Star Wars: Outlaws

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"Once we're certain where they'll try to hit us next, we'll set up the asteroid traps in those locations, as per our usual strategy, and obliterate them. Before they can react, we'll strike at the minor holdings in Hutt space while a few of our agents head for Nal Hutta and Nar Shadda to stir up trouble. This will no doubt draw focus from our outer rim movements, where we can move with impunity."

Lysa stared at the map of the galaxy before her, clusters of stars and faint arrows hovering above a beautifully furnished chamber. The consortium had come a long way since its creation, the first meetings cramped on board the Tiberius seemed like ages ago from the comfortable housing of their state-of-the-art space station. "And that's when you'll hit Tatooone?" Lysa spoke to the imposing man on the opposite side of the table, his long, white hair flowing down to his shoulders.

"Of course, Jabba will never see me coming."



"Sto-!" Lysa gasped as she snapped out of her slumber, sweat sticking her hair to her face and neck. The captain took a moment to breathe in order to calm herself, matching her breath to the rhythm of the Kepla's engine. The fact that she woke up on her own accord without her cybernetics alerting her meant that the ship must still be in hyperspace, or that someone had broken the navicomputer, again.

With a groan, Lysa began her "morning" routine with a few stretching exercises while she ran a pre-programmed diagnostic on her cybernetics. Sometimes, she did it even though she knew she shouldn't. Even on a daily basis, she could feel the disparity in her body taking its toll. Her mechanical parts metaphorically tugging on the aging pieces of her that just wanted to go back to bed. Today was one of those days, giving Lysa a good reason to reach for her private stash of alcohol earlier than usual.

With a little shock to the system giving her a spring in her step, Lysa got dressed and pulled out the notes she had for the crew's new job. "Ah, yes, the Scrapheap..." Lysa nodded to herself as she went over the details of what she had planned, the Kepla had a streak of bad luck on the job front, flying around for a couple of weeks with little to do beyond cargo-hauling just to keep the ship fueled. However, once Lysa found work...it was a doozie.

Flicking on the intercom she kept by her desk, Lysa made a ship-wide announcement. "Rise and shine everybody, meeting in the galley in ten minutes." Captain Estor heard her voice echo about the ship before flicking the intercom back off, smiling as she thought about what the others would think over their newest mission.

Twi'wa, or Luna, as she preffered to be called by the rest of the crew, save for her father; got up out of bed as she usually did form living most of her life on Tatooine. That was to say, she got up and was already teeming with energy; there's not much time to waste when you're scavenging and working on robots. She made sure she didn't hit her head on the bunk above her, then pulled down her goggles. She slept with them on as they were somewhat of a comfort to her, as well as the scent of her father nearby.

Standing up, her entire face was blackened, save for the small reflections of her eyes from the lights of the ship. the only thing hanging out of her hood were her lekku's, which were covered in black cloth. pulling her little pit bot out from underneath her bunk, she tapped it's eye to 'wake it up' so to say. She checked on her father, to make sure he was still alright, then after a few more beeps and whistles, the two of them were off.

The duo arrived at the galley and Luna took a seat, letting the little robot pick up her usual food. While bubbles was fetching her the usual dried meat and cup of water, she fetched the can of lubricant on her belt. Bubbles returned, setting down the food as Luna flipped open a little hatch on his 'head' and poured a bit of lubricant into it. She closed it and the little bot sat across from her.

Then proceeded what was probably another entry in Luna's series of oddest scenes in the galaxy as Luna enjoyed her breakfast while whistling and beeping, clicking as well, holding a conversation with bubbles. Laughter drifted out of the galley as she and her little bot were able to hold a fairly structured conversation in droidspeak. It had taken a while, but was totally worth it to get bubble's capabilities to this point in luna's opinion.

Saalia sat up from her bunk absentmindedly scratching where her skin met the metal on her face. It was something the quacks on even Nar Shadaa and warned her away from doing, and for the first few years she had 'em, she did. Now it was normal routine: sit up, scratch metal eye, grumble, and float through the day on the hopes for some credits and a chance to blast some poor Imp bastard in ass before bedtime. Not really something important in the grand scheme of things but Saalia was happy.

After running her the system check on the cybernetic parts and happy her cybernetic liver was still going strong, Saalia yawned and pulled on her boots. Still enough time to get some grub before the captain get's all antsy. She thought jogging towards the dining hall. Less than a few minutes later Saalia arrived in the galley, chewing a piece of dried bantha and a glass of water in her hand.

Malak was sleeping peacefully on his bunk bed until the alarm was ringing in his ear for him to wake up, though usually louder then normal. Jumping up frighten as he calms down a bit. Being a Jawa he was a bit easily to scared. Climbing down from his bunk bed he and his daughter shared as he see that she was already gone. Smiling as he always found her youthful energy amusing. He never really found any of the other Jawas so eager to get to work.

He pull his cloak above his head and set out to see where his daughter would be. Heading towards the mess hall as it seem the likely spot for her to be in at this hour. When walking into the galley he found her eating and chatting with that bot of hers. Sighing, he never understood why she kept that thing around.

He grab his food as he goes to the table his daughter is at. "Good morning Twi'wa " He said in Jawaese to her as he sits down beside her. "Why do you still keep that bot around? It's so old and useless. He was always telling her. Though in truth he didn't mind to much as he does it to tease her some. "We can get you a better one now. One that doesn't mess with my alarm!" He accuse the droid of doing.

Zanoo was already awake when the announcement sounded over the coms. He'd made a habit of rising early to get some manner of food ready by the time most of the crew were getting up.

Today it was soup. This in itself was another sign that the Keplar wasn't exactly raking in the credits at that very moment. Soup was a good way to get a lot of milage out of dwindling supplies. It was good soup at least though. That's what counts. It was almost ready too. Needed just a little something else though, he thought, sniffing at it and trying a little bit.

A bit more spice perhaps? Looking around and finding the spice he was looking for not on the kitchen top, he headed to the dining room via the lift tube to grab the container from the table there. Upon his return to the galley, he noted that a few of the crew had since arrived.

"Good morning! Sleep well, yes?" he asked cheerfully, before turning his attention back to the pot of soup and adding the missing spice, stirring it through the mixture. "Want soup, anyone? Fresh made!"

Startup Sequence Initiated.....DONE

TAU-809 Beta Operating Bystem (Version 29.087)

Original Programmer: BRB

Current Operator: Sys-Admin

System Status: 87.14% Functional
Armor Status: GOOD
Mobility Status: GOOD
Generator Status: GOOD
Weapon Status: GOOD

Bug Report Compiling.....

The glow of Bob's eyes switched on According to his sleep mode sensors, he had been called into duty from his bed. Yes, odd as it was, the droid 'slept' in a bed, which - if asked - he would explain was in case of a faulty patch regarding his sleep mode balance actuators, meaning that he did not like to fall down. The skull-faced robot awoke from a bed with small parts and wires on it. As per necessity, Bob-809 was a tinkerer in the robot condition because he knew his systems to be somewhat...less than peak condition.

Here's an example: During a personal mission - before reaching the Kepla - Bob had been commissioned to negotiate with a group of mercenaries 'with extreme prejudice'. Any normal person or combat droid would immediately pick up on the notion that he is to go in there and kill everyone. Bob walked in, armed to the teeth, and proceeded to explain that he was the negotiator and that everyone in there was a brainless prick. Fortunately, that started a gunfight and he quickly realized his error and killed all the mercenaries without mercy, but the POINT was that he had a logic error at the time.

Still, he made his way out to the galley out of habit, setting down his rifle on a table before performing a check on it. As a combat droid, malfunctioning or not, he had to make certain that his weapons were in full working order. And, as a result, Bob's arsenal functioned better than HE did. During this time, the only thing that actually got his attention was Luna's conversation with Bubbles, her personal droid. For a brief moment, he turned and entered the conversation.

The question is...do droids appreciate the subtleties of humor?

Narissa got up as soon as she heard the announcement. It would have been surprisingly quick...if she hadn't already been up for the last half hour, just lazing about in bed. Motivation, she found, was hard to have when you couldn't really do your job. No use for a navigator when there was not really any place to navigate to.

Running a hand through her short hair, Narissa pulled on her robe in a smooth motion, tying it through reflex as her mind went elsewhere. This ship, she thought for not the first time, is much better than- She cut herself off mid-thought. That was the past, of a weak-willed girl with more front than brains or pride. She was not that girl any more.

Heading to the galley, she averted her eyes from the group, subconsciously rubbing her arm over a particularly large scar. It wasn't that she expected anyone to betray her. She just felt she...didn't quite belong. She was younger than much of the group, with a totally different background. She knew her position was necessary, so she stayed. She knew there was nowhere else to go, so she stayed. She didn't stay out of any sense of companionship, however. She wasn't sure if anyone could be trusted to even know her past and not judge her, or worse, pity her. And if she couldn't trust them to know her past, how could she trust them with her future?

Frann was awake. "Another of those days crew?...", said without expecting an answer. Then yawned, pretty loud if you ask anybody. One of the perks of having a job is knowing you're in the crap that you choose. That feeling, being free of doing nothing and the choice of following a leader out of respect (and credits), gave him strenght, so he got up pretty quickly one he stoped yawning.

"Morning crew", said tho the rest of his companions on the bunks, again, he didn't expect an answer. Energy in something you don't expect at those hours. He was particulary fond of watching Bob, who as a droid shouldn't have a choice, but he does.

After some refreshment he went to the galley. Then Zanno came, and with soup! Best morning ever. "I'll eat that, thanks."

Lysa strolled into the galley soon after everyone else had already entered and gotten their breakfast, exactly ten minutes after her announcement. Refusing an offering of soup for the moment, the captain placed a holoprojector on the table in the middle of the room.

"I know some of you have been waiting for some good work for a while, and you might be pleased to know that I've finally found a good bundle of them. However, before I begin this briefing, I want everyone to know that I'm not going to tolerate itchy trigger fingers or 'being out of practice'; is that clear?" Lysa let that hang in the air for a moment, wanting to get her point across, but not really needing an answer. "Okay, then let's begin."

With a flick of a small remote Lysa held in her hand, she turned the holoprojector on, bringing up the image of a large space station. Built around an asteroid, the station appeared to be made up of pieces of a Confederacy of Independent Systems fleet. Most noticeably were two pairs of "pincers" from old Lucrehulk Battleships jutting out of opposite ends of the station. "This is the 'Grand Fortress of Lord Grato', commonly refered to as 'Scrapheap' when out of said Lord's earshot. Grato is a Neimoidian who found he had a bit of wealth left after some careful investments during the Clone Wars. Over the years he's carved himself a nice little criminal organization in the sector, thanks to this..."

Lysa flicked the remote again and the rotating image of the station changed to that of a Venator-class Star Destroyer, one in rather poor condition. Several pieces of it had been torn away, replaced by shoddy scaffolding. The most glaringly obvious missing piece was the port-side of the bow, which looked like a giant bite had taken out of the vessel. "The Broken Bow, I think you can all see where it got its name, is Grato's pride and joy. Its the centerpiece of the fleet he's made to control trade within the sector, which has pissed off pretty much everyone. Destroying this ship is our first job, which we'll do at the same time we're tracking down this person..."

Another flick, a new image, this one of a female human dressed in ragged clothing with a blaster rifle at her back. "'Amelia Torsa', at least, that was her name, used to be a part of a local resistance group, which is actually gaining some good traction in their fight against the Empire. However, through some means that don't add much to this story, they came to realize that she is an imperial spy. But, before they could catch her, she fled with a datachip detailing most of their undercover operations and their bases. If she manages to get that chip into the right hands, the resistance here will be completely wiped out, which is where we come in. She's gone to Scrapheap, either to find a way to get out of the sector or to meet up with an imperial contact, and we need to kill her and get the datachip back before she slips away."

Lysa changed the floating image back to Scrapheap, pointing at several specific points inside the image. "The station is divided into two sections, a 'military side' and a 'civilian side'. We'll dock at the civilian port on this side, and while one team tracks down the spy, another will work their way through the military side to the military port, where the Broken Bow is undergoing repairs. Then, the Tracker Team will take down the spy in a manner that can't be traced to a specific party, and the Sabotage Team will either destroy the Broken Bow outright or cripple it beyond repair, whichever is possible."

The captain took a breath as she let the information sink in, letting the blue-tinted image of Scrapheap continue to hover over them. "I assume there are questions?"

"Just one." Narissa spoke up, with a fairly deep voice that was a bit scratchy from its lack of use. "Where, exactly, is this ship located? I'm assuming you want a stealthy path there, and I need to know where 'there' is in order to provide one."

"Itchy trigger fingers? I only punched that guy, so it's obviously not me." Frann didn't said that out loud and let the captain finish her exposition.

"Probably we'll have to make do with nothing and discover (or make) one." Frann answered quickly, also disregarding any information avaliable. "What I want to know is where do you want me captain? I mean, I've tracked some guys before, but I can also handle explosives and I've been in these kind of stations."

"Because it's like if i asked you to replace one of the sandcrawlers father. He's one of a kind." she to her father before bob joined in. when he finished the joke, Luna and bubbles were laughing pretty hard.

A few minutes later, that's when the captain walked in.
After explaining the new job, Luna's eyes could be seen wide and energetic. She shot her hand up. "Captain! two things!" she said to her.
"I volunteer to take care of the 'Broken Bow, me, my father and my little droid could easily get access as repair workers. From that point i would be able to rig their hyperspace core to jump the ship into a sun, and jerry-rig it to explode after it drops out of the jump, so even if they shut it down, the ship would be stranded in the vastness of space without a drive." she said.

"And, Might i have a bit of time to get a few mechanical parts on the station before we start the mission? or would that be out of the question?" the 15 year old asked.

Luna and Bubbles laughed at his joke, which was good 'cause...he'd been working on that one all week thanks to an entertainer droid's conversational sub-routines.

"It was due to a recent patch. Self-programming is an interesting experience."

This was when Captain Estor walked in with today's mission.

"I know some of you have been waiting for some good work for a while, and you might be pleased to know that I've finally found a good bundle of them. However, before I begin this briefing, I want everyone to know that I'm not going to tolerate itchy trigger fingers or 'being out of practice'; is that clear?

"Stop looking at me when you say that."

His work on the friend-or-foe program was extremely good! He stayed up long after his normal recharge periods to fix that one! Anyway, the captain outlined the mission to go to a station referred to as the Scrapyard...a fact that got his attention when she mentioned a Nemoidian. One wondered... Did they have any means of controlling him? Probably not, especially if he were to destroy everything as planned. Then again, there was always the apprehension mission. Bob waited for the captain to finish before speaking.

"I can haz observation. Either of these tasks could be suited to me, dependent on how much force is needed per mission. It is possible that the chip acquisition mission is too delicate for full release, and then after it is found the burning may begin. Otherwise, security escort for the saboteurs would be better-suited. It is, of course, your sausage."

Whirrr...click-click... His head tilted to the left for a second, then he said...

"I may have meant to say 'decision'."

"I've actually already have the teams set up, but I'll note your preferences." Lysa decided to answer what questions had been put on the table in reverse order. "Luna, you'll get your wish to be on the Sabotage Team, but we don't have time to spare for you to go shopping. I can't say for sure how long both the spy and the Broken Bow will be there, and we certainly can't stay after wrecking the joint."

After taking a moment to clear her throat, Lysa thought it was high time everyone knew what team they were going to be on. "I'll be leading the Tracker Team with Frann, Zanoo, and Saalia. Sabotage Team will be Luna, Malak, BOB, and Narissa. If you lose contact with me, Narissa will be in charge on the field."

"As for your path to the ship..." Lysa clicked a button on her remote, causing the exterior of the station to fade and letting a map of the interior appear, along with the Broken Bow's position in the military port, tucked between the ends of the port's pincers. "...the open-areas of the civilian side give way to a maze of corridors crisscrossing small manufacturing plants and storage areas. It's really a map only droids can memorize. Narissa, I'll give you your own map before we leave."

Lysa paused and flipped to a video image, showing combat footage from what looked like the Clone Wars. "Now, for opposition, aside from the spy and whoever she moves between us and her." The footage seemed focused on the Confederate side of the conflict, with super battle droids, commando bots, the pathetic B1 models, and the imposing Droideka in the montage. "Grato, through whatever means, is able to use the Scrapheap as a means of maintaining a good-sized droid army, no doubt leftovers from the CIS. This is both his advantage over the other local crimelords, and his weakness, as I think Luna and Malak know best. The automation cuts down on the requirement of manpower, but any good mechanic can really throw a wrench into the works. With your talents..." Lysa nodded towards the Jawa and his adopted kin. "...even with Grato's droids in your way, you should be able to make it to the ship relatively easily."

"Our expert team can sabotage the Scraphead in minutes, but we the Tracker Team have it pretty hard." Frann leaned and put his hands together. "While the Scraphead has mostly droids as manpower, it must have a cantina, but if Torsa's a profesional she will avoid it...If she wants to get out of the sector quickly then she'll be at a private docking bay, smugglers pay extra for these all the time, she may already be on a ship in her way to the Capital World." Expected a reaction.

"If she's meeting a contact we have much better chances, slim, but better than zero. Any ideas on how to find her?"

"If i can get close to a Droideka, i should be able to subdue one and use it to cover us. And are we going to try and gain entry to the ship using cover as newly highered repairmen, or are we going to try and just sneak in?" she asked, not trying to be annoying, but just trying to understand the properties of a mission. an aspect she picked up from working with droids.

Lysa shook her head at Frann's assertion. "The civilian section of the station will have plenty of dive bars to look in, but no private docking bays. A simple spread out search method is probably our best hope of finding her, with us getting back together to make the kill. There is a slim chance we could even convince her to charter our ship for a ride out of here, but I wasn't going to hope for that."

"I'm afraid I wasn't able to get covers for this one, so you won't be able to excuse your presence in the restricted areas. Sneaking through may be your best option, but I don't want to limit you if you can find creative solutions in the field."

"Capt'n, if you could give me a layout of the docking area it'd be much appreciated. I have some tracking equipment to help us find her, it'll just need some calibrations by the hand of our dearest jawa." Said Frann, looking to the man in the hood. "I'll stay at the docks, if we are too late and indeed she altrady met her contact then I'll spot'er, 'cause sniper/spotter." Speaking as the mission was already a failure is Frann'Ko's specialty. "We may need her alive if she alredy met the imperials...worse case scenario of course." Finished with a smirk.

Narissa nodded to the captain in thanks for the message. Overhearing the last sentence, Narissa couldn't help but speak up. "If she's already met the Imperials, then she's a loose end. I don't particularly like loose ends." She paused, flushing as she felt she may have said too much. "Then again, it is ultimately the captain's decision, not mine."

Lysa shrugged as she flicked off the holoprojector, picking it up off the table. "Well, I was considering having someone stay with the ship, thanks for volunteering." The captain paused for a moment as her internal hardware sounded an alarm only she could hear, the ship was nearing its destination. "All right, anymore questions? Now is probably the best time to raise concerns or comment on the plan."



Meanwhile, at a tucked away cantina in Scrapheap...

Amelia Torsa pushed through the crowd in the "lounge" under a state of controlled panic. The datachip in her pocket felt like it weighed tons, and the girl couldn't help but look over her shoulder every few minutes. She came to this pile of scum disguised as a space station to disappear, only to find out the local resistance hadn't given up the chase.

Sitting at a small table with a Rodian that didn't appear to want to be bothered, Amelia mixed a gulp with a gasp right before speaking. "You know a good place to find Royal Ale south of Naboo?"

The Rodian grumbled as he pushed a bottle to the side. "Only if you're willing to drink Gungan piss...what do you want?"

"I need a ship, something fast." Amelia spoke in a hushed tone, only barely trusting her newly identified comrade. "It doesn't have to get me far, just to a good sized garrison. Hell, even a patrol ship would do!"

The Rodian coughed as he took another swig from his drink. "You've got some hot cargo, lady, too hot for my connections. You're better off just chartering a ride back to civilization and finding your way home from there."

"Don't you think I tried?! Everyone here are just thugs looking for good credits, and with the..." Amelia spoke in an even lower voice. "...bounty...on me, they'll just lop my head off the first chance they get. I've thought about hijacking a ride, but I haven't found anyone who looked weak enough to rip off!"

"That's what you get when you come to a criminal haven, missy. Sorry if you bungled your first job, but maybe you'll get stuck in a never-ending observation job when you get reassigned, we can swap stories."

"It's my head on the line here! Either I come back with the datachip or I don't come back at all! Can't you do anything to help?"

The alien sighed as he did his best to roll his sparkly eyes. The Rodian pulled out a small piece of paper and scribbled an address on it. "Head to Residential Block 1B and go to that apartment. Tell the guy who answers that Botai sent you. Plead your case to them and whatever happens, happens." As Amelia nodded and started to leave, but the Rodian, Botai, grabbed her wrist. "You probably shouldn't mention how much you're worth to some people, might give them bad ideas."

"Just one last thing on the topic of the spy." She said thinking. "She knows she's in deep shit. So maybe offering a hand to "grab onto" so to say might be of a more wise choice instead of hunting her down. If she's not already left, and is undoubtedly looking for a way off the station. Tricking her might be our best bet." Luna commented. "But that's just my two credits."

Bob's arm raised when the captain asked for anyone to voice concerns. Well, he had them.

"Droideikas and the like are not an issue. However, there is a small chance of recognition by signficantly influential Nemoidians. There are no known operation passwords as far as I know, but it would not be unheard of to have a failsafe mechanism. One valid reason for leaving Nemoidia was to avoid the possibility of such an outcome. It may be wise for my auditory functions to be off at certain junctures."

What he was aying was that he intended to avoid the fuzz, or possibly kill them. Hey, he wa sonly thinking of the team.

"Also, it would not be hard for me to access a patrol droid's sub-routines for a map and programming once I destroy one."

Saalia smiled and crossed her hand behind her head as she leaned back in her seat at the table. "Only one captain, any preference on how you want the spy disposed of? Airlock, cooling vent, shoddy railing on a ledge? Chances are we'll have them all at our disposal." She asked thinking back to one of her early days on Nar Shadaa. Some poor schtta thought it would be a good idea to steal from a crime lord. He learned it was a better idea to stay away from the railing at the edge of the docks.

"Luna, Saalia, I'm leaving all of our options open. Once we find this woman we will deal with her in the most expedient way possible, without directly connecting ourselves to the crime. The whole point is to keep the Empire from getting too nosy about one of their agents disappearing."

Lysa gently tapped the side of her head to quiet another alarm. "BOB, I'm sure Grato doesn't have an entourage of Nemoidians, here or anywhere. Rumor has it his dependence on droids has made him paranoid, so he doesn't like keeping close company." Lysa shrugged before continuing. "Regardless, I'd rather we not sacrifice your ability to hear orders on some slim chance that Grato is actually aware of your existence."

Coincidentally, right as Lysa finished speaking, the ship began to decelerate, giving everything not bolted down a slight push towards the bow. Taking a stance to steady herself without something to hang on to, Lysa delivered her new orders. "Narissa, bring the ship into dock with Scrapheap, you shouldn't have trouble getting clearance. Just remember, its real name is the 'Grand Fortress of Lord Grato'. Malak, Luna, prep our commlinks in the technical bay. Everyone else, get your gear ready." With that, the captain was the first out the door.

Narissa nodded, standing up and heading to the comm system. "'Grand Fortress of Lord Grato', this is the 'Kelpa' requesting permission to dock," she said, lowering her voice further to disguise any lingering femininity. She'd found that people were more willing to take requests from men rather than women, unless they were looking at said woman. As she spoke, she made sure her knife was on her hip, just in case she had to make it off of the ship quickly.

Frann waited until everyone was out. "See ya' later!" After the back of the last of his ship mates was lost he checked his equipment.

"Sensors, binoculars, sniper rifle, repeating barrel, hold-out pistol, hidden vibroblade... maybe a couple of concussion grenades... yeah, why not? What else... snacks?" Hoping the great living force listen to his mumbling, he headed for the cookies jar. It was empty. "Oookay time to work."

Took a map put the sensors on strategical places, took a couple of hours, and waited on the only blind spot, near the Kepla. "I wonder how this piece of junk can move at all."

Frann looked for his holocomm. "The sensors are in place, our fearless leader. She can't come here without alerting at least two sensors." There was something else to say. "Bring cookies goodbye."

Malak groan about his daugther reasons for keeping the bot but didn't make any more comment about it. He was to busy enjoying his food while the others talk about the mission. Not really saying anything other then the nod or grunt of approval due having his mouth full. Though he stop once he heard his daugther curse as he gets up on his feet and smack her up along the side of her head.

"I didn't raise you to be a potty mouth little one...

He never like it when his daugther was put into dangerous positions but that was part of the job. Plus she seem to enjoy helping the others. He could never really say no to her when giving him those puppy dog eyes when asking his permission for something. Though he could tell he needs to keep her away from some of the crew as he was sure she was picking up their bad language and manners.

Luna rubbed her head from the hit, not liking when her father did that. "owww... i wasn't being disrespectful... you know i'd never do that..." she complained to her father before nodding towards the captain. "Yes Ma'am." she said, her mood being dampened. "You coming father?" she asked him, getting up and heading to the tech bay.

"Aye Captain." Saalia said with a nod as she stood from her chair. She chuckled as Malak smacked his surrogate daughter upside the head. Not that she didn't like the girl, quite the opposite. She just found the notion of a Jawa being anything other than curious little busy bodies funny. She stepped from the room and made a bee-line for the crew cabins. There she grabbed her coat and her knife from beneath her pillow.

After strapping it to her boot she headed towards the crew storage. She grabbed her blaster belt from the locker and buckled it in place. Was she the most armed of the crew? Far from it. Bt she knew she was one of the best shots on board. Didn't need fire power when one well placed blaster shot will do. With a last pat down to make sure she had everything, Saalia left the crew storage to meat up with the Captain.

Malak finish his meal as he nods "Of course I would never let you off to dangerous places by yourself without me beside you." Getting up from the table as he follow his daughter to the tech bay to prepare for the up coming mission. Though on the way there he sense her mood dampered and sigh. "Now Twi'wa...I didn't hit you that hard on your head...I could barely reach you anyways.. He half jokes with her as he makes fun how short he is to her. Hoping to get a small laugh out of her.

She chuckled a little, but it didn't help her mood too much. *sigh* "You can't protect me forever father. I'm not setting out on my first scavenging in a sand crawler. I'm also not a little girl... i just don't understand why you treat me like when i was smaller than you..." she said to him as they got the lab and set about connecting up the comms for both teams.
connecting to each person on the job, she'd test their connection. "Come in, testing, 123, testing." she'd say.

"BOB, I'm sure Grato doesn't have an entourage of Nemoidians, here or anywhere. Rumor has it his dependence on droids has made him paranoid, so he doesn't like keeping close company. Regardless, I'd rather we not sacrifice your ability to hear orders on some slim chance that Grato is actually aware of your existence."

"That is an acceptable assessment. Mission parameters set."

Formulating plans of attack - because obviously he was the point-droid to aim at the enemy, Bob went off to retrieve his equipment from storage, which included his many-times tinkered with repeater. Oddly, the droid was heard uhhh...caterwauling for a moment when he got it. That said, he was back with the Jawas - Yes, his recognition program regarded Luna as a Jawa. - in preparation to leave the ship.

DIRECTIVES:

{1} Complete Mission.
{2} Protect Crew.
{3} Steal droid protocols.
{4} Never Assault An OCP Official.
{5} Maintain Guise Of Innocence.

The last directive was the most confusing one.

"Hey now..you may becoming a young woman. But you still are that cute little baby I found on the ship. I can't help but want to protect you my little one. " . He call her little one for a nickname. Knowing it got on her nerves a bit being treated like she was still a child. He reach out and grip one of her hands and pat it. Smiling within his hood as he lets go and help her test out the comms.

"Besides...one two three" he said inbetween testing out the comms. "I'm suppose to make your life miserable. Just like any other father would." He nudge her playfully as he chuckles lightly. Hoping she knew that he did care for her but also wanted to protect her from the dangerous of the universe. Even as a baby she was already in danger of being own by a crime boss.

He didn't trust anyone to watch over his daughter beside himself. If anyone try to hurt her they would pay dearly, even if he was a passives like many other jawas.

Zanoo retrieved his gear from his locker as everyone went to get their respective equipment. It was pretty simple. His vibroknife and blaster pistol, plus his little chemkit and datapad. Simple tools, but all very useful.

"This Zanoo. Read you clear." he replied to Luna's comms test.

Along with his chemkit, he'd also brought along a little box from his locker and held it out towards the others. "Have few stims if want. Go easy, not too many in box right now." He pocketed an adrenal stim for himself, just in case he needed it.

In-retrospect: "Stims? No thanks, the kick is great, but the mini-hangover after the effect is kinda' lethal in the middle of a fight." After a bit of thought Frann asked: "Do you have something edible?" The twi'lek puts too much trust in Zanno's cooking, even when he's a known drug mixer.

He waited patiently in the ship until everyone was out to start his mission.

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