Log:Hutt Cartel: Written in Blood

Hutt Cartel: Written in Blood

OOC Date: February 5, 2020
Location: Space
Participants: Vex, Mak the Hutt, Kryll, Sshylisk, Sion, Ayeeou Wanaii, Nentar, Saturi, Evie Leven

It hasn't been long since the crew was collected and ushered onto the Guardian-class Light Cruiser known as 'Big Mama' by one plucky Falleen looking to put a stop to the fiendish push of the Trade Spine Remnant into Cartel turf. For those that lack an extensive history in combat situations, tensions are undoubtedly high, curbed only vaguely by the lax demeanor of those that have done this seemingly a thousand times before. Vex, for example, has an easy smile on her dark lips at all times as she paces about listening to the general chatter of traders and Hutt-backed smugglers on an earpiece in an attempt to ascertain where the target might be lurking in their attempts to avoid 'officials' of this hostile system.

It takes some time, it takes some effort, but Vex's brows shoot up, the glowing tubes of light in her hair rippling out of their purple gradient to display some excitedly flashing pattern of orange and gold ever so briefly in her momentary sharp-spark thrill: the hunt is at hand. "I've got something!" She announces, skipping a few easy steps over to a console, pressing a few buttons and flicking a switch before pressing her cybernetic claws against the device transmitting into her ear to shift the audio to allow others to hear the back-and-forth of two vessels lurking at the stygian brink of the system.

"--eding in now." It sharply announces first, halfway through a statement when it finally patches in. "We're somewhere near," What follows are coordinates meant to alert the second ship that's apparently supporting the larger freight where they're meant to meet. At that, Vex nods toward those piloting the Mama at current, a silent direction to suggest that should now be the direction this group of intrepid heroes should make their way toward, a self-satisfied grin creasing her lips, golden eyes glowing dimly. "Savro says he's got this all wrapped up, got a buyer set up."

"Already? Shavit, that was quick... you know 'em?" Comes the reply.

"Nah, just some shady Bith that's holed up in the, uh... oh man, I don't remember what it's called. The, uh... the market..." There's a softly chittering sound, the din of a line left open without thought in the background as communications grow silent from the other side. "Hey!" The voice snaps as a loud bang and clatter disturbs the gentle quiet of dead air. "What'd I tell you before?! I need you on the sensors!" In the distance, a plaintiff 'sneeeeeEE!' of a squeal is offered in retort, "I don't care if you were hungry! I told you--"

"Ehh..." The other voice breaks through, just as the Big Mama can be picked up by their short range scanners.

"A MILLION TIMES..." It continues.

"Hey."

"WE'RE ON THIN KRIFFIN' ICE HERE, AND I DON'T KNOW..."

"Hey?"

"HOW TO SWIM!" The small, squeaky voice is difficult to take seriously, but from the snuffling snorts and whining squeals that follow in retort, -someone- is intimidated by his outrage.

"HEY! STOOPA! WE HAVE COMPANY!" The irritable voice of the second captain comes blasting through the comms, panic lacing his tone.

"Huh? ... Aw kark, is this still on??"

Normally, the Galaxy's Greatest Pilot insists on doing all of the flying himself. He also insists, quite firmly, on being called the Galaxy's Greatest Pilot, or something along those lines, any time that he pulls off even the most pedestrian of piloting maneuvers. Which is... frequent, as he calls virtually any change in a ship's direction a 'Maneuver.'

But today, the Legendary Smuggling Hutt known in select circles as 'Mak', is taking it easy. The reason for this seems to either be the bucket of boozeslop that he's pouring into his gaping maw, the sizeable bandages covering much of his midsection, or possibly just his own laziness.

As he drops the empty bucket onto the floor of Big Mama's bridge, Mak surveys from a raised dais that's Important Looking, but strategically placed out of the way of the rest of the crew.

This helps his doctor's attempts to finally patch him up, no doubt.

Apparently Vex knows exactly how to contain his... uh... we'll call them 'Leaderly Impulses.'

This does not, however, stop Mak from indulging those impulses, and frequently calling the Falleen woman over to answer questions.

Waving emphatically, the Smuggling Hutt calls out across the bridge from his tucked away corner.

"Vex!"

"VEX!"

"VEEEEEEXXXXX!"

"I think that's THEM, Vex!"

"VEX!?"

"I THINK THAT'S THEM, VEX!"

While the 'Big Mama' floats through space, Kryll has his Hunter armor on and is going through his pre-combat checks. Armor, weapons, ammo, and helmet systems. Next to him, a small white and red BB droid looks about the ship at all the others assembled for the job, while Kryll remains quiet. Rifle, pistols, and blades are checked, then double checked.

You know when you smell something really good, and you're totally into it?

Slick smells it. It's called 'excitement', and it's probably from Mak, and while his leaderly impulses are being held in check, the Trandoshan hovers beside Vex, if only so he can occasionally clip someone around the ear if it looks like they're slacking - or if Vex nods at them. Mostly Vex nodding at them.

He paces by as Mak drops his bucket, picking it up and setting it aside, hauling up a new one before setting it down within Mak's grasp. He nods towards Vex once. "Going, now, Bosssss-lady."

His clawed feet click and clack on the metallic floor, scraping for grip as he begins pacing towards the main doors out of the ship, and Slick - Sshylisk - has a little spring in his step. He's going to get stuck into a fight, most likely shot repeatedly, and all in all, have what he would call 'A Good Day'.

Sion Corvara is sorting out her gear and changing into her armor as the combat team waits. She's the raven-haired woman in the back corner, wearing a gray body glove jersey, black synthsilk over-knee socks, and pink athletic briefs. She has to stop and brace herself on the armor stand, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter, as that clueless, squeaky voice pipes into the room. "I think someone hasn't spent much time on a ship. Bet that's the boss, and he's not letting the real ship's captain do his job," she guesses, recovering, turning the bottom half of her body glove around to try and find the front. These things really should come with labels! "Sounds like they know we're here. Pity. I wanted to yell 'surprise', at least."

She looks down, pulling the body glove bottoms on with due haste, and begins snapping on plating. Probably not a long wait now!

At her side, a ball-shaped droid in synergy green with black accents waits, ready to help out if anything technical needs to be done. BB-J4D all but quivers in place, trying not to roll in circles. It'd ruin his image as a calm, collected mechanical sidekick. But the waiting is the hardest part!

Ayeeou Wanaii is not a roughneck. She is not the one to hire, if there might need be a rescue. Or fighting. Okay, so she actually did that leaping in thing with the massive civilian fleet, but that was completely different from what's happening here.

Why, then, IS she here? She's got a patient. So where that patient goes while he's being treated, the doctor goes. Maybe not always, but she lives on Nar Shaddaa and he's the Hutt. She was going. The doctor is delighted. There is all sorts of delighted on the nautolan doctor's face.

For this little outing she actually put on armor, because it just seemed like the smart move. It's makes the doctoring a little more difficult, but she'd really like to live through this.

She has been spending most of her time focused on monitoring the big guy, of course. Maybe so she doesn't have to dwell on her recent life choices. Like being here, doing this.

A bit separated from the bridge but still hearing Mak's shouting echoing through the ship's corridors, a grey-skinned Twi'lek named Nentar is sitting at the control station for one of the ship's turrets. One leg is propped up a bit and he's lounging back against his seat, a usual look of mild amusement on his face as he shakes his head at the Hutt's shouting. Only out of Mak's sight, of course, would he do that. He listens in on the intercepted transmissions through a headset - delicately adjusted around his lekku - and finally sits upright as the crew seems to have found their prey. "Mm, some action," he murmurs, mostly to himself, as he runs a hand across his control panel. It looks vaguely familiar to him. Ship's a ship, right? Turret's a turret. Probably be just fine. Not a care in the world...

Saturi can be found acting lazy near the base of the 'Important Looking' dais, lounging about in an uncomfortable looking chair. Unlike some of the other crew, she's not the type of character you would expect to be around any excitement, especially the type that might smell. The Pantoran looks to the slug with 'Leaderly Impulses' with a snicker, glancing at the doctor's work.

The woman tries to keep the Galaxy's Greatest Pilot's attention by interrupting with an unrelated question. "Do you think that all of that is going to scar?" She looks out on the rest, keeping her mind off the fight ahead.

Her eyes slowly narrow as Mak repeatedly calls for her, Vex's head giving a slow turn to the side to stare balefully toward the Hutt at roughly the third yowling of her name. There's a shimmer in those lights in her hair, turning them from that vibrant array of molten hues into the saddest shades of blue and white. This is what true defeat looks like. There's a slow, deep breath taken in through her nose, followed by the longest sigh recorded, eyes lazily half-lidding as she watches him in his wacky waving inflatable arm flailing man impression.

It's quite convincing.

Another smile is forced onto her lips, "Pretty sure you're right, boss, good listenin' in." She placates the boozeslopping cowboy, doing her utmost to appear honest. Why is anybody's guess. Mak knows her. Surely it couldn't fool anyone.

Unless, of course, they wanted to believe it.

Her head turns when Slick goes about collecting the bucket before moving off to his usual position as 'first through the door, first on the dance floor'. She nods shallowly in his direction, apparently approving of his actions. "You're a good boy, Slick." That's all a pet wants to hear, isn't it?

When Sion speaks, the purple-haired Falleen looks in her direction, a smirk quirking one corner of her mouth as she gives yet another nod. "Sounds about right." She doesn't relate at all, does she? No, no. Of course not. "You can still yell 'surprise', just shoot them in an unexpected way."

"Whoa! How'd you krong this one up, Snee-Snee??" The squeaky voice goes on. Apparently he hasn't thought to turn off the comms still.

"Sneeee! Snrksnrksnrk, ree!"

"Wait, what?? What do you mean that's not your name?!"

This is hardly the time...

"Alright, guys! There's two of these sleemo ships! Wasn't expecting that, but it's -okay-, we can do this." The Falleen begins, apparently seeking to keep morale as high as possible. It isn't hard, given the craft they're in, and the clunky freighter that drifts lazily through space before them. Where the second ship is is left to question, unless one were to check the scanners and know how to make sense of them. "So, here's the plan! Disable the fat one," No, not you, Mak, "Board and assault, kill or contain, makes no difference. Whilst the boarding team does this, you lot," She points between the more bridge-savvy of those gathered, "Will locate and deal with the escort that has done such a woefully terrible job, and return to collect the away team. Understood?"

Saturi and Ayeeou don't particularly grab her attentions, but she does nod to either of them, so clearly not combatants.

For just a minute, it looks as if Mak might have a few more Leaderly Impulses to share from his unimposing corner of the bridge. But with a bit of effort, he manages to keep from sharing them. This is Vex's mission, after all, and he's really here more as moral support than anything else.

He's been 'moral support' more often than not these days, and doesn't resent it one single bit. Everyone knows he's not old, washed-up, and useless, after all. Just ask anyone.

His pride seems placated enough, and he's got at least SOME of the attention on himself, AND he's been both fed and boozed... so he behaves himself.

"You shoulda SEEN this 'un here..." He points toward the doctor who is Happy To Be Here, merriment obvious on his wide, froglike face. "This li'l lady right chyeer was ELBOW DEEP in my organs! Ha ha haooow..."

It's clear that Mak was hoping to tell the story of his own emergency surgery to regale Saturi, preferably with his own customary gusto and enthusiasm. But gusto and enthusiasm seem to hurt him quite a bit, what with the giant wound in his... Hutt Meats.

"Owww... hurts to laugh... I thought you was gonna FIX that, DOC! Better gimme some PILLS! Can't go into battle without my PILLS, Doc!"

Kryll looks up to Mak, speaking up after Mak explains how the doc saved him. <"Thank you Doctor for saving Mak after he put down the enemy's leader. I did all I could for him in the field, but, I am clearly not a doctor, nor do I have much understanding of the gentleman's anatomy."> he finishes his combat check and stands up, offering a nod to Six who stays nearby him as he moves up towards the part of the ship they will be making the boarding action from. He looks down at his droid companion, <"Once we board, stay close and don't get shot."> the droid beeps back at him and rocks back and forth, seemingly getting ready for the action ahead.

Turbolifts seem to aggravate Slick. Maybe it's the fact that he's trapped in a small tube that's hurtling places at very high speeds. But by the time the turbolift comes to a stop, Sshylisk is pacing back and forth, grunting and snorting. As soon as the doors open, he's stomping out to go stand next to Kryll, eyeballing the man in his thick, powerful.. That's some nice armor. He stares at Kryll for what seems like a creepily long amount of time, before he offers the man his best attempt at a smile - peeling the thin lips back to reveal sharp teeth. He offers a 'thumbs up'. Well, it's a claw pointing upwards. He pulls his defender from its holster, pausing for a moment to eyeball the weapon.

A quick pull and yank, and the trigger guard is promptly removed and discarded. He then pulls the power pack out, gives a few test presses to make sure his trigger-finger isn't compromised, and then he puts the powercell back in. Of course, he proceeds to begin his Trandoshan hunting prayer. Engaging his spiritual side.

Thankfully it's quiet, so Kryll is the only one that has to be subjected to the nasal quiet chanting as he lists his kills in Dosh to the Scorekeeper.

"Who knows? I might get the chance to do that," Sion quips, holstering her heavy pistol and nodding to BB-J4D. "Time to go, Jade. We're up."

The green ball warbles eagerly and rolls into 'heel' position, close enough to Sion to be protected. Go time!

She moves to take up a middle position in the boarding team. This puts her close to Ayeeou. "Might want to stay close, Doc. Some of these freighter crews really don't like being boarded," she suggests.

She nods to Kryll, Slick, and the Twi'lek, preparing to move out. The mission won't wait. But there's still a little waiting to be done.

Ayeeou is, on the whole, happy not to be the center of attention. There's plenty of interesting people here, doing interesting people things. She's just medical. But, it seems it won't be so easy to be invisible with the Hutt's plan to regale them with her great and messy deeds.

Thank goodness for pain. Or something. Thank goodness the Hutt has encouragement not to make himself laugh, anyway. When addressed about his pain and lack of pills, she says "I'm sorry, sir. Your injury was great, and it needs the time to heal. I will give you something for the pain, that should still let you function." Some level of function, anyway. The pain killers she administers aren't the level of narcotic Mak might prefer, but they should help.

Once he a little more tended, she nods to Kryll. "You're welcome. It's very difficult to work on a Hutt, and I appreciated your effort."

But then it's time to do the things, and she will dutifully go where the others think she should go, and do what they tell her to. Yes, she is HAPPY to be here.

Nentar smirks a bit and mouths 'shoot the fat one' after Vex issues her orders for the crew. Being decidedly awful with a blaster, this Twi'lek is far more comfortable at the seat of the big guns than he is pointing one manually.

He flips a small switch beside his display panel and a digitized version of the freighter putting along ahead of the 'Big Mama' shows up on the illuminated device.

"Acquiring target," he murmurs as the turret rotates to line up a firing solution.

"Boss Vex! We blowing their engines?" he asks, keying up a small comm panel that lets him communicate with the just-beyond-shouting distance bridge.

"Elbow deep!?" The Pantoran remarks, a bit fakely, with an excited tone, trying to match the Hutt's enthusiasm for his attempted murder. "I'll call it unfortunate to miss such an event." She continues politely whilst reaching up to Mak's dais, tapping at the freshly filled bucket Slick provided. "Better stay hydrated." The woman recommends as she rises from her seat, standing closer to level with the slug.

The ship's stale air runs through her blue nostrils as she turns to face the rest of whoever is nearest. "Anything you need me to help with?" She asks with a polite voice, moving towards a control panel on the edge of the bridge. Her shoulder rests into the glass display of the panel, arms crossed while she waits for a response.

Vex has heard this story. Vex has heard all of Mak's stories. Due to this fact, and the way he seems to be ramping up to another epic retelling of his heroism and prowess, the Falleen woman gives him a shallow bow toward Mak, turns on her uncomfortably high heel and paces off toward the one of the unmanned turret terminals to settle herself in for the main event. Her shoulders roll and her back straightens, a soft sigh let out before she side-eyes to Nentar.

There's a brief pause, but then her cybernetic hand is lifted and a clawed thumb is raised in the same sort of thumbs-up Slick tried to give to Kryll. Apparently this is just something those two do. A broad, cheek-dimpling and fangy grin is offered to the grey twi'lek that's apparently going to be her partner in crime for taking these ships down, not far from where she's at.

"Right! Myself and this fine piece of twi'lek have the guns covered and look good doin' it," The Falleen announces, her unnatural eyes shifting toward Saturi, her dark lips pursing as she considers the blue-skinned woman with a quick dart of black tongue to wet her lips. "You, uh... um." She squints, clearly having forgotten the woman's name, "Dear friend, if you would be so kind to keep the Big Mama mobile," Her head turns then, noting that Slick and Kryll both have left, and Sion's well on her way to joining them, giving them a nod before turning her attentions toward the Hutt and his doctor. "You goin'?" She doesn't even give pause for a response, "Good, good, see to it that the big man doesn't die." She sniffs softly, her attentions moving back toward Saturi, huffing out a breath, staring in her direction for long and silent moments as though to say 'don't encourage him' in that semi-pleading expression.

She then glances back to Nentar, "Readysetgo!" She announces in rapidfire speech, that grin returning to her features just as she's loosing the first shot toward 'the fat one' to first disable the shields, rattling through the ship. Where it goes from there? Well, that's up to the other gunner. "You've got it! Light 'er up!"

Over the comms, to those already waiting for the docking process, her voice comes: <"Get ready, boys and girls, for the event of a lifetime! Come one, come all to this one stop, non-stop whirlwind of adventure, and behold the irrefutable dominance of the Hutt Cartel!"> A beat of a pause, <"Er, and friends. ... and doctors?"> Well, it started off confident, and that's what matters, right?

Having let his turret line up on target, Nentar deftly grasps ahold of the manual fine-targeting controls and squints. Waiting... Waiting... Wai-There! As the targetting system paints the engines of the freighter with red overtones, he quickly presses his thumb on the top-mounted firing button on his control lever.

A fire-linked volley of turbolaser fire flashes brightly from the controlled turret and lances into the top of the starboard engine cells of the the target freighter. A couple of small explosions can be seen as components are torn apart by the clean hit, but - more importantly - the freighter's engines sputter and die out, leaving it drifting.

Oh, if only Evie were feeling like herself. If she was, the Empress of the Void would go toe to toe with the Galaxy's Greatest Pilot in a case of ego versus ego. It would be a glorious thing to see. Stories would be told of that day, /holovids/ would be made retelling the epic tale of the day the most overconfident people in the galaxy did absolutely nothing but argue.

But she's not. Having betrayed... pretty much anyone she had ever cared about (for their own good!), she's feeling far more dark and dour. So maybe it's a good thing that Vex asked Saturi to handle the bulk of the piloting than the one who doesn't care much about life or death at the moment. "You handle the bird, I'll run support for you." the Kuati girl offers, fingers prepared and ready over the controls in the co-pilot's seat. "If Raith Sienar built her, I can make sure she's ready and willing to do anything you ask of her."

She even gives the panelling a little pat. Because yes, the ship is definitely sentient, or close enough, in her book.

"What!? Only SIX! Dadgummit Doc, yer STINGY!"

Munching on his pills, the corpulent... er... 'rugged' Space Cowboy begins slithering off of his crusty (but Important Looking) dais and oozing his way toward the boarding ramp. Each contraction of his midsection produces a wince from the King of Smugglers, but he does a decent job of looking like the inspirational figure (for a Hutt) that he imagines himself to be.

"Awright, pardners! Let's blast these sumbitches! And take their sheeeit! And turn the 'tractive ones into PLEASURE SLAVES!"

He's still giving his inspirational speech as he crawls across the floor, one mighty stomach contraction at a time.

He... still hasn't gotten off the bridge.

"Just TRY and keep up! Just TRY! It's gonna be a ROUGH DOCKIN', but I didn't get to be KING OF SMUGGLERS by bein' a dadgum FLOOF dandy! Ha ha haooowwwww...."

There, finally out of the bridge, and blocking up the hallway.

"Just lemme at 'em! I'll..."

His voice carries most of the way down the hall, toward the boarding ramp, as the pilot brings them close enough to do a ROUGH DOCKING with the enemy ship!

KLANG!

The docking is indeed Rough, enough to shake the bones of anyone who actually has them. Mak is safe, and his bulk absorbs pretty much all of the shock, only causing his bulk to wobble slightly.

The door to the airlock hurriedly WHOOSHES open, and Mak pulls out his trusty D.D.C. Defender Freighter pistol, preparing to knock over some imposing...

Chadra-Fans?

Kryll hears the boisterous Mak coming from the bridge, and finally makes an appearance at the airlock. The hunter offers him a nod, drawing his vibrodagger in his left hand and then bracing his blaster rifle over his left forearm. <"Allow me to draw their fire Mak, I worry they will see you and fear for their lives, we must protect our assets."> His helmet modulates his voice as he talks, then he turns forward, rifle up and steps through the airlock, BB-6 rolling in a few feet behind him but not going past a corner unless it is cleared by Kryll first. He comes out of the airlock and into the hostile ship proper, marking the hostiles he spots with his helmet and transmitting that to anyone with proper tracking behind him, he states over the comms as he raises his rifle. <<3 targets, engaging.>> He stands against a wall, and fires three red bolts downrange. The first misses, but he adjusts his aim to strike Snee twice in the left arm.

Unlike Kryll, Slick is.. Well. Lets just say that Slick likes loud noises and blaster bolts. They don't even have to hit anything. He just likes them - a lot! So as soon as they dock, right behind Kryll is Slick, his blast plate pulled down over his face, his angry screeching echoing as he makes a target of himself.

By promptly stomping towards Rata Tak - giving hard pulls of his blaster pistols trigger. Too hard to really help him aim, and the bolts go wild. He stares at his pistol in disbelief. BETRAYAL! This of course makes him give an irritated screech of noise.

Sion, coming in just behind Slick and Kryll, ducks to the right to clear the field of fire of everyone else and opens fire on Rata Tak. She rushes the first shot, but her second and third are dead on, bright blue stun blasts flashing from her weapon and into her target. Zap!

"Got 'im! One down!" she crows, giving Slick a grin. S'what teamwork's for, right?

It's hard not to watch the Hutt move. Maybe because it's so weird that Hutts can move, even slowly. Ayeeou's large black eyes blink twice, then she follows behind him. Also slowly. Because her job is to keep him alive. While he boards a ship they just attacked and violence ensues. Because Hutts are so good at dodging blaster fire. Or anything. There's a slight shake of her head, and she follows, medkit in one hand and blaster in the other.

At least there's a bunch of Hutt between her and the things that might be shooting at them. On the other hand, that's not the way to get paid for this. She sighs quietly, and keeps relatively low. Behind the Hutt.

Saturi moves over towards the pilot's console, sitting down as she pulls up one of the automated status reports. "I will do my best not to ask it to crash." The woman assures to Evie, adjusting the bottom of her dress with one hand whilst trying to keep the ship straight with the other.

From the docking port, the ROUGH DOCKING would've felt pretty rough. That's what the Pantoran gets for trying to fly one-handed. From the bridge though? Only a bit of a sway!

"Clamps engaged." The blue woman states with a monotone announcement. A glance is cast to Evie, hoping for an official 'check' in response.

Golden eyes look to the monitor, tracking the away party as they enter the other freighter. "They're away." The door to the airlock hurriedly WHOOSHES closed, locking the team inside of the other vessel. "Disengaging clamps." And with that...the Hutt vessel and the Remnant freighter seperate. "Can you look for that escort?"

Evie smirks to herself as the mighty Hutt makes his announcement. 'King of Smugglers'? If Gann heard that, that might be another collision code waiting to happen.

"Try not to die." Evie offers to the departing boarders with that listless tone she's been sporting of late. It's... encouragement. Right? And, because one person who's a friend of hers /is/ going out there, it's probably legitimate.

Saturi's comment gets an equally monotone response from her co-pilot. "Check, clamps engaged.", and then when she's charged with a new mission of hunting for said escort, she bobs her head in response. "Can do. Putting out our net."

Nentar jumps up from his turret station and makes his way onto the main bridge's navigation area. His job's done at that point, until the boarding crew is finished over there. Sliding into an empty seat near Vex and glancing at the displayed readouts, he squints and cocks his head to the side.

Was that a... Hmm, no. Nothing there.

Wait, what? No, that's definitely a faint blip. And moving.

"Boss lady!" he suddenly says, maybe a bit too loudly, while he touches the screen lightly with a claw-like fingernail. "There's something. It's some kind of ship and heading toward us, but... I don't kriffing know what it is, keep losing it," he grumbles as he starts pressing nearby buttons at random - they'll probably have something to do with scanning or tracking this new contact. Yeah.

<"Snoktsnoktree! Snoktree-hhngk-hnk-hnk!"> Snee-Snee seems terribly alarmed when the armed boarding crew comes bursting into the ship. He was ready for this, of course. What he was not ready for, however, was Kryll. The Gamorrean is quite a sight to behold; broad, tall, a truly sturdy roast worthy of a King.

"What?! Well, fight them!" Ratty teeth chitter as his anxiety increases, "Kill, kill!" He continues in his high-pitched squeak, "Die-die, interlopers!" He says from the supposed safety of the freighter's bridge.

<"HREEE!"> His blaster is raised and pointed toward the apparent mercenary that has just made his day much more difficult. This was supposed to be an easy gig. Quick money, that's what the wanted ad said. He's about to pull the trigger when Kryll begins unloading on the poor fellow. The first shot goes wide, yes, and it prompts the Gammorean to turn defensively in order to make himself a smaller target. This, however, does not work when you're fat.

Ask Mak.

Blaster bolts rip through his flank and send him sprawling onto the ground. He sputters piggy spittle flecks, takes in a ragged, stolen breath and reaches a shaky hand toward the group. "Hhnk... hnnk..... reeee-egghh," Which, most assuredly, is something poignant, perhaps even poetic in the language of his people.

"What's going on?! Are they dead?! DO YOUR JOB!" Comes the 'Captain's' voice over the intercom.

<"Shoot-shoot him, 'til him dead-dead!"> Rata Tak squeaks in retort to the Captain's words, tiny ratlike claws clinging to his blaster, beady black eyes soullessly staring toward these fiendish few that've come in response to this very unwelcome presence. His strange leaf-shaped nose flexes and sniffs, whiskers bristled as he shakily, most unsurely, raises his blaster toward Mak, only to have Sion unleash a volley all her own! "EEKT!" The noise is drawn from him as his body jerks and spasms before going ridig and keeling over, fur now all standing on end in a nearly comical amount of fluff, just his pink fleshy nose visible in the aftermath of that stunning energy, a soft hissing frizzle heard.

She trusts Evie and Saturi to handle what they're handling, Vex's attentions focused on a strangely leadership role in this whole endeavor, not interrupting as they check in with one another. Her attentions flick toward Nentar when he gets himself onto the ship's sensors in order to locate the other ship. Her brows lift as he actually finds something -- looks like he's a valuable asset! Maybe she'll keep him around. "Ladies, we've got our target!" The Falleen announces, nodding toward the grey-skinned twi'lek that has provided, at the very least, a lead on which direction should be taken.

"Hope you don't mind a moving target!" Her dimly glowing eyes flick toward the displays, looking over the readouts, finding nothing that could be of use to her until the others actually approach the distant vessel. "Drinks're on me if we can make this quick! I'm missing my shows for this." And if you miss just one episode, you don't know who's having who's baby, and catching up is such a chore.

Back on the ship, the last remaining Chadra-Fan gives a subtle quiver of his lower lip, the skin on his muzzle crinkling up as he raises his pistol and returns fire on Kryll, without having a mind to find cover. Truly, these mercenaries are the best money could buy.

People in the Hutt Cartel let Mak hold a D.D.C. Defender Freighter Crew Pistol for the same reasons that frazzled parents let their crying babies hold a rattle. Unfortunately for everyone on Mak's side tonight, he's about as deadly with his blaster as he would be with the rattle.

As the airlock closes behind him, he manages to get his tail out of the way juuuust in time. With his baby rattle... uh... baby BLASTER held out in front in a menacing fashion, Mak fires off a shot with one hand while holding down his Action Hutt Action Hat with the other!

It misses pretty wide, but it really gets the message across that Mak was hoping to convey. A message known only to him.

"Come on, ya FLOOFS! Quit messin' around with these phukkos and let's STORM this dagblasted boat!"

Contracting his stomach, Mak begins the arduous process of storming the dagblasted boat, which would probably take him about forty standard years to do on his own.

"Kryll! Yer with me! We're headin' to the BRIDGE so's I can turn this rickety tub around!"

He looks back at the other ones, and suddenly realizes he doesn't have any jobs for them.

"Uh... the rest of ya's... figger out somethin' worth doin', and DO IT! Maybe... see if ya can't find me a couple tons of BOOGER SUGAR!"

And with that, he continues inching foward, wormlike, brandishing his pistol in front of him like it's some sort of totem.

Kryll watches as the return blaster fire goes past him without any danger to himself or the others and then hears the captain's voice on the intercom. <"Six, direction to the bridge?"> The round droid beeps at him, as Mak opens fire on the last hostile, <"You know I do not understand that, which way?"> And then Six projects a large holographic arrow pointing in the direction of the bridge. <"Subtle. But that works."> the droid beeps happily and Kryll disengages from this gunfight as the others make their way into the ship and secure this room. <<I'm going for the bridge.>> he dclares over the comms, then readies his rifle and blade, and moves forward towards his destination. While Mak seems to have the same idea, but for different reasons, and Kryll outpaces him.

SKREEEEE!

It's the sort of screech that reminds you of things hurtling down maintenance tunnels and suddenly jazz handsing at you before your feed is cut off and it goes 'Game Over'. Slick pretty much abandons all reservations before he releases his Defender, letting it clatter away as he holds both clawed hands out and charges at Atta Rakt!

Sadly, his charge leads him with missing completely, the angry swipes of his claws during his charge leading him to smack into a bulkhead.

.. Which only seems to make the Trandoshan all the more angry.

Sion, still backing up the boarding party, sidesteps to get Slick out of her sight picture and fires once, taking down the screeching, blasting Chadra-Fan. "We're clear!" she calls, moving to hastily disarm the former marines. They'll be waking up sooner or later, and best if they're devoid of their shooty-things when they do. "If you need help in the cockpit, give a holler?"

As Mak fires his blaster, Ayeeou is even more relieved to be behind him. Finally! Someone who is a worse shot than she is! She hops forward as well to stay on the right side of the airlock, and continues slowly behind the Hutt as he creeps along. She might have actually thought about trying to shoot something, but then the Trandoshan screams and leaps, and it seems like a bad idea to mix bad blaster fire and melee. For now, really all she can do is keep monitoring Mak. And staying down.

Back on the 'Big Mama', the Twi'lek spacer has slid out of the second station he's suddenly abandoned during this engagement and returns to his turret console. "Alright, once we get a clear readout on what this thing is, is it going to matter?" he asks, his voice crackling through the comm system to the other crew still manning the vessel. "Assuming we're vaping it regardless, 'less we want to bring our boarding party back, yeah?"

He flicks on his turret display again and rests his hand on the aiming and firing control lever, while his other hand sits ready to punch whatever buttons he needs to to get the turret locked on to their target once it's in his range.

Saturi says, "I will focus on keeping that ship port." Saturi says to Evie with a glance, pointing at her console as she keeps her other hand on the controls. "Please watch the shield angle." She politely suggests to her co-pilot, hoping that they won't actually need the defenses. "And, if you could, let the gunners know...to fire to port." The woman adjusts the ship's heading to match up with the escort, pushes the throttle forward to speed the light cruiser along, and runs a quick scan of the ship systems.

"Matching speed." The Pantoran declares with authority as the vessels become parallel with each other."

"...huh. Nice work. I didn't even see that," Evie offers to the Twi'lek who ends up one-upping her on the sensor check. There's little reaction or surprise, inside she knows she could do better. But...

"Roger that." comes the lifeless response from Evie -- the energy of the words matches the lazy movements of Evie's hands across the controls. They're going to the right places, at least... but then they're drifting past. There's a different button pressed. The one that turns the shields in the /opposite/ direction.

"...huh. Must have changed the mapping since I last flew one..."

A shrug, and she moves to start working on /fixing/ her mistake. Free hand taps the ship's intercom to add, "Attention gunners, direct your fire to the port side of the ship. You know. If you want to." ...someone's pay is probably getting docked for this job.

"Hey! What's going on?! Why... why so quiet-quiet?" There's silence in the background of the captain's transmittion. It's weird, it's like the entire ship cleared out in the wake of what's happened down below. It's almost like ... rats fleeing a sinking ship. "W-wait-wait! Where are you go-going?!" He still hasn't figured out how to turn off those damned comms! There's a rumbling, before the sound of jets activating and locks releasing heralds the first ejection of the escape pods. The sound, it repeats, over and over again, and those making their way to the bridge can see through the viewports the blue-flame thrusters of each of them streaking through the desparate void of space as they make for landfall.

It looks as though they're fleeing in the direction of the smuggler's moon. All those agents of the Trade Spine, seeking to make ground where they can continue their efforts to secure a new holding for their operation.

Someone's gunna have to find those.

That's a problem for future-us.

"Get back here! Hey... hey, you! I was kid-kidding before! Hehe! Good laugh-laugh, right?! Ah--ehh, don't--!" The final pod is launched into that vacuous abyss, and a high pitched squeal-scream of understanding is emitted, heard through the speakers, and without them alike. When Mak and Kryll get to the bridge, it is absolutely and completely deserted. It's eerie just how silent it is, how ... empty... how small the captain that spins around to observe them truly is. He doesn't even have a blaster, his ratty claws clasping at each other with a softly tapping click-clack as they make contact, his beady eyes boggling in his fear.

"Eehh-heh-heh, so happy-happy to meet you!" His mouth spreads unnaturally wide in his rodent-smiling in some horrifying display of false cheer.

For those still aboard the ship, Saturi has masterfully navigated the Big Mama in accordance with Nentar's previous findings, and before long it is not only plainly visible, but well within reach of the many weapons at their disposal. "Here we go!" Vex announces with a broad grinning, the lights that run through her mane once more flickering to life like some sentient mood lighting, bathing her features in a pale blue light in direct opposition to the warm glow of gold coming from her gaze even as the twi'lek speaks. "Ash it, darling. It hasn't got anything we want, and we want these filthy vermin to know the sting of the Cartel's ire. None may challenge our holdings!" She nods toward him, then returns her attentions to her turret console, gloved hand moving to delicately tap her fingertips over some buttons in quick succession, leaving a soft rhythmic beeping chiming as her hand pulls away, keen eyes watching the sensors as she awaits her chance to strike. She's only vaguely aware of what's going on with the pilot and co-pilot up there, unable to divide her attention to micromanage these fine ladies, leaving her no choice but to trust in their judgment and ability.

When Evie directs the gunners as per Saturi's request, Vex gives another shallow nod, "Roger," She retorts, leaning in to better track the movement, that beeping speeding up in its rhythmic pattern until the trigger is pulled and the cannon looses, painting lively veins of crimson in their pursuit of that fleeing ship, a direct contact made, rocking the craft.

Somewhere in transit, along the long corridor leading to the Bridge, the King of Smugglers has disappeared. The bulky Hutt is gone when the doors open, and in his place stands...

The Masked Outlaw.

Filling most of the doorway, The Masked Outlaw squeezes his way through it, peering at the Captain over the bandana that he's dramatically raised over his mouth. Those bulbous, yellow, bloodshot eyes scan the bridge for threats before settling permanently on the Captain, and giving him an Intimidating Glare.

"This here's a stickup, courtesy of The Masked Outlaw!"

The Hutt calls out in his froggy, guttural voice, holding his blaster out in the rough direction of the Captain.

The Captain, however, looks confused.

"Uh... you look a little FAT to be a... uh... Masked... Outlaw?" Holding his hands up, the poor Captain seems to think that he's already dead, and that the afterlife is a sick, sick joke.

At which point, The Masked Outlaw pulls down his mask again, revealing himself to have been Mak all along!

"Har har! I'm just funnin'! It's MAK! And your ass belongs to the Hutt Cartel now! And your balls!"

He gestures around meaningfully at the mostly-empty bridge.

"And uh... yer ship, too. And... whatever else ya got. It's MINES!"

The Hutt starts slithering forward, still holding out his blaster.

"Watch him, Kryll! I'm a-gonna turn this tub around, and Li'l Sexy over there is gonna sign a VERY carefully worded EXCLUSIVE shipping contract with the HUTT CARTEL! And keep his ears. Maybe even his balls."

"Not his ass, though."

The Captain gulps as Mak slithers over, finally taking the ship's controls in those pudgy, but surprisingly gentle, hands.

Kryll arrives on the bridge with Mak, and comms the rest of the team. <<Bridge secure.>> He lowers his rifle, and places something heavy on the tiny captain. <"Captain also secure."> he puts his vibrodagger away and looks at the Captain. <"Stay put. Or he will eat you."> he gestures to Mak and looks towards 6. <"Six, download all the ships logs and navigational information. Everything its got."> The droid beeps and rolls over to an access port, connecting and then doing as directed. He moves to stand guard on the bridge, becoming a silent guardian for Mak and 6.

Slick has been shot. This.. This is unpleasant. The blaster bolt pretty much bypasses his armour, leaving him with a freshly cauterized wound that will be smarting for longer than he'd like to think about.

He hunches over as he turns around, giving a low grunt as he stumbles over to the sleeping Chadra-Fan's. Does he kill them? No. He grabs them and hauls them all into a pile, then goes and picks up his D.D.C. Defender. He walks up to the pile of unconscious Chada-Fans and flops down on to his rear, so that if any of them wake up before this is over, they're presented with an angry, wounded Trandoshan with a blaster in one hand and his claws prepped in the other.

Softly, quietly, he mumbles to himself. "I want a Mufkin."

"Doc? Here's your cue," Sion calls to Aeeyou. "We've got a casualty down here!" She winces in sympathy to Slick. "I could patch you up, but better if an expert handles it. Someone's got to help you cover those Chadra-Fans."

The... Masked... Outlaw.

The Nautolan doctor doesn't seem quite sure what to do with this information. Or, really, anything about this entire event. Ayeeou's just settled into a permanent expression of puzzlement, her head tilting slightly to one side. It's probably another 'how did my life choices bring me here' moment. She's had more than a few of them the last couple weeks.

On the plus side, the shooting seems to have stopped and the Hutt is still alive. She's down wit' that. A quick scan is done of Mak though, just to make sure he didn't hurt himself rushing through the ship like that, then she says conversationally "Anyone need a doctor?"

Apparently, someone needs a doctor! Alright, then. Ayeeou calls back "Coming!" and hurries that way, to have a look at Slick.

Nentar hears through the comm system and rapidly punches in a couple of commands into his turret station, letting his turret take aim at the general silouette. As it's traversing, he grasps the manual aiming lever and...

...his hand slips up and over it, his palm sweating from apparent anxiousness of the situation. His fingers graze over the firing button atop and trigger two volleys of linked turbolaser fire!

The turbolaser bolts streak through space, while the turret was still moving - their bolts are spaced out and unaimed... Yet the target ship seems to have expected a better shot, like a proper gunner would have made. It veer to its portside and decelerates rapidly, trying to make the shots miss ahead of its bow... Only to be rocked /hard/ by the impact of two of the turbolaser shots! One rips into the ship's laser cannons explodes first, causing a small chain reaction of explosions that leads toward the cockpit, while the other bolt slams into the aft section, triggering a much larger explosion near the engine bank.

Saturi does her best to hold the vessel steady as the Hutt ship fires on the Remnant escort. "Keeping with them is a breeze." She keeps both hands at the helm as she adjusts to match the velocity of the enemy ship. "I like this ship." A nervous snicker breaks through at the end of her compliment towards the boat.

The blue woman watches as the turbolasers strike the enemy ship. She appears surprised by the result. "Those...I'm surprised those hit."

"Yay, guess we win." is offered in the most dead inside voice that might have ever cheered a foe-destroying shot. It honestly /was/ a fantastic idea that Nentar had, feigning a terrible shot like that so that the other pilot wouldn't expect it and would dodge /into/ it. That's Empress-class moves, and she's fully intending on adding it to her playbook.

To Saturi, Evie adds, "Sienar Fleet Systems makes the best ships that money can buy. This girl's a perfect example of their craftsmanship, and I can highly recommend a purchase if you get the chance when you're next looking." Even at her lowest, she's still the Sienar fangirl. It's just such an integral part of who she is.

Directed next towards Vex, "Guess that means we get drinks and you get to watch your show, huh? You can take the second round out of my cut. Bunch of you seem like class acts." ...is that sarcasm? No, but it sounds likely like it with that droll tone. It's not intentional, honestly!

As that massive explosion is triggered and the second ship is destroyed, the panicked comms of dear old Tachi Dobika are heard, "Skeez, you motherless r--" It's all that he manages to get out before the ship erupts in destructive glory, the comms crackling hard before falling eerily silent in the wake of misfortune's bitter kiss. Vex, for her part, is startled by the linked fire and sudden detonation, her eyes going wide, hand lax on her turret's control as she stares at the vacated sensor. The light dims, a sullen deep purple hue barely offering evidence as to their presence as she gives a couple blinks, then looks across at Nentar.

"Well." She begins, dark lips pursing. "Quite a shot. We'll have to see if that was luck, or if you're far better than I gave you credit for." Her lips part in broad grinning, pale green cheeks dimpling deep as she does so, a quiet laugh loosed as her attentions move back to the pilots that have worked so well in tandem. "I would call this a grand success! Mighty impressed and mighty obliged, new friends, and I do hope to have the pleasure of your company on all future endeavors." So proper! So business-like! Her head turns to Saturi, an exaggerated wink tossed her way, "Big Mama likes you, too, darling."

Back on the other ship, with Mak taking control and the contents secured, what with the entire remaining crew having abandoned ship long ago, 'Skeez' chitters away.

"Hehe, good joke-joke, yup-yup," His little ratty paws remain up in a surrendering gesture. He does not seem inclined to fight the Hutt or his entourage for control of the ship. Apparently he's more intelligent than his actions might suggest. The nav database is easily accessed, and clues as to the actual base of operations of the Trade Spine are cryptic, but present. If one knew how to analyse what they're seeing, it'd be clear as day. They, too, have come away successful.

It won't be long until the ship returns and docks to retrieve their boarding party, minus the hutt and presumably his mercenary and doctor, whom are most likely to return on the ship they've commandeered. It is a good day.

Back on the Big Mama, Vex offers another of those sterling grins to Evie, "You're right generous, you are. The crew'll appreciate that, and hey, happen by any time to have a chat with ol' Vex. I'm likely to have more fun in the future, and I'm always looking for other friends to watch the holo-soaps. Slick's alright, I guess, but he's a loud chewer." The skin above her nose wrinkles, "Nobody likes a loud chewer.