"You gotta like someone who does their homework. Spying on the boss...that freaking terrific. Gotta remember that one."

"Just remember, it's not paranoia if they really are out to get you."

"That's great, but remember guys that we're not there to whack him; we're there to pay off our debts."

"Yeah, but I doubt Gulgo will have second thoughts about killing us once we pay him the money."

"Ah, c'mon, we're paying him a little extra. Oh, and that reminds me, no one bring any more money than the payment and the tip. That way, he can't go whining for more. So yeah, the little extra should buy some favor, right?"

He enlists some help in stuffing all the credits into the satchel.

"Erit, you're playing mule for this one, if you don't mind. No one likes to hurt an Ithorian."

Erit's face takes on a menacing look.

"Nobody hurts Ithorians, period, because to do so would mean hurting the memory of the Sacred Forests of Ithor, and that would call down the wrath of all of Ithor upon the culprit."

Then, he returns to his normal pattern.

"I am merely exagerating, of course."

"Well, no one with a conscience likes hurting an Ithorian. You're just too nice. Of course, Gulgo doesn't have a conscience...."

Arnae hits the button to lower the boarding ramp.

"Okay, crew. We've got a date with a slug to make. 'Za, hold down the fort. You know where the autoblaster controls are."

Arnae leads the way down into the Sullustan tunnels.

The Sullust dock that Arnae landed at is fairly busy as far as small ports go, though there's an air of tension that doesn't take Erit's empathy to recognize. There are a lot of people reserving flights off-planet just in case the Imperials return. Two young human men in hand-me-down military gear are passing out Rebel pamphlets in the main causeway and shouting something about rising up against the Empire, staying and protecting one's home from the fascist aggressors, and so on. The tunnels are well-lit with a mixture of artificial sunlight, pumped in through surface collectors, and some naturally luminescient rock.

Nobody gives the admittedly large group any trouble as they hop a subtrain to a visibly seedier district. Once they get two "blocks" away from the station and the foot traffic thins, however, Wayde and Erit notice four slovenly-looking Sullustans and a large Gran fanning out and shadowing them - er, trying to shadow them. Gulgo's palace/lair/cave (it's a mixture of all three) is still a couple of intersections away.

Erit concentrates on the minds of the five would-be persuers.

You've got the wrong lead.

"Aye, aye, Cap'n," Jileeza replies with a smirk and a saucy wave to the others as they depart.

Once the others are gone, 'Za retires to the autocannon turret. She spends a few moments piping the ship's short-range sensors and video feeds through the monitors in the turret. Shortly, she has a 360 degree view outside the ship. Anyone approaching the Chance will have a tough time doing so unnoticed.

Jileeza then proceeds to do her nails, keeping an eye on the monitors for the return of her brethren or any interlopers.

Erit's mental prods cause two of the five thugs to stop and look around for the group. The good news is, those two are on the same side, and spread far enough that it's too late for the others to notice before the Gran and the two Sullustans that are left draw blasters, calling out "Hold it right there, hammerhead! What do you think you're doin' down here?"

Wayde stands still, stopping Erit's pace with his arm. He turns and looks at the gunmen then back at Erit.

(using Cunning aspect)

"Yeah, what the hell are you doing here? I thought you tree-huggers stayed on Ithor?"

...and that's when Wayde pulls his blaster and starts shooting.

Erit ducks down, rushing behind cover. As he sits down and listens to the sounds of combat, his left hand reaches below his tunic.

No. Never again.

The hand withdraws, coming up empty, and Erit goes back to his normal funk, trying to give Wayde a hand in accuracy.

(Edited by Gatac at 5:27 pm on Jan. 28, 2004)

Wayde's lightning-quick snap fire plants a red bolt square into the Gran, knocking him to the ground where he lies smoking. Wayde gets off a second shot but misses. The two remaining Sullustans fire back as they run for cover, one to an alley, the other to a trash receptacle. Both shots come close - Wayde feels the heat as a shot opens a burning hole in his sleeve, missing his arm by a centimeter.

"Sonuva..."

Wayde pats out his smoldering shirt sleeve, putting another family of blaster bolts downrange at the Sullustans as he takes cover. (if any)

"We were just minding our own business, but you had to go and ruin our 20 solid minutes of peace. That must be a new record..."

Arnae spins and fires, his shot slamming into the trash bin - and then through it. The Sullustan's knocked down, his weapon skittering away. He's not dead, but he's folded over from the pain.

As Wayde turns to bring his weapon to bear on the last Sullustan, the rest of the group draw down with him. The Sullustan, peeking back around the alley corner to shoot back, sees a firing squad. He manages to duck back as Wayde gets one parting shot off, scattering red stone from the wall. The last goon's footsteps quickly recede from the area.

Erit gets back up, his arm accidentally brushing against the object below his tunic. The thought from a few seconds ago claws it's way back to the top of his mind.

Never again.

Then, with his trademark quiant, peaceful voice, he says - to nobody in particular:

"I must say I'm tiring of getting shot at."

Wayde nods,

"Likewise. Let's go."

Erit eyes Wade's sleeve.

"Have you sustained injury, Mr. Stryker?"

"Just a scratch. The only thing wounded was my pride. Thanks."