Session export: Have you tried power cycling?
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The station was so out of the way, it did not even bear a name, only a designation: LP RT-09. It was a Lagrange station between some celestial body and a dead planet somewhere in the Unknown Regions.
As the long range ship comes in for docking, metal on metal squealing fills the space. The officer on deck drills his eyes into the back of the pilot.
Asher’s blinked a pair of groggy eyes at the noise, looking around through the viewport to ascertain where they had come to stop. LP TT-09, a large sign displayed along the exterior wall of the way station.
“Hmph.” He grunted, noting the unhelpful words.
The squealing was soon replaced by a rumbling as blast doors rolled across the hangar entrance. The freighter cut its engines, ticking and hissing as it relaxed.
Through the corridors of the ship, a lone mouse droid was zipping lazily. A hologram hung above it indicating that the ship was parked for minor checks. Crew to take respite as needed
“No, you have to use one of the cards in your hand.” Mao’han rubbed his weary eyes as he propped his head up on his hand.
Sitting across from him, a dingy looking pit droid muttered a short round of chitters as he fumbled through a handful of Pazaak cards.
“No, the point is to stay below twen- Wow, you really don’t get this game, do you?”
Looking up from his cards, Skrunch shook his domed head.
With a sigh, the Clawdite dropped his own cards on the table as he stood up to stretch. “Alright, forget it; I need a drink.” Reaching into his coat, Mao’han retrieved his flask, giving it a dissatisfied shake as soon as he realized it was dry.
Letting out another sigh, the pirate peeked at the rest of his crewmates from the corner of his eye; From what he had seen so far, he and Scrunch were the only non-Imperial members aboard, even among the pilots and mech techs. It was generally considered good advice to steer clear of the Empire in criminal circles, and years of practice always made him wary around them; Still, he had come to find that as long as he did what they paid him to do, the Imps treated him well enough.
Realizing he was still holding the empty flask, Mao’han tucked the container back into his coat as he turned to disembark the recently landed ship. “C’mon, Skrunch! Let’s go find some booze.”
The landing ramp was belching steam, tendrils rising to obscure the ceiling. All the walls looked plain and a single opening was directly in front of the ship nose.
In fact, the nose appeared to be sparking, having crushed the sign indicating the lift into the station.
In the cockpit of the craft, the aforementioned officer was now slapping the pilot over the head with their service cap and bellowing profanity to make a Sith blush.
Taking a moment to bask in the glory of the legendary piloting skills of the Imperial Navy, the Clawdite shook his head. “And they wonder why they lost the war,” Mao’han said, looking down to his droid beside him as the pair made their way onto the turbolift.
Turbolift was a broad overstatement. As the pair enter the vestibule assumed to be the lift car, Mao'han sees rust, rust and a suspicious rainbow fluid pooling to one side. No controls or means of movement are evident nor does a door spring forth to seal the car.
“Ew,” Mao’han said, grimacing at the oozing liquid. “What kind of mudscuffing Hutt-hole have they brought us to, Skrunch?” A tug on his sleeve pulled his attention away from the puddle to the droid chittering away at his side. “Huh?”
Letting his arms fall as he realized he had been ignored, Skrunch leveled a stare on the pirate that Mao’han had come to know as a glare.
“Don’t start, I was looking for a way to get this deathtrap moving!”
Pointing to the metal beneath their feet, Skrunch chirped.
Yellow slit eyes stared down at the droid in confusion. “I don’t follow…”
Rolling his head in frustration, Skrunch began jumping in the lift.
“Stop that!” Mao’han snapped, reaching a hand out to the rust-ridden wall.
tap, tap, tap
The sound of small metal on metal echoed through the vestibule.
This station feels very empty Asher thought to himself ..and so apparently, his eyes now on the fool and his droid, is his brain.
The pirate somehow looked at home – or at least like he belonged – among all the station’s decay. Asher asked his Deshade supervisor why Mao’han had been hired by the Empire, but only so loud enough that the two of them could hear it.
<@111293136042504192>
Another goose chase. Dr. Jenkins really needs to let someone else study those star charts.
Sanguis Caldiren sighed, the Nagai rubbing his aching temple in frustration. For weeks now, he and the lead archaeologist of Acclivis Draco’s research team had been studying and exploring the star charts within Havoc Base’s ruins in hopes of discovering new artifacts and resources. However, the searches had been in vain three times, wasting both Imperial and House resources. He would have a long conversation with Dr. Jenkins upon his return.
“My lord, we’re coming out of hyperspace. We’ll be arriving at that station from before, and we’ll need to refuel.”
“Very well, pilot. Take us in. I could use some time to stretch my legs anyway.”
“Of course, my lord. Taking the shuttle in.”
Sanguis sighed again before forsaking his seat to join the pilot in the cabin of the imperial shuttle. His amber gaze fixed upon the station, the Quaestor already considering precautions as he tapped one of his lightsaber hilts on his hip. He’d prefer a straight route homeward, but alas, the trip’s costly use of fuel hindered him. Another waste and expense.
Perhaps I can distract myself for a bit before returning to the demands awaiting me at Havoc Base. Let’s see what’s in store.
Before long, after receiving approval to land, the shuttle found its perch. With the pilot handling the issue of refueling with the hangar crew, Sanguis strolled off the ramp to explore.
Drethak kept his eyes on the pit droid as it continued bouncing against the rusted floor. His expression hardly changed at Asher’s question, though his gaze briefly shifted toward him.
“Because he is useful. The Empire does not need everyone working for it to be respectable. It needs them to get the job done. Mao’han has skills and connections that are useful in places where an Imperial uniform tends to cause more problems than it solves.”
Drethak folded his arms across his chest, his attention returning to the pirate. “Useful does not mean trustworthy. For now, Mao’han provides more value than problems, and that is enough. If that ever changes, so will his place in Imperial service.”
Another tap echoed through the empty station as Skrunch continued trying to coax some kind of response from the lift. Drethak glanced around at the rusted walls and questionable machinery surrounding them before looking back toward Asher.
“Besides, I am beginning to think Mao’han may be the least of our problems here.”
Lighting flickered and a dull groan rattled through the hangar. The space seemed to tilt, a strong pull towards the port side.
The lift began to move, grinding sideways in small jagged movements.
And so did the ship, sparks showering from its nose as it ground along the hangar wall above the group in the vestibule. Deep gouges and more sparks appeared beside the landing struts as they slid.
Sýrra walked about the strikingly large vessel with a data pad in hand, logging the state of various departments and areas of the space craft.
“K-9SN, list the remaining sectors we need to log from highest priority to lowest,” Sýrra spoke in her heavy, Rylothian accent.
The droid behind her took and moment to process the request.
“From highest priority in sector B… the personnel lifts, the loading bay, the community market, and the Cantina.” The looming jet black droid responded.
“We shall make our way to the lifts then,” the Twi’lek stated as she made her heading that way, her droid following suit when all of the sudden the ‘ground’ beneath them shifted with a creaking of metal.
Sýrra stumbled for a brief moment before regaining her balance, K-9 not even faltering in his balance.
“What was that?” She asked.
Accessing a nearby utility data station, K-9 began messing with it’s controls, appearing to be searching for information. “Searching…” the droid spoke, “Something appears to have altered our level heading. Several malfunctions are detected within the hanger bay.”
“Let’s go,” Sýrra ordered and began making haste towards the hangar, K-9SN not far behind.
The floor continues to tilt, sending the Gozanti slamming into the wall. Sparks flew from its port fin as it took the brunt of the impact.
A short dull hum signaled the crew had finally engaged the mag locks much too late.
Over at the vestibule, Mao'han and Skrunch barely make it out of the way. The semicircular “lift” slid out of sight as the entire wall moved with it.
Diving out of the chute, the pirate tumbled across the slanted floor, slamming into the wall beneath him. “Dank Farrik!” Mao’han winced, clutching his shoulder. The sound of clanging metal snapped his slit eyes open as Skrunch bounced toward him. “Nononono-!”
WHAM
The vestibule rang with the sound of the impact, followed by the shouted profanities of a furious Clawdite. “I TOLD YOU TO STOP JUMPING!” Mao’han screamed, yanking the droid up by his domed head. “I TOLD YOU!” Tossing the pit droid, Skrunch wailed as he bounced against the corner where the wall met the floor.
Mao’han forced himself to take a breath, looking up at the now sloped room above him. “Well, this is just great…”