Gambling Between the Stars

[Kal Olorin]

Well, it was definitely going to be one of those days.

I'd tripped getting out of the sonic shower, stubbing my toe badly enough that I was still trying not to limp. Sasseeri had called me five times since breakfast, about everything from the latest spice shipments to the Core to what dress she should wear tonight. She wasn't even on board the Morning Star pleasure cruiser with me, so what did I care?

She was probably still playing with that Cline kid - not that I envied him his current position. No, I take that back, there were several positions with Sassy that I really didn't mind being in. Not 'til afterwards anyway. When the sweat had dried.

Then the main ship's steward had made me sit down and sign all sorts of requisition forms that I didn't have time to read. If he'd slipped anything in there for his own gain, he certainly could have. Probably did, too, the grasping little frell. Of course, overseeing the operation of the huge casino ship that 'sailed' from Chandrila was not my real reason for being on board. Every minute I wasted with paperwork meant that some very important Imperials were getting their gambling on without the proper surveillance.

So here it was nearly lunch time (according to the ship), and I was in a foul mood. Working my way through the layers of the space liner I finally made it to the security wing. After my clearances were checked, I found a quiet booth and set about digging up the past twelve hours of footage on my person of interest.

Best damn waste of time work ever. I'm sure Sassy had someone else who could have done this, but whatever. Cline's the golden boy now, so I'm better off not disturbing them during his honeymoon period.

Like I said, a lousy day for sure.

[Tri'ahna Zylary]

Things weren't looking good, oh no - not good at all.

The ship let out another ear-piercing shriek, followed by a loud clanging sound. Tria, at her total wit's end for what to do, howled in frustration and randomly hit the button on the panel in front of her that seemed to glow in a shade of red more aggressive than the rest. For a moment there was absolute silence before something underneath her feet gave off a low groaning sound. Then the whole thing started to shake and rattle.

"O-o-o-o-h-h n-n-n-n-o-o-o-o-o-o-O-O-O-O!!!"

Now close to tears, she sat back and stared at the viewscreen in front of her. The stars were racing by at an increasingly faster pace, the ship seemed to be rebelling against her every attempt at gaining control over it - not like she could - and to top things off, her back was itching so badly that it felt on fire.

This seemed a ridiculous idea, to be worrying about an itching back when the world seemed to slowly come to an end around her.

After a particularly fearsome shake, the tremors stopped. In fact, everything stopped. Except for a loud klaxon emitting from the panel in front of her where every button seemed to have turned red by now. Tria lost all interest in what was outside the ship, and cried out with rage over her own ineptitude. Why didn't things like this come with an instruction manual?!?!? Again, she chose the brightest button on the panel, cursed the ship's makers for not putting labels on their buttons, and hoped for the best as she pressed down on the glaring square.

"Oh Goooooooooooooooooooooooooo-AhhhhhhhhhhhhhH!!!!"

The ground beneath her feet seemed to have dropped away. Not having been buckled in, she'd been lifted out of her chair by the sudden loss of gravity in the cabin and was now floating in the air, her outstretched hand only inches above the panel. Kicking out with her legs made her move forward slightly and bounce her nose against the screen, but it didn't get her any further down. Rather, she was rising further up towards the ceiling. Something floated past her - a tool of some kind. She grabbed for it, tried to reach the panel with it. Got it. Pressed the button. And fell.

GODS! she should have thought of that! Now everything hurt. She'd slammed down onto the panel which was now pulsating red beneath her. One button had turned orange. And the ship was back to bone-shaking rattling. Something clanged. A great big NOISE came from the back. The ship rocketed fowards, then seemed to slow down. Had that been an explosion? The klaxonising noise seemed to want to drown out everything.

Then it died. Everything died. No noise. The engine seemed to have stopped. A scrap piece of metal flew past the ship outside - it looked like that rudder-like extension at the back. Must have somehow come off. The ship was slowly starting to spiral. Round and round. Something was hissing. Air leaking?

Her head was feeling so cool, so composed. I'm watching my own death, she thought. The panicked feeling from before was completely gone now - nothing could penetrate the cool fog in her brain now.

The ship spiraled.

Her stomach flipped. Warm bile rose up in her throat, but she supressed the urge to let it out. The aftertaste lingered in her mouth.

The ship spiraled.

The hissing of leaking air grew stronger, rivalled the dying rattles of a ship slowly falling apart. It had barely been spaceworthy when she'd picked it for her escape, and the jump to hyperspace seemed to have done the rest.

The ship spiraled.

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Again. Again. The air is so thin. Colorful spots before my eyes. Like they say.

The ship spiraled.

Elsewhere, another klaxon emitted a proximity warning and a huge liner was thrown out of hyperspace.

The ship spiraled.

Oh look, there's a ship. Funny. Very funny. Not fair. Visions of ships now. Air..... where's air. Need Air.

The ship spiraled.

Its course was set in a straight line towards the liner, too close to it to do anything other than crash mercilessly against the steel grey hull, like a fly against a window.

[Kal Olorin]

Morning Star was currently out of hyperspace, putt-putting along one of the trade routes between Bestine IV and the rest of the Core. There were splendid views of some nebula or another, not that I had time to see them.

Not that I hadn't seen it all at least ten times already.

Scrolling through timestamped security holos, I located a certain minor Moff from near Hutt space (and who really cares about those systems anyway?) at the blackjack tables in the main lounge at about midnight last night. Looked like he was up a little bit on the house, but as I continued to scroll he bit hard on what should have been a good hand and lost a bundle.

Of course he was extended more credit, the Empire was always treated well when it came to Sasseeri's casinos. But his gambling habits weren't why I was watching him.

Ah ha, the girl. Finally. I paused the playback loop and made a note of the timestamp. Now to get the good stuff.

A klaxon blared and red lights started flashing in the corners of the security offices. "We've got something headed in hot on an intercept course!" The intercomm blurted the news, and I pushed back from my booth. Morning Star never carried anything overtly illegal... well, hardly ever... but some gutsy pirates with more brawn than brains might have thought that the pleasure liner looked like an easy target.

I hurried to the Chief on duty, who was staring at a screen that was relaying information from the bridge down to his office. He noticed me, and pointed at the relevant text.

...GAT-12 Skipray Blastboat...still on intercept course...designation Lucky Bug out of Bestine IV, registered to Gorr'nak Freen... ...not responding to hails...

I scrubbed a hand through my hair and frowned. "Whats a little ship like that think its doing?"

"Who knows," said the Chief, "Doesn't look like pirates this time though, Sir."

"Thankfully," I said, my mind already back on Moff Draik and his little... addiction. "Guess there's no need to panic."

...Taking evasive action...Lucky Bug not changing course... damage evident to Blastboat's aft steering vanes... ...Estimated impact to crew quarters...

The ship barely shuddered underneath our feet, but I could only imagine what the condition of the Blastboat would be.

"Frell, we've got a microfracture widening into a proper breach at the point of impact," Chief pointed at a flashing warning light on the schematic of the ship on another one of his screens. He pulled out a commlink and ordered the security personnel near the crew quarters to make sure rooms were clear, even as he tapped out several back-and-forth messages to the bridge on his console.

He straightened up. "I have to send out a shuttle to check out the damage from the outside, and bring in the pilot of that Blastboat for questioning."

"They survived that?" I said, "Must be one tough son of a Bith in there."

"Sensors are picking up one life sign, so at least someone's alive." He shrugged, "Maybe not for long though, the damage to the Lucky Bug is pretty extensive."

I looked over my shoulder at where Moff Draik's recorded actions from the night before were waiting for me. I turned back to the Chief, "Mind if I tag along for the ride?"

[Tri'ahna Zylary]

No. Air.

I'm. Gonna. Die. Now.

Tria closed her eyes. Her lungs were still frantically trying to take in what wasn't there anymore, vaguely she could hear her own attempts at it but it all seemed so removed now.

The sinking sensation at the pit of her stomach suddenly stopped. Something rippled underneath her as she lay prone on the cabin floor where she'd slipped.

That was the only warning she got. Then the world ended.

[Kal Olorin]

"We're having trouble gaining a positive lock on the ship," explained M. Griffis, the leader of our little jaunt into space. "Its all bent to dren."

I nodded, peering out the transparisteel viewport in the side of the shuttle at the drifting Skipray Blastboat. Atmosphere was beginning to vent from more than one fracture in its hull, spraying like mist into the vaccum of space. "Well, our friend in there isn't going to last much longer." An understatement.

M. Griffis nodded, "We'll suit up if we need to, but one last try..."

The pilot grinned from where she was sitting forward of us as the airlock gave a satisfying hiss. "Contact made and confirmed. We're good to go - pressure inside the wreck is still adequate for opening the lock." She raised an eyebrow at me, a dimple appearing from no where. "If you hurry, of course."

I remained where I was as the team from the Morning Star opened the airlock with O2 masks in place, storming into the Lucky Bug's interior. My ears popped painfully, and I grimaced, noting that the attractive pilot was doing the same. She flipped me an O2 canister and I snagged it out of the air with one hand as the atmosphere inside grew a little thinner.

It was only a few moments later that the team came back to the shuttle, a limp body with dark hair dragging between two of them. My ears popped again as the airlock was closed, and I put down the O2 as the shuttle's air mix returned to normal.

M. Griffis nodded behind him at the Lucky Bug. "We'll tow that scrap into the bay with us, its a short trip. There was only the one occupant." The other members of the team laid the Blastboat's occupant across a row of seats, and their leader bent down and moved the being's hair out of its face. Hmm, a human female?

"Doesn't look much like a Gorr'nak Freen, if you ask me," I volunteered, sending a wink towards the pilot who was too busy flying back towards Morning Star to notice.

"Looks like she's okay - pretty banged up but nothing a little dip in a bacta tank won't cure," declared one of the crew. "Unconscious, of course."

Of course she was. I narrowed my eyes at the pretty face they'd pulled from the crashed ship. What's your story, kid?

[Tri'ahna Zylary]

Goooool......den..... slummmmm....ber....sinnnnnn....yrrrrrrrey.....ssss sss....

The memory of a lullaby was the first conscious thought she had. She still felt the sound of it reverberate through her muddy brain.

Mother?

A sudden onrush of emotions deeper than anything she'd felt in recent times warmed her heart, woke her from the stuporous fog she'd let herself float in.

But the euphoric feeling died even before she had her eyes open and saw that she was not with them; the stark memory of what she had felt standing at her mother and father's open graveside so many years ago now hit her a second before she opened her senses to her surroundings, and drove home the bitter taste of bacta with it.

She was floating in a bacta tank.

So I am definitely not dead.

That much seemed clear.

So where am I?

In a bacta tank, was the only answer she could give herself. Squinting through the translucent mass surrounding her, all she could discern was greyish matter and a vague moving shape.

A medic?

She tried to move her arm, motion to the outside world that she was there, alive, and awake again, but her arm felt oddly unresponsive.

Broken?

The other one did respond to her brain's commands and so she waved, hoping it would result in some kind of response from outside her protective tank.

[Kal Olorin]

"Hey, Olorin."

I grunted in reply, then swiveled my chair around as a slim arm draped itself over the side of the cubicle I was hunched inside. The pilot. What was her name again? Reid Talbot, I think. She was an attractive blonde, and she was leaning over the chest high partition that afforded my holo viewing a bit of privacy. I smiled at her, noting that she'd unzipped her flightsuit a little more at the neck. "How can I help you, Ms. Talbot?"

She looked slightly disappointed at my formal words, but I know better than to assume anything when there are females involved. Especially when I work for one with sharp nails and a jealous streak.

"That woman we pulled from the wreck, they're about to wake her up. Chief asked me to get you." Her eyes twinkled again as she adjusted her position on the partition for maximum cleavage.

"Ah, yeah," I scrubbed a hand over my face, and leaned back in my chair. Something beeped on the console behind me, and Reid's face looked a little... different. "Oh... frell!" I whipped around in my seat and was just in time to see the security footage DELETE before my eyes. "No, no, no, no!"

I tried to stop the evaporation of data, but... Frelling seven hells of Corellia. Nothing to do about it right now. Moff Draik was officially off the hook and now I was dangling at the end of it. I'm getting too old for this dren.

"Guess I have time to visit the medward," I said, giving Reid a charming smile to cover up my consternation. "How about dinner tonight, you and me? I have a standing reservation at the best restaurant on board."

She grinned a little roguishly, and nodded. Maybe today was going to look up after all. Maybe.

I growled at the security console after Reid left, but made my way to the infirmary quickly. Wasn't any use hanging around Security anymore, since I'd just managed to erase my evidence. Frell!

Staring at the girl the doctors had just pulled from the bacta tank, her arm in a temporary splint that was removed, I couldn't help but be drawn by the innocent quality of her face. Of course, faces lie. The only thing I knew about this girl for sure was that she was a terrible pilot - the logs pulled from the wreck of the Lucky Bug had confirmed that.

Of course, she could have just been pretending to be a terrible pilot and ran into us on purpose. Death wish, maybe? Stealing from a Gran made that seem viable, as the three-eyed aliens aren't known for their generosity or forgiveness.

The girl's eyes fluttered open, and I clicked on the tiny vocal recorder that was in my shirt pocket. Sitting next to her bed, I looked down at her. "Whats your name?"

[Tri'ahna Zylary]

The Medics were nice to her once she'd managed to get them to notice her; in no time she was out of the tank and they had her resting on a medvac bed. She still felt extremely disorientated, not to mention weak and nauseous - how long had she been out? The light behind her closed eyelids seemed too garishly bright, she'd kept her eyes closed as a result, and to keep herself from letting the nausea and panic overcome her. But the swishing of coats and the gentle mumbling tones of the medics had stopped, and she forced herself to open her eyes to check what was causing the sudden lull.

A man was sitting next to her, staring down at her, and asking for her name.

What should I tell him? My real name? No. There's no telling what kind of place this is - he might turn me over to the Imps if he's not one of them himself.

He didn't look like one. She'd never seen an Imp look worried, they all had the same smug look on them. And he was ruggedly handsome, and Imps seldom were. She decided he wasn't an Imp.

Still, I cannot trust anyone right now.

That only left one solution.

"T---D-dilek. Dilek Wenq. Where am I and what happened to my ship?"

[Kal Olorin]

I cleared my throat, trying to forget about what I'd just done in the security office to twelve hours of holo footage. The girl was probably lying about her name. Hells, if I'd just crashed a piece of dren ship into the Morning Star I'd be lying my head off too.

"Your ship has been impounded and is in our tertiary docking bay," I said, not being able to help a little bit of sarcastic emphasis on the word your. "Currently you are on board the Chandrilan pleasure liner Morning Star. Do you remember much about how you got here?"

[Tri'ahna Zylary]

That caught her off-guard. A pleasure liner! She'd expected something a lot smaller, although in hindsight it would have been odd for a smaller vessel to have a medbay like this.

The slightly different intonation of his saying "your ship" didn't escape her - she'd trained herself to notice such things. So he'd realised it wasn't her ship; it would have been better for her if he hadn't but there was no getting around that now.

I'm amazed they're even considering that pile of scrap a ship still, it was falling apart even before.... even before....

She realised she didn't remember what happened. Vague memories of floating in mid-air, trying to reach a button, and then the hissing sound of escaping air, of the feeling of imminent death, but then no more.

"A pleasure liner, you say? I don't remember. I don't think I know anything after the... ahh... motor?... died. I thought I was seeing things, another ship, though, before I ... I... passed out."

[Darth Binky]

Darth Binky tossed his cards on the table, grinning, and in the process showed the disgusting bits of decayed wood he called teeth. The collective frown and sigh at the table could only have been if they smelled his terrible breath, saw the hackjob he called a smile, or saw his hand of cards. Of course it could have been a combination of those factors as well, because everyone in the immediate vicinity seemed offended, the ones who played cards with him especially so. Lucky for the Sith Knight, this was his twelveth win in the past hour, for he always seem to fold when anyone else got a halfway decent hand.

Darth Binky had stumbled upon the Morning Star several days earlier, having seen the expensive tickets for sale at a space port near the Core. Which planet, and which space port, currently eluded him, but he was sure he wrote it down somewhere. He hoped. His quarters were some of the cheapest available on the Star, and they were currently filled with clothes, drugs, and several unconscious escorts of various species and gender. Say what you will about his hygeine, but it was sure that the man did not discriminate.

He was dressed like a homeless person, and was almost barred admittance to the gambling floor. That is, until he showed security the suitcase full of credits he planned on using. Crazy but rich turns poor without hitch, as they say. Now however, he felt the eyes of the dealer on him, he thanked him, swept up his chips into a pillow case, and moved on in hopes of finding a new game or a newer cocktail waitress.

[Tri'ahna Zylary]

As an afterthought, she added: "Thank you.... you know? For... for... rescuing me. I could have died out there if you hadn't."

Saying it like that just made it a little more real than she'd felt so far. It was odd, accepting death with the very last fibre of her being, and then waking up in a tank full of bacta. Somehow very anti-climactic. Not that she wasn't glad to still be alive, it just felt like.... like.... there was so much more to it now.

How is one supposed to feel at that?

The only thing she really felt was overwhelmed. And so terribly unsure of what life would be like now, after every tie had been severed completely.

[Kal Olorin]

I smiled a little thinly. "Just protecting company assets, ma'am. You apparently lost your hyperspace window and your ship was ejected into real space. You appeared on our sensors on an intercept course shortly thereafter, and then you crashed into us.

"If Morning Star hadn't taken evasive measures you'd of hit dead on and you'd be sucking vaccum right now." Hmm, maybe that was a little blunt. Oh well. "The Skipray Blastboat you were piloting currently carries no known insurance, so I'm afraid you're on the hook for the damages. Plus the cost of your medical care."

[Tri'ahna Zylary]

"Oh!"

Oh indeed! .... what now?

This was a turn of events she hadn't even remotely thought of before, and it only served to increase the level of distress she already felt. Lying back against the hard surface of the bed and closing her eyes against the harsh light overhead, she took a deep breath and tried to regain her composure - she was hoping it would do something; give her strength, provide her with an idea, transport her somewhere else far away from this medbay.

The man had seemed rather nice, but apparently he was just as everyone else 'protecting his assets'.

She propped herself up on her good elbow and looked at him, her cool azure eyes having lost some of their innocence as she calculated her options.

"What company owns this ship? Who must I talk to about repaying my debt?"

[Darth Binky]

The chance cube clinked and rolled on the table; red, blue, yellow, green... red?! The dealer looked in disbelief as the homeless looking fellow landed his 8th red in a row. Darth Binky smiled and the dealers look turned from confusion to disgust. "Just lucky I guess..." he reached across the table, pulling in piles of chips and sweeping them into his now bulging pillow case.

"I'll see you gents later," Darth Binky whistled, leaving more than a few chips on the table, as the couldn't fit into his sack. On the way out, he pinched the behind of a waitress, before she could hit him, he flipped her a thousand credit piece, at which she smiled. He smiled back. She ran off to the nearest rest room. Shrugging, the Knight shouldered the bag, and made his way off to his quarters.

"Ah crap..." he'd forgotten which way his room was, and he stood now in the middle of the gambling floor...

[Qourr Mhawat]

"Are you sure you got that securifeed disabled?"

Her hand was inches away from the door-release now, all movement halted as she went to double-check once again. The wall she was currently pressed up against belonged to a corridor dimly lit and poorly maintained - judging by the lack of maintenance droids, floors littered with random pieces of garbage, and the rancid odour of stale liquor, greasy food and what could only be categorized as severely foul-smelling feet but might as well have been something decomposing in one of these shacks otherwise classified as 'cabins'.

Through her earpiece came the crackling whisper of her partner's voice: "For the last time, woman - YES! I've taken care of it. Not that it was much of a problem, security's woefully lax in those parts .... see anything interesting on your way down there?"

Qourr chanced a thin smile while looking up and - over her shoulder - down the corridor one more time for any signs of life. "Only a couple of Grans involved in some kind of 'acrobatics' in a closet... might have been something for your collection."

Taking out a small square device from one of the hidden compartments of her vest, she slapped it onto the pad on the wall next to the door, and punched the activation button. Numbers started scrolling over the display.

"Oh? Grans? Yeah, I don't think I've got any of that yet. Although I don't think it would be a big seller - too messy... What'd you see?"

She rolled her eyes up towards the ceiling. Men!

"Nothing I'm not gonna regret seeing. Gonna give me nightmares. Bad enough I had to see it, but with that dratted infrared scanner? Yuck."

The numbers on the display were slow in settling in place - one - two -

"Ah come on you've--"

- three -

"-- no appreciation for the finer point of interstellar mating rituals. Remind me to show you the one with the Ishi --"

- four -

"-- Tib and the Wol Cabasshhite, the things they get up to with that tongue I swear you'll---"

- five! The device gave off a low beep, then the door rumbled open in a rather hesitant motion.

"I'm IN!"

One whiff, and she wish she wasn't, but her feet had already carried her across the doorstep and into the room, and the door was swishing close behind her with a noise that seemed to say 'aren't ya really sorry for getting past me?'

[Darth Binky]

Darth Binky was sure this one was his room. He opened the door to see a trio of Trashodens mating in a small pool of beans. After apoligizing he continued down the hall opening doors at random, when suddenly a ripe odor filled his senses and made him want to gag. There was no mistaking it, that was his luggage. Trundling down the hallway, he had his fist raised to knock.

But seeing as how this was his room, he shouldn't have to. In the hallway, the Knight put down the pillow case full of chips and pulls another out of his back pocket. Afterwhich, he divested himself of his clothes, wearing nothing but a stained pink thong. The rest of his fancy clothes got tossed into the empty pillow case to be kept clean for later. Whistling as he opened the door, he wondered if any of his hookers were still alive, and if not, had the agency sent replacements.

[Qourr Mhawat]

The smell had made her gag, but she managed to get herself under control at the last moment. Perhaps because what she saw simply froze her brain to complete inactivity:

The cabin was a hovel. Clothes, empty food containers, bottles, and a whole putrid assortment of other items were strewn across the room. And in the middle of this almighty mess lay the bodies of several females - one human and three alien, plus something that looked suspiciously like two Twi'leki rutting underneath a pile of dirty laundry, judging by the amount of wriggling lekku.

"HEY! You there? What's happening? What do you see?" came the voice through her earpiece, but she seemed unable to do anything other than cough, her throat feeling inexplicably dry all of a sudden.

Then the door behind her whooshed open, and she turned around in one fluid motion, which made her dizzy and nearly caused her to lose her balance.

She found herself standing opposite the designated target, who for some reason was dressed in nothing but a skimpy pink piece of cloth around his private parts.

"DROKKIT, WOMAN, ANSWER!!!" the earpiece bellowed.

[Jekaan Oludh]

He was rapidly running out of patience with the woman. What was she thinking? For the third time today he cursed the fact that he wasn't able to give them a continuous comm-line, but the liner's security manager was a little too anal for his taste and these comm bursts were all that he felt safe to use.

Disabling the liner's surveillance system in the area they needed had meant no visual feed for him, either, which was a problem. It meant it should have been a job for three, not two: one to keep an eye on security, one to keep an eye on the location, and one to do the dirty work. But they didn't have a third man available. Which really was a problem. But they'd decided to ignore the problem and do the job the best way they could, which meant he was two floors up from where he was needed, keeping a watchful eye on the SecStaff, while she was down there exploring that cabin with no one to watch her back. Not good.

Qourr's silence was making him worry. And worry was something he really didn't need - why would she keep silent if there wasn't any problem? What had happened? What was in that drokking cabin?

A nagging sense of worry made his left little toe itch like crazy in the stiff leather boots he had donned for his disguise. Maybe the itch would have come without the worry, but it was there anyway and it just made it worse. He needed to do something, drokkit! not just sit there and play with the comm button.

Throwing caution in the wind, he decided he'd had enough. The silence sounded like she needed him, and he couldn't just sit in this closet and wait for something to happen.

Disabling the static feed on the surveillance system he had put in place what seemed just moments ago, he went on cursing himself under his breath - quietly, of course - and grabbed his tools.

10 secs later he was out of that closet and on his way down, still busy putting back his tools into their alloted pockets of the camouflage vest underneath his waiter's uniform and at the same time trying to undo the fastening of the blaster strapped to his calf.

[Darth Binky]

Darth Binky stared at the new prositute standing in his room. Smiling, he hit the button next to the door and it whooshed shut, locking itself. "Well hello pretty thing, I take it the escort service sent you, please have a seat." He motioned towards a crate on the far wall that was relatively clean looking.

Dropping his bags next to the door, he fumbled for his pipe, lighting it, and a puff a pink smoke came out. "My my, you're quite the looker, I must say," he said appreciatively, walking around her in a circle. Occassionaly he took a pull on his pipe and his eyes became more glazed.

"So pretty thing," he said, reaching to caress her face, "sit, and tell me your name."