Log:Thieves and Their Sand Tank

The Spicerunners sell an illegal Hyperdrive, but discover it's been stolen from them too!

OOC Date: June 2, 2022
Location: Mos Eisley, Tatooine
Participants: Spice Runners, Sorin Endesea, Ektor, Erinn Laski, Poe Dameron

"So yeah, buddy.. check it out. We raided this ship-- I probably shouldn't have said that -- We found this hyperdrive laying around a pirate den we rai..visited. I'm talking state of the art, all illegal motivators, easy to interface onto any light freighter craft.. it's the real deal." Poe Dameron explains, getting into his persona as Wynk Simmersun. "At the end of the day, you can't go wrong with it, you know what I mean. It strains the ships, but you're saving about twenty-twenty five percent on fuel as is, and cutting some of that traverse time."

Poe is babbling on as he walks into the shade of a long hallway leading toward Mos Eisley's most notorious hangar bays. It was said Han Solo once evaded the Imperial incursion here smuggling out a Jedi Knight and some farmboy.

Erinn Laski, naturally, does not need a disguise nor a persona. Her face hasn't ever been blasted across the galaxy with one of the (if not the most) highest bounty it has ever seen. Which is why she's following behind Poe Dame--Wynk Simmersun--with a look of incredulity on her face. Those big brown eyes are a little wide, though one of her brows is lifted up, vision boring a hole into the back of Poe's skull.

"What -is- that accent even?" she asks, and then takes a glance around the notorious hangar with wide eyes. She hasn't heard the rumors of Han Solo's visit to this very hangar. Even if she did, she might even go 'Han Who?'. Kids these days, you know? No respect for the classics.

"Where is this guy, anyway? Do you know him? Are we going to get shot again? Like we always do?"

Ektor has several distinctive tattoos of dubious quality on both arms. He had worn a rather nondescript flight suit to cover them up, it was too damned hot and he'd stripped the flightsuit off to the waist. Thus, the last remant of his 'disguise' is a dingy hat and solar shades on his eyes, and his only contribution to Poe's operation is a crooked grin and the advice, "Tell him your name again, yeah?"

Sorin's disguise is flat-out perfect. GENIUS. The man knows how to throw a digital sniffer off its scent, and how to make eyeballs just kind of... edge over him. It's a thing. Well, perhaps would be a thing if he hadn't forgotten that his tunic-top still sported a small plastic nametag prominently labeled 'SORIN ENDESEA' and marked as a visitor's badge to the Chandrila University's Department of Cultural Anthropology.

As he rounds a corner he sees them... that collection of, uh, on Tatooine it's just entrepeneurs, right? It's always just, I'm a collector, I found this at the base of a dune. Sorin doesn't ask questions, not here. Approaching, he smiles. "Mr... Simmersun?" Seeing others that smile diminishes, just a hair. "And friends. I'm Zap Farkington, thanks for meeting with me today." Not SORIN ENDESEA. No, that badge is incorrect. He found it on the side of a dune.

"Sync Wimmersun.." Poe says, messing up his own alias, but in practice among friends. Xer had prompted him to say the name again, and Erinn was having trouble with his accent. "I don't know Las--HELLO THERE, MISTER FARKING-..ton." Poe turns about, reaching toward the name tag hanging off the man's disguise, and missing. The urge to read the name out loud was overridden by Poe's brief memory jolt, reminding him what the man said.

"Wynk Simmersun, you say? That's me, sir. And I have my lovely assistant Borka (Erinn), and uh.. Vroom (Xer).." Seemed convincing enough. "WHY I say, you're in the market for a hyperdrive, if I recall.. I have /just/ the thing for you, budd--erm, guy."

Poe turns slightly and slides a card through the hangar door security slot, triggering the sudden hydraulic release and telltale hiss of the doors parting, revealing a large bay and object at the center, covered in a tarp. "Right this way, Fap Zarkington.."

Poe strolls inside with a slight limp, appearing more a gangster with a swagger than some old war vet, and he points with a gloved hand. "This thing is state of the art, real rare class. All the bells and whistles, yeah? Three-hundred and twenty kay worth of good feelings. Get a load of --THIS--." WHOOSH, the tarp is pulled off and nothing is there. "OOOOHHHHhhh.. what the REKK is this?"

Erinn Laski deadpan-stares in Poe's direction and then turns to look up to Mister Farkington, then down to the badge that reads SOREN ENDESEA, and then back up to Mister Farkington a second time. "...Yup, that's me. Lovely Assistant Borka Norel."

She follows alongside Wynk, Zap, and Vroom as they maneuver towards the secure security door and to the tarp-covered object at the end of the long hallway. "We've already checked its hypermatter accelerators, and they're purring. She's a beauty of a drive, honestly. Modular install, so fixing it into whatever you've got should be easy as laptoberry pie," she says. Before Poe pulls off that tarp, Laski gives it two taps on top like she's a dad at Lowes and it's a big ol' pile of dirt.

But then, the reveal!

She takes a few steps back and tips her head. Helpfully, she states the obvious.

"...It's nothing!"

Ektor snickers and chortles at 'Zap Farkington' but Poe botching his own cover name breaks the scraps of Etbe pirate's composure and he doubles over with laughter, needing to brace hands on his knees. "Wynk- BAHAHA," he gasps in a few breaths and staggering into docking bay. "Ah, rekk me I'm dyin over here." Actual tears wiped out of his good eye. He hasn't even noticed that the prize hyperdrive isn't there. "Yep, that's me: Vroom, rhymes with Boom, easy to remember, yeah?"

"Why everyone needs a lovely assistant, and a..." Sorin, erm, Fap looks to Vroom. "Another assistant." That smile radiates once again, directed at the trio of very clearly above board and quite upstanding citizens of the galaxy. "And I do happen to be in the market for a hyperdrive. It's difficult to find examples in the wild that don't still adhere to old Imperial regulatory restrictions." A cough escapes. "Or are just slow."

As that slid card releases the hangar door, Zap's attention is captured by the tarp covered treasure that serves as the moment's point of focus. Borka's detailing of the drive's qualities draws out interested nods. "Excellent, modular is good. Easier to install, easier to maintain."

Vroom's suggested mnenomic, Boom for Vroom, elicits a raised finger. "Also rhymes with gloom, and doom. So we're already up to three reminders. Easy to remember."

But it's that pull back of tarp that silences the man. "It's... Are you quite certain that was the tarp?" He looks to left and right, for other tarps. There appear to be none. This was clearly supposed to be the tarp. A frown crosses the Alderaanian's features as his attention fully refocuses upon Wynk.

"UUUUUTINIIII!" BLAM! BLAM!

The scream of a Jawa raider followed by the over modified blasts of a rifle announce the arrival of a skinny, red and blue, bone-covered B1 Battledroid that is running after a Jawa that has slipped out of the back hatch after running from a hiding spot. "THIS UNIT'S PROGRAMMING INDICATES THESE ORGANIC PESTS HAVE STOLEN YOUR ILLEGALLY MODIFIED HYPERDRIVE, PRETTY GIRL!" Alerts the nasally voiced automaton as it pauses by the open hatch and fires a few more blasts.

Poe shares a glance with the party with him and sighs. "Rekk it.. we got to track those thieves down before they get into that bug ugly fortress thing on tracks.. charade's over.. THAT'S A LOT OF CREDS running away. BONES.. STOP TRYING TO KILL OUR ONLY LEAD!"

Poe moves out the back hatch and arrives in a thriving market which has been disturbed by the random blasts from a murderous bone covered droid. It's not immediately clear where Jawa has moved to, or his companions.

"Look for a bunch of hooded things with glowing eyes.. rekking little dreks. They'll probably try to sell it back to me, too."

"UUUUUUTINIIIII!" BLAM! BLAM!

"WAUGH!" comes Erinn Laski's war cry. Which isn't much of a war cry at all, so much as it is a little shriek of surprise. She attempts to scamper her way behind the cover of a shut-down loader, but, well. She's not really hiding in a great angle or, for that matter, covering most of her body. Butt and feet stick out on one side, and the top of her head sticks out the other. After a moment or two of quiet, she peeks up over the main chassis of the loader towards Poe and the others.

"....Was that it?" she asks, watching Bones return some fire and Poe make his way for the back hatch. Laski scrambles to her feet, little bootfalls thud-thud-thudding towards them. As she so often does, she scoots in front of the others so that she's the first one pushing through the door and bounding out into the market. She scans the crowd for glowing red eyes and rekking little dreks, but all she can see is the pretty Twi'lek dancers on the corner. Her eyes sort of linger there and she chews on her bottom lip.

That sudden onset of overcharged blaster fire, Jawa mating calls, and one bone-festooned battle-droid crashes into this meeting of the minds.

'Charade's over.'

The nature of the individuals with whom he anticipates doing business begins to penetrate individual facades. The Lordling Alderaanian's mien shifts as well, 'Zap' losing some degree of casual, replaced by a more serious set to the man's features. "I need that hyperdrive," he adds, before following Poe and company into the blaster-disturbed heart of one of Mos Eisley's several markets.

There's this thing about Mos Eisley's open air bazaars. They're chaotic, always. Crowded, always. Loud, smelly, dusty, hot, really in almost every measurable criteria, they suck. But even there, rekking pests with glowing eyes stand out. And he points, "Got him." Sure enough, waddling along the market's outskirts, a dusty little robe moves along, short little Jawa legs pumping.

Soren dashes off after the little rascal, though his beeline takes him too near those same Twi'lek dancers, and he, uh, forgets what exactly he's doing for a moment. Hat tip in the nature of 'Pardon me, Miss.'

Jawas. He runs again.

"Wrong name, Bones!" Ektor cackles at the murderous B1 droid, while limping hastily after Poe, still chuckling to himself. "Boom vrooming to the dooming rescue, yeah? Hehehe.. Wink Simmerson!"

Poe pauses outside too, spotting the dancing ladies and catching the fact that Erinn was enamored by them. "Hey, princess.. focus!" He says, clapping his hand by Erinn's ear. "Jawas.. looking for JAWAs.. --" Sorin calls it out just as Xer is emerging from the hangar announcing Poe's alias, once again! WINK SIMMERSUN!

Poe catches sight of what Sorin has and he starts running after it too, having more moderate success at chasing the little demon than the Knight. "GET BACK HERE!" Poe calls out angrily, only to earn a hate-filled squeal from the monster and a sudden blast from its handheld ion cannon. Poe wipes out on the ground, avoiding the energy donut, but the blast shattered a wicker stand and goods go everywhere, much to the chagrin of its vendor who screams obscenities in Huttese, 'UHH WAHTUHWONGA!'

"UTINIIII!" The Jawa screams, waddling around the corner of the street and hustling toward the outlying perimeter where the shadow of a tall sandcrawler looms.

So pretty.

Clap!

"GAH!" Erinn jumps, snapped out of her brief stupor by the clap directly in her ear. She glares towards Poe and gives those hands by her head a little push down. "I am looking for Jawas," she lies, the little fib accompanied by a roll of her eyes. One of the dancing Twi'leks noticed the display and tries not to giggle and, when Erinn looks up towards her again, flashes the engineer a soft and knowing wink.

Erinn coughs. "Jawas," she says, and turns to look at the crowd only to have Poe take off beside her and into that very crowd. "Wait wait wait!" she yells out, but it's too late. There's a report of an ion cannon and a sudden reflexive duck from Erinn. A bit of military training kicks in, and she drops her left hand to the holster on her thigh and retrieves her Trusty Resistance EL-718!

With Poe on the ground, she's able to spot the little sucker who shot at him and, perhaps foolishly, gives a bit of chase around that corner.

"Get back here you little digbu. I just wanna talk about engine parts!"

"Sandtank!" Ektor calls the sand crawler. "Look, Wyk, it's a santank-hahah-" The run in Tatooine's ungodly heat was bad enough without starting off laughing his breath away. "Rekk.. me.. hell.." Heaving for breath, and sweating profusely, Ektor grunts, "Arright that's it-" Hauling his blaster out, he yells between breaths, "Listen you.. little dreks... I dunno if a stun blast will kill you or not, but.. *wheeze* You keep running we gonna... we gonna find out." He's too tired to add a 'yeah?'.

Sorin's disguise suddenly becomes MUCH more convincing, as that little nametag is jostled by that run into a tumble to the ground. Now he truly is FAP ZARKINGTON, professional sand sprinter.

Picking up the pace, the Knight manages to skirt around a couple of street vendors in a matching and then eventual gaining of ground with the smelly little beast. A table upon which a handful of examples of Tatweenian gourd art is vaulted - no casualties! - and Sorin finds himself a half dozen paces behind. So close. Then five. Four. With a bodily hurl of, well, his body, the Lordling Knight ends up in a rolling scrap, fists bonking alongside a growled, "Stop. The hyperdrive, where's the /hyperdrive/ you little sand lizard."

Poe is with Xer, but by the time the two arrive, Poe has his hand on his hip with a face that says he's getting too old for this drek. They've all but left Erinn and Ser Sorin to the street, where the Jawa being assaulted screams out in panic, "UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUTINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNIIIIIIIIII!" His Ion cannon is discarded, sliding along the sand in short spirals before slowing to a halt by Erinn's feet. After being bonked and wrestled, the hooded fiend points a stinky gloved hand toward the Sandcrawler looming nearby. "UUTTT.. UTTTT... UUUTTT!" Which may have been translated to 'THERE THERE THERE!'

Over /there/ Xer's threat earns the full attention of a mob of Jawa, who drop their payload they've been lugging like a Hutt throne using spars. All of them draw weapons at once, just as Poe arrives and heaves, hands going to his knees to catch his breath. "GAH.. UGH..." Upon looking up, the ace pilot raises his hands in defeat. "Eyyyyy.. pals.. maybe.. we can work something out.. here?" The Jawas look to each other, chittering then point at the Pirate and Pilot alike, speaking in a demanding alien language that sounds rushed and hushed. Poe leans slightly toward Xer. "You speak gibberish?"

"I just want to talk engine parts! Don't run! I promise it'll be--"

Erinn Laski rounds the corner to the sight of a brutal assault! Sorin Endesea -- or Chip Weatherington or whatever his fake name was supposed to be -- has pinned a little flailing Jawa and is wailing on the little man! Laski gasps and, instinctually, lifts her pistol towards the much larger man in a panicked shot.

ZWORP!!

That stun bolt zings high and biffs harmlessly against a mud hut several feet away, knocking a few dishes up and into the air and sending the old lady drawing lines in her sand garden to shake her first towards Laski.

"Sorry!" Laski yells, though it's unclear if she's yelling it to the old lady, Sorin, or the little guy who is shouting 'UTTT UTTT UUUUTT!'.

Erinn looks at Sorin now, laughs nervously, and then turns to look at the sandcrawler that both Poe and Ektor made a bee-line for.

"...Okay!"

She runs for the crawler now, but not before tucking that blaster away. Maybe that's for the best.

Gibberish? "All the time, yeah? Gawd, I'm gonna puke." Pistol brandished like a judgy finger as he hollers at the Jawas, "Yes, US. The guys who- for now at least- OWN that thing you just stole. Which I respect, yeah? You're like.. little smelly brown half-pirates.." FOCUS, XER. "ANYWAY. Let it lie and go back to your sand tank so I ain't gotta shoot you."

Ektor does not, in fact, understand Jawa.

A stunbolt impacts that mud hut nearest Sorin's tumble-stalled body. He forcibly yet lopsidedly kicks the little Jawa away, sending the little berobed critter spinning with a wailed "UUUuuuTiiiIIIiiiNNNnnnIIIiii!" and shifts himself into a rise. Erinn's nervous laugh prompts a look of DECIDED UNCERTAINTY. A squint too. But he's next looking in that same direction, towards the sandtank rising in the near distance.

A fountain of sand is kicked at the Jawa before Sorin runs after, joining the rest of this... crew? Team? Club? His jaw's a bit slack as he looks up, beneath the shadow of that ancient CEC crawler, but his attention is quickly captured by that range of Jawas looking back. "Let me guess. It's inside."

"I meant.. do you KNOW what they're-- of course you don't.." Poe reasons with Ektor, then steps in front of him. In this time, Erinn, Ser Sorin, and the scrappy little Jawa raider have made it to the Sandcrawler. The Jawa waddles by Poe, but the smuggler grabs hold of the raider and pulls him back. "NOW.. I know what we'll trade.. cause I'm not paying credits for it. I stole that fair and square, and now.. we're gonna barter for it. This guy important?"

He holds the Jawa in place, it's struggling to fight and get away. It loses some of its gusto when none of his companions indicate him of any importance. There's an awkward silence, and the captive Jawa crosses his arms, grunting.

Poe then says, "Cool, then I guess we don't need him around.." And he reaches for his blaster. The action is enough that the whole group of Jawas move forward a step, and Poe points his fingers.. "AhhhHA.. got you. He IS important. Then you won't have any trouble with us trading him for our.. ill gotten gains?"

The jawa look between one another then huddle to chitter. Poe flashes an uncertain look toward the Knight, the Engineer, and the Ace Pirate. Would this work?

"Sure I know what they were saying," Ektor claims to Poe. "It was 'something something utinni'." Super helpful. The Tionese pirate is still lazily prepared to gun down a whole gang of Jawas, activating his shield, and trying without much success to hedge around Poe to get a clear line of sight when he thinks Wynk Simmersun is distracted.

It isn't long before Erinn Laski and Sorin have made their way to the sand crawler, as well as Poe, Xer, and the jawas. She watches the thunk of the hypderdrive onto the ground with a little wince, as well as the exchange play out between Poe and the would be hyperdrive thieves. She briefly wets her lips with her tongue and takes a step closer to it, before drawing out the S-Comp Spiker from her right thigh holster.

"Do you know what this is?" she asks the Jawa, who chitter and chatter in acknowledgement. She takes a few steps towards the Sandcrawler, with a few little utiinis of distress from the Jawa, and affixes the corded end into one of the crawler's external system arrays. The spiker makes a 'skweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeEEEE' of excitement as it builds a charge, ready to overload.

"HY. PER. DRIVE. GIVE. US. IT," she intones.

"PUH. LEASE."

Poe receives a look back. Would it work? Ser Sorin certainty has no idea, but he's more than a believer in the old maxim: when an expensive hyperdrive is sitting upon the sand, simply pick it back up. The rest would fall into place, assuredly. ASSUREDLY. Right?

He begins walking towards that illegitimately... no, no, no... totally above-board and quite legal standard-rated hyperdrive. He passes a handful of Jawas, slowing long enough to point back to Poe's captive clan member. He runs a finger along his neck, the ol' intergalactic code for MURDER. Reaching the drive and its carrying contrivance, he looks to the nearest Jawas. "Anyone give me a hand here? This thing looks heavy." Then to the rest of his temporary little band herre. "Uh, this thing looks heavy!"

Is it working? He looks once again to those Jawas he now stands amidst and draws that finger across his neck once again. "Got it?!" A little louder, "I think they get it. Maybe. Probably, right?"

The Jawas feel pressured into a deal, because a pirate is trying to get line of sight to murder them, a friend of theirs is held captive, an engineer is threatening to blow up their sandtank, and this Knight just reclaimed something they set down; LAW OF ACQUISITION 101: Gear adrift is gear a gift.

The Jawas lower their weapons and try to CALM ERINN DOWN to save their sandtank. Several of them waddle toward the Hyperdrive to help the Knight with carrying it back, and Poe releases his captive and smirks. "Ah, see, that wasn't so bad. Sometimes.. violence IS the answer."