Just Go With It

[Kincaid Alston]

"It's just this way." Kincaid had only been working as a mechanic on Stargazer Station for the past few weeks, which was fortunate for granting him just a little bit of anonymity. "You're going to love it. Beautiful HWK-290. Modified it myself." He spoke with all the confidence of a man who believed his own story, the best way he found to get people to buy into his lies. The Pantoran woman walked with her arms curled around his right arm, leaning into him affectionately. A number of drinks, sweet words and empty promises had brought them to that level of comfort.


It was certainly a beautiful class of ship, and well taken care of. "Did I mention it'll make .7 past lightspeed? Some custom work." He continued boasting to keep her attention, finally entering into the large hangar that housed the sleek Allanar N-3, the exterior holding a surprising shine, thanks in part to the work he was comissioned to do while it was in the hangar. "Beautiful, huh?" He walked her around the ship, rattling off specifications here and there. "Show me the inside?" She requested, her blue skin flushing indigo. "Oh, it's undergoing some interior work while it's here. Not really in a state to show off, but we can always go back by where I'm staying, have a few more drinks." She frowned, tugging at his sleeve. "Pleaassse?" He hadn't planned that far ahead, so faltered a bit at her request.


"Uh, sure. Give me a moment." He went over to the terminal nearby, pulling up the access code from the maintenance log. "Just have to release some security measures real quick." With the number in mind, he walked up and keyed into the panel by the loading ramp. The door hissed as the pressure holding it closed released, Kincaid walking the woman warily up within. His demeanor shifted as he looked about to make sure no one was around. "This is it. Really though, it's undergoing some maintenance, and I'm very particular abo-". "Who's there?" A gruff voice rang out from the cockpit, preceeding the hulking Crolute that ambled down the hall. "What in the void are you doing on my ship?"


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That hadn't gone as planned. Made out for the liar he was in that instant, and accessing files he had no business in for the sake of personal gain had ended with him embarassed and jobless. At the very same bar he had earlier picked the woman up at, who was still present and now hanging on the every word of another spacer (a real spacer) he buried his embarassment in a bottle. Ramblings were passed in a one sided conversation with the bartending droid who lacked in personality, and merely went through the motions of the programmed auto responses.


"My father used to say..." He stared at the nearly empty bottle, his eyes hazy, squinting just to clear the fog but only succeeding in making it worse. "Some of the best and worst decisions he ever made were found at the bottom of a bottle." With that, Kincaid downed the last of the liquor, and let it topple onto it's side. "Let's see what kind awaits me." On that declaration, he saunted out of the bar.


Within ten minutes he found himself at the very same docking bay he had tried to impress at earlier. He knew the ship owner wasn't present, because he had too been at that bar, laughing and jeering at his misery undoubtedly. He'd show him. Kincaid keyed his coworkers access code that he had spied once before into the panel, opening the door, then did the same for the ships access hatch. It went unchanged for some reason that he chose not to question, and so he boarded and headed for the cockpit.


He fell into the rythym of starting up the ship, and even though he had never flown this particular one, a ships controls were where he felt most at ease. For a moment, he forgot how inebriated he was. His hands tightened around the controls, and then he scraped the port side across the docking bay with a terrible screech the whole way past the magnetic field, and out into space. "Woops." He chortled, correcting his course. The comm system buzzed with activity, having failed to register his departure. A security detail was quickly enroute to intercept, but Kincaid had no desire to find himself in a detention cell. "Well, let's see where you were headed." He pulled the mirrored controls for the Hyperdrive, and stars elongated as the ship rocketed off to an unknown destination.


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Hours later he awoke to the klaxon warning him of the impending departure from hyperspace. He stared around in hungover bewilderment, his hand reaching for his head. "How do I shut that off!?" He spoke aloud, so as to unnecessarily hear his own voice. The ship dropped out of hyperspace of its own accord, the inertial dampeners the only thing keeping him from being thrust into the console in front of him. "Where am I...?" He questioned, staring out the viewport. The dust ball of a planet below was not one he recognized, but it was his primary focus until the comm system buzzed. "You're early." A voice drawled slowly. "Prepare your access hatch for us to board."


"Board?" He stated in a whisper. Reaching forward to reply. "Yep. I'll have that ready in just a moment." He powered down his sublights, then ran to the cargo bay to prepare the hatch. "Shit shit shit." He panicked, taking a few deep breaths to attempt to compose himself. "You've talked yourself out of all kinds of things. This is probably nothing."

[Elexia Averna]

"You tell Molineaux that if he ain't got those explosives to Murray on time, he ain't getting paid. I don't give a womp rat's ass if he got waylaid at Tarascii."

Elexia's scathing, drawl of the voice was directed at a holocomm situated on the table in the main cabin of the ship she currently occupied. Chossley, a lanky slip of a lad who was responsible for a great deal more than others his age, bobbed his holographic head in understanding. "You got it, boss. I'll be sure to let him know. Anything else?"

"Nah, kid. I'm about to rendezvous with Dennick, right on time. Keep those amateurs on schedule and I'll keep you apprised of things on my end." The incorporeal image fizzled away and the woman about faced from the device to give herself a once over in a nearby mirror. Her makeup was on point, of course; she liked to let her charm do the talking before stirring her precious, custom DL-44s from their holsters. Layers of expensive silks, lace, and tulle had been exchanged for comfortably worn leathers, suede, and cotton. Knee height boots, skintight gundark leather breeches, a striking belt buckle with the crew's insignia, and an asymmetrically buttoned overcoat accented by plumped up cleavage and a tease of black lace from her balconette bra. Yeah, she'd take wearing this over that Canto Bight finery any day.

A chime in from the ship's pilot let her know they were approaching, which ultimately seemed to be redundant when both ships shuttered as they aligned access hatches. A fine hat, molded from the same gundark leather as her breeches, was plopped atop her mane of purple hair and she swaggered toward the connective corridor. The hatch on Dennick's end remained closed and she narrowed her eyes at it.

"Thee hell you doin', Nick? Open this damn hatch. We have a schedule to uphold. Ain't got time for your lollygaggin-" The hatch into the other ship's cargo bay snapped open with a hiss and her right eyebrow slid upward dubiously. Someone she wasn't familiar with stood in front of her and boy, she knew a hangover when she saw one. She eased into the cargo bay, hooking a thumb in the strap of one blaster's holsters. "Well, well, well... what have we here? You sure as hell ain't Nick but I think I landed myself an upgrade." She sniffed, the smell of stale liquor tickling her nose. "Looks wise, at least."

[Kincaid Alston]

He shook his hands out quickly in front of him and steeled his nerves, plastering the widest smile he could muster the moment the doors opened. Just pretend you are exactly where you’re supposed to be. The questioning way in which she looked at him instantly revealed she was already skeptical, but he spoke immediately to prevent her mind from taking the time to process the moment. “Yeah, see Nick was wanting to expand his operation. I’ve worked with him a few times, so he asked me to do the job.” He took a small step to the side, posting his hand up against the side of the ships interior, doing anything he could to refrain from stuffing hands in his pockets or crossing his arms, gestures that would betray the confidence he tried to put forward.

“He and I tossed back a few drinks last night. I know, a little unprofessional, but he wanted to celebrate, and I couldn’t exactly say no to the boss.” Since she apparently found something appealing about his looks, he did his best to flash his brightest smile at her. “Now, I will be honest. He said his client likes to keep things a bit hush hush, so he didn’t tell me the details. He wanted to leave how much you shared up to you. So really, I’m just your blank slate for this job.” He stepped forward, wiping his hand across his pant leg, before offering it forward. “Cade, ma’am. Pleasure to meet you.”

He felt as if things were going well, but he admittedly felt it difficult to concentrate on how much she was buying into his gundark shit with the pounding headache, and the distracting woman before him. She was beautiful, and the only thing that kept him from fawning all over her and trying to throw every line and trick in the book at her, was the fact that she was scary. Something about how she carried herself and spoke was downright terrifying, and it took everything he had to keep those feelings buried away.