House Hunting, Fugitive Style (Tal, Mei, Vex(?))

[Latus]

Well this was a feeling he was used to; uncomfortable, itchy, jumpy around all the frelling people who were walking about. Crowds pushed here and there, the massive spaceport bore denizens of all races coming and going hither and thither. An ache made Axle realize that he almost wished he could trade places with them... have a normal life. But that was neither hither nor thither; he had to cope with the hand he had been dealt. So there he stood, wings, and side, and shoulders itching like mad; all to get themselves a way off this green rock.

Yes, definitely like old times.

Only this time he was ship-shopping in a way that could get him in even worse trouble with the authorities than running. Grand theft starship... he'd been tempted by it before. There were so many ships with such a variety of classes and capabilities but never before this had it been prudent to steal one rather than take his own or pay a fare... never before.

Finally he wormed his way to an eddy in the flow of people, a small fountain that signaled the split of the terminus and a brief reprieve from the claustrophobic throng of crowds. A moment later three other forms appeared in the same space looking as dangerous as Axle had seen them. Tango was dressed simply, similar to what he saw the night previous, as was Whiskey although the young man could see several glimpses of bandaged flesh. The third... well, Axle still didn't trust the third. Another "brother" of theirs named Victor, and another escapee from Green Meadows.

That left Axle, the ragamuffin that looked like he was built like a professional swimmer thanks to the extra bulk his wings gave. He wore a simple sturdy jerkin that covered his arms and was roomy enough on his back. There were some hints of bandages but these clothes would work until they could get in the air.

Speaking of such an act, his thoughts were beginning to manifest. Several ships looked suitable but there were many things to take into consideration. A suitable hyperdrive was needed to carry them away quick enough once they broke atmo and that was difficult to tell by sight, as was the number of crew required to fly properly. Then there was the question of armaments, also a doublt edged sword. A higher armed craft would likely be more difficult to take while a freighter would have only a few if any security. He didn't even want to get started on the size.

I am open to suggestions... many of these look suitable but it will be hard to tell which would be ideal. Do we want small and fast, slow and armed, or something in the median?

He paused to take a look around the free-air spaceport again, the light breeze of the building Mustafar day making him with that he could spread his wings and leave the terra firma behind just for a little while.

Most things smaller than a corvette I can fly on my own... any opinions? There was certainly the opportunity for them; the spaceport sprawled in every direction and Axle sighed heavily. He was afraid there may be blood before the day was over.

Maybe even some of his.

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

So there she was settled on a park bench, in the middle of a bustling space port, just in front of a fountain…waiting. She’d done some looking about in the port as she worked on playing thief. After all, she was still attempting to garner enough credits to get them off planet legally, but…things just weren’t working as she wanted them. Finally she’d gone to their meeting point and settled down, flickers of emotion barely able to press past the RELIC…a taste of confusion, a nibble of regret, a pinch of frustration…

With her elbows planted on her knees and her chin propped on her knuckles, she looked out at the world. Everything felt…off. She could see things: trees, flowers, grass, sky, birds, people…hear water, and people talking, laughter, birds singing. She had seen people sit and do this before, just look at the world, she’d mimicked it before…but it had been a cover, a purposeful attempt to gain knowledge in an inconspicuous way. Now, for whatever reason, she attempted to understand why others did it…why others felt the need to just sit and observe for no true purpose. She couldn’t comprehend, no matter how hard she attempted to, so she sat up straight again…she tried from a different angle. Maybe that was the difference?

No…still the same: trees, flowers, grass, sky, birds, people, the sound of water, talking, laughing…she didn’t understand. Was there something she was missing?

Leaning back against the bench, her serape pinned behind her, as she tilted her head first one way…then the other…as she attempted to glean some understanding of what people found so interesting about just sitting and watching. Some golden sunlight broke through the leaves of a tree and created complex patterns on the concrete around it, and some part of her recognized that there should have been some importance to what she saw, but it was just beyond her reach. To her left a group of pilots was walking down one of the many paths, laughing and talking boisterously. Again, there was a sensation that she was missing out on ‘the big picture’…that there was something there that she just couldn’t grasp. Somewhere in her mind a bit of frustration began to seep through that degrading RELIC chip once again.

Lavender eyes swept to the right where a mother, small child in tow, pounced at a man as he exited a ship, the child running and clinging to his leg with a big smile as the parents embraced each other. The child was scooped up and they all seemed very…happy was the word she had been taught to associate with those kinds of expressions and actions, but all she could do was tilt her head at it and watch with a vague sense of curiosity. After a moment she looked down at the chrono strapped about her wrist and glanced around again. He was late…

“I am open to suggestions…”

Maybe he wasn’t.

“Many of these look suitable but it will be hard to tell which would be ideal.”

Axle.

The young, winged, man was the one she’d been waiting for. Of course…his wings were hidden beneath his clothing. How he managed that was still a mystery to her, but at least it was possible. Hooking one arm over the back of the bench she turned just slightly to look up at him from beneath her mane of curls. He had been the one to go searching for a proper ship that they might commandeer should she be unable to acquire the funds needed for tickets in a timely manner. Victor and Whiskey were playing look out somewhere together, Victor keeping a cautious eye on their ‘sister’ just in case she decided to try and run at the last moment…or worse…call the Meadows and inform them of their position. Besides, the two were better at ranged combat than she was, and…well, trusting Whiskey with any weapon right now was a gamble. Best leave her with the physically intimidating Victor, who could over power her should something really go wrong.

As Axle lay out their options…broad as they were…she pondered the possibilities. Armed was good, but slow wouldn’t do. Small and fast typically meant good sensor suites if it was of the right class…smuggler ships in particular, and she had noticed a few of the not-so-legal looking fellows come meandering through. However, they lacked in weaponry or armor most times and they also couldn’t risk another GM family member disabling them so easily. Something that was middle ground had the highest likelihood of surviving an encounter with another of their adoptive family, but it would be a gamble.

“Most things smaller than a corvette I can fly on my own…any opinions?”

”I was unable to acquire the proper funding for tickets…so our best options are smaller vessels which will require less crew. If we can single out a smuggler crew our chances of survival are improved, as are theirs. According to my previous studies their ships will fit our needs most closely as well.”

Standing, she’d stifle a yawn and look around at the crowd. ”Did you speak to any of the crews?” Looking down at her wrist-chrono, she’d shift her weight just slightly. ”We will need to decide and check back in with Victor and Whiskey as soon as possible so we can set a definitive plan.”

[Meira]

Distrust was... frustrating.

Whiskey was not unfamiliar with the concept. Distrust kept one alive during a mission. No assassin could openly trust, it was foolish. However, she'd been trained to trust her comrades, and her handlers. Those that worked at the Green Meadows facility performed all manner of experiments on them during their youth, and continued to poke and prod them even after they'd graduated to active status. They were conditioned to trust these people to do their work correctly. Then again, maybe it was just the conditioning to obey.

But she trusted her fellow assassins. She knew that they would not turn on her during missions, that she could rely on them to do their end and that they could rely on her to do hers. She only rarely ever worked with the others, but when she did, her... was it trust? Her confidence in them had always been unwavering. But that was before the RELIC chip malfunctioned.

Now Tango seemed to display the general signs of paranoia many of their targets demonstrated. She was overly cautious, anxious, and fretful. A heightened sense of caution was of course expected. Their goal, to avoid further entanglement with GM, meant that they had to be on guard against those of their own caliber. But Whiskey couldn't help but believe the other emotions Tango was allowing in were hindering their progress. She wanted to avoid needless killing, wanted to do this escape from the planet on a more "legitimate" level. Whiskey could understand not wanting to kill needlessly, it would draw attention. But attention would be drawn either way, her crashed ship had seen to that. They needed to be faster. The fastest thing, she could conceive, was to kill the crew of a small or medium sized ship and take it.

But that decision was not up to her. None of the decisions really seemed to be. No, Whiskey was the subject of distrust and so ever since they met up with Victor, the male assassin was with her, watching her. This was frustrating. Understanding their motives did little to quell the frustration, which was even more frustrating. In fact, frustration seemed to be the only emotion that she seemed to experience since her chip malfunctioned. What about happiness? Or even sadness? They were not particularly useful, but she had been curious of them and now with the possibility of these open to her, frustration reigned in their absence.

They'd made several circuits of the space port, Whiskey and Victor, and with no sign of anything out of place, it was time to meet back up with the other two. Axle was easy enough to spot in the crowd. She'd studied his profile and images of him so thoroughly, she was sure she could never forget his form. Even now, she felt the inclination to take him down. She'd given her word, of course, and did not plan to break it... but the predatory nature remained.

No disturbance. Yet. She said, approaching Axle and Tango. But we should hurry. Have you picked a ship?

[Latus]

"I was unable to acquire the proper funding for tickets…"

Perfect.

Axle thought sarcastically as he listened to Tango speak above the bustle of the crowds all around them. He knew that their chances for getting away with their skins intact hinged on his ability to fly whatever they could find but there were just so many to choose from. He wondered if this was what an art-thief felt like. You could look at all of the paintings and admire them from a distance, even ask about what their dimensions are or what they were painted on or sculpted out of but the moment you touch one of them you had to be ready to punch someone or run. Now with the 'good' news brought from Tango about not finding proper fare it seemed like they were left with but one option.

”Did you speak to any of the crews?”

The young man glanced quickly about and nodded. He had found a few potentials that might have belonged ti smugglers but it was all speculation and guess work; nothing conclusive.

Last Song seems to have the right capabilities engine-wise. I spent a few minutes skulking around the loading ramps but nothing heavy-duty was brought off. Unarmed, too.

Uh, there was the Phoenix that was armed but I don't see her outrunning or outfighting a determined fed chaser.

Nothing that would really work to our advantage.

Groaning at his sore limbs Axle tried desperately to remember all of the ships he had seen, people he had talked to, and cargo he had seen unloaded. The port was huge, nearly impossible to case in short order. With a momentary glancing back into the crowd he plopped down onto the bench that served as their eddy in the flow of people and leaned back eyes wandering skyward. The high air was filled with departing and arriving ships of all sizes, from tiny snubcraft to massive freighters and Axle's ultra-sharp eyes saw them all. He focused on the mid-sized ships that were landing but he saw nothing. A tiny sigh escaped him underscoring where he truly wanted to be right now. It felt like such a long time since he had felt the thrill of really flying even though it had only been a matter of days, maybe a week or two. Time seemed to move slower when he could not cast the ground aside and return to the clouds where he belonged.

"We will need to decide and check back in with Victor and Whiskey as soon as possible so we can set a definitive plan.”

Axle was just about to reply when his eyes caught something a small ship that had just broken through the upper clouds and was bearing in sharp for a landing in the center of the complex. He looked away before realizing it was the right size for what they needed. A moment later he had found it again and watched it's descent as it weaved through the departing traffic. There was something about it that kept Axle's gaze upon it even as it rolled to avoid a massive freighter that managed to cut it off. Every few moments watching he caught weld marks, scratches, dents, and even a few hastily reattached panels. The nearly cylinder-shaped ship moved as if on strings, controlled by a skilled hand although some of the rolls and dives seemed almost uncontrolled to the young man. It looked like a deathtrap. He didn't know why but that deathtrap looked like just the ship they needed.

I think I jus-

No disturbance. Yet. Interrupted by the commanding voice of Whiskey and her return with Victor in tow Axle's eyes were soon level again, a tiny smile slipping over his concerned expression. But we should hurry. Have you picked a ship?

Good timing. With a light grunt and a push he levered himself back to level and pulled out his datapad, standing up in the process. Punching a few keys he accessed the landing records and glanced up to see that the cylindrical freighter was bound for the E Docks. Comparing the records with the current openings, of which there were only a few, with the landing trajectory he nodded. They had their ride.

Dock E-17; Plunger, light freighter. We've found our ride.

With that he plunged into the crowd without hesitating knowing that they had very little time to get to the ship he saw before it took off. If his hunch was right then whatever was being offloaded from that ship would not take very long. Besides, if he lost them in the crowds that would be one less problem to deal with later on... he still didn't trust these blasted Green Meadow experiments.

After almost jogging the bulk of the way there, avoiding clusters and the solo person at every step, Axle paused between Docks E-16 and E-18, his target directly across the platform junction. There she sat, the aptly named Plunger. The aging freighter looked like it had been rung out a few times too many and then painted, faded, then painted again. The hull was a dull shade of grayish and reddish hilights with faded yellow flames adorning the rear-extended cockpit compartment. On the underside of the hull he saw a small laser cannon mounted directly next to a panel that looked to be scratched in one direction, as if someone had gone over the gray and red with an edger in only one direction.

Axle smiled; that panel meant he was right.

At that moment current owners were offloading a few minor packages from the read loading ramp pointed at his ten o' clock. Nodding he waited for the others. If they could do this cleanly they could get away before the owners raised an alarm. Axle heart raced, his pulse quickened; he felt the high of adrenaline beginning to flow to his muscles as his feathers began to itch.

He was ready to steal a ship.

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

“Last Song seems to have the right capabilities engine wise…”

For a moment she noticed there was a distinct uplift…a feeling in her gut that wasn’t something she was accustom to. Almost physical, but not…Hope, perhaps?

“…Unarmed, too.”

Then came the opposite effect. Shutting her eyes for a moment she sighed. Well…that didn’t last long. How do these people deal with emotion on a daily basis?!

“Uh, there was the Phoenix that was armed but I don’t see her outrunning or outfighting a determined fed chaser.”

More bad news.

He seemed to groan in time with her desire to do the very same as he sat down beside her heavily. Her eyes continued to scan the crowd and the ships docking in the port as a feeling of unease, bordering on anger (frustration, perhaps?) built up swiftly, died out, and then surged back to the front of the (very short) emotional line as the RELIC attempted to decide if it was going to work or take the day off. Finally it seemed to decide that working was the thing to do and she was (or would have been) relieved when the emotions dulled to near absence. There must be something out there that will work, we just aren’t seeing it yet.

How could she know Axle was seeing it right now?

“I think I jus-“

“No disturbance. Yet.”

She’d looked over at Axle when he’d started to speak, and so had seen hints of Whiskey and Victor’s return long before he had. It was good to see them, even if she still had doubts about if Whiskey may (or may not) attempt to somehow hinder their escape, it was familiar having her around. Victor was her partner, having him around was not only necessary for an operation like this, but welcome. She trusted him with her life. He had been there with her on Dxun, saved her on their last mission when someone had gotten a little too close, he had gotten her out of the GM facility, he had saved her again here on Mustafar…well, sort of…he’d certainly stepped in at the right time, anyway. Victor rounded out her capabilities with his own, and she knew it. She knew that without him around she was at a disadvantage in combat with ranged weapons users. Standing, she would move toward him, slinging her pack over her back and pausing beside him.

“Good timing. Dock E-17; Plunger, light freighter. We’ve found our ride.”

That earned him a puzzled look from the lavender-eyed woman since, last she had known, they were having difficulties deciding on a ship. She wondered what had made that change, but none of them were allotted any time to question him as he moved off into the crowed, swiftly swallowed by it. Glancing up at Victor, then over to Whiskey, she started off as well, fanning out from the other two and strolling along easily, but swiftly enough to catch up enough to keep an eye on Axle from a short distance away as she followed him…as they all followed him.

When he paused, she slowed her pace, her eyes catching a glimpse of Victor as he moved through a crowd easily, that long coat he’d picked up seeming to blend in well with them. Unknowingly, she quirked a small smile before it vanished once more. Passing Axle, she’d settle on a bench close by and pull her serape off. Folding it carefully, she’d surreptitiously study the ship Axle was so obviously ogling. As she put the folded canvas cover into her pack and closed it again, she decided that, while the ship didn’t look like much…it may be worth attempting to get a hold of, if for no other reason than to confuse anyone looking for a stolen ship.

Who would want to steal a ship like that?

Us, obviously. What does he see that I'm missing? She really didn’t know. There was a small turret beside an oddly scratched panel, but that didn’t mean much to her…she never was the best with ships, she just knew enough to fly several of the more standard (and often used) models…just in case. This…wasn’t one of those models. No doubt she could pick it up swiftly enough when it came to flying the thing, but what a scratched panel might mean? Not a clue. Perhaps an inward-opening hatch of some kind? If that was the case, then…what if …

Her thoughts were cut off as Victor came up beside the bench and pat her shoulder lightly. Standing again, she smiled and picked her pack up, turning to face him and wrapping her arms around his neck and looking up at him. When she’d speak again, she’d do so just loud enough for the others to hear above the hustle of the crowd, glancing to the side at them as well…specifically at Axle ”You’re certain this is the one, Axle?” She was fairly sure she could have bet money on his answer, so she didn’t wait long for it.

”How are we going to do this then? We have options…1) attempt to get around them as they’re unloading, 2) attempt to distract them with something and then get aboard and take the ship that way, 3) I have some…sedative…I could use. It’s swift enough and the injector I have is hypospray…no marks, no pain, little struggle. Other ideas?”

To most it would simply look as if she were spending a bit of quality time with her man, it kept her back to the majority of the crowd meaning less chance of lips being read, and (other than a few glances at her figure) it kept most people from taking a second look at them...much less suspecting she was talking to more than one person. This...was the beauty of having a male partner. She didn't realize (though she had her suspicions) that they had done things very similar before...it just seemed natural, as well as practical, so she'd done it.

[Meira]

It seemed the RELIC was kicking back in. This was good. Otherwise, Whiskey's frustration might have hit a new high. Why was this so difficult?What was taking Axle so long to pick a ship? Was he planning something... trying to figure out how to escape? Amber eyes studied her former captive, but his body language gave only the hint of his indecisiveness.

Trying to puzzle out his motives took up more of her attention than she'd anticipated, and so when Axle moved, she was a few beats behind the others to follow. But she made up the ground quickly enough, moving along her own path through the crowds, but keeping the others within sight. Victor and Tango did this exceptionally well, if Whiskey hadn't been trained as they had, she might have lost eyes on them. Axle too was skilled at blending into the crowd. But with the time and effort she'd put in to finding him, Whiskey doubted she'd ever NOT be able to pick him out of a crowd.

They reached the location Axle had been leading them to, a landing bay with... perhaps the ugliest ship Whiskey had ever seen in her life. At first glance, the vessel hardly seemed spaceworthy, but a closer, more skilled inspection hinted that this... Plunger, was far more than it appeared.

As Tango spoke, Whiskey's eyes studied her and Victor, the way her arms hung around his shoulders and his draped easily around her waist. A good cover. Considering her own presence within the crowd, Whiskey looked around to find a suitable, inconspicuous thing to do with her own self. Her eyes landed on Axle and the thought of mimicking Victor and Tango's posture came quickly, and just as quickly came the sudden chuckle of laughter. It burst out, not loud, but surprising, to Whiskey at least. She settled herself down on a crate instead, shaking her head at the absurd mental image.

"Dispatching them would be easiest. No chance of our faces being remembered. Bring the bodies on board and jettison them once we are in space. No stolen ship reported, no investigation."

Whiskey propped her feet up on the crate, resting her arms across her knees and clasping her hands out in front of her. Her eyes scanned the crowd, as if she were simply waiting on someone. She was done with this indecisiveness. She was done with trying to spare beings that did nothing but hinder their efforts.

"Tango can distract them to allow Axle time to get into the ship and start it up. Victor and I can surpise them while Tango has their attention."

[Latus]

He could have done the foolish thing, charged the small ship on his own. If he waited for the owners to leave the young man could have made the boarding ramp on his own, gotten up into the holds, and closed himself in so he could slice the starter code at his leisure. He would have been up and out before anyone could respond in time. In fact he almost did as the adrenaline surging within him, urging him to action. With a deep breath he quelled the instincts that raged within his mind and listened to his companions, to their reactions to the ship he was so sure about. Eyelids raised and he realized they did not see what he saw. He was the expert at this point and he was responsible for choosing the ship they escaped on. Tango's skepticism was palpable and he glanced over his shoulder at her.

She's a Ridgeworth-Class. The model was produced nearly fifty years ago to lukewarm sales. The only ones that are still flying about are either rusting to pieces or flying heavily modified. We found the latter.

Glancing back to the bulk of the ship his eyes, sharp as ever, scanned the hull for more scratch-marks indicative of false or mobile panels. As Tango spoke again his eyes scanned the ship for more hidden goodies finding a few suspect panels or markings. As he watched, the owners, a Rodian male and a tough looking pair of Trandoshans, moved down the egress ramp. The Rodian carried a single sealed box where the Trandoshans were lugging something heavier out, another sealed gray box.

In the back of his mind Tango's suggestions drew a nod from the young man, knowing that they could certainly avoid the death of these spacers with a little luck. Each of her suggestions would leave to them being knocked out, unstable, a little roughed up but none the worse for wear. A chuckle drew his eyes back toward his companions again, this time being none-other than the cold dry chuckling of Whiskey. His brows knitted as he looked at her, those cold eyes gazing down at him.

"Dispatching them would be easiest. No chance of our faces being remembered. Bring the bodies on board and jettison them once we are in space. No stolen ship reported, no investigation."

Axle blinked once at the final possibility but found himself shaking his head. He did not want to kill these spacers and that Whiskey was so keen on it made him even more leery. Shaking his head he turned back to the scene, the owners of the Plunger standing before their ship talking amongst themselves with smiles, laughter... Axle's eyes narrowed.

What were they waiting for? He brought a hand up to scratch his chin. If he was the one meant to make this decision he had to act fast. For a moment he looked from the ground, to the Plunger, and back again trying to divide everything evenly amongst what had to be done. His eyes wandered up to the marked ship again, eyes scanning the modifications before settling on the life-pods... "pods."

Then it came to him; a way to leave the owners alive while getting the ship and the rest of them off-world without alerting the authorities too quickly.

I do not think we have the time to deliberate; usually those who wait on the platform are just dropping cargo.

My idea is this; I can distract them, act interested in their ship while you three move around to the far side of the platform. When you all get there, climb up and jump them from behind, knock them out with the sedatives. Then tie them up, gag them, leave them with the cargo; I'll get us out of atmo in no time at all. The feds will be thrown off your trail and it won't take long for me to disappear again.

What do you think?

He glanced back at the trio of assassins who flanked him, eyes wide and bright. If he was right they really didn't have enough time to talk this through carefully. His barbs began to itch as the moments ticked by, waiting tentatively for a response.

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

The 23rd assassin’s chuckle had all of them looking at her in one form or another. Axle outright looked over at the woman, Victor glanced but shrugged mildly and looked back over Tango’s head in the direction of the ship they were scoping, then out at the crowd. Tango also gave Whiskey a sidelong glance, studying her for a moment and trying to understand what had prompted the action. It was beyond her, so she turned and leaned back against Victor comfortably, his chin coming to rest on the top of her head lightly as they all listened to Whiskey’s idea.

“I agree with Whiskey’s idea. There will be people around to see us either way, but with them out of the way there won’t be a stolen ship report.”

Tango twisted around slightly to look up at Victor sternly. She hadn’t intended to, but she didn’t like the idea of killing the men. He didn’t seem to notice her mild glare so she turned back around with a silent huff. He had a point about people being around to see them either way…the people moving back and forth along the walkway and on the other platforms saw to that, but if they didn’t kill the men there wouldn’t be a murder report on them either. Axle’s idea seemed the most logical thus far…three assassins against the three standing on the dock simply had better odds and Tango kicked herself for not thinking of it sooner. All she could do was shake her head.

“I’ll be the distraction.”

”What?”

Tango had to actually turn all the way around to look at Victor straight, as if it would assist in her hearing his words more clearly.

“It would make more sense for me to create a distraction for both the crew and the crowd, than it would for Axle to. He needs to be free to start the ship immediately, and if anything goes wrong in the process I can handle the situation more swiftly if I'm not attempting to pacify a struggling crew member, or on the ship itself. Also, a few shots into the air will create enough confusion for all of you to slip in easily without being noticed.”

The thought made her mildly uneasy for reasons she couldn’t quite pinpoint. There were those emotions knocking on her RELIC’s door again…but at least she was able to ignore them, for now. There were three of them (and Axle), after all; there was such a slim chance of things going wrong that she shouldn’t be feeling uneasy at all.

“I will distract them while Tango and Whiskey use the sedative. Axle you need to have the ship ready to go, so you should head into it as swiftly as possible. When the trandoshans are unconscious I will cause our next distraction as the rodian is being dealt with, then I will join you on the ship.”

Tango nodded slightly, thinking Victors words over swiftly. ”It seems to be the best combination. It will certainly cause enough confusion to mix up stories and accounts of what actually happened, and will still cause as little damage and death as possible.” Stepping away from Victor, she would rummage through her pack for a moment before producing one hypo-spray ‘needle’ and one pressure sensitive hypoderm. It only took her a moment to dig out the sedative and transfer the liquid into the two, keeping her body and her pack in the way of easy view of what she was doing. Handing the hypo-spray to Whiskey, she looked at the woman for just a moment. ”At the neck, as close to an artery as possible. Just press and hold the button.” Hopefully she didn’t need to say that she wanted the thing back.

Slipping the hypoderm into one of her pockets, her eyes swept the area again as she closed up her pack again and pulled it up onto her shoulder. A hand on her shoulder had her turning to face Victor once more. Tango was surprised when she found one of his pistols pressed gently into her hands. For a moment all she could do was blink at the weapon as if she’d never seen it before, then blink up at him as if she’d never seen him before either.

“I don’t expect you’ll need to use it, but just in case this sham goes wrong…even you can’t miss at that close a range. But you be sure to take good care of it, don’t want it getting hurt out there.”

She could only crinkle her nose at him slightly, some part of her finding his words amusing and frustrating, but most of all…that his actions were…touching. Tango knew all too well how much these pistols meant to him, that he never gave them to anyone if at all possible. That he was trusting her with one of them said a lot. She wasn’t about to turn down his temporary gift. Nodding she’s tuck it carefully into her belt and smile slightly.

”Of course, I’ll take good care of it for you. It won’t get a scratch.” Turning to look at the others, she’d nod slightly. ”Any time you’re ready.”

[Meira]

((OOC: Sorry it's so short... couldn't really think of much else))

Frustration reeled again, but Whiskey willed it away. The decision was made, and she was too outnumbered to argue. But she still felt that any plan that involved leaving the crew alive left a chance for them to be tracked down.

She stood and moved past Tango casually, taking the hypo-spray from her in a quick, subtle movement. Following her own, independent route, she moved to circle around behind the spacers. It was not a hard task. The Rodian and the Trandoshans seemed to be waiting for something, or someone, so their attentions were held in one particular direction.

Whiskey inched herself as close as she dared until she was only a couple of paces behind one of th Trandoshans. Being the more physically imposing beings, they were the obvious first targets. Whiskey had the hypo-spray ready in her hand and her eyes were fixed on her target, finding the spot along his neck were the artery ran closest to the surface. She was crouched, muscles tensed and ready to spring. The RELIC was regulating her adrenalin, preparing her for the moment to strike.

[Latus]

The addition of Victor, the third assassin into the mix was both unexpected and welcome. Everything made sense now and almost every variable was planned for short of cosmic intervention. There was risk, certainly, but despite his short time free the young man was accustomed to risk. As Tango handed out hypoderms and sedative solutions Axle glanced back toward the platform that held the freighter.

Now. Close and quiet... not too close.

Appraisal began in earnest while the conversations between his companions wrapped up. He discerned two separate approaches, choosing the one that was less of a risk as, of the two, this one was only a few meters farther out. A quick glance at Whiskey let him know that she was preparing as well, that face focused, cold, and intense. Breathing out he turned back; gave him shivers every time.

”Any time you’re ready.”

Axle gave a nod and stepped foreword.

His light frame whispered across the pavement and gravel, lighter boots only making a fraction of the normal noise due to his diminished weight. He was quick, hopping from shadow to shadow to behind a box to against a wall to back again. Their timing was perfect, the owners remaining turned away from them. Only once did one of the Rodians decided to turn back to suck on a small black stick forcing Axle to press himself against the duracrete wall to remain hidden. His wings itched furiously from the tense aire that had taken hold between the thiefs that moved carefully toward the hulk of the ship.

Pausing at his decided upon location, only a handful of meters away from the egress ramp on the crowded landing platform, he had to shift his wings across his back to ease the itch, the barbs scraping gently against the cloth and skin. Instantly he realized the action was a bad idea due to the noise it created and stopped, kneeling and reaching his hand within his coat to rub at the matted feathers of his second foreshoulder. Running a hand along the barbs he shuddered again and glances through his line of sight, not seeing Whiskey, Tango, or Victor. Gently breathing Axle froze, ready for the signal to strike... whatever that was going to be.

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

So…this thread is killing me, just FYI. I really don’t know what the block is…maybe it’s having to pull Vic’s part as well. I dunno. Is it okay with everyone if we cut it a bit short/hurry it along? This really just feels like it needs to be done… =/ Many sorrys....especially for the long wait. Anyway here tis. >_> Maybe Tango just hated the fact that she was having to leave Vic behind....my muses are stubborn that way...

---

As the other two moved off into the crowd, Tango took her time stepping away from Victor fully. With the others on the move she didn’t want to draw undue attention…well, that was the logical reason anyway. There was an illogical one, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on or describe, but it was there and it kept her from hurrying away. Maybe it was left over anxiety from the last time they’d stolen a ship together…yes, that was most certainly it…left over anxiety. As Victor gave her a final hug and nudged her away, her body got the hint.

Slipping into the crowd as well, she felt the soothing wash of emotionless peace of mind fall around her, the RELIC taking a tenuous hold over her. As she paced lightly toward the ship Tango’s oddly lavender eyes swept the area for any signs of her cohorts. There was none…not until she’d casually slipped herself between a cargo mover and a few empty crates. A little way up and hunched behind a box, Axle rubbed at something below his jacket. Even further up still, Whiskey could barely be seen creeping up behind one of the trandoshans, all her muscles tense and ready to spring. Now knowing where the others were, Tango flitted forward on light feet and practiced silence, passing by Axle’s hiding place as the rodian turned back around.

Crouching in the shadows of the hull close to one of the struts, her hypoderm would appear from the area of her sleeve. Victor had already started sauntering over, immediately engaging the rodian in what was swiftly turning into a shouting match over…a fee that hadn’t been paid? Whatever. She didn’t have time to figure out his game right now, so long as it kept the rodian busy. Catching Whiskey’s eye she nodded slightly and, like a stalking panther, crept around behind one of the trandoshans. No sooner had her man taken a step forward to try and silence the annoyance that was Victor than she sprung, her body extending out as she roughly shot an arm over the man’s shoulder and grabbed his chin, pulling him back by the head. The next instant that hypoderm was firmly implanted in the struggling man’s neck, and Victor had sent the rodian sprawling backward with a firmly planted fist to the face.

She sure hoped Axle had gotten onto the ship.

In her periphery she could see Whiskey handling her own trandoshan as the last of the fight left hers and she dropped him in an unceremonious heap of limbs. The swift, double crack of gunfire had the crowd screaming and shouting as they attempted to get away from the sound (by following those first few who started running) on herd instinct. With a glance to Whiskey as she freed herself from her own limp trandoshan, Tango nodded and bolted for the ramp at top speed and expecting Victor to be close behind.

”Help Axle if he needs it, Whiskey, I’ll be there in a moment.”

The engines were already powering up even as she spoke, but having help up there was the best idea if they wanted to make a smooth (semi-smooth) getaway. Who knew if this bucket needed two pilots or not. As the moments ticked by and Victor didn’t appear at the ramp that old anxiety swiftly started to break through that tenuous RELIC control. As it was the adrenaline she could feel from the whole situation was far more than it should have been and she was swiftly approaching ‘fight or flight.’ Hustling down the ramp she could see Victor edging his way down the swiftly clearing streets and firing back against what had to be security forces.

That was a turning point.

While the RELIC failed, she felt more calm than she had in a very long time. Forgoing the pistol Victor had given her (for now), her hand immediately reached around to the back of her belt, one gloved hand closing around a short dagger. It was all but ripped out of its sheath as she braced and very nearly launched the thing at one of the men assaulting him. The only reason she faltered? Even as he made his stand, she caught him glancing her direction. It was for the briefest of moments…something that might not have even been there, or been seen as reality to some, but she knew. Just like she knew he’d looked at her, she knew the look he gave her and it only served to anger her.

Hate…

…there was a new emotion.

Unfortunately she was full of it right now.

For the second time in just as many months she was being forced to turn her back on her partner and walk up the ramp of a ship. With a snap her dagger was shoved back into place and a hand slammed against the button to lift the ramp. So furious was she at the situation that she immediately turned and slammed a fist against the hull, snarling at the pain before storming up toward the cockpit.

[Meira]

It was only a short matter of time before Tango was in position as well. The two waited for Victor to make his move. When he did, and when Whiskey saw Tango give the nod, the two female assassins moved as one to take down their targets.

Whiskey rushed forward, her foot striking the back of the trandoshan's knee. Not expecting the blow, the beast fell to a kneeling position. Before he could do anything else, Whiskey had the hypo-spray at his neck. The trandoshan swayed for a moment, then fell forward. Whiskey was about to step away and run for the ramp when she saw that her target had caught himself on his hands. He was now trying to push himself back up. The hypo-spray had had an effect, but not enough.

Whiskey rolled her eyes as her hand moved to the small of her back to unclip her large hunting knife. What a waste of time and resources. She thought, as she stood over the trandoshan's back. Grabbing his chin and pulling back to expose the neck, Whiskey slid the knife across the creature's tough skin. Blood spilled freely as she released the trandoshan's now limp body. She wiped the knife on his leg, then returned it to the sheath at her back as she rushed up the ramp, nodding at Tango's directions.

Within moments, she was in the cockpit. She moved around Axle, going through standard start up procedures. When a small red light began to flash on the console, Whiskey paused long enough to read what the warning indicated.

"There's a problem with the artificial gravity generator. Continue the start up. I'll take care of it."

Without even so much as a glance at Axle to ensure he'd copied her words, she was gone from the cockpit and making her way to the engine room. Once there, she picked her way through the various pieces of machinery until she found what she was looking for. The grav generator had been tampered with, multiple times... by an obviously underskilled mechanic. It was a mess. Wires, uninsulated and barely intact tangled through the whole unit. Whiskey found some electrical tape in an open toolbox and busied herself with isolating and covering as many wires as she could. In all likelihood, it was a simple matter of a couple of wires being crossed.

Not long later, as Whiskey finished covering all the wires and ensuring they were connected to the proper places, She felt the ship begin to rise. Standing, she moved to make her way back to the cockpit, but before she got there, she came across Tango... punching a wall.

Not being able to see any possible compartments where Tango was punching, Whiskey approached, a curious expression on her face. She looked again between Tango and the wall, but could not see anything, not even an insect that might need eliminating. But when she looked back at Tango, Whiskey noted clear signs of emotion on the woman's face. Though what that emotion was, Whiskey could not entirely be sure. It was at that moment that Whiskey became aware of the fact that Victor was not present.

"Where is Victor?" she asked, looking back at the wall again, still perplexed.

[Latus]

The moments that ticked by drew on for hours in his mind as he waited in silence. He could hear the low conversation of the owners of the ship but payed it very little mind as it was incredibly irrelevant in the long run. The thought of ruining the day of these men was becoming more and more appealing if it meant seeing himself off this planet and away from his three “companions.” Not knowing how much more of the inactivity he could take Axle edged his gaze around the box, trying to get a glimpse of Victor again. He nearly jumped out of his cover as something quickly slipped by him, his heart rate doubling from the surprise and tension. Spinning back into cover his mind finally recognized the color of the outfit worn by the surpriser... Tango, as she slipped out of view. Stifling his now rapid breathing he cursed himself for not being more observant... Any second now would be nice, Victor.

“Hey, spacer. What are you going here? This platform is off limits without a permit and I don't recognize your ship name on the registry.”

Speak of the devil...

That was the signal. He didn't hesitate, didn't stumble, as his legs tensed and thrust him up and over his cover, his palms smacking on the treated planks as his feet hit the duracrete running. His eyes swept back and forth, instantly noticing both of the female assassins emerging from their own cover and approaching the spacers. Despite his pace his soft soled shoes whispered on the hard surface, his light weight once again proving to be a boon for quiet work. In only an instant he had approached the ship from behind, grasped the hydraulic supports for the egress ramp, and used the momentum of his body to swing himself around it and tromp quickly and quietly up into the belly of the old ship.

Now comes the fun. He muttered, whispering reassurances to himself.

The young man, being no stranger to starcraft had done as much memorizing of the exterior hull as he could while noting weapon banks the concealed panels and, most importantly, the cockpit. Though a sizable ship he found his way to the Plunger's small bridge in no time at all. Throwing himself into the pilots chair he was quickly at work with the controls, hands flying from the engine primer to the ignition. Holding his breath he thrust his thumb into the starter, hoping that the owners had taken proper care of the engines. Instantaneously the massive propulsion generators whined and chugged as the command was received and processed. The whine persisted for several seconds until finally it forced Axle to release the starter and wait a moment before jamming his finger back in again. This time the whine only went on for a brief instant before catching, the engines kicking on with a roar that shook the interior of the small freighter. Smirking he pressed himself further into the pilot seat as the HUD sprang into being, readouts of the fuel and status of certain doors taking up but a fraction of the extensive panel. Aside from a single red light everything was in order to take off.

Thrusters... power reroute... deactivate weapons and slave to primary thrusters. Active!

His fingers flew across the keys doing the bidding of his thoughts before it even passed over his consciousness. The sound of someone coming up the ramp forced him to pause and look over his shoulder; sighing and scowling he turned back as he recognized it as Whiskey. Finally his eyes paused on the red light long enough... the micrograv generator was offline.

"There's a problem with the artificial gravity generator. Continue the start up. I'll take care of it."

If you don't the only thing that will happen is a little bit of weightlessness when we breach atmo. I could always use some help with the nav... He paused as the sounds of footsteps vanished down the passage. Shaking his head he went back to routing primary power to engines; she wants to fix the micrograv, let her. Just get out of here. Reaching over to the panel he picked up the headset that lay there and slipped it on, opening the coms to the whole ship.

Last call for boarding. Hold onto something. click This is gonna be a wild ride. The second part he had spoken to himself, always exhilarated by takeoff. Punching the thruster foreword he felt acceleration tear at his stomach as the great ship lurched, rumbled for a moment before lifting straight up from the tarmac. With a gesture he reached over and commanded the egress ramp up, waiting several seconds before finally feeling the final latch close through the pilot's seat with a thud. By this time they were tens of meters up and he threw a singular switch and thrust the throttle foreword again. This time he was pressed back into the seat as the sky raced toward him, a smile spreading over his lips as the engine pitch jumped an octave.

From the ground and onlookers would have seen the Plunger lumber into the sky, engines ablaze with the energy of a young man reunited with the sky.

It took several minutes to break atmosphere but once the blue melted away to the familiar blanket of stars and he felt the microgravity kick in Axle let out a gentle sigh of relief. He paused for only an instant regarding the stars as they regarded him in return, the smile not leaving his face. Afraid I'd not get to do this again... Nodding he returned his attention back to the console, the red light had vanished so he busied himself with other things. One thing in particular was altering the fuel burn ratio in the engines to alter the fuel residue contour left in the wake of a passing ship in space. He'd had a similar system aboard the Journey so alterations were quick and simple. Glancing over to input the nav computer coordinates for Tattooine he paused as he noticed with dismay that the navicomputer which the Plunger was installed with was a certain irritating type. Tapping the mic again he called over the coms.

If we are all through being clamped to the bulkheads I could use a copilot up here; this particular brand of navicomputer needs two operators.

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

“Where is Victor?”

Tango, who had just pulled herself away from the wall, shook her hand slightly before studying the bruised and bleeding skin. ”Gone.” For a moment she didn’t look at Whiskey, but when she did there was a mixture of anger, pain (more than just physical) and sadness…as well as a few tears…in her eyes. ”We have to be gone too. Come on.” Wiping at one of her eyes with her uninjured hand, she walked back toward the cockpit where Axle presumably was.

“Last call for boarding. Hold onto something.”

The staticy words from the intercom had Tango trotting to get to the front and slipping into one of the small secondary seats in the cabin just behind the cockpit as the ship lurched and struggled to get itself off the ground. Clipping the harness around her, her eyes almost involuntarily moved to the empty seat across from her. She could remember the shuttle to Dxun…all of them ready to be tested in their skills…Victor had sat across from her then. Lavender eyes turned down to look at her damaged hand in her lap, ignoring the feel of the takeoff. She didn’t care. Yes they were safe but where would Victor go? Had there been anything she could have done to get him onto the ship with them? Something she hadn’t thought of?

A tear dropped onto her hand and she wiped another away as she hung her head. Why in the world had he been so…stupid? She’d actually been…happy…when he was around. Things had seemed right again, like everything would work out, but now she was just leaving him behind…again. It was wrong, she hated leaving others behind…hated leaving him behind especially. For a brief moment the gravity dissipated, making her stomach lurch slightly, before the ship’s system kicked in and settled everything to rights…but all she could think of was the fact that, once more, Victor had been left behind and it was too late, and too dangerous, to turn back now.

“If we are all through being clamped to the bulkheads I could use a copilot up here; this particular brand of navicomputer needs two operators.”

On instinct, more than the desire to actually do anything to assist, Tango unclipped herself from the harness and got up, wiping the rest of the tears from her face and headed toward the cockpit. In only a moment she was sliding into the secondary seat, not bothering to look at Axle in the process. ”Our destination?”

[Vex]

The ruse had begun well enough. Clearly, all eyes were on him and the Rodian as things escalated vocally and finally, physically as he leveled the green-skinned alien with a punch. It was beautiful, something that even Tango would have appreciated. At least she would have known that the extra guidance and training that she'd given him hadn't gone to waste.

No sooner was the Rodian down than he unholstered that pistol. Two quick shots were fired into the air and, as expected, the masses began to scatter, causing all sorts of confusion that allowed that helped the others as they disabled the rest of the members on the ship and began their individual tasks to get it ready to go. No one else was the wiser for their actions, thanks to the fact that everyone was focused on him, the crazy man with the gun.

Tracking movement out of his periphery, he was surprised to see that some of the security personnel were already starting to respond. Typically, reaction times for them were, dismal. It seemed they had the unfortunate luck to actually have some nearby. Worse, they actually seemed...brave. Stupid, but brave. He had to move forward, down the street and slightly farther from the ship in order to get cover as the men began to fire at him.

He traded fire with them furiously, the sound of blaster fire mixing with the staccato shriek of those accelerated rounds ripping through the air. Initially, he attempted to cow them and incapacitate without killing them. It seemed to work momentarily when he managed to shatter the blaster in one security guard's hand. Unfortunately, they'd managed to call in backup prior to engaging. The armored response vehicle chose that moment to roll up, dispersing a squad of eight from the back. That caused him to curse slightly and he quickly changed his game plan. Killing wasn't optional now.

Unfortunately, the increased amount of fire in his direction now caused him to be pinned down. Worse, it presented a potential threat to those on the ship. He came up during a slightly lull of fire, taking advantage of their lack of fire discipline as they had to reload close to the same time. That pistol cracked quickly four times in two bursts. The first took out the one man who hadn't completely unloaded his blaster, taking him up high in the chest and throat before he traversed over. The second two rounds punched through the lighter armor on the edge of the response vehicle, which was designed for laster weapons and traditional ballistic weapons. The magnetically accelerated rounds had little issue cutting through that and retaining enough energy to punch into the man behind the door, dropping him like a sack of meat.

Dropping back down, he swapped out magazines in the pistol. There were still three rounds left, but he didn't want to run empty at a critical time. Pocketing the used magazine, he continued to return fire with the remaining security. Distantly, he heard the sound of more sirens approaching.

Glancing back to the ship, there was a moment as he saw Tango there on the ramp. They didn't have to speak for him to know what was on her mind and what she wanted to do. His mouth thinned slightly, the slightest of shakes to his head as he imparted his thoughts to her. They had to leave, now, while they had the chance. They couldn't wait for him and getting herself involved in the battle only worsened their chances of getting out of here. They simply couldn't afford getting the others drawn into a drawn-out brawl and, once she attacked, they'd know the ship was a threat and none of them would get off this rock. They both knew it, but in that moment he made certain to remind her before he went back to trading fire, blasting an exposed kneecap and then following it up with a shot to the cranium as the guard fell into the open screaming.

He breathed a sigh of relief as she relented and pulled away from the ramp...more so as he heard the ship beginning to take off. Dropping back behind cover once more and slapping in a fresh magazine. Tactically, he was in an unpleasant position. Ammunition was limited, they had backup, likely police tactical squads. He needed an out and made one by emptying the magazine into the power block of the still-running response vehicle, causing it to go critical and explode. It knocked several of the men back and jarred the rest, giving Victor the time he needed to slip into a side alley. Now it was a game of cat and mouse through the side streets.

The only question now was...who was actually the predator?