Business or Pleasure

[Fromikeable]

Vance took to the offered water with zeal, more rinsing his mouth than drinking. By the fourth swig, the taste of the liquor (if it could even be called that) had been nulled to the point where he could at least look at Io’an.

At his request, he huffed a chuckle. Raising his free hand, Vance balled it into a fist and shook it lightly, indicating his agreement.

Finishing his water, Vance was off his stool well before Io’an, rubbing his face. ”Maybe.” Glancing to his Sephi friend, he gave a begrudging shrug, eyes flicking to the comm in his pocket.

”Even in the middle of construction, we probably would have had better booze.” Returning his glass to the counter, Vance followed Io’an out.

The walk to collect Bas and return to the turbolifts was mild, by comparison. That said a lot, given the strong smell of vomit, the shakiness of Bas’s ability to walk, and the ship’s less-than-clean lingering scent ever-present as they approached the cabins. Still, when he was relatively confident that Io’an and Bas could make it to their own rooms without falling asleep standing up, Vance bid them a good night. Entering his own, he locked the door before sighing heavily, his hand zipping for his comm without a second thought.

”Are you still awake?”

---

The cruise ship seemed to have plotted its course specifically to ensure that it could drop out of hyperspace and flood the top decks with natural light every morning. Or, at least, so Vance assumed. Today’s was decidedly unique; a blue star bathing the rooms in deep navy hues, lessened enough to prevent any damage to skin or eyes, but preserved enough to retain some of the wonder.

Vance had picked out his table just by a window and been staring at it all morning. The pictures he’d sent to Mooney, they’d both decided in the following conversation, didn’t quite do it just.

Such debates and quiet mornings were cut short as his comm buzzed again. That the messages had come from Io’an earned a raised eyebrow of mild surprise; he’d been expecting-

”I think lunch starts in like 20 minutes, dude.” Watching the second message blip up before he finished typing his first, Vance smirked.

”I’m not the one waking up well past noon asking about breakfast, so I'd say pretty good.” Sipping his drink, another fruity something that he hadn’t bothered to remember the name of, Vance hummed to himself, sitting back in his chair and peering out the window again.

”Come rejoin the land of the living, I’ll order some caf.”

[hugo]

Bas was zooming along the half-pipes and geometric obstacles of the hovstick park, an adolescent fascination that he now somehow exercised in his adult form.  He maneuvered the small, tricky stick deftly, and with far more skill and far fewer broken bones than he had in reality.  And his friends were there, there was Gork and his secondary school friend Manda, and of course Io'an and Van-

Wait.  fuck.

Dreamland faded away, sweetly wasted days a bygone luxury and a far cry from the excruciating world that was his hungover, mid-morning reality.  He was vaguely aware of another person in the bed with him, but he was too scared, or perhaps physically incapable, of turning over and seeing who yesterday's misdeeds had deposited into his life this time.  His head pounded and he needed to smoke, but all Bas could do was open his eyes weakly and groan before covering his head with his pillow and falling back into the safe comforts of sleep.  Except he couldn't sleep.  His mouth was dry.  His throat tickled with that same old, incurable craving for nicotine.  Whoever was next to him was awake, and he could hear the tap tap of a digital keyboard.  Morning...

Well it was a man, judging from the voice.  He only looked up, eyes squinted with well-deserved pain behind a mess of his hair hanging loose over his pale face.  He was in his underwear, which probably meant he didn't fuck this mystery man last night, which may or may not have been a relief, depending on what he looked like/how crazy this one turned out to be.  After a considerable effort and another pained groan, he saw Io'an and remembered it all at once.  He was relieved, he thought, apprising the Sephi's clear pink skin and well-shaped body.

He let his head fall back into the pillow.  "Sup?" came the muffled greeting.  It was too hot, and he'd tossed the covers off in his comatose and his lanky, pale form was deposited heavily on top of the sheets.  He was not very skinny and his torso was somewhat defined, though his limbs were long and slim, suggesting to the eye that he was in fact taller than his decidedly average five feet and eleven inches merited.  Sparse, black hair sprouted where could be expected, only the thinnest tuffs having finally sprouted on his chest and stomach on his otherwise smooth skin.  Above the certainly not flimsyester, white bed sheets he laid with only a pair of blue, Naboocci-brand briefs for modesty.

After a few more moments of precious rest, he finally flipped over to lay on his back and check his handheld.  "Not quite morning but almost."  He unsteadily rose from the bed, tripping over carelessly discarded dress shoes on his way to the tiny refresher, where he found much needed, if a little warm, water and the ever-invigorating respite of a morning shower, which unlike the drinking water, was cold.  What an absurdly terrible cruise.  

He stepped out of the steam-less refresher, his clean, better-odored form wrapped tightly in a scratchy towel at the waist.  He bent over his suitcase, which was still unpacked and before the bed, where he found some half-decent casual clothes.  The towel fell and he was naked for a moment before slipping on a fresh pair of briefs.  In the hungover fog he didn't think much of it until he'd already put them on but looked over to see Io'an had indeed noticed.  Bas smiled, a little embarrassed, but also relieved his indiscretion had come in the graceful light of morning rather than the less favorable one that came with snorting uppers, or with the relative cold of the shower.  Well, I guess we're not strangers anymore, really, he jested silently, but in truth was blushing the slightest pink.

Bas' hair hung heavy and soaked the collar of the black graphic tee he'd thrown on atop some charcoal joggers and loafers.  He'd been all too glad to invite himself for caf with the two not-Jedi.  He needed some sort of chemical in him to help with the hangover, and caf was a good place to start before resorting to the hair of the Kath.  Even from behind the relative shelter of his shades, Bas was irritated by the brightness of the outside world.  He tugged gratefully at a cigarra, which stuck out from his half-covered face and left a thin trail of acrid, blue gray fumes in his wake as he and Io'an made their way to midday breakfast.  Bas did not have much to say, other than to chide the taller Sephi for forcing him to get so fucked up at the bar.  ". . . seems like you guys are the bad influence here.  I was minding my business, having a moderate amount of alcohol with my dinner when you guys basically force fed me all those shots."  They laughed, and Bas thought that was nice, if it was a small thing.

Vance had found a good table largely free of stickiness.  He and Io'an found the other human there, in an annoyingly healthy looking state vis a vis the late-comers.  "What's good Vance?" He greeted the other man as they took their seats, a saintly-looking carafe of aromatic black liquid near the table's center with a small tray of four mugs and condiments.  

After a few piping swigs of caf, he was feeling somewhat less dead.  "Wait where are we today?"  He couldn't remember if it was Manaan or Zeltros.  

[Rugs]

Io’an squeezed his eyes shut in a futile effort to find solace from the throbbing ache in his skull. He wondered at his decisions the night before. Not to pursue Bas--that was all well and good, really--but the choices he’d made along the way. The memory of that shot rushed back to him and he thought, for a terribly unpleasant moment, that he could taste the vile stuff going down his throat again.

His face twisted in an ugly contortion.

“Sup?”

Io’an glanced over his shoulder, thankful that he’d sat up with his feet over the side of the bed and his back to Bas to hide that horrible expression as his companion-for-the-night awoke. A gentle, weary, smile pulled at his lips — that at least, came easily as Bas’ toned, if slender figure re-entered his view — as he looked back. “Oh, just wondering if bashing my head against the wall might make it feel better.” A sardonic laugh as Io’an reclined, leaning against the bed’s headboard rather than laying down fully. The wrinkled shirt was still clutched in his graceful fingers.

He watched Bas as the drug-runner stirred himself from the bed and disappeared off into the refresher to get started for the day. Io’an would have to eventually retreat to his own quarters to do the same, he was, for now, determined to enjoy the quiet as long as it lasted, before venturing back out into zoo of the rest of the ship.

After a while, he picked up his comm to read the pair of messages he’d gotten from Vance. As he did, he thought he felt something — a subtle shudder, as like the gentle shaking of the earth in a quake with just enough strength to rise to notice. He looked around, brow furrowed. Whatever it was came and went so fast Io’an wasn’t entirely sure he’d felt it. Probably just some rumbling from some loud nerfshift somewhere else.

Pushing the matter from his mind, Io’an opened his messages to see a surprisingly snarky Vance invite him out a meal. I guess I deserve that, he conceded after a few moments to consider his response.

Food sounds good. I’ll head up in a bit. Not quite sure if I’m in the land of the living, but I’ll make it work.

As he hit send and set the comm back down, Io’an heard the refresher door. He looked to see a fresh, still-damp Bas emerge with nothing but a towel around his waist. “Hope you’re feeling better than I am,” he quipped, sneaking a glance at Bas and not exactly displeased with the view.

Of course, as it happened, Io’an’s glance happened to coincide with Bas’ towel succumbing to the combined whims of his movement and the ship’s artificial gravity. He froze, caught entirely off-guard as a momentarily-naked Bas stood before him before slipping on underwear.

Io’an looked at Bas, feeling heat rush into his cheeks and the tips of his pointed ears. It wasn’t as if it was a bad view — far from it — but he’d been quite unprepared. So had Bas, if the subtle blushing in his face was anything to go by.

“Good morning to you too,” Io’an said stupidly as he finally rolled himself out of bed. He put his shirt on but left the front unbuttoned — they had just slept nearly-naked next to each other and he only had to venture across the hall to get to his room — as he looked to Bas. “Heading up for food in a bit after I get cleaned up?” He grinned. “Wanna come with?”

---

Io’an trip to his own refresher was brief; his shower’s heat was out and he hated cold showers. He met up with Bas, wearing a faintly-patterned sleeveless shirt under the same light jacket he’d worn the day before and some comfortable pants and athletic shoes, and ventured back out to the bright, loud world beyond their quarters.

“Oh, you got me,” he was saying as they arrived at the top deck, bathed in the beautiful light of a nearby star. “It was definitely our idea to get you fucked up at the bar. Had to corrupt that innocent aura.”

It was pleasing, after a year of struggles and violence and so much death, to be able to walk and joke and laugh. Despite the lingering pounding in his skull, Io’an was smiling when they found Vance’s table and he deposited himself in a chair across from his friend.

“You’re looking good this morning,” he remarked to Vance. Not long ago, that would’ve been a not-so-subtle comment on Vance’s looks--and it was true. Today, it was merely an observation that Vance seemed to escape the night in much better shape than Io’an or Bas. The Sephi smiled as he poured himself some caf and added a touch of cream. “Must be nice.”

They’d arrived just in time to catch the tail end of breakfast. Io’an used the remote ordering pad at the table to order some eggs and assorted fruit for himself, then offered it to Bas. “Are we hitting our first stop today already? I thought we still had some traveling left to do.”

As if on cue, the ship’s engines kicked to life, indicated by a gentle shifting that set some of the silverware to clanking. The blue star beyond the open sky observation deck shifted as the ship positioned to resume its hyperspace journey. What faint stars Io’an could see through the overpowering light the nearby one threw of began to stretch, in the way he’d seen hundreds of times...

Then a klaxon blared into the silence. Io’an looked at Bas and Vance, confused, as a boom violently shook the ship and set it on a drunken tumble end-over-end through space. More alarms joined the initial one, as the ship’s power went out, and eerie, red emergency lights blinked on.

“What’s going on?” Io’an yelled over the chaos. The artificial gravity, at least, held them all in place as the ship spun onward, but the motions sent drinks and dishes — and the hot caf carafe in the middle of their table — tumbling off to the floor.

[Fromikeable]

Vance was already pouring himself a cup of caf as Bas and Io’an appeared. Greeting them silently with a wave of his mug, he sipped it as they sat, sitting back and smiling.

A nice drink, good company, and a lazy morning. Maybe vacationing really wasn’t so bad.

”Not a ton.” Responding to Bas first, Vance pressed his palms to his mug, enjoying the warmth. Io’an’s comment earned a small chuckle and another sip of his drink. Even as the ship shuddered and the engines hummed to life below deck, Vance paid it little mind. It was an old ship, no reason to worry, right?

”I won’t lie, it’s-”

The klaxon blared, and Vance jumped well enough to drop his mug. It covered his front in piping hot caf as the ship was clearly sent into a spin, the window at their table showing the madness in striking, nauseating detail. Darkness consumed the room followed by dim red emergency lighting, and by the end of it all, an automated message played in time with the klaxon.

”Do not be alarmed. Please await the instructions of the nearest crew member. I repeat. Do not be alarmed…”

Finding himself on his back on the floor with his chest burning, Vance cursed under his breath as he tore off his shirt. Wiping at the hot drink now splattered neck to waist, he stood up in a huff. Above them, the top decks seemed to shudder a bit, and as the cruiseliner's spin finally settled to a light drift, small ships could be seen approaching out the window.

”-can’t even have a simple week off without an old rust bucket blowing its fucking hyperdrive in the middle of-” Ringing out his shirt, Vance shoved it back on. Before he could turn to march toward the kitchens, the loudspeakers crackled loudly, the automated message giving way to a gruff woman’s voice barking over the klaxon.

”Attention customers. This is your new captain speaking. Make your way to the main dining hall and surrender any valuables you might be carrying or get shot. You won’t get a second warning.”

With a grunt, Vance’s saber zipped to his hand.

”Vacation’s over, boys.”

[hugo]

Of course, coffee and a chill morning nursing a hangover was too much to ask for.  Bas' coffee had just cooled to his satisfaction and was nearly to his lips when the liner hit the astral equivalent of major turbulence.  The carafe, and his two companions, seemed to tumble off their places and onto the floor like playthings that no longer held the interest of a spoiled child.  Only, Bas too fell.  

His skull conked hard against the cheap carpet floor, and caf, thankfully lukewarm, covered his lap and legs.  He stood up and regained his senses only to find that the entire room had been upturned slightly and was now lit ominously in red as klaxons sounded painfully to his still ginger ears.  

A sense of alarm was there, but that quickly became unreasoning panic following the announcement of the new Captain.  "You're kidding," he muttered to no one in particular.  The other guests clumped up and chattered about what to do.  By the time he looked over to his new friends, Vance already had his lightsaber in hand.  Well, he guess he knew what their plan was.  

Fortunately, his quarterstaff had been easy to smuggle on.  When it was collapsed, it was small and innocent looking, and he could usually fit it in a jacket pocket or in his pants if need be. Unfortunately, it was in his cabin, along with several thousand credits worth of blue spice and all his shit.  They had to get off this bitch, and fast.  If he had to guess, the ship had been boarded by pirates as it made the jump.  They'd probably neutralized the ship with an ion blast and brought in their own cr... That was it.  

"So, this might sound kind of wack, but I have a plan."  He spoke so that only the two force sensitives could hear.  "We sneak back to our cabins and grab the essentials.  There can't be enough of them to watch every corridor in this entire ship."  A distant blaster shot caught his attention for a moment, but he continued, more eagerly now.  "Then we hijack the hijackers.  I'll bet most of their big guns are on-board; if we can slip through the airlock and take the bridge, we can disengage the docking clamps or whatever this flying shit heap has, and leave these fuckers in the dust."

Even Bas had to admit that it was a far-fetched plan, but there wasn't much else for them to do.  Maybe they could make it to the escape craft, but Force knew what kind of state they were in, and even if they were functional, escape pods would be easy money for the pirate gunners.  "Whatchya think?"

[Rugs]

Panic spread through the air. Slow at first, not unlike the smell of some fried electronics that wafted into the dining area from Force only knew where. Io’an was half-standing, braced against a table had almost gone crashing into their group when the Peak started spinning wildly through space.

He was, he imagined, just as confused about the sudden disrupture to the pleasant “morning” as anyone else. “Do they not do maintenance on this damn thing?” he wondered, voice near a whine, to no one in particular. All he’d wanted were a few days away, to destress and not worry about dying, and here they were.

Io’an groaned as the announcement on the Peak’s loudspeaker announced a new captain. His breath shortened, eyes looking wildly about. The panic spread through their fellow travelers, into the air, into the Force. Some emotions, he could shut out, but such powerful fear, from so many souls crammed into a small space around him.

As he stood, he squeezed his eyes shut, trying in vain to shut out Force’s droning noise. “We have to get out of here,” he said when Bas finished speaking. Fight their way through the pirates? Take their ship? “My... my lightsaber’s back in my room.” Vance had been right about that, at least. Io’an had told his friend he was being paranoid but had finally been convinced to at least pack his in his bag.

With a mood significantly soured from what little of the pleasant morning he’d had to enjoy since waking next to Bas, Io’an sighed, resigned himself to what was coming and looked to Vance.

Blaster fire echoed from deeper within the ship. Not good. “Can you lead the way, Vance? Since you’re the only one with a lightsaber here.” He kept his voice low--the regular guests hearing about a lightsaber would only cause more trouble, and trouble might draw more of their boarders to their location.

“We should probably take whatever side routes we can, right?” Io’an’s violet ringed eyes darted between his two companions. “Assuming they’re not very familiar with the ship, they’re probably going to hit the main corridors first. The less they know about us and... what we can do,” he glanced over he shoulder to be sure no one was listening too closely, “the easier it will be for us to get out of here.”

[Fromikeable]

Vance grunted in annoyance at Bas’s plan. His tongue turned in his mouth as he bit back disagreement; he wanted to snap his saber to life, march down to the main dining hall, and stick his saber through every single pirate’s neck. The Sith in him knew it would feel thrilling to avenge a ruined rest he’d only finally begun to enjoy. The Jedi in him knew that it wasn’t moral to leave a ship’s worth of tourists under the ministrations of armed and dangerous marauders.

But the days of being a Jedi or a Sith were past. They were criminals, and the fact of the matter was that they were in Republic space and suddenly under a very large microscope.

”Rooms then pirate ship, keep a low profile. Works for me.” Thumbing the button on his saber, Vance glanced around at the other denizens of the cafe. A fair few of them had also been knocked prone by the ship’s hijacking, and most were now in varying states of worried whisper. Slowly pocketing his weapon, Vance didn’t let it go, placing his hand in the pocket as well.

”Follow me then.” Stepping out of the cafe, Vance looked both ways down the hall before beginning to walk at a spirited pace. Taking Io’an’s advice, he started them down a less direct path, favoring the smaller hallways and less prominent routes, such as they could be remembered. Things went smoothly until they came to the series of turbolifts just outside of Bas and Io’an’s rooms, a trio of voices chatting loudly from around the corner.

”... just glad we found a damn mark. I joined up to make more credits, not less.”

”Well with the navy getting all paranoid like they’ve been doing, response times have been through the roof.”

”I still say we could take a patrol.”

”And I still say I’m not gonna’ get blown to hell for a few bags worth of old jewelry.”

Peeking around the corner, Vance spotted the three voices as they continued; a squad of pirates standing in front of the turbolifts, evidently not in a rush to go anywhere. The buttons for the lifts weren’t illuminated, and two of the pirates leaned against the wall adjacent to them, relaxed and fidgeting with their weapons.

Slinking back out of view, Vance shook his head quietly. Reaching out with his presence to Bas and Io’an’s, his voice beamed directly to their minds. It’ll take us another ten minutes to go around. Time was of the essence; could they afford the delay?

[hugo]

Well fuck. They'd come within sight of their destination, and were blocked by a trio of pirate sentries. And Vance's telepathic message was true. They didn't have time to go all the way back around. No they needed to get through the triplet brutes, a gnarly assortment of Trandoshan pirates armed to the teeth. He weighed their options, as he was sure the others did. On one hand, they had even numbers and the Force in their corner, but on the other, he and Io'an were unarmed. The Force was a powerful thing, but did Bas yet trust it enough to charge head first unarmed? No. The Force rewarded tact at least as much as it did faith.


Distraction. He thought loudly, peeking his dark mane around the corner to size up the situation. The Human had an idea.  Retrieving his lighter from a pocket, he whispered so low they likely had to read his thin lips.  "I'm going to make some noise on the other end of the hall.  Try to amplify the distraction."  He did not wait for their input; there was no time. 

He shook slightly as he neared the corner again, careful not to be spotted.  Bas had to resist the urge to clasp his eyes shut as he chunked the slim metal device as hard as he could past the pirates.  This might be his last ever act, though, so he summoned the courage to send the lighter flinging over their heads and banging loudly against the grimy metallic corridor wall.  He paused half a second, not breathing.  Any Jedi mysteries the two other humanoids had at their disposal would be useful right about then.  He knew they could fuck with minds and perceptions, but it was an art as alien to him as Muun finger skating. 

A breath.  Then another.  The clanging lighter, and whatever folly his companions had managed to conjure up, grabbed hold of the sentries' attention.  Now. He thought; midichlorians and adrenaline fusing to quicken his steps, even as he placed them gently and lightly so as not to set off the Trandoshans.  He seemed to glide across the corridor in a diagonal, cringing when he quickly entered the room code and the door chirped then hissed open.  Bas didn't miss a beat to ponder whether he'd been discovered; whisking into his room and grabbing everything essential (namely his staff and the dope) before posting up against the wall, ready to ambush whatever crossed the threshold next.  Now that he was armed, Bas wagered he and Vance could hold them off long enough for Io'an to get armed.

The Human could barely help but tremble.  He wasn't in a killing mood.  He'd killed, but he did not relish it.  With two lightsabers and a skinny spice head with a stick, maybe they would surrender.  He doubted it.  

[Rugs]

They slinked along through the Peak’s winding side corridors, and Io’an held hope that he, Vance, and Bas could slip unnoticed to their residences and prepare for whatever their eventual escape looked like. Such hopes were dashed as they drew nearer to their rooms; Io’an felt the waiting pirates before he saw them. No, he whined silently as he peered at the raiders making idle chatter among themselves. we’re so close.

Three on three put them at even numbers, and at wildly lopsided odds against the pirates. Io’an knew that he or Vance could take the group alone, if pressed. He felt no echo of the Force within any of them — not even the faint sort that sang within Bas’ presence. What if one’s hiding ability? he asked himself as his mind ran through a million different ways the current situation could spiral out of control. No, a Force user wouldn’t be with the grunts. Not here.

With time against them and the only apparent option being to move forward, Io’an prepared himself for conflict. He drew deeply on the Force, readying to loose a withering mental assault to knock the pirates on their asses, when he noticed Bas mouthing something.

Amplify the distraction? A flash of silver in Bas’ slender fingers, glinting as he threw it. Was that a lighter?

Recognition snapped into place all at once. Io’an’s focus shifted, abruptly, from the loitering pirates to the lighter zipping through the air past them. He reached, quickly carelessly, to it through the Force, depressed its ignition switch as he altered the air around it...

Fwoosh!

Flame blossomed in an instant, engulfing one of the pirates and sending the other two shocked and stumbling away from the lift. As the lighter clattered to the ground, Io’an bolted, just a step behind Bas. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he reached his room and hurriedly mashed in the code to open the door and rush inside.

Io’an slammed the door shut behind him and pressed his back to the wall. He took a few long, shaky breaths to steel himself and set to digging through his bag. His lightsaber was tucked away in a nondescript polished durasteel case that could only be unlocked through a touch of the Force on a hidden mechanism. He gripped the lightsaber tightly, as if his life depended on it.

The wall shuddered dully with a series of thumps. His comm whirred in his pocket--a staccato trio of vibrations he’d set to Kasche’s profile. Shouting voices outside demanded his focus, but he stole a glance at the message from his fling the night before.

Draco, are you okay? Got an escape pod on Deck 8, starboard side near the front. Please be careful. Hurry. They’re taking hostages.

Io’an froze, heart caught in his chest. Wish shaking hands, he tapped out a response.

Go while you have the chance. I’ll be fine. I promise.

“We got a fucking problem down here!” a voice shouted from outside. “Put out that damned fire and find that skinny bastard!”

Io’an put his comm up and steadied himself. Another thump shook the wall, then another, a few heartbeats later. Escape pods? He could only hope. HE took a deep breath and burst through his door back into the hallway to see one of the pirates stomping in vain and a part of fraying carpet that’d ignited.

Right as the ear-splitting fire alarm kicked on and the sire suppression system sprayed water over all of them.

[Fromikeable]

Vance’s fingers rolled across the side of his saber, stopping mid-motion by Bas’s one word proposal. Cutting them in half was a commitment; if the bodies were discovered, or the comms left unanswered too long, every pirate on the ship would be aware of them, and any hope for leaving the ship quickly would be dashed by however many dozens and dozens of blaster bolts.

A distraction it was. Violence was always a back-up plan.

Staying put as Bas moved first, Vance tensed as the lighter was flung, drumming fingers now glued to his saber. The sound of fire engulfing the floor, combined with Io’an’s presence surging, caused him to wave on his companions as he held position further, watching the pirates like a hawk.

Panic. Frantic dancing at the sight of the flames, the heat washing over them in a surge. The pirates leapt to life, heads on swivels, voices loud and ungraceful with the sounds of shock. Immediately ducking back out of sight, Vance switched his watch to their presences, each reeling with a mixture of annoyance, fear, and surprise. It wasn’t until one shifted to began to move that he steadied himself, feeling the criminal come his way.

As he rounded the corner, the fire alarm began to blare. It was just quick enough to cut off the man’s screams as Vance leapt up and grabbed his arm, the Force surging into his arm as he whipped him around off his feet and into the wall. As the pirate fell slump, he peered out again in time to spot Io’an making a break from his room, the pirate just beyond it continuing to stomp as the sprinklers in the hallway triggered. Reeling around to check on his friend, the pirate’s surprise was vocal.

”Hey, stop right fuc-”

A flick of Vance’s hand lurched the pirate to the side, propelled full-force into the door to Bas’s room. The structure immediately snapped at the frame, reflecting the ship’s truly awful quality as it offered no resistance. Landing on his side within Bas’s room, the pirate groaned as he rolled onto his side, still clearly alert and only momentarily dazed.

”Bas, look alive!”

[hugo]

Oh he was alive, he thought, a few granules of red spice stuck in his fingernail.  The fusion of chemicals, natural and otherwise, midichlorians, and good ole fear surged.  Time stopped; the loud bang and janky avalanche of door and pirate collapsing in slo-mo as if the gravlocks had been disabled and cold hard physics allowed to run as wild as the scoundrels pillaging the Peak.  A click, a pleasant woosh, and the staff was out in half an instant.  The trandoshan came to, stunned only for a second. "Schut-" came the curse, cut short by a deft strike to whatever the big lizard people had instead of a larynx.  After bringing the blow down, he heard a definitive crack, and the Trandoshan screeched again, only breathlessly and without sound.  He coughed up a putrid fluid, and that was good enough for Bas.  He looked out to the corridor to see his allies engaging the pirates.  His holdout was stashed with the spice, and he'd grabbed it earlier and shoved it into his waistband.  

He drew the pistol and slinked into the hall, the quarterstaff collapsed but still in his left grip.  It was unsettling and nostalgic to see the lightsabers whirring, seeming to wield themselves as they deflected blaster bolts.  Taking cover behind this shield, Bas fired three wild bolts over Io'an's shoulder, half-worried that one might hit his lightsaber and come right back home to him.  None of the three did so, but they did zip near enough to the two pirates to force them to find cover and momentarily pause their barrage.  

Get em boys. He thought loudly again.  They were on the run now, and if the trio could get close they could incapacitate the pirates.  We need to catch one with a comm.  Point that saber at his neck and make him call off the reinforcements.  He was sure the ruffians were as scared of the lightsabers, as increasingly common of a sight they were nowadays, as he would have been had he been over there on their side.  

Bas fired another shot, this one carefully aimed, striking the leftmost pirate in his right hip and causing him to stumble and fall. He cried something in Huttese over the comm.