The remainder of the hyperspace trip is relatively uneventful - Reyes dismantles and reassembles Ta's entire toolkit, finding no bombs, drugs, bugs, or knives of any sort. Ta doesn't move from her seat, aside from a break to rub the feeling back into her ankles and wrists.

Arnae soon drops the Second Chance out of hyperspace over the gas giant Bespin. Its enormous rose-colored bulk looms nearer over the tiny ship as the group flies into the top layers of the atmosphere.

*Cloud City Control to unidentified freighter, state your name and business.*

Erit grabs a commset.

"Sierra Charlie Oh One to Cloud City Control, this is the Second Chance. Our hyperdrive shows signs of component stress, and while we do not believe that it is in imminent danger of failure, we request authorisation to land in order to perform some preventive maintenance. We are currently carrying no, I repeat, no cargo."

*Roger, Second Chance. You are cleared to land on docking platform 34.*
---
The Chance shudders as it touches down on the almost fragile-looking circular platform, connected to the main body of Cloud City by a long walkway. A faint hissing heralds the atmosphere reclamators' operation but throughout most of the ship, the ambient sounds have begun to die off as systems power down.

From the autoblaster cupola, Jileeza spots a shiny black protocol droid leading a small group of fueling and maintenence droids down the walkway. The squawks of an R2 unit mingle with the nearly subaural grumbling of a power droid.

Seeing the Imperial flag waving over the facility as he steps down the docking ramp, it harkens back to Wayde's days in the military.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

No doubt written off as dead in the official Imperial logs from the Battle of Endor, he wish the same could be said for his ex-C.O.

That bastard. What are the chances he's at this facility?

As Erit walks down onto the landing platform, he watches Wayde steal a glance at the Imperial Flag.

You can run from your past, but you can never hide.

Wayde glares back at Erit.

Fuck you, jedi. You might have a code, but I don't. The Imperials -did- teach me how to kill someone and make sure the body would never be found. I know this place has both an incinerator and a carbonite chamber. Your choice...baked or frozen?

Erit merely shrugs.

"I rest my case."

He walks on, content with the unfortunate fact that this will make absolutely no sense to anyone besides him and Wayde.

Wayde rolls his eyes at his quixotic friend.

Careful, Jedi. You wouldn't be the first to leave this place missing a lightsaber and arm...

Jileeza's a little disappointed that the little minx didn't try something. Oh well, likely to be some excitement soon enough.

Bispin is an interesting world, and one of the few she hasn't visited previously. Cloud City appears hospitable enough, and 'Za follows the others off the ship. Once outside, she pauses for a few moments to watch the droids. It's always a good idea to make sure the droids servicing your ship are competant and in good working order.

The maintenence droids seem to be working with Imperial efficiency, attaching umbilicals and reading power displays and whatnot - quite the little circus.

The protocol droid approaches the group, saying "Greetings and welcome to Cloud City. I am G4-8, human/cyborg relations. I see you have non-humans in your party - will they be needing translation services during your stay?"

Wayde thumbs a backwards point towards Erit and Co.

"Erm, your gonna have to ask the non-humans about that..."

Knowing standard docking protocols, Wayde waits for the ubiquitous Imperial presence that lets itself be known just as the civilians get comfortable.

Erit does what could be considered the equivalent of raising an eyebrow, then replies.

"No, thank you. I speak Basic quite fluently."

Sure enough, an Imperial in a gray uniform (looks like 2nd. Lt.) and a full squad of 8 stormtroopers cycle the blast door to the docking platform and begin goose-stepping their way towards the crew.

"I'll handle it from here, droid," the Lt. calls.

"In that case, gentlefolk," the droid finishes to the group, "I will let Lt. Briggs complete your orientation. Enjoy your stay at Cloud City." With that, G4-8 toddles off past the approaching Imperials.

Urge to kill...rising.

Wayde retracts his anger shield for the time being, knowing that it's only a matter of time before the butter-barred officer to show his incompetence.

"Good day, I'm 2nd. Lt. Briggs, welcome to Cloud City." The man seems to be going through some sort of monotone memorized greeting. "No personal weaponry larger than a blaster pistol is allowed during your stay. You may store such weaponry at any of the security kiosks or aboard your ship. Weapons discharge will be investigated according to Imperial regulations. Transport and/or usage of spice is prohibited..." the guy plows through a good minute of legal crap, most of which the group already knows. He finishes with "...and please consider stopping by our gift shops."

He takes a deep breath, adding, "Look, you'll understand why I do this if you ever have to listen to that bucket of bolts go through it. It takes 3 times longer. You all look like fairly capable people, I'm sure you'll find what you need without a problem. If you DO need something, any sergeant at a kiosk will be able to get in touch with me. If that's all (he doesn't wait for a reply)... good, let's go, boys." And Briggs turns around and begins walking the stormtroopers back down the walkway.

Urge to kill...fading.

It occured to Sarge that all the good personnel seem to have the shittiest, most backwater assignments. Wayde had nothing against good militating. He perks up at the curt, yet fair performance made by the young lieutenant.

Watching the group of Imperial soldiers walk away once more, Erit walks close by Wayde.

"The Empire has gift shops? You've been leaving me in the dark for a long time, Mr. Stryker."

Aurelia is still a little miffed at both the Jedi, and his plucky Imperial side kick -not that she would ever call him that to his face. The girl's presence remains a mystery, and Aurelia was genuinely interested, but as usual, the *organic* parts of the ship couldn't help but tinkering. If it ain't broke, and is about to talk, don't come walking in and playing telepathic tricks.

This is why she prefered machines. Machines behaved, and went where they were told to go. And when they blew up, it was a rather attractive shower of sparks, rather than a big pile of carbon mess. Never the less, Aurelia smiles at the Captain, with one of those "Daddy, can I borrow the car keys?" looks.

"Umm...Sir? The Chance could use some parts, and some spun blaster gas if we have any spare change..."

"Not me," Jileeza says in regards to the question. In truth, she speaks the trade tongue a bit better than she does Rodian. Of course, that's not really surprising since she left Rodia at a very young age.

The droids appear to be capable, so Jileeza returns her attention to the protocol droid, who is quickly replaced by the brass and his goosestepping compatriots.

Jileeza can't help smirking during the recitation. Only the fact that he seems as bored by it as she saves him from a healthy dose of heckling. Besides, 'Za has a Twil'lek to keep and eye on...

"Gift shops? Well, looks like it's time for some shopping. Wouldn't you love to buy me some pretty baubles, Mak?" she asks with a sexy smile.

Quote:

Quote: from Gatac on 7:52 pm on Mar. 8, 2004


"The Empire has gift shops? You've been leaving me in the dark for a long time, Mr. Stryker."

Wayde huffs a bit, scratching the back of his head in slight embarrassment.

"What can I say...the Empire has gone soft since Endor. The New Republic no doubt took alot of their lucrative credit making ventures, not to mention putting a serious stop to the planet devourers. Let's try and go easy on these Outer Rim guys. I mean, what would you do if all of a sudden some left-wing militants blast you with lasers and wipe out everything within a three-mile radius. You didn't ask for that. You have no personal politics. You're just trying to scrape out a living on an meager Imperial salary. You know what the average take-home is for non-comm?..."