ooc can be found here http://www.starwarsepi…d.php?p=230575#post230575


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The sound of the Hyperspace reversion alarm reminded him of having a root canal on a Low tech backwater, as he slowly opened his eyes.  Well, one eye in any case, as his other was still in the crook of his arm, safely buried and shielded from the offensive light.  The Glare from the Marlyana's Common room Incan lighting burned his retinas, permanently marking the spots on the back of his eyelids.  The Marlyana's Captain attempted to sit up, but then remembered how little he enjoyed getting up yesterday, so instantly thought better of it.  However, the Claxon wouldn’t turn off itself.  The sound would probably keep going on, and on until he got up to shut it down.
 
He could get use to it…
   
 
Gritting his teeth, he made one big heave, and launched himself off of the conform couch, and into a sitting position.  The clatter of cans assaulted him, which did nothing to ease the sudden and pronounced headache he now felt.  It started at the base of his skull, went back down his back, shot into Hyperspace around Tatooine way, then back to his stomach and up into the front of his head, where it met the headache in the back of his head, and were happily making more little headaches that were moving into his eye sockets.  He looked at the Holotable, and realized that there was no space left on its surface.  All of the tables real-estate was committed to holding his empty cans of Sovits Beer, and a couple of cans of Corellian Chili.  He looked up at the counter that he had installed in the common room, and could see that the Marlayna was nearly at her Destination.  "Ok, time to get up.."  and stood.  He found this was a horrible Idea, and sat back down instantly.  What was the worst that could happen, if it went over time.  He'd overshoot his destination by say, a few Parsecs, and he was fine with that.  However, he'd still have to get up and turn off the Claxon.  
 
Glancing back up at the Timer, he was about one minute from reversion.  Setting his lantern Jaw, scrubbing his fingers though his graying hair and flattening his feet on the deck, he launched himself up into a standing position, knocking more cans of Sovits onto the deck as he stumbled towards the Cockpit.  As he made his long and painful journey, he made a short stop for fuel, grabbing a can of Sovits that he had obviously forgotten sitting on one of the frame hard points of the tunnel that lead to the cockpit.  He finished the golden brew as he plopped down into the Pilots couch, and allowed his hands to do the rest.  They flew across the board, setting and resetting, altering vectors and prepping for reversion.  Looking up at he timer, he had less that a second…

The Reversion was flawless, as the Marlayna dropped into real space.   He patted the old Girl on the side.  “We did it again, sweetheart.”  He said, patting the aging YT-1300.  “Why do you put up with me.” He said to his ship, as he plotted the new vector towards Nar Shadda, and began prepping the vessel for landing.  “Maybe you’ll find a guy that isn’t such a wreck, huh?”  


“After all, You know I’ve done a bunch of stuff I’m not proud of..” he said, reaching under the console, and smiled.  Next to the DL 44 he had lodged there, he also had the flask of Old Nasty, and pulling it from under the console, popped the top. “Both as an Imperial, and a Rebel.”  And winked.  “I wouldn’t have done the rebel part without you, Darlin.” And brought the flask up in salute..  

“Happy 10th Wedding Anniversery, baby…”


The flask suddenly flew from his hand, flying across the cockpit and out into the access tunnel, the Old Nasty soaking the deck.  His hand began to sting as He closed his eyes…

Great, she’s mad now..

 

::This is Nar Shadda Control, to YT-1300 Marlyana, respond..:::


The Captain looked at the comm, and keyed the receiver.  “This is the Marlyana, incoming from Coruscant.  Captain Liam Bannon speaking..”  He thought it better not to use his nickname, which he usually went by..

Most people didn’t like their pilots to be called “Crash..”


:::Received, Marlyana.  We didn’t get your Transponder code when you arrived.  Your cleared for LP-U77a..:::

“Understood, Control.”  And shut down the connection.  “Well, lets see if we can remember how to land..”  He should probably jump into the fresher, and put on a clean shirt.  His current Green with flowers was a bit gamey..

Re: The Haunting of the Marlyana..

Crash took a long draw from the frosty Sovits, and continued to button up the pink short sleeve tunic, one of his favorites with the large pink flowers and green leaves.  It was crisp, clean and had none of the oder that his earlier Green and yellow had.   The Sonic shower had sobered him as it vibrated the top layer of skin from his seedy body.  He even shaved some of the scruff from his chin, making him feel like a million credits.  He usually didn’t look past his face, as it was better for his self image to not see the pot belly he had grown in the years since his days with the Empire.  Granted, he had began to grow the pot while he was with the rebellion, more out of necessity than anything else.  Anything to change his basic shape, he thought to himself, as he reached over and grabbed his gun belt.   The modified quick draw holster sat low on his leg, with his favored DL-44, with the Wrorshyr wood grips sitting where it needed to be, easily pulled if needed.  Crash looked at himself in the mirror, and sucked in his gut.   It was five years past the Battle of Endor, which he remembered all too well.  

To this day, he still hated Ewoks.  Nasty little fur balls with knives.  

He quickly let his breath out, that turned out to be a horrible Idea as he began to feel light headed. Well, why let them see anything other than what he was.  A slob in a loud shirt, he mused as he left the fresher.  Things were different when his wife was alive.  She wouldn’t have put up with his shinannigans, his get rich schemes.  She certainly wouldn’t have approved of smuggling, and she always hated it when he bent his elbow a bit too hard in the Cantinas.

His first plan was to get a real meal, this being his Tenth Wedding Anniversary, then meet his contacts.   Crash went directly to the Marlyana’s landing ramp and hit the hatch toggle..

And nothing happened.  

“Aw, c’mon Hon!” He said into the ether.  “This is the last one.  I Promise..  With this haul, Ill make enough to retire to somewhere sunny..”  And thought a moment.  “And I don’t mean Tatooine..”

She hated Tatooine..

He hit the Hatch Access panel again, and this time the door opened.  “Thanks, Babe,” And winked as he exited the ship.   Crash had been to Nar Shadda enough times to know the best places to eat, and inadvertently, to drink.  Bannon and his wife had been here several times together and always ended up in a little cantina called to Decompression in the Corellian District.  Good food, or at least better than what he was eating normally, an good company.   Crash needed some company right about now.  Once out of the star port, he found himself hailing a Hack, which at first he had hoped would be a rob hack, but it turned out to be a regular Taxi.  After a few credits spent, and a twenty minute ride he was in front of the Decompression.  After the Taxi ‘s fee, as a generous tip he entered the pub.  It was as busy as he remembered, filled to near capacity with both locals and transients, all of them mingling around the bar.  

The Barkeep gave him a nod, acknowledging his presence.  Crash yelled over the din of the crowd.  “Two Shots of your better with a Beer Chaser…”  and within moments, his drink arrived..

Looking at the Shot and a Beer that no one was going to drink, he picked up his own shot.  “Here’s to you, Darlin..”

Re: The Haunting of the Marlyana..

The Decompression was beginning to thin out as the waitress, Castia, brought over the steaming plate of food to the Marlyana’s captain.  Elpoa Ribs, with Fire sauce and Deep fried Tubers and a full tankard of Elbe Beer.  Crash had moved to one of the tables across the bar, Taking the extra Shot and Beer with him.  The waitress smiled at him, as the Boss had told her to treat the Spacer like a king.  The Man kind of reminded her of her own Dad, with his salt and pepper hair and his taste in clothing.   “Here ya go, Crash.” She said, “Watch that sauce, its blazing!” as she put the plate in front of him.  Crash chuckled, “Sweetheart, This isn’t hot.” He said, and sticking a finger into the pool of the thick sauce and shoving it in his mouth.  “I was weaned on this stuff,” And gave her a smug grin.   She smiled, leaving him to his own devices.  As it turned out, his devices ended up to be grabbing up his tankard and drinking quickly, attempting to cool the burning in his mouth.  Glancing over towards the bar, he could see Panrad and the Waitress grinning like idiots at him.  Sure, they serve him acid and they stand their smirking..  

After the meal, and several more tankards to help wash it down, he paid the tab, with a healthy tip to Castia, and left the Decompression.   It was dark out now, in little Corellia as he approached the first cab in the line of vehicles, a classic Blue covered.   I really need to get a speeder, he thought to himself as he relayed the address to the Hack.  With a nod, the Taxi sped off into the evening cool.   Settling back into the seat, Crash watched the Vertical City streak by, keeping pace with other speeders merrily going about their business, whatever that business may be.   His own business was taking place at a small warehouse on the outskirts of the Duro Sector, in one of the more industrial areas of the Smugglers moon.   Crash had met his contact on Coruscant, in his favorite watering hole.  At that moment when he was approached, he was near passed out in the back booth of The Rancor Bard cantina.  The woman who approached was a Human, or close enough to call her that, and at first look was hanging from the ceiling, and was exceedingly tall.  It was about that time that he realized that he was laying flat on his back, with his head hanging from the booth’s round seat.  Hyla Ravnos looked considerably different once he sat up properly, and was oddly enough still interested in hiring him for the job he was currently speeding towards.  The pale skinned woman didn’t speak much on the cargo he was carrying, and he didn’t ask.  Questions tended to preclude you from employment, he knew from experience.   

Hyla gave him the address, and a time limit to arrive on Nar Shadda.  The woman slid a cred chip across the table to him, and after a quick check of the amount represented on the card, agreed to do it.  It would be enough to retire, to not have to take other peoples cargos to the most remote parts of the galaxy.  No more getting shot at, not more mad dashes off planet while getting chased by authorities who are really intent on questioning.  Crash could find some little place, park the Marlyana in a star port somewhere, and drink himself into a complete and total coma.   No more thinking about his career as an Imperial Officer, a Storm Commando or the role he filled as a Sniper.   It was a career that he had abandoned after he came face to face with his last target in the Emperors service, Marlyana Culamis.  The woman was a suspected part of the rebels Propaganda network, breaking into the Imperial Holo Network on various worlds, and relaying the horrors of the Empire and the truths behind the Jedi Purges.  His orders were clear, to put a hole in her head.
  
Well, the op turned out to be more trouble than he had imagined, and had to eventually board her ship, the Unfortunate Truth.  The YT-1250 which had been converted into a portable studio, sound stage and transmitter, which she used as her Pirate Holo Station had been easy to get into.  What Crash hadn’t expected was her bravery, her conviction to her task, and her beauty.  There were no tears, no begging which he had expected or even an attempt to qualify her actions.  He wasn’t even sure why he didn’t just shoot her.       

She just stood there, saying simply.  “If you’re going to shoot, take off your helmet..”

Which Crash did, and stared into her brown eyes.  He leveled the weapon on her cranium, ready to shatter the Dark skinned face with the blast of high energy, but he found that he couldn’t pull the trigger.   He had no idea how long he had been standing there, weapon aimed between her eyes.  Crash was swayed by her courage, and felt that she at least deserved to say her piece one more time.  He dropped the pistol to his side, and listened to her.  Really listened, maybe for the first time in years…

That was his last day as an Imperial Officer, and a year later, he was wed to her..

“Were here, buddy..”  the Hack said, breaking Crash from his thoughts.  The Marlyana’s captain paid the bill, and stepped out of the Cab.  

Taking a deep breath, and coughing up a large chunk of Nar Shadda’s atmosphere, he reached back into his back pocket, and pulled up his flask.   After a deep draw from the silver container, he walked up to the Warehouse’s pedestrian hatch, and knocked.   A few moments passed, and a rodian opened the door, hand behind his back.  “Ravnos sent me, and if our gonna hide hardware behind your back, don’t be so obvious…”

Re: The Haunting of the Marlyana..

The Rodian eyed him up and down with his large eyes, and finally motioned for him to pass through the hatch.   Crash stepped through as the Rodian dropped the pistol to his side, and led him though the small office spaces and into the larger Warehouse area, which turned out to being larger than he had expected.   Cargo containers of varied sizes and shapes transformed the Warehouse into a Labyrinth, which would make it difficult if a quick escape became a necessity.   Crash glanced around, identifying locations of guards on the above catwalks, both hidden and exposed.  The Rodian led him into a large clearing, essentially created from the shipping crates.  A table and chairs had been placed in the center of the clearing, with various offerings splayed out.  Whisky, Rums, some hot Tavern Foods and some frosty Sovits!  They know how to treat a contractor, he thought to himself as he attempted to get a whiff of the Spicy Sausages sizzling in a heater but other scents covered it. The smell of solvents and lubricants attached to his nostrils, and remained there.  Not the worst smell he’d ever had attack his nostrils.

That honor belonged to a gentle being named Costello Villp, after Chili and Ale night at the Rim Runner Tavern in Coronet City on Corellia.  He cleared the place out, literally.
  
“Mr. Bannon…” came a heavily accented voice, breaking him from the memory.   Crash looked at the Twi’lek stepping from behind one of the walls of cargo containers, whom he figured was in charge, at least for the moment.  He was tall, able to see eye to eye with him and wore what Crash could only describe as excessive clothing.  His Lekku was heavily tattooed, and was adorned with multiple precious stones.  Flanking him was two Twi’lek females, neither of whom would be considered modestly dressed.

 If he wasn’t the boss, then this guy was getting paid exceedingly well.

 “I am pleased that you came.  Once Hyla Ravnos sent word that on who understood appropriate..”  The Twi’lek paused, clicking a long nail on his sharpened teeth. “..Discretion..  Was found.”  He said, and moved towards the table, and took a seat.  The Twi’lek Twins took to either side, and began messaging the Bosses Lekku with some form of creams.  Probably for the tats, Crash thought to himself.  “You will have to do nothing on this trip, other than pilot your vessel.  I will send three of my associates to care for the Cargo, which will be self contained and sealed.  Once you arrive at your destination, then you will receive the cred chit for your payment, and our business is done.”  He said, grinning, showing his sharpened teeth.   “All parties are satisfied..  We have transported our merchandise, and you have your compensation, enough to make you a rich man on even the more affluent worlds..”

Crash nodded, “And what happens if I get boarded, are your guys going to deal with that too?”    

It was as if the Warehouse had suddenly been engulfed in a vacuum, and he was suddenly naked.  Everyone was quiet and staring at him.  

The Twi’lek leaned forward.  “Simple.. Don’t get caught..” he said, grinning wide.

Ah..  one of THOSE shipments, Bannon thought..  Well, it wasn’t like he wasn’t expecting that, otherwise they wouldn’t be paying him as well as he was.  “Don’t get your Lekku twisted..  I was just asking if the cargo looks like what it actually is, or is it disguised..”

Again, the Twi’lek relaxed.  “Don’t Get caught..”  and stood up.  “My people will meet you at your ship, and Emusta will show you out…” He said, motioning to the Rodian who had escorted him in.  Emusta shut the door behind him, muttering something in Rodian after him, and chuckled.  Of course, Crash knew the Rodian language as well as he knew Hyper Dimensional Physics in relation to Blood Pudding.

  Neither were good if there was a chuckle following it…
 

Minutes later, Crash was in a Cab, heading back to the Marlyana.  Well, he’s had worst jobs, but the money will make up for it.  The credits would set him up nicely, enough to keep him in diversion until his body gave out from the abuses of Drink, Spice and loose Starport Women.

 Well, at least the Drink, in any case…