Sith Lords Make the Best Smugglers

[Kawamura]

He wasnâ??t entirely sure what had woken him up.

Onasi didnâ??t snore, thankfully (came with sleeping in bunkers his whole life). The kid had disappeared with her friends to do whatever it was that fourteen-year-old girls did, and hell if he knew what that was. And Zaalbarâ?¦ well, heâ??d never be a creature of stealth, but the fucker was aware. He knew the moment his debtee was awake or simply hadn't done well that night either. All two and a half meters of walking carpet had followed him out; he seemed to think space to mull things over was keeping a few feet back. At least the Bek mechanics recognized him; didnâ??t even blink an eye, unlike the Upper City folk who stared and gaped as if theyâ??d never seen a Wookiee before. The young man smiled to himself, sucking down another lungful of the herbal stick heâ??d found. Not as bad as tabac, but he could hear his last man berating him for the habit, which only showed up when he needed time and space to think.

And he needed it. To think, that was. Life was fast and he was used to thinking on his feet, hell, heâ??d had to run out on several star systems: smugglers like him either ran fast, shot fast and thought fast or they died fast. But swoop racing? That was the hobby of stim junkies who twitched too much to shoot.

Jalin Noor blew out a thick puff of pungent smoke, eyes the color of a good Dantooine grassland at full summer tracked the curl. He wasnâ??t a particularly handsome man: over all, his face was too angular to be properly attractive, but in motion, he was striking. His smile had a way of captivating a whole room as he cheated them blind, his bad moods were legendary among his last crew for their ability to turn the temperature controlled air of a ship polar-cap cold. Another deep gulp of the stick, severe face still as he looked inwards. Fuck, but this was a bad idea. What Hutt-spawn fool would have him running a bike heâ??d never even touched? Jal let the smoke exit through his nose, enjoying the burn, letting it take the almost-fear in him with it, letting it cleanse him like the incense of some back water worldâ??s temples.

Hell. What an end. Creamed on some Outer Rim's race track. 'Oh, look,' they'd say. 'That's Noor's stain.' He smiled to himself, face coming alive like a desert flower after rain. He'd just have to make it through, wouldn't he? Rescue the dam in distress and get outta there.

"Hey, Zaalbar. Think they go the accelerator in?"

 

[JMontvale]

Iryk Murlan was repairing a damaged generator when the smuggler and the wookiee came in. Iryk had been a mechanic as far back as he could remember. It was even joked that the teen had been born with a hydrospanner in his hand. Like most of the mechanics who worked for the gangs, Iryk had to be able to fix all manner of things, not just swoops and other vehicles. It took a lot of work to keep things running, and they couldn't count on help from the upper city.

Iryk had joined the Beks when he was twelve. Even then, he had known being in a gang wasn't the best deal. It was just the best deal available at the time. In the four years since, the teen had kept his eyes open for something to get him out of the gangs and the undercity. He thought Jalin Noor might be just such a chance. A chance to get all the way off of Tarsis.

Iryk's sea green eyes followed the smuggler as he walked through the room. There was something captivating about the man, something that drew Iryk's attention and excited him. The mechanic ran a hand through his unruly, red hair as he thought about how best to approach the smuggler. Iryk heard Noor mention the accelerator, and decided that this was his chance.

The lean youth made sure his goggles would stay where he had perched them on his head and straightened his jacket. Iryk hoped to make a good impression on the offworlder. He walked over to Jalin Noor, being careful to not seem threatening. Iryk had no desire to be torn apart by a protective wookiee.

"The accelerator's in," Iryk said with his trademark confidence. "It's installed and ready to go. Should give you all the power you'll need." He smiled. "Somehow, I think you'd win tomorrow even without it."

 

[Kawamura]

Jal knew the kid was coming before Zaalbar let a low rumble of a warning growl out. Knowing when things were coming was a talent of his that had saved his ass more times than he could count. It even worked half asleep, but the smuggler was good at flying on nothing more than a few hours of shut eye, a sonics shower and caf drinks. Maybe heâ??d be good at piloting a swoop under the same condition, because it sure didnâ??t look like heâ??d be getting sleep any time soon.

At least the mechanic sounded sure. Jal glanced up, taking in the boy: an orphan, probably, the sort that lived on the streets until someone figured out they were good for something and picked them up. Couldnâ??t have been much more than fifteen-standard. No wonder he was cocky. Jal took another suck of sweet, heavy smoke, turning his head away to exhale before rubbing the stub out on his sleeve and dropping it in a pocket.

â??Looks like I donâ??t have much choice,â? he said cryptically, doing a quick check in his mind for a name. Right. Heâ??d heard it when the main mechanic, an Ithorian, dragged him through earlier. â??Tell me straight, Murlan. This thing isnâ??t gonna blow between my legs, is it?â? Again, not like he had a choice. Jal might have more bounties on his head than he had fingers on his hands, but he was a man of his word, and he had said an oath to keep the Jedi safe. He was pretty sure â??letting her get sold into galactic slaveryâ?? was not anything close to safe; besides, a Jedi would be good help in getting off planet.

â??Swoop racing looks a little more safe than a blind hyper space jump.â? The smuggler was taking in the bike, mind memorizing and storing details like it always did. Like names, who knew when the workings of a swoop bike would be useful? Jal flashed a big, white smile at the kid. â??I guess itâ??s better than nothing. Iâ??ve been itchy being planetside for too long.â?

 

[JMontvale]

Iryk was surprised to hear the smuggler say he didn't have much choice. Having limited choices was something Iryk was too used to. For him, it had often come down to "do this, or die". But Jalin Noor was a spacer. Iryk was sure that having all of the galaxy to choose from opened up an endless horizon of possibilities.

Before the young mechanic could think about that seeming contradiction very much, the smuggler had asked him a question. A part of the teen wanted to answer that he would be more than happy to blow between Jalin Noor's legs, but he stopped himself. His question needed a better answer than that, especially if Iryk Murlan was going to have any chance of convincing Noor to take him when he left the planet.

"Every piece of equipment has its limits," Iryk said thoughtfully. "That accelerator is a bit touchier than most. Treat it like a lover. Pay attention to how it reacts to your touch, push it to the peak, but not too hard, and you'll make it to the finish line." Iryk hadn't meant for his advice to sound quite so sexual, but he thought the metaphor was fairly accurate. "You can call me Iryk, if you like," the mechanic added.

Iryk listened to what Jalin Noor had to say about swoop racing and wanting to get off planet. He shook his head and smiled a little.

"You don't sound like a swoop racer, that's for sure. I guess that just means you're too smart to make a regular job of it. I've never been off planet, but I think I might be almost as anxious to get off this rock as you are." Iryk's mouth felt dry. He hoped he hadn't come on too strong. The smuggler and his friends were Iryk's best and probably only chance to get away from Tarsis. Even if there were other choices, Iryk wanted to go with Jalin Noor. He dared to hope that he might have a chance to get very close to smuggler.

 

[Kawamura]

Jal snorted at the description as he continued to examine the bike; mechanics were all the same. If you gave them a vehicle, they managed to make it sound like one hot male, fem, or whatever other sex existed in some alien races. Heh. Maybe that was his problem with vehicles. The lot of them tended to get cranky with him in much the same way his lovers did. Oh, sure, he could bang on them with a hydrospaner like nobodyâ??s business and swear in a way that would make a Mandalorian blush, but heâ??d much rather deal with something else.

People. People he liked. Blasters he liked. Hell, even star ships he liked. But a swoob bike? A speeder? Forget it. And here he was, riding one, with nothing but his own rumpled clothes and maybe a jump suit on top of them. And goggles. Donâ??t forget those. Jal smirked. Well, then. If he wasnâ??t such a lucky bastard, he might be nervous.

â??Donâ??t know about â??smartâ??, kid, I just prefer a different kind of stupid.â? Jal glanced over subtly and recognized what he thought was the look of a planet-bound youth taking in a spacer. If this kid had been born with a tool in his hand, Jal had born strapped into a co-pilotâ??s chair (that was even the story his mum told him before he could even walk). So Jal decided to ham it up a bit, because there was nothing the cocky self-employed businessman enjoyed doing more than putting on a good show. â??Gimme three-D and Iâ??m all for it. This skimminâ?? the ground thing, this ainâ??t flyinâ??. Ainâ??t even fast. Fast is skipping off a black holeâ??s gravitational pull to outrun a Republic patrol.â?

Behind him he heard something like an amused growl from Zaalbar. Wookiees had a good sense of hearing emotional cues and this one must have caught the hint of hyperbole. Obviously they were going to have to have a talk: the giant fuzzball couldnâ??t go around every good story telling time. â??Ever do an emergency fix-it-up job in zero-G? It isnâ??t fun, I tell you.â?

 

[JMontvale]

Iryk listened intently to all the man said. The images of being in space, serving on a ship, black holes and zero G played through the teen's vivid but inexperienced imagination. He thought Jalin Noor might be exaggerating a little, but Iryk didn't care. He was used to the promise being bigger and better than reality. Still, it had to be better than his life working for the beks.

"I've fixed a little bit of everything, I think," Iryk said with a smile. "Engines, generators, servos, droids, 'puters... I've prob'ly fixed all the parts you'd need to build an air speeder or a ship, just not all in one place. I've never done a repair in zero G, but I'm a quick learner. A year back I even helped fix a hyperdrive off a crashed ship, so the boss could trade it for some blasters." The teen tried to not look too hopeful or too desperate. He hoped his voice sounded smooth and unconcerned when he spoke again. "Yeah... I'd love a chance to work on a real starship. I think I'd give a lot for the chance."

 

[Kawamura]

"Tch. I'm bad at fixing things." It was true. He survived on basic tape and a hell of a lot of prayers to any deity he knew the name of. The whole thing was part of his luck: he could fly anything, could figure out a computer program, but fix shit? That was the work of droids as far as he was concerned. "As long as it works well enough to get me back to dock."

The list was impressive, in any case. He smiled widely at the end and said, "Me, too, kid." He hadn't expected to be forced down on some boring Mid-Rim world with Sith breathing down his neck while he engaged in some silly gang war. Wasn't legit duty supposed to be easier? That's what the recruiter told him. Got a few of his bounties canceled, if nothing else. He should have known better: damned Republic never gave anything without a problem. "No point in having a star ship at the moment. No way to get off this damned rock."

 

[JMontvale]

Iryk hadn't been sure, but he had suspected that the smuggler didn't have a ship. Why else would he stay on Tarsis? A chance to meet on of the monsters that lived in the deep undercity face to face? In fact, Iryk was pretty sure Jalin Noor had been in one of the Republic escape pods that had crashed all over the city a short time back. It was the sort of information the Sith would love to have, but Iryk Murlan wasn't a snitch. Even if he was, and being one hadn't got him killed already, Iryk wouldn't have informed on the offworlder. He was getting to like Jalin Noor... besides, he was pretty good looking.

"You don't have a ship," Iryk said. Then he smiled slyly. "yet. But if anybody can find a ship and get off this Force forsaken rock, why do I think it'll be you? You might need a mechanic then. I'm your man, if you want me." If you need somebody to help keep your bed warm, I'd be happy to help with that too, Iryk thought, though he didn't say it. Between his hope to get off the planet and his hope to get into Noor's pants, the boy was sure the latter was the less likely by a large margin. A guy can dream, though...

 

[Kawamura]

Jal snorted at the word 'man'. Man, huh? This kid couldn't be sexually mature even if he was from some isolated human group. Probably couldn't even grow a beard if he wanted to.

"Thanks," he said instead, ignoring the urge that seemed to crop up in every thirty-something-year-old talking to someone younger, the one that told him to tell the kid to find a better life than helping some stupid smuggler. Mortality. Man, it did a number. Soon as you started getting aches and pains from the profession, you wanted to tell every babe that he'd best go back to school. "I don't got much choice in the matter. I gotta get off this planet even if I have to pull on a suit and throw things behind me."

Zaalbar didn't sound too happy about that image, if the low rumble back behind him was any indication. Jal turned his head and flashed a white smile at the Wookiee before turning back to the mechanic. "I figure it's first things first, though. So, how many racers die per year? Roughly?"

 

[JMontvale]

Iryk nodded, and became all business for a moment.

"For first year rookies, it's about fifty percent, so about ten of them take the last jump a year. As they get experience, that drops off a bit. Prob'ly not more than one or two veterans get vaped a year. In between, maybe another five, so about seventeen a year... If I remember right." Iryk stepped a little closer to the man, looking up to meet his eyes. "If you want, I'll give your swoop a look pre race to make sure everything is ten for ten. Some racers cheat, and it's good to keep an eye open for sabotage."

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<<RP Discontinued>>
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