Convoy 321 out of Varonat

[Darth Fett]

Space was... spaceful.

[Yarkar Edetar]

The Merciful Rogue speeds towards a compound on Varonat, the Sith had sent Yarkar out to be an extra set of hands to this shipment, although he agreed mainly from a place of distrust. After all, could you truly trust a man who didn't bow to the whims of the Darth? Yarkar scowled as the Rogue exits hyperspace, taking a seat to avoid being flung as the Rogue dipped into the atmosphere of the planet. He takes the manifest from a nearby droid, painstakingly going over every inch of the document. Every crate that enters the Rogue is checked first by Yarkar for the amount intended to be present, and then briefly glanced over by his droid, AA-3PO, for further quality control. With every crate he loaded, he expected to be met with a dagger in the back, but turned to find none. He eagerly awaited the sound of his colleague landing, but instead he heard Fett enter behind him. Apparently they needed more room than the transports could carry, Yarkar frantically checking the manifest to ensure that this was true while this was being explained. Apparently Fett had an extra transport around, how convenient. He scowled, checking the manifest again. He was glad he learned how to fly to escape his home on Sullust now...

"RX-636, you'll pilot the extra transport." Yarkar barks the order at the droid, who stoically moves his post. "Of course, I'll make sure to return the ship in one piece." Yarkar says, a hint of distrust. He sent the droid with the intention of the ship being a trap. Yet, he heard no detonators as the droid found its way to the cockpit, nor did he hear his droid be kidnapped. After all the cargo was loaded, Yarkar takes flight with the Rogue, and RX soon after takes off with the loaned YT-2400, the Dolos. The matte black of the Dolos and the well-maintained white of the Rogue contrasting well as they waited in orbit for the go-ahead.

[Professor Mors]

Sa'ato heaved a long, oaken sigh as he stared out the self-same viewport once more. Once more he'd been sucked into this dogged errand, and once more he would deliver in spite of his preferences. At least one of the youths were about to speed things along- not that it would make time pass any quicker. So much for the Neti's research-driven retirement, and so little to show for it...

[Darth Fett]

The viewport shrugged off the last of the atmosphere as it drank in the endless obsidian void on the other side of orbit.

The Dark Lord pranced his digits along his console while his eyes remained locked on the starways. All the horrors he had encountered which hadn't originated in his mind were out there, hiding between the beckoning warmth, charm, and false comfort of twinkling points of luminescence in the frigid sea of sublime darkness.

Words trickled from the left side of his mouth, "Route Kappa-Jade-997 engaged, all in convoy follow suit."

His matter of factness belied the unserious grin settling onto his neon bathed face.

While the leather seat cover creaked and stretched under his reclining torso, the cargo hold of his Action V was as silent as the space just outside of the hull. The same likely could not be soon said on one of the other ships.

The young, squirrelly Sith had been so transparently suspicious of Fett, but would find not a bolt out of place in either of his Corellian freighters.

The professor, however, had a surprise awaiting in an unlocked false panel amongst his cargo. It was Fett's own bounty, afterall, and he had noted the Neti was duty bound more than anything. He was clearly stuck in monotony of the current mission, and could have used a gift to spice up the ideally uneventfully tedious journey.

No doubt the stowaways would make themselves known once their bellies and loins felt the tug of hyperspace.

"Engaging," Fett's pilot droid aboard his sister ship offered.

Fett rubbed his cheek before returning his hand to the applicable knobs and buttons.

"See you on the other side, clankers, kiddos, and moss-collectors."

[Ben Kenobi]

Apologies. Correction. Convoy still eligible to be raided until the 14th.

[Professor Mors]

Sa'ato's 'eyebrows' had tripled in quantity and severity while glaring at one of several mechanical terminals. Something was causing temporary, fleeting, but ultimately noticeable power fluctuations all along the aft end of the cargo hold. He quadruple-checked the diagnostics through the main computer, but it was becoming increasingly apparent to the academic that if he wanted solve the problem, hands would have to be dirtied. Hissing and growling with irritation as he descended down the nearest service ladder, the Neti called the Force to his person in the interest of bolstering his senses. Whatever was out of place wouldn't be able to hide for long...

[Yarkar Edetar]

As the Merciful Rogue heard the go-ahead, Yarkar leapt into hyperspace. He scowled, calling to his pilot droid. "636, report," he barked into his communications panel to the droid, his voice distrusting. Despite this, he heard the crackling voice of his droid indeed.

"RX-636 reporting, sire. All systems are online, power is nominal. The vessel is in top shape, sire. The fact that it was even given temporarily is-"

"Don't praise that man until we've gotten the shipment finished. I'm not about to have you be proven wrong. It looks poorly on me to have a droid that can't tell friend from foe."

"Yes, my apologies."

"Better. Now, keep an eye on diagnostics. I'm going to check the Rogue. I don't trust that he was slinking around." Yarkar's scowl deepens, searching for everything in a vast expanse of nothing left behind by the anarchist comrade that stood with them, at least as long as it paid.

[Darth Fett]

The artificial neon haze of the Plutus' cockpit was disrupted by the baptizing glow of hyperspace. Fett's face was awash, the ridges, valleys, and contrast of his scars fading with the heavenly glow that pooled over him.

"Situation on the Midas."

A crackle over the comm unit, followed by silence.

"Report in, Midas."

Nothing.

"You'd better hope pirates are raiding you and stripping you for parts right now, and you aren't looking through the parts exchange holonet again."

He thumbed the switch and pivoted in his chair. He stood and poured himself a drink. He chupsed after taking a gulp of the high octane liquid.

[Yarkar Edetar]

Yarkar stresses over every bolt of every panel, even going so far as to check his on-board bacta tank for acid by dropping in small morsels of his rations. Thankfully they float to the top and are easily skimmed seconds after by the disappointed medical droid, who is trying to stop the boy Sith from further ruining his ability to heal from wounds.

"AA-3PO, report on your inspection." Yarkar barked, his eyes narrowing. His teeth ground together slightly, and he leapt at the slightest clink, just the ship settling from the velocity of travel, but in his eyes it was the beginning of the end.

"Go, right there! It came from right there!"

"Sir, it's made that noise every time you jumped into hyperspace."

"No it hasn't, you're a saboteur, I know it! You're trying to get us all killed! What did he do? Reprogram you? Switch you out?"

"Sir, nothing of the sort. Please, rest. You're not well."

"You should know I don't rest when the world is against us! I'm trying not to get us killed! The one who rests is the man already in stocks!"

The two enter a shouting match, Yarkar swaying, exhausted from his sleepless flight to the planet and now a continuing sleepless trip back. It definitely wasn't his finest moment. In fact, one could call it a disaster.

[Professor Mors]

With a growl Sa’ato triumphantly tore off the stray panel which concealed his stowaways. Immediately, a few panicked gizka ran hither and thither. The Neti scowled and wondered if this was some crude joke on trail mix, or something regarding his diet. This hypothesis was dashed when one of the bipeds sailed, or more accurately, was hurled just past his head. Looking to the source, the professor could only exclaim in pure shock, ”Velsi Yprsl! The jizz hearthrob of the Mid Rim!”. A middle-aged Yuzzum repeatedly blinked glazed-over eyes at the Neti, before unleashing a ghoulish wail and sprinting out of their hiding spot at full speed. As they zoomed by Sa’ato could see, smell, and practically hear the myriad narcotics caked into their fur. How long had they been there? Was their placement Fett’s doing? Or Thryns’s? Were they a holdover from some wild party? Regardless, Sa’ato sighed loudly, and took up the nearest rifle with a stun configuration. Things could never be simple.