Even in the midst of her coupling, Calsera notes the loss of the lights. It occurs to her to wonder what's happening downstairs, though she suspects her friends have something to do with it. However, at this point in the festivities, it's not enough to disturb the momentum of their activities.
Mandall punches it hard, clearing the hangar just as his demo charges turn the Imperial launch bays into twisted metal. Shrapnel aerosols around his stolen TIE as he banks hard and stands the Imperial fighter on its tail. The AA fire isn't long in coming. The first few volleys are ineffectual - scattered gun crews who happened to have actually been watching their scopes. Mandall's burn to the black puts him in the turbolasers' optimal range band, however, and even with his jinking his shields drop with a shudder. His readouts are still (mostly) green, and the TIE doesn't seem hurt. Mandall quickly outdistances the guns and passes into low orbit.
As before, the Pacifier's TIEs are inbound. Admiral Taris swears under his breath as the fleet chatter starts coming in.
*...too fast! We need interceptor backup! Can't close the distance!*
...And just as the Imperials engage Mandall, he tunnels into hyperspace. He blows them a kiss and lets out a heavy sigh.
*Sir, we lost him!*
"You sumbitches couldn't close an umbrella," Taris spits into his commlink.
Murdock's primary systems crap themselves as his secondary backups kick in to compensate for the sudden surge across his mainframe. The droid feigns worse damage while his former opponent twitches.
As he clears hyperspace, Mandall lets out a deep breath that he's held in for - what feels like - hours.
The adrenaline rush is nice, but there are easier ways to get your thrill.
After a couple more jumps to lose any heat that might be following him, Mandall jumps to the fallback location and finally comes face to face with the Sword of Alderaan. He transmits his auth code before they open fire on him, then opens a channel.
"Command, this is Vandal Hotshot. I got seperated from my crew, and I'd really appreciate a new ride and some rough directions to their last known position. Oh, and you can tell the deck chief that it's Life Day - as you can see, I'm ridin' in a TIE Advanced, and this one's mostly intact, to..."
*Vandal Hotshot, you are cleared to land. Good to have you back with us.*
---
The deck chief and several crew offer back-slapping congratulations on escaping the Empire's clutches and making off with one of their premier snubfighters, to boot. Soon after, however, Mandall's been in the debriefing room too long, having explained the Vandals' recent activities in great detail at least three times. It's during the briefing where Mandall learns about Shas' death and Jorm's injuries.
"... That Interdictor you mention in your report appears to be the primary hurdle in getting aid to the Mygeetan insurgents. Intelligence will formulate a plan to deal with that and we'll pass your recommendations up the ladder," Captain Kolit says. "Now, the last transmission we have from your team said they're going back to Naga's organization. We haven't heard from them since, so they're either dead or their covers haven't been blown. One thing, though - Lt. Maso's mole has gone comms-black, and if what the Vandals said about Naga's men thinking they had an Imperial spy is true, then Tol Grannick needs to be extracted ASAP."
"In short, Daygon: return to Vandal Squadron. Exfiltrate Tol Grannick. Remove Naga from power."
No one pipes up claiming ownership of MDK-911. Perhaps that's not such a bad idea, as the chrome-plated killer struggles to a knee and pounds his steely fist into the stunned Wookiee's chest. One, two, three piston-like slams results in a gruesome ripping sound, then Murdoch pulls the beast's heart from its chest, holding the organ over his head like a Geonosian gladiator.
Several bystanders make an effort to get to the restrooms before they vomit. They are unsuccessful.
Roga raises his bulk up, throwing tables and chairs helter-skelter, and slams his body down on top of Murdoch. The droid's halfway pinned underneath the Hutt's mass.
"WHERE IS YOUR OWNER, DROID?! Do you have ANY idea what it took to TRAIN those things?!"
Mandall listens to the orders with indifference. So now the mole has to be dug out? Well, that sounds like fun.
Soon enough, however, Mandall finds himself arguing with the deck chief.
"...look, I don't care if it's cover or not, I'm not getting into one of those Headhunters again. You got a spare X or somethin' that you don't mind stripping the markings from?"
"I don't blame ya, hotshot," the chief replies. "I can have you on deck in 20."
---
Calsera and her boytoy, Vorik Mazof, finish up their current round of activity. He cycles the balcony doors open, lighting up a cancerstick as he does so, and checks his commlink.
"Oh, man," he says in dismay as he glances at his messages. "I've got a... thing, you know, it's just come up." Calsera notes that it's slightly after midnight and Vorik didn't seem to be in much of a hurry to leave earlier. "A corrupt shipping magnate's work is never done. Tell you what - what would you say to lunch tomorrow?"
"WHERE IS YOUR OWNER, DROID?! Do you have ANY idea what it took to TRAIN those things?!"
*zerk*
"My previous owner and I did not see eye to eye. I am currently an independent servitor of swift death. And to answer your other question, apparently their training was grossly insufficient...your greatness. Perhaps you require a new trainer, because these hairy corpses of bantha poodoo couldn't even stop one droid." replies MDK, crushing the dismembered heart like it was an empty Bothan Beer (TM) can.
"Indeed... I think I'm well acquainted with your thing at this point," Calsera replies with a smirk. "Yes, yes. Duty calls and all that." Calsera injects just a touch of boredom into her voice.
Some time later, an X-Wing with hastily stripped markings and switched ID codes - do it fast, and even a proper maintenance crew makes it look like a stop at the chop shop - jumps into the Nar Shaddaa system. Switching the comms to Naga's comm channel, Mandall hits the transmit button.
"This is Dragon Wing. I got me a suspicion that my warband is lounging around here, so if you'd kindly direct me to the right landing bay...I'm ridin' in a little present for them."
The hangar crew's work must pass muster, because Mandall hears a reply in the affirmative.
*Dragon wing, you're cleared to land in pit 12. Local comm traffic is on seven niner mark two ten. Nice work.*
---
Vorik looks pensive before answering. "Come see me on my yacht tomorrow, let's say... 11? It's a Nubian model, hangar deck 9. The Nebula Argenta.
---
MDK, Ganet, and Ty all watch as Roga's voluminous brow furrows and his eyes dart unsettlingly this way and that. Having decided on some course of action finally, the Hutt bellows, "I like you, droid. Fearless and inventive. You're hired. Now clean up the mess you made."
"11 is fine, Vorik," Calsera replies. "I'll see you then." Or perhaps a bit before... she thinks to herself.
Calsera will lounge around until Vorik leaves, delay a little bit, then follow. She intends to follow him at as great a distance as she can manage and still keep tabs on him.
Mandall chooses this moment to enter the bar in a dramatic fashion, still wearing the remains of his snowtrooper armor sans helmet - albeit hastily "redecorated" along more Hapian design aesthetics. He puts on a big grin and spreads his arm as his voice thunders through the room.
MDK, Ganet, and Ty all watch as Roga's voluminous brow furrows and his eyes dart unsettlingly this way and that. Having decided on some course of action finally, the Hutt bellows, "I like you, droid. Fearless and inventive. You're hired. Now clean up the mess you made."
"You heard the boss, now get to work!..." glares MDK at the retinue of servants nearby.
Guns retract, standing idly by Roga in a Boba Fett-ish manner, the blood of two dead wookies still dripping off his armor. His servos controling his neck grinding in distress as he looks about the room.
"...and a mechanic with knowledge of droid repair, on the double!"
Tycarefully studies the situation, from the commotion by the door to the conclusion of the standoff in the center of the gambling floor. He considers the results of getting involved in the conclusion wieghed against going to greet the apparently-revived Mandall, then makes a snap decision. He walks over to where Naga is setting up a small retinue amongst the debris of a set of overturned sabacc tables, trying to do his best to fake not recognizing Murdock. He bows, "I've learned a thing or two about droids, sir. Find me a toolkit, and I'll get this bucket of bolts fixed up in a few minutes." That "bucket of bolts" thing ought to get Murdock angry enough to act like he has no association with me, he thinks, I just hope I don't get myself killed.
OOC: Please keep Murdock a little bit controlled with his challenge, would you, Dieter? He has just been through some Wookie wrastlin', so maybe he could have some laser capacitor depletion or something in addition to the battle damage? Or at least leave all Ty's limbs where they started out, will you?
"Yes, I want my new skullcrusher in prime condition." Roga lets Ty realign Murdoch's servos and tune up his turbines. While he's working (nervously), Roga asks Ty, "You're with... yeah, you're with that Hapian prince, aren't ya? Leave that poncy wannabe and come work for me - besides, I'll have uses for a droid mechanic."
---
Elsewhere, Calsera's on Vorik's trail. Shadowing her "date" proves fairly difficult. He's had espionage training, but he's riding a high of ale and nookie and isn't as careful as he normally is, perhaps. Cat drops on top of his turbolift with nary a sound, and they travel deep into the lower levels of Naga's fortress-tower. Mazof disembarks the lift into a shadowy maintenence corridor, where he winds his way through a morass of identical steam-spitting hallways before he comes to a heavy door, guarded by a fat but muscular human, stripped-down blaster slung at his side.
"Has he said anything else?"
"No sir, the droid advised us to let the bacta work before resuming the interrogation. We didn't want him to die."
"The droid is overly concerned for that spy's well-being. Watch the door - I'll handle the Besalisk myself," Vorik says, entering the room. Calsera gets a glimpse of greenish bacta tanks, swimming with red-brown trails of blood.
---
Mandall finds the pleasure farm to be pretty much exactly what he needed after his icy ordeal.
It doesn't take Mandall long to acquire beer breath. People who know him can be sure that he's not remotely drunk after a scant few mugs, but he's doing a pretty damn good impression as he saunters up to Ganet.
"Sire, I'd - hic! - like to be excused...for an URGENT EXTRACTION."
Cover me, I gotta go find out where they keep the mole and rescue him.
fanchergw
Admiral Duck Sauce
Dieter
Gatac