffed and chained to the others. Ord Vaug was a prison planet, and Naavechi had known that from day one. The prisons occupied a small portion of the planet, and the rest was covered in varying densities of rainforest, with a few mountain ranges and polar ice-caps thrown in for good measure. The seas were shallow, and vegetation grew and prospered miles upon miles into the water, so that from orbit, the planet was almost entirely green.

The prison wasn’t the real threat, here. The Republic had assured her that everything was run to the highest standards, and Naavechi believed them. It was what lie beyond the prison complex that was threatening -- and it was the reason Ord Vaug made such a good place for a prison. The rainforest was filled with massive predators, territorial herbivores, flesh-eating diseases, man-eating plants, sink-holes, and a hundred thousand other potential nasties.

Which is why Naavechi had hired help -- she knew full well that Rusty and her could not do the job alone. The computations, they’d have no problem with. What they needed was back-up to deal with the terrain and its inhabitants, some extra muscle, and if they were lucky, a bit of extra brains too.

Naavechi had never met any of the men she’d hired in-person, but she’d run the proper background checks, and she’d... talked to the proper people. Naavechi hadn’t been in the galaxy long, but while she didn’t know where to get someone’s proper rep, she knew how to contact the person who did. Perhaps it was her naivety that put trust in these strangers.

Or, perhaps, her true naivete was her assumption that Rusty, her faithful companion, could deal with any of the men, should they prove to be troublesome.

Though, if one considered the quadruped’s threatening wingspan, his wicked beak, the density of his muscles, and the fact that he possessed over a dozen very sharp talons, perhaps Naavechi was not quite so naive as she appeared. Then again, maybe she was, who’s to say?

Naavechi reviewed the roster in her head. She’d contracted four men, and a... small furry mammalian... thing. The first of the men was a Mandalorian, and from the transaction, Naavechi could only guess that he was desperate for money. That suited her fine enough, as she’d only ever heard of Mandalorians, never actually worked with one up close. They were the source of almost as many stories as the Jedi. Then there was the one who, while somewhat full of hot air, had the rep to back it up. Third was a more level-headed man, gave of the impression of tempered-steel nerves -- something of great use in an unpredictable environment. And the last... well, Naavechi didn’t really think it so simple to sum him up into words, other than that he seemed quite perfect for the job.

The little mamallian... rabbit, rat, dog fellow, he deserved a category all his own. Rusty had found the idea of him amusing, and Naavechi was drawn by his reputation as an excellent pilot. He’d seemed quite enthusiastic, and if he became too troublesome, a few of the other men had piloting skills, so all would be provided for. That, and the little fellow was charmingly adorable.

Her eyes skimmed the skies. Black eyes. Through-and-through they were black, from the pupil to the iris to the schlera. Her mother had told her they were a fine, fine shade. Long, silky black hair was kept in neat, narrow braids. Most of these fell to the base of her shoulder blades, while those by her temples were drawn back from her face. Her skin was not white or brown or black or blue, but rather, white and brown and black and blue, and a dozen other colors in-between and otherwise.

At first glance, it might seem that Naavechi’s skin had been attacked by an over-zealous tattoo artist, with an obsession for bold patterns and shapes. A closer glance might lead one to think it was all an elaborate application of tribal paint, but still, one would be wrong. Rather, the pigment lay in her skin. It was a physical manifestation of the inner personality and spirit. Naavechi didn’t wear her heart on her sleeve, she wore it on her arm, and her face, and her neck, and her hands, and her feet, and everywhere in-between. To most humanoids, these markings were strange and unintelligible -- to a Nihran, they meant everything a person was and had been, and quite a bit of who they would be.

”I think that’s the first of them now,” Rusty said. His rich voice spoke in Nihrani, Naavechi’s mother-tongue. It was something special between them, that language. They shared a bond thicker than blood.

Naavechi nodded, and followed his gaze to the sky.

Not much longer now!

[Twysper]

Mathathyper Chesheervyk loved being captain of his own, stolen, beautiful ship. He loved the freedom associated with the job. He could literally fly anywhere in the whole universe he wanted to with a few coordinates, and if anyone said edge-wise, he could just fly away from them. Or blow them up.

Being a part of the Faction dubbed the Stellar Mythics slightly constrained him from freely wandering the universe, but he didn't mind. The Squib was there by free will, and the benefits for belonging far outweighed the costs.

Most of the time though, Math's goals and the Mythic's goals even ran parallel courses.

Which brought the Squib back to why he was flying to Ord Vaug…

Math's Falcon-class Scout ship and his services as pilot were being contracted by a Nihran woman and a male Graarl, both originally from Astrum V.

The Squib had been to their home planet before; inadvertently caused a big ruckus when he and his old Dark Jedi master, Miayan, ran afoul of a Jedi Investigator. It was a nice place though. Plenty of vendors to haggle with. Math always mused if the populace of Astrum’s sole city honored his destructive legacy with a wanted poster.

But that was a side note.

Of more relevance, he absolutely adored his employers already.

The currency part of his prospective pay had been spent in advance, on credit, and was represented clearly by the blackmarket twin missile pods that had been expertly mounted on the port and starboard sides of his ship.

When the Squib got back to Aiaru, the Unum would fear him.

Math shifted from his position lazily; feet previously draped over the padded armrests of his special captain’s chair moved to rest on the floor.

The other part, the maps that were to be made, for his employers ran a cartography company, was the part of the job that interested the Mythics. Part of the deal was for him to get a copy of any and all maps made on this expedition, to be added to the Stellar Mythic’s stockpile of information.

So all in all, Math was traveling to see new places, for good pay, and was also scoring brownie points with the Mythics.

Life was good.

He ran through the planet’s strict security clearance deftly and without incident, Ord Vaug was a prison planet, after all, and it wouldn’t do for someone to stage a jailbreak with outside help.

Mathathy was eventually directed towards the landing zone where he was to meet ‘Naapeachy,’ (What a silly name!) the Nihran, and ‘Rusty,’ (Much more sensible.) the Graarl, in person, along with the other four people involved in the expedition.

Absently, he noted a miniscule presence in the Mythos directly above him, and a quick glance revealed that his pet Tailring, Shyence, was done snoozing in the basket of sand the creature called home, and was currently perched on the top of his chair. Math absently reached both inky black furred hands up to retrieve the small Socorroan dragon, putting both feet up on the control yoke to steer in their place. The creature was all black scales, whiplash tail, and dark wings. Much like Math himself, who was essentially a fuzzy black spot on whatever planet he was on, barring the two neon blue ears on the top of his head.

The landing suffered mildly for Math’s unorthodox driving, as the Scout bucked on its landing struts before settling on the ground.

“Time to go meet new people what buy you food.” Math crooned to Shyence, looking out the viewport to steal a quick glimpse of Naavechi and Rusty waiting outside for him. The Squib set the specialized headset (Most headsets weren’t made with Squibs in mind, unfortunately) he used to communicate with the prison’s traffic controllers down over the top of the seat, making a last check over his person to make sure he had both of his curved lightsabers on his belt.

Then Math grabbed his staff and opened the entry ramp, allowing the fresh air of the planet to flood his ship. Shyence, as was becoming habit, sat on his shoulder as he walked out into the atmosphere of Ord Vaug.

The Squib nimbly hopped down to the ground, staff tap-tapping away a staccato rhythm on the permacrete as he bounded excitedly towards the duo. Shyence dug his claws into Math in order to maintain his perch.

The one he assumed was Naavechi was A. tall, and B. had skin that looked like a kaleidoscope. Rusty was simply as imposing as Math remembered most Graarls to be, and though his scales were colored muddy red ranging to black, he was not quite the walking picture-book his companion was.

“Harro! Mathathyper Chesheervyk, Stellar Mythic Captain, at your service!" His Tailring chose that particular moment to squawk loudly. "And Shyence too."

The Squib was infinitely proud of learning the nice way of introducing himself, from a book too, no less! Maggie had recommended “Manners for Morons” to him after one too many instances where Math had introduced himself by yelling obscenities…

[Kella]

Naavechi watched the ship land, noting the slight hiccup, though she was much less concerned by it than Rusty was. The little creature emerged and approached her from across the roof, and when he grew near enough, Naavechi observed another, littler creature with him. It looked a bit like a Graarl, with six limbs, two of which were wings, and neat scales. However, it's neck was long and ended in a snout, instead of a beak, so it had a slightly different look about it.

"Harro! Mathathyper Chesheervyk, Stellar Mythic Captain, at your service!" He said. The littler reptile squawked. "And Shyence too."

Naavechi smiled, delighted. For as charming as she found the little creature to be, he hard sharp teeth, and a bold stance, and she knew that she had been smart in hiring him.

Of course, Naavechi was fluent in basic, but most people did not learn that until significantly after having met her. Naavechi's accent was thick, wheras Rusty's pronunciation was impeccable, so it simply made more sense for him to do most of the talking. Between that, and their side conversations in Nihrani, most people took her to be ignorant of the language. In fact, they often timed their conversations to seem exactly like the back-and-forth of translating, just for the fun of it...

"What a queer little fellow," Rusty said in Nihrani.

"A queer little fellow who can fly a space-ship," she answered, "And who can sneak into small places and blend in at night, and is probably full of all sorts of other surprises." She smiled brightly at both Rusty and Mathathyper, white teeth flashing from behind blue lips.

"Hello to you too," Rusty said, in Basic. "I'm sure you know who we are. Naavechi greets you as well -- and she thinks your Shyence is a fine creature."

"I do now, do I?"

"She also compliments the fine shade of your ears."

"That I can agree upon."

"The others should be along shortly. Once everyone has arrived, we'll give you the rest of the information."

Rusty settled back on his haunches to continue the waiting, while Naavechi scanned the skies again.

[Regnier]

"Dad?"

"...mrdmbldlf..."

"Dad. Wake up."

"...mmfh...biscuits..."

"Alright, you asked for it."

-----

A few sharp clicks and a whir sounded within the cockpit, muffled by layers of muscle and skin, as Ty stepped inside, his arm locking into place. He rolled the metal apparatus around gently a few times to check functionality as her rested his other hand on the back of the pilot's seat, water dripping from what little hair he had onto the pilot's shoulder.

"Well played, kid."

"Yeah? I was thinking it was a little much, but since you didn't have your leg on, I figured I could get away with it."

"Where'd you find the bucket, anyways?" Running his hand over his head, spraying a find mist into the air as the close-trimmed hair bristled back into place, he glanced through the porthole at the approaching planet. Ord Vaug. Not his first pick for a vacation spot, but he'd worked on far, far worse for considerably less than he was being payed for this job. All in all, this wasn't such a bad deal, decent pay for a relatively easy job. All he had to worry about was the local wildlife this time around, rather than the flora, fauna, a gang, a local tribe of hunters, a special operations group, some saber-throwing nutjob, bombs, and crashing starships. Piece of cake. Hence why he was letting Alea actually participate this time around; she needed the experience, and with this job, he wasn't too worried about her.

"Actually, I couldn't find a bucket. Used your helmet."

The lines on Ty's forehead creased a little further as he narrowed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Awesome."

"Like father like daughter." Alea said with a smirk as she glanced over her shoulder at the hulk of muscle and metal behind her. He shook his head and muttered something under his breath about genetics. Alea's smirk turned into a grin that her grandparents had seen all too often a long time ago while raising three brothers and a sister who could keep pace.

"Keep laughing when the joint problems hit in ten years. Could be worse, could've gotten my body, mind, and face."

"You know, for someone who's landed as many hot nurses as you have, you have a very humble view of your looks, dad. I've seen pictures of some of them, remember?"

"What can I say? Some women dig scars. Now answer that blood transmission before the locals shoot us down, will ya'?"

-----

Slowing gently into a hover above the landing pad docking control had designated, the distinctly unremarkable TL-22 slowly descended until it settled, the engines winding down shortly thereafter. To a trained eye, it was probably fairly easy to tell that the pilot was, while fairly good, still a little inexperienced. She'd only actually been flying for two years now, after all.

After a few minutes, the entry ramp lowered half-way, froze with a heavy k-chunk, raised a few inches, then started down again. As it hit the permacrete ever so gently, Alea was already half-way down, dressed in a darker, practical outfit that was a basic 'go-anywhere' type of outfit, a half-decent civilian-make carbine slung over on shoulder, and a small pack resting on her back. As usual, her darkened goggles hung around her neck, primarily because she'd forgotten entirely about their existence. Hooking her thumbs beneath the straps of her pack, she scanned the so-called 'space-port' for the Nihran that had hired them. Now, she'd never actually seen a Nihran before, but she had a basic description to find the woman by and, well...she had to admit, Naavechi Rijaal was kind of hard to miss, as was her rather large reptilian companion. The Squib on the other hand...well, perhaps it was because Alea was a little distracted by veritable walking work of art and the giant winged reptile, but she almost didn't even notice the small, furry creature.

Glancing over her shoulder, she called back into the ship that she'd found them, and the lumbering form that was commonly known as the Taurus came down the ramp after her. Wearing even simpler attire, akin to something you'd expect a retired old man on vacation to wear, from slacks to the loose shirt dotted with patterns of leafs, any thoughts one might have about him being a tourist were instantly dispelled by the scars lining his face, the simply massive 'handgun' strapped to his left thigh, and the duffel bag the size of a human resting on his shoulder as if it were a small child. Of course, the gear within actually weighed roughly half his unnatural body-weight, but you would never guess as much from the ease with which he moved while bearing it in such an awkward position. As Alea pointed out the group not too far from them and moved the seal the ship, Ty looked them over appraisingly, like a predator would gauge a species it had never seen before.

"Evey, be wary the little ball of fuzz. Do not make any deals with him, because I will not bail your broke-ass out." Adopting a fairly neutral expression that complemented the clean-cut professionalism of his personal hygiene, and contrasted his daughter's light smile, Ty set forward towards the Nihran and her little entourage at a steady pace, his notably mismatched footfalls caused by the considerable difference in weight on either side of his body easy enough to notice by someone paying attention. He stopped a few yards short of the group, Alea just behind and off to the side of him, and not-so-gently dropped the duffel onto the ground, the metal case within giving off a solid thud. "Miss Rijaal? My name's Magness, Ty Magness." Turning his torso slightly, he gestured Alea with a gloved hand. "This is my daughter, Alea."

"Lea, please. It's nice to meet you, all of you."

[Kella]

"So much metal, it's just not natural," Rusty said, after Ty had introduced himself.

"Well, if you consider most metal is mined pure, that's actually very natural."

Naavechi made eye contact with Ty. "Gaalot," she said, nodding her head. Then, she offered the same to Lea. "Gaalot."

"Good fortune," Rusty explained. "It is well to meet you as well, always assuring to know that the firepower has come through."

Naavechi had the distinct disadvantage of coming from a culture where everything is explicitly stated, and all is advertised freely, so learning to read-between-the-lines was somewhat new to her. However, she compensated for this by being very wary of trusting her eyes, so though Ty and his daughter did not necessarily look eager to traipse through a dense jungle and face fang-toothed predators, they probably were.

"Wewe ni msichana haiba," Naavechi said, smiling brightly at Lea.

"She says you are a charming girl," Rusty faithfully translated, and then added, "We are glad to have you along."

[Kuhblam]

Ord Vaug. What a wonderful rock for a vacation. Now all I need are a bunch of Jetiise hunting me and everything would be picture perfect.

The lone persona of infamous Outer Rim Mandalorian bounty hunter Ferrus Bes'Beviin weaved it's way through the space-port's more shady back alleys, his black-red armor a some-what odd yet still awe-inspiring panoply amongst Ord Vaug's more immoral denizens.

Truth be told, Ferrus had never planned to be here for a week, if indeed it was a week as he had lost track of the time. In fact, the only reason he was still planet-side was because his ship was more than trashed; in fact, it literally was trash. Originally having been here for a simple business transaction and some supply-buying, what had supposedly been intended as a "short visit" had turned in something more akin to a permanent residency. A nice little planetary greeting on part of a trio of pirate corvettes in the farthest outskirts of the system had served to nearly completely destroy several shipboard systems in a one-sided exchange of turbolaser fire, and in the ensuing aftermath of a Republic Hammerhead identifying Ferrus' ship through the most wonderful invention of IFF systems, nearly every legal banking institution as well as nearly every illegal banking institution had been frozen. Ferrus was a hunter who often played the part of hunted as well; in times like these, his head was worth a pretty penny. The Republic's trackers on planet were a joke, but they were a big enough nuisance to be larger than the normal perennial thorn in his back. Ferrus needed hard credits, and he needed them fast.

What a bloody mess. No access to accounts or contacts.

As he hooked a left and moved towards the main space-port landing pads, Ferrus' mind went over the simple escort mission he had decidedly signed on for. The job was simple; with a couple other gentlemen and some kind of mammalian space mammal, he was to escort a young Nihran cartographer through Ord Vaug's family friendly safari, complete with thousands of different wildlife and plant-life determined to kill anything outside the space port's walls.

Truth be told, it was an easy mission. Of course, easy missions rarely if ever went according to plan. The fact that Ferrus hated animals was not helping his current state of mind either. Sure, the Mandalorian had killed dozens of wild-life on Mandalore. But that was different and the times had changed much since then; the simple sight of a domesticated dog was enough for Ferrus to draw his Beskad and gut it twice over. Still, it was a good opportunity for the bounty hunter to round out his odd phobia, and Ferrus had to admit that now was as good a time as ever.

Mishuk gotal'u meshuroke, pako kyore.

Ferrus didn't know much about the other mercenaries on the job. He had gone over their dossiers, looked up some background information for the coming job. At least one of them looked like he had some military experience; according to the bio, the bear of a man was ex-Republic cannon fodder. Otherwise, Ferrus had not given a detailed thought about the other members of the crew.

His employers were... unique. He had only seen a Nihran once before, and the stories were true; they were indeed walking tattooed chameleons. This civvie was young and brash for such under-taking a dangerous job, and Ferrus admired her for having the common sense to get some extra muscle; common sense in the galaxy was rare for the current time.

As Ferrus neared the main landing pad entrance, his eyes narrowed somewhat as he backed off into an open spice cargo warehouse, having locked a hidden gaze onto a group of Republic prison guards escorting an assorted group of criminals of various species. Hidden in the darkness behind a wide durasteel gate, Ferrus leaned against the door with quiet awareness as the group's leader and then the rest of the men passed by, the grinding of shackles personifying the audio backdrop exhibited by the prisoners. Stepping back outside into the sunlight as brightness washed over his armor, Ferrus continued on his merry way through the small number of former passengers moving either in or away from his direction.

----

As he entered the main permacrete ship pad, Ferrus drew some stares from a mumbling trio of dockhands as he entered completely silently, his T-Visor butting heads with their own and intimidating the burly men into going back about their pitiful business. Ahead of him, he could see the short black rodent from his group of personal dossiers, as well as the freight train and a much younger girl beside him whom Ferrus could only assume was either this 'Ty's' daughter or a business partner. Amongst them and some cargo crates, he could see his employer... as well as the large avian creature mentioned in the mission bio, who's presence made Ferrus clench an armored gloved fist for a brief moment in a slight spasm of un-ease.

A rodent, a space dreadnought, a living tattoo, and a dinosaur. An interesting group for the participants already here.

Not even bothering to smile inside his helmet as his mind gathered several slightly humorous thoughts inside the comfort of Ferrus' head, the Mandalorian continued forward, reaching the woman and his co-employer. Ferrus' aura radiated that of a cold and unfeeling figure, and he could tell that those here knew he was not exactly one for social gatherings or meaningless words.

Not a few feet from the Nihran, whom Ferrus knew to be named "Naavechi", he accosted her and the Graarl beside her. He drew one of his custom Corvlic 44s and spun it on his index finger for a few quick revolutions before expertly sliding it back into one of his leg holsters with a professional display of dexterity.

"Ma'am."

Ferrus' helmet nodded in respect to her, and he looked in the Graarl's direction as a sign of acknowledgment, although it was obvious that he was somewhat uneasy around the large creature.

"Bes'Beviin, Ferrus."

His speaking was a reserved, yet cold monotone style, and Ferrus' gruff Mandalorian accent spoke Basic with ease as he gave a curt, short introduction, trying to keep it as professional as possible.

[Kella]

Rusty nodded to the newcomer. He then looked to Naavechi. "I don't think he likes me."

"Did you know he was already on the planet?" Naavechi asked.

"Greetings to you," Rusty said to the Mandalorian, "From myself and Naavechi."

"I did not," Rusty answered. "Though it explains the fact that he took the job despite obvious reservations."

It was quite obvious from Naavechi's expression and body language, the way she kept looking at the mandalorian, constantly re-appraising him, that something was bothering her.

"Will you ask him when he's going to take off his mask?"

"I don't think that would quite be appropriate right now."

Rusty preserved the guise of their conversation, by turning to the others and saying,

"We're only waiting on two more now."

[Rugs]

Drip

A drop fell from his forehead, sparkling briefly if the light before it hit the floor between the outstretched fingers of his hand.

Tsubasa's face was a mask of calm and serenity, despite the rigorous physical activity he was putting himself through. Well, this part was the least rigorous of his daily routine, but it was still difficult.

He was in the training room on board his ship, the Vagabond. His training clothes--some light pants and dark blue sleeveless shirt were slick with sweat and there was a certain wet sheen to his skin. For the time being, he was upside down, balanced near-perfectly on one hand with the other held out t o the side and his body held up into the air, straight as a board.

Some weariness was starting to set into his body. He'd been at this for a few hours now, and even this phase of mediation, in this pose, had stretched on for nearly half an hour. But he was used to it, as a Matukai; such grueling physical training was par for the course for them, and an integral part of the methods they often used to meditate. Besides, he'd pushed himself much farther than this before.

"Your body is your greatest weapon, Tsubasa," his old teacher had once said. "All of your skill with your wan-shen or your sword means nothing if they are taken from you. But you will always have your body, and to make it the best weapon that it can be you have to keep it strong. You must push it to its limit and test it, like a sword in the forge."

And that was what he'd done. It was something he still did, as he made his travels throughout the Galaxy. It was something he'd continue to do for the rest of his life.

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

Tsu's amber eyes opened slowly at the sound of his stopwatch's alarm going off. Guess it's time to stop, then. His arm bent and then he pushed against the floor, letting his powerful muscles spring him off into the air to land crisply on his feet. He shook some of the weariness out of his arm and turned the alarm off before stretching almost lazily and looking around.

"Ten hours left, then." So he'd gotten in about 3 and a half hours of training in our of the fourteen hours the trip would take. Not bad. For now though, he'd rest to let his body fully recover; though he wasn't really too terribly tired now, it wouldn't do to go into the contract he'd taken up at anything less than 100 percent.

Supposedly this contract would be taking him out into the wilderness of Ord Vaug. That was part of the reason he'd accepted it; Tsubasa, despite some of his other tendencies, was a man that loved nature, and being out in the wild, dangerous or no. Besides, taking up such a contract would do well to break up the monotony of so many run-of-the-mill 'hired security for some event' missions or ones similar to it.

But first he'd have to take a shower....

------------------------------

"No, Ifrit, I've told you a hundred times, you can't burn the prisoners here."

"But Tsubasa, they are scum, the bottom of society's proverbial barrel! Surely I would only be doing the Galaxy a favor?"

Tsu laughed softly and shook his head at Ifrit, the little droid companion he'd been given at PF Headquarters on Kuat. He liked the droid, despite his tendency to want to set almost any and everything on fire. Well, he'd grown to like him once they'd established that fires on the Vagabond were quite forbidden.

"Trust me, the only thing you'd be doing is getting us both into a world of trouble. Then we'd be the ones in trouble. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

Ifrit's holographic wings, which took the appearance of a dragon's, turned a content red as he looked up to Tsu. "I suppose not. But if one of them tries to harm you, I've got your back."

"That's good to know," Tsu laughed, deciding to forego mentioning that he was more than capable of handling himself. Perhaps the fluid, almost dance like grace that all of his motions held would give some hint of that away. Or perhaps not. Failing that, a few broken limbs might do the trick, unless the prisoners here were dumber than he gave them credit for.

Now that they were out of the ship and on Ord Vaug, Tsu was dressed as he normally did, rather than in his training attire. HIs collapsed wan-shen hung easily at his side, as did a short vibroblade with a wicked serrated edge. And across his band hung a dao, the one that belonged to his master, before he died. He was well-armed, but the footnote at the end of his contract said it would be wise for him to come as such.

Matukai and droid continued on across the spaceport's roof, pausing halfway through their journey so that Ifrit could jump up to ride on Tsu's shoulder, until they reached the small gathering of people on the other side.

The group was quite diverse, but Tsu couldn't say he was surprised. There was some huge brute of a man, a strange black rodent thing with a staff, and some other fellow that was covered in armor from head to toe. Tsu snickered to himself at the sight of the last one. The man was a Mandalorian, if his visor was anything to go by; feared warriors supposedly, but Tsu had his own thoughts on people that cowered behind armor. They weren't for here, though, and so he kept them to himself for the time being.

He noted with some irrtation that--save the rodent, all of the ones that had been hired were taller than he was. Why did fate curse me to be so short?

Standing in the middle of the group was Naavechi , along with Rusty, the companion that had been mentioned in the contract. She was a walking tattoo, he was some strange dino-gryphon thing.

"What a fascinating creature," Ifrit mused aloud as they came to join the group.

"Yep."

Tsu came to stop near Naavechi and offered a hand to her. "Tsubasa Arus," he said with a slight nod of his head.

"And I," Ifrit started before Tsu could continue, "am a Project Familiar Reptilian Electronic Assistance unit, Model #10." The little droid stood up on Tsu's shoulder, as if he was showing himself off to the rest of the group. His mouth opened a little bit and a small puff of dark smoke escaped, carried away by the breeze.

"Right, just call him Ifrit." Tsu laughed and shook his head. "And if you have anything of value that's flammable, don't let him near it."

[Kella]

Naavechi almost forgot to let Rusty 'translate' the man's (and his metal pet's) introduction before she laughed heartily.

Rusty grinned. "The greetings are returned. But if you burn it, you buy it."

Tsubasa did not have quite the presence of the suited man, the living hulk, or the lightning-fast rodent, but Naavechi could see that his muscles were well-defined and his stature confident. Rosha would have said something about the fates smiling, and Naavechi was inclined to agree.

She made a mental note to talk to Ifrit later -- what a fascinating little robot!

"We're just about ready to be on our way," Rusty said to Tsubasa and the others. "There's only one more to arrive."

[Twysper]

Mathathyper was nothing if not conceited, and at his employer's words, his large blue ears pivoted to stand up a little more prominently as he momentarily basked in attention. Bright lucid eyes scanned them both for possessions that they could potentially part with, but the Squib was soon interrupted by the appearance of an imposing, very very big, lumbering, metallic man and his smaller girl.

Math listened quietly to the juxtaposed pair's short introduction, but the heavy duffel bag the man called Ty dropped to the permacrete drew his attention instantly. In half a nanosecond, the tiny Mythic was slipping around the group to examine it. One furred hand rubbed at the rough material around the zipper of the bag, as his olfactory coat quickly identified the smell as belonging to sterile metal. The Squib depressed the bag with a dexterous finger until he felt the hard case inside, which he excitedly deduced held things of value, and was locking away the more specific scents of the contents.

If his short investigation was noticed by Ty or Alea, a prepared explanation of wanting to know what was coming aboard his ship would be issued, but if not, that would be just fine with Math too.

A small bit of excitable pacing, and then another passenger had seemingly just appeared, for his arrival wasn’t heralded by the whine of ship’s engines. He was garbed entirely in metal armor like a war droid, and Math had spent enough time in the Stellar Mythic archives to identify the distinctive Mandalorian helmet, and that it was shiny, and that it was worth a lot.

Which was really all that mattered. Once they were all aboard his ship and essentially captive customers, Math intended to start haggling, but not a moment before.

However, the hired fighter’s smooth draw and dexterous handling of his weapon was not missed in the Squib’s first impression, and Math’s interest perked. He carried no other belongings other than what was on his person, and so didn’t represent the mystery of the Ty and Alea’s duffel bag, but his frigid professionalism drew the Squib all the same.

Mathathyper wanted to impress this man back, and so proceeded to haphazardly twirl his bladed staff like a frenzied spice-addict. It helped with the waiting, and within a moment of starting the activity, Math forgot that he was trying to impress anyone specifically, and was simply continuing for self-amusement.

The Squib stopped soon enough, when he heard the rumblings of another ship landing nearby.

…How many passengers was he supposed to have, again?

Mentally, everyone present was stuffed into his Falcon-class. There was still plenty of space for more passengers, for the freezer wasn’t even occupied, and he figured he could fit two or three passengers there in a pinch.
Absently, Math pawed at his shoulder in the attempt to find and pet Shyence. After five seconds of blind groping, the Squib concluded that the Tailring was elsewhere.

But where elsewhere?

~~~~~~~~

Shyence had silently taken flight from Mathathyper’s cloaked shoulder, flapping off in the direction of the newest arrival…

Tsu.

The Tailring found and circled once above him, and then dropped like a streaking black arrow onto the muscled shoulder opposite Ifrit’s own perch, flairing wings to slow the impact at the last moment. Immediately, Shyence nosed around Tsu’s neck to look at the highly advanced draconic robot, long tail flitting behind.

The look the tiny sand dragon gave the robot was nothing short of sultry, loving adoration.

Because Shyence, unbeknownst to Mathathy, was a girl.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Squib started towards Shyence as soon as she started her attack run on Tsu’s shoulder. His pet had done this before back on Aiaru, frequently, and people never responded well to the Tailring’s occasionally erratic behavior.

But he did have a ship and people to fly, so after making sure that Shyence wasn’t being strangled by Tsu, and checking to see that everyone else seemed to be present, Mathathyper waved generally before firing a jet of flame into the air from his staff to ensure he had everyone’s attention. The ball of fire whooshed loudly as it burned through the air.

“If all ready would enthusiastically follow my super-helpful guidance to the ship of great flight you can settle quite easily you bet.” Math declared with all the glee of a tour guide, beckoning again towards those assembled as he started back towards his Falcon-class, staff tapping away on the hard permacrete again. “Come come.”

[Kella]

Naavechi jumped at the sudden Jet of flame. Her first thought was the little metal reptile (How in the world did metal look and move so much like a living thing anyway?) but she quickly realized the source of the fire had been the Squib.

Not that that was reassuring.

"Was that the--"

"His staff."

"Oh," Naavechi sighed.

Then the Squib, having sufficiently drawn everyone's attention, beckoned them on. Naavechi waved the rest on to follow the squib directly -- she needed to notify the officer that they were ready for the pre-planet checks.

Naavechi asked Rusty to scan the sky -- there was still one person yet to arrive.

"I see one, about the right size, maybe five, seven minutes out," Rusty said. "Should we wait?"

"No, the checks should take us at least that long. We can have one of the officers send him along one he lands." She nodded with finality.

It didn't take her long to flag down one of the officers, and tell him they were ready for inspection. He nodded and departed, and she turned to catch up with the small, furry pilot.

~~~

A half-dozen or so officers had gathered around the Squib's ship. They were relatively polite, and didn't seem to enjoy this part of their job any more than than the searchees did.

They poked in and out of bags, and didn't seem to be looking for anything in particular. Naavechi surrendered her own parcel, and the officer looked strangely at her ax, but said nothing.

She watched as the officers moved on to her employees -- she was the boss now, wasn't that a novel thought! Naavechi eyed the Mando. Something about him was bothering her. Was he ever going to take his mask off? It didn't make sense, him hiding his face like that.

The officers concluded their personnel searches, and then asked Mathathy if they could look in his ship.

"We need to make sure you haven't picked up any stowaways," the lead one said, stepping towards the ship.

[Regnier]

Ty grunted. The firepower indeed, just wait until he unpacked his gear. He had enough firepower to bring down the entire penal colony three times over, and that was just in the box. You don't even want to know what was on the ship. Seriously.

Alea's smile widened and she inclined her head slightly. "Thank you. I take after mom."

"I'm not sure how to take that."

"Yes you are."

"Yes I am. Evil child."

Alea smiled sweetly again, giving him that 'but you couldn't possibly be annoyed at a face like this' look. He narrowed his eyes, coming back with the 'I'm immune, remember?' look. "Oh, come on. No fun at all."

Ty shook his head and looked over the others as they came, one by one. Mandalorian, eh? Why not? Would invariably prove useful, by his estimation. Ty wasn't a soldier anymore, and this wasn't his war, so if the Mandalorian didn't give him any grief, he'd return the favor. He gave the man a nod. After him, came a smaller man, armed with blades, who very obviously took exceptional care of himself. Ty gave the man an appraising look. He carried himself well, enough so that Ty was inclined to believe he could handle himself well enough. Alea also gave him an appraising look, though for an ent- SMACK! Meaty portion of the hand plus the back of the head. Made a nice sound. The smaller of the two Magness' glowered at her father while rubbing her skull.

"And if you have anything of value that's flammable, don't let him near it."

Suddenly, both Ty and Alea exchanged a glance. He grinned. She mouthed something he wasn't about to repeat in front of a woman. "In that case, here's a word of advice to the lot of you. You see our pyrotechnic friend here-"

"Ahem."

"-our other pyrotechnic friend here anywhere near my bag, do your best to intervene. Unless, of course, you want to be incinerated, along with all evidence of your physical existence. An' everything within a square mile around you."

It was only actually about that point that he noticed the small blue rodent thoroughly investigating said bag. "Might wanna be careful around that. Lock on the box in there is linked to-" Ty paused, catching himself short. Had to remind himself, those were illegal in the civilian world. Like, really illegal. They were well-concealed, at least, but that didn't exactly help if you broadcast having them. "Very unpleasant things."

"Wait, you brought those?"

"Shush."

Simply folding his arms in front of him, Ty spent the next few minutes simply...well, standing there. As always, his head and eyes moved frequently, always keeping aware of his surroundings, noting the slightest changes around him. He was always on alert by nature, when surrounded by people. PTSD, they'd called it. Surviving, he said.

His thoughts were brought to an abrupt halt by the fwoosh he recognized all too easily as a geyser of flame. His head snapped to the side, searching for the cause. "What the..."

"Flamethrower staff?"

"Stave."

"Staff."

"Stave."

"Whatever."

"It's a stave."

"Well, you heard him, be enthusiastic, dad."

Hefting the hundred-plus pound bag in one hand like a toy, Ty set it on his shoulder and grunted. "You see sommat needs blow'd up? No? Then yer not getting any enthusiasm, Evey. Get'cher skinny ass movin'."

-----

And eventually, one of the officers came to Tiberius Magness, who was settled into a dark corner on a box he'd mysteriously appropriates, back against the hull of the ship, a boot on his crate. Even before coming to a stop, she could tell she wasn't going to like this. A few basic words were traded, before she asked him what he had to declare. He sniffed and rolled his neck, before reaching down and unzipping the bag. Inside was a pair of large, durasteel crates with airtight seals and keypad locks. He punched in a combination on both, causing them to hiss softly as they unsealed, then hefted the heavy lids open, exposing the contents. He looked up and grinned as he reached inside to indicate each item as he listed it.

"Ready? I have in my possession:

One Redfac EDF dash x.

Two Vornac S and H.

One Sark DH5R6-"

"...that's...really big."

"-One Sorosuub DM-21.

One Type Three Combat Knife.

One suit of Fauxley Talon Strike Armor.

Forty kilograms of Detonite.

Fifteen kilos Foam Detonite.

Ten kilos Nergon Fourteen.

Five kilos Baradium, Thermal Tape, and Thermite Ribbons.

Four Type Eleven Thermal Charges.

Four AG-Class Permacrete Detonators.

Six CH Three Bore Charges.

Ten ME Three Breaching Charges.

Twelve Mark Nine Frags.

Four M Thirteen Stuns grenades.

Six D Niner-Niner Ion Charges.

Sixty mixed detonators."

The woman stared blankly at him for awhile, completely at a loss for words. Should she even look for licenses? The man could kill the PLANET with this box, as far as she was concerned. Good Lord. "...what...eh...what could you possibly need that much for?"

"I'm an engineer. I always come prepared."

Ping

The woman looked down at her datapad. Oh look, her query had found a license. For one item. Oh, look, two! She grimaced. This was going to be a long inspection. And sure enough, it would actually be after her fellow inspectors were completely done with the rest of the group and the ship that the final ping came. By that point, Ty was leaning heavily back into his seat, feet propped up, hands behind his head, and eyes closed, the inspector slouched up against the crate of doom looking like she was about ready to shoot herself out of boredom.

Ping

"Oh, thank the fates...oh, to have resources beyond a small Expanse facility."

"You work for the government, lady, get used to it."

"I was being hopeful."

[Kuhblam]

Whoosh.

Ferrus didn't move a muscle as a fireball sputtered into the air like a rocket, gathering a good bit of attention as the small... rodent thing attempted to get everyone's notice. His visor invariably brightened somewhat, but otherwise Ferrus gave no indication he was even still breathing. Still, it was somewhat entertaining to watch; the squirrel's attempt at copying his pistol dexterity earlier on had been a rare source of humor for the Mandalorian. Briefly, he looked over to Naavechi as she eyed him somewhat nervously; Ferrus could tell she knew there was something odd about him. Ferrus knew it had to be his helmet; it was usually un-nerving to new associates, but he had a good hunch she was feeling there was more to him wearing it without cease than just looking intimidating.

Arms crossed like a pretzel, Ferrus yawned as the group of customs officers approached for a quick customary inspection of the group's belongings. The idea of a di'kut going through his possessions was amusing enough; of course, he wouldn't find anything but weapons and ammunition... as well as a lack of non-existent false papers for Ferrus to show.

His helmeted gaze swiveled to the left slightly as the giant he had returned a nod of recognition to earlier went about naming more than a dozen different brands of detonators, explosive charges, and other assorted types of noise-creating, fire-inducing debauchery. Ferrus made noticeable hints of laughter underneath his helmet as the freight train went through the contents of his munitions crates. Ferrus knew there would be hostile predatory animals present, but he didn't think so much explosive ordnance would be required for the job. Of course, he wasn't objecting; the more bang for someone's buck the better. In his day, he'd had numerous run-ins and situations where a good ol' breaching charge or a couple thermal detonators would have avoided wonders; good explosives could turn the tide around. However, he just wasn't sure how the man was going to lug all that boom-slang through a hostile jungle without getting exhausted at some point. He was a brute of a man, but even he had his limitations. When Ferrus finally overheard Ty exclaiming his line of work as 'engineer', he chuckled a bit more, his voice locked away by the dampening software in his helmet.

Engineer...

"Sir? I... need to... inspect your, erm, bag for illegal substances. I, um, also need to see your papers."

Ferrus looked down a little bit to see a stocky Sullustan dressed in an ill-fitted uniform carrying a datapad. He was obviously uncomfortable accosting Ferrus about his possessions; by any estimate, he was naturally cowardly. Ferrus stopped leaning against his crates and brought himself to within a breath's reach of the alien's face, looking down at him with a self-intimidating T-Visor to do the talking for him. Ferrus bent down a bit further, pressing the front of his helmet to the Sullustan's brow, who was starting to sweat a bit. His fleshy hand tugged at his collar rather heavily, and Ferrus thought he heard the characteristic gulping sound of a fearful being. His cold voice gruff and antagonistic, Ferrus made sure to keep his noise-level down as he pointed to his medium-sized military-issue backpack.

"There's nothing in there for you to be worried about, aruetii."

The officer's eyes widened, but he otherwise insisted once again in the hopes that Ferrus would be compliant. However, his tone didn't contain the same determination that Ferrus' attitude did.

"But, um, sir, I really, well, I do need to inspect your bag. It is, erm, Republic law, and I must sea----."

"Ke nu jurkad sha Mando'ade, burc'ya. Take my word for it that you don't need to look through my bag for anything, Sullustan. You don't need to see my papers, either."

The nervous Sullustan certainly didn't understand a word of Mando'a, but he took a hint of the basic comprising the latter part of Ferrus' response. Whatever the Mandalorian had in the bag, he obviously had it licensed and legal. Why would the Mandalorian be so annoyed at someone trying to go through his possessions when he already knew himself that they were certainly not illegal?

Ferrus backed off some-what as the Sullustan smiled nervously and tapped some keys on his datapad before hurrying up with a 'Don't kill me' ending spiel.

"Well, I suppose everything checks out alright; your papers seem correct. Have a nice day, sir!"

His words were filled with hustle and bustle as he steadily strode off with a strong conviction and new sense of life towards the rodent-thing's ship, intent on joining the false sense of security in the other customs officers preparing for a stowaway search.

Some people just don't take a hint.

He didn't enjoy intimidation, but it was a natural thing in his line of work. Of course, plus the fact he had a dozen different law violations and was a wanted man; telling off the Sullustan would have come sooner or later. Quietly, Ferrus returned to his leaning position, arms still as crossed and primed as they had been.

[Rugs]

Tsu took a moment to glance over his new companions to-be. The giant hulk of a man had a certain presence to him--the sort of presence that hinted at wading into storms of blaster fire while fire filled the sky and explosions danced as far as the eye could see. The Matukai subtly lifted a brow at the thought. How in the Galaxy did he end up on a cartography excursion? His eyes shifted to Naavechi. What's down on the surface, anyway? If she hired this giant... He shrugged. Maybe he was putting too much stock into the man's presence. Could be that times were hard and he was just looking for a bit of money.

Or it could be that he had something against Ord Vaug and had plans to make it scream. Time would tell.

Then there was the oversized rodent. No, the oversized, Force-sensitive rodent, Tsu noted. "Interesting," he muttered under his breath. As he turned his head to look to another person, he heard Ifrit suddenly start cackling with glee in that strange, high-pitched laugh of his. Tsu looked up at the droid and then over to what Ifrit was so amused by...

"Huh?"

The rodent thing was twirling his staff about like a looney. Tsu felt his mouth open slightly, but he didn't care. It was at once both one of the strangest things he'd ever seen and oddly enchanting. He kept waiting for the thing to hit someone. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, that never happened. Tsu shook his head when the show was done, as Ifrit gave cries of praise and adulation. "This'll be a trip to remember." He glanced back to the rodent and chuckled, shaking his head. It really would.

Then there was the other armored man. The Mandalorian. He stood off to the side, arms fold, no doubt thinking himself threatening in that suit. Tsu held his own thoughts on it all but left them unsaid. He'd heard Mandalorians could have fragile egos sometimes.

Maybe that was why they always wore those ridiculous suits of armor like they were married to them.

"Interesting crew we've got here," Tsu muttered to Ifrit.

The droid shifted on Tsu's shoulder and looked down, rustling his holographic wings. "Indeed. I am very excited to see the planet surface and the things down on it. Maybe I'll get the chance to-"

"Now, before we get down there," Tsu interrupted, "we need to lay some ground rules. There's a lot of vegetation, so don't g-"

He was cut off by the feeling of something landing on the other pauldron on the shoulder opposite Ifrit. His gaze flicked to the side to see a real tiny dragon. Wasn't that just with... he looked down to the Squib. The Squib was looking up at the dragon. Then he turned around and sprayed a gout of fire into the air from his staff.

"Oh yay!" Ifrit cried, jumping up and down on Tsu's shoulder. The red in his wings was only getting brighter. "I wanna do it too! I wanna-" he stopped and reared his head back, opening his mouth...

"Ifrit!"

The little droid deflated at Tsu's curt intervention. The only thing that came from his mouth was a thing little wisp of black smoke.

Tsu shook his head. "I told you about getting excited. Setting everything on fire has a way of ruining jobs, y'know."

"I know, I know... Sorry."

Tsu chuckled at the moping droid as. "Ah, cheer up, Ifrit," he said as he started after the Squib. "Just don't get so carried away next time, alright?"

Ifrit perked up and nodded enthusiastically. "Right. I'll do my best, Tsubasa. You won't have to remind me again." Tsu sincerely doubted that, but at least Ifrit tried.

He looked back up to the tailring on his right shoulder. It was looking at Ifrit. "Friend of yours?" he asked his companion.

Ifrit shook his head. "No, not that I'm aware of."

Tsu shrugged slightly--and chuckled when it took Ifrit by surprise, leading to a shriek from the droid--and continued onward.

-------------

A few minutes later, Tsu was leaning against the Squib's ship, arms resting easily at his side as he waited for the rest of the team to finish being inspected.

His own inspection had been simple enough; the only weapons he had on him were the ones that hung from him and his body. And Ifrit, but as far as the officials knew, he was just a companion droid. That was true enough, but Tsu felt it prudent to leave the part about Ifrit carrying a chemical that burned several times hotter than napalm out. The tailring, which still seemed to be interested in Ifrit (probably with the thought that the droid was another tailring) was explained away as a pet. Which was true. It just wasn't his pet.

So now he watched the others. The big man was proving to be amusing, though Tsu couldn't figure out just why he had such an armory with him. Even if he was an 'engineer.' That poor woman.

But the Mandalorian...

Tsu frowned slightly as he watched the man go about threatening the Sullustan. He shook his head. "Metal man," he called to Ferrus, not knowing his name, "tell me something. Does threatening a man half your size while you hide in that suit and say things in that silly language make you feel hard? Do you threaten children in it to make them give you your lunch money as well?

"Almost makes me wonder if you have the capacity to be intimidating without it." Tsu smirked slightly, folding his arms across his chest as he waited for the others to finish. "Or is your manhood only made of that suit?"