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faithofthefallen2016-01-03 10:32 am
darthexedo) wrote in faithofthefallen2016-01-03 10:32 am
Enter a Spectre
"You may wish to strap in, my lord, this could be a short trip." Ruane pulled his own straps around his shoulders and snapped them in place as he deftly maneuvered the Grinning Spectre around satellites and slower moving traffic.
Nuro climbed into the co-pilot's seat and leaned forward to tap at the display. "I thought you said you've flown here before." Ahead of them, Coruscant loomed. Up close and definitely not a holorecording. The visible defenses were more intimidating than Nuro had given the Republic credit for.
"I have. Once. We weren't exactly worried about being arrested at that point. Darth Malgus was causing a bit of scene at the Jedi Temple at the time." Ruane slowed the freighter and reached for the comm. "I guess we'll see how good my impersonation of a Republic accent is."
Nuro tucked his lekku closer around him. His face was still colored with bruises and he gave Ruane an irritated look. "Well, don't look at me, I contributed a smuggler that would have gotten us past this."
"He ran off before I could even raise his pay, my lord." Ruane thumbed the comm and plastered on a wide smile. "Coruscant Control, this the Grinning Spectre out of Nar Shaddaa, requesting permission to land at the Senate Spaceport." He held up a hand to silence Nuro, watching the comm tensely.
"What's your cargo, Grinning Spectre?" The voice on the other end sounded bored and Ruane couldn't blame him. He'd probably had this same conversation several times already today.
Ruane actually grimaced. "Hutt kindness and generosity." A cargo hold that was even questionably full of air, much less anything of value. "Gotta belly full of holes patched with mesh tape, buddy. Some kriffin' pirate decided to make off with everything that wasn't bolted down. We're here to see Jedi Phinea and make repairs."
"Here to see a Jedi, right." Ruane didn't need to see the traffic controller's face to note the disbelief. It was clear even over the ship's second-or-third-hand comm. "Names, please?"
Ruane made a face. "Cap'n Folen Tirise. My first mate is Nuro. And I don't give a kriff about the Jedi, I just wanna get this bucket of bolts flying straight again. She ain't in the air, I ain't getting paid. My first mate wants to see her. Twi'lek business, I dunno."
Nuro scowled and barked out, loud enough to be heard over the comm, "Stoopa!" Despite his strong Kaas accent when speaking Basic, he spoke Huttese with an almost-convincing Nar Shaddaa accent.
Ruane could feel tendrils of the Force brushing against his neck and he made a cutting motion across his throat as he gave the Sith a stern look. Now was not the time for Sith temper. How to explain, with an open comm, that he'd counted on just that reaction from the Twi'lek Sith Lord? "Look, buddy, can we land or do I need to get the escape pod ready? We ain't got all day if you know what I mean." They really didn't. He'd been monitoring the situation in the cargo hold, and sooner or later the patches were going to give way completely. They were already straining the temporary shields just to keep a seal on the cargo hold door to prevent loss of atmosphere.
"Docking bay three, and have your identification ready for inspection upon entry." The operator sounded less bored, which made Ruane wince, but also less suspicious, which gave him a glimmer of hope.
Ruane decided to push his luck one more time. "Look, I got identification but my first mate don't. Busted him outta some work detail on Nar Shaddaa, okay? You can talk to the Jedi. He's tellin' me she's some kinda family."
"It may take time. We would have to ask you to remain with your ship while we follow up."
Ruane feigned outrage. "Can you believe this, Nuro? Leave a planet for a while, an' come back to suspicion all around. A kriffin' Imperial boarding party is sounding downright friendly right now."
Nuro, for his part, seemed to have caught on to the fact that it was an act. He crossed his arms, shooting the comm an insolent, stormy look, and muttered, "Jee ritke banag bai neu mah whokena." Louder, he added, "Stoopa."
There was the reaction Ruane was hoping for. The controller sounded exasperated now. "Captain Tirise, just have some identification. We'll sort the rest out later. Docking bay three."
"You got it." Ruane reached to turn the comm off, then gave a relieved sigh. "My lord, you may wish to contact Jedi Phinea from the passenger compartment and let her know we're about to land and that she may be contacted by security forces later. I suspect Lord Iqbal and whoever else owned this ship ran it less than legal. We shouldn't have gotten quite that warm of a welcome."
"Right, Captain Folen. Whatever you say." Nuro stood, giving Ruane a stern look. "I didn't realize you had a Republic identity."
"You didn't ask. You know my men and I are former Imperial Guard. I had quite a few responsibilities with the Guard. A few of which necessitated a secure Republic identity. I'm a retired Republic military officer, a pilot, and I last worked as a freighter captain out of Corellia during the conflict with the Empire. As long as the Jedi haven't gotten overly zealous with my Master's records, my acquisition of the Spectre can be explained away. Smugglers are notorious gamblers. It's one of many reasons they dislike spending any time on Dromund Kaas." Ruane winced as the ship hit the atmosphere and the hull groaned in protest. He swore he could feel pieces of metal shearing away from the holes that the pirate missiles blew into the cargo hold. "I should have properly gutted that Zabrak worm when I killed his master." His hands tightened on the controls as the ship shuddered. The Spectre listed dangerously to port, and he only just managed to get it back into its designated lane before it could collide with a mass transit speeder. "Assuming we land in one piece, we only have a few more minutes. You should probably contact Phinea, my lord."
Nuro nodded. "Try not to get us killed. I would like to get back to my master mostly intact." He started to leave the cockpit.
Ruane frowned at his back, but turned to pay attention to his flying again. "He's not who you think, my lord."
"What?" Nuro turned to glare at Ruane's back, but the Guard didn't turn back around. He let those "fingers" of Force energy curl around Ruane again, and was surprised when something rebuffed him.
"The Setekh Feraan you knew has changed. Drastically. You don't serve him anymore. You might do well to find out who you serve now, before you do anything rash." Ruane never looked back, never showed Nuro the eyes that glowed just a bit more orange as he channeled the distant power of his Master. Only made available because, clearly, they were being watched through the Force.
Nuro sounded suspicious. "Wouldn't he be mad at you for telling me this?"
"Respectfully, my lord, I keep to Imperial protocol, but I have not been subject to any Sith's whims but my Master's for a long, long time. I work with Darth Exedo out of respect and because we serve a common goal, but I am not and will never be his underling." He slowed the ship as they approached the correct docking bay. "Two minutes until we're landed and able to disembark."
Nuro stared at Ruane, eyes slitted, still suspicious, but turned away to move towards the passenger compartment and the larger holo there. He punched in the frequency quickly and recorded a message quickly, "Phinea. We've arrived and we're at the Senate Spaceport now. Once we get out of here, we'll be at the Senate cantina until you arrive. Phelan has a hankering to see how the other half lives, and I could use food that isn't over-processed mush. Meet us when you can. Nuro out."
Ruane managed to get the Spectre inside the hangar with only minor difficulty. Starboard thrusters cut out unexpectedly, and the resulting list while they were entering the hangar sheared off the sensor array. Ruane gritted his teeth. Just another piece of equipment to replace, but at least on Coruscant, they had more access to Corellian parts for the thing. He winced. He would have to contact someone to add more credits to Folan's accounts. He pushed a button on the comm, plastered on a grin, and said in a cheery voice, "Hey, listen Deryck, buddy. You know that job you owed me for? You know, the Corellian gig? Listen, I gotta collect on that debt. I know you guys are short on credits now, but it's a tough galaxy, you know? So are we all. Guy's gotta eat, ship's gotta fly, you got me? Get back with me soon." Ruane cut the transmission. As secure as they were able to make the Spectre's transmissions, he had no doubts the longer-range transmission he just made to Nar Shaddaa would be analyzed by the SIS. He only hoped that despite its destination, an Empire-affiliated research lab, that it was innocuous enough to escape too much scrutiny but specific enough for Keller to get the drift.
Behind him, a voice said softly, "The Corellian gig?" Nuro could move quietly when he wanted to, and he stood leaning against the bulkhead behind Ruane now, as the Guard gingerly set the Spectre down.
"The Emperor had an interest in elements of the Corellian war. The Jedi eliminated those elements, despite concerted efforts to shake them. Keller knows what I'm talking about. It's just to give him a frame of reference when he messages me back. Shall we?" Ruane gestured towards the cockpit exit and headed towards it himself, pausing only to tap a code into a security panel, shutting everything in the cockpit down. "Might as well get this over with. Hopefully, this identity hasn't been leaked to the Republic."
"And if it has?" Nuro gave him a hard look as he shed his robe and fussed over the spacer's leathers that Ruane had given him. He had blasters on both hips. His lightsaber was tucked away inside his jacket, out of sight. A constant, low level application of the Force kept him looking healthy, instead of the pale and corrupted creature that normally lounged about in RGS's Nar Shaddaa facility.
"If it has, then I am sure between us we will be more than a match for the security they have on hand at the moment and we can flee to the lower levels of the city to regroup. With the Force, we might even avoid a fight altogether." Ruane strapped his electrostaff to his back and a pair of blasters to his hips, then straightened his jacket and his wide-brimmed hat. "I would prefer to avoid a fight if at all possible. We didn't come here to single-handedly storm the planet. Darth Exedo is watching. If my efforts aren't enough to convince them, then a stronger application of the Force may be needed."
Nuro narrowed his eyes. "You know, this wasn't supposed to be an ordeal."
"Things change, my lord. In character now, Nuro, we don't want the stuff-shirts getting itchy, right?" The last bit was said in a close imitation of a Corellian's friendly drawl, and the Twi'lek only crossed his arms and glowered in response. Ruane gave a raucous laugh as the airlock opened and they stepped down out of the ship.
Three bored-looking security personnel were there to greet them. One was more distant, analyzing the bits of the Spectre that fell off as they entered the hangar. One, whose insignia proclaimed him to be a sergeant and the ranking member of the trio, stepped up. "Captain Tirise?"
"Come on, fellas, I retired years ago. Cap'n Folan. This is Nuro." Ruane motioned towards Nuro, whose injuries and put-out-feline demeanor only dissuaded them from greeting him at all. "What can I do for you?"
"You want to explain what happened? " The sergeant gestured towards the holes in the Spectre's underside, which had widened considerably in the descent through the atmosphere.
Ruane whistled appreciatively. "Don't make Corellian birds like this anymore, do they? Pirate got a real hankering for good Narsh adrenals. Took the whole kriffin' batch and practically left us stranded."
The sergeant winced in sympathy. "They've gotten worse since Zakuul took over. I think the Eternal Fleet has been hitting their operations."
"I know they've been makin' my life hell. Both of the kriffin' bastards. How's an honest pilot supposed to put holes in some Imps and make a couple credits when every son of a Hutt is out there waitin' to pounce? I've snuck into Imp bases an' didn't get as many blasters pointed at me as I've had in the last three days." Ruane huffed, then held out what looked at first like a credit chip. "Stuff-shirt comm-jockey said you'd need to scan this."
"Yeah, protocol. Sorry." The sergeant held up a device and scanned the chip, then his eyebrows shot up. "Sir, I didn't realize..." He looked torn, finally lowering the device and stammering, "Captain Folan, I mean. It's good to see you. I didn't realize we'd be inspecting a war hero."
"Told you, I'm retired now. Crossed blasters with enough Sith. Anything else you need, sergeant, or can we get goin'? I gotta date with a pint of ale or three and a nerfburger. Or three. I haven't decided yet. I miss real kriffin' food." Ruane winked to ease the sting of his words. "Gonna be here a while gettin' this old girl back together again, if you wanted to talk later." Something materialized next to him, possibly just having turned off a stealth generator, and Ruane reacted without thinking, as his training demanded. One moment, he was grinning, at ease with the Republic soldiers. The next, his face was devoid of any emotion as he whirled, almost too fast for even Nuro to follow, the electrostaff almost magically at a fourth soldier's throat.
The fourth soldier stood absolutely still, eyes wide, staring at Ruane's cold, strangely-colored orange eyes from inches away, as the Guard held the sharpened tip of the electrostaff to his throat. "Uh, sergeant, I, uh. I checked the damage. Story checks out."
Nuro shifted, restless. His hands fell to the blasters at his side and he looked around at everyone else. Two of the soldiers had blaster rifles pointed at Ruane. The sergeant just stood staring, startled, as if he hadn't truly seen Ruane before.
Ruane broke the spell, relaxing and pulling back the electrostaff, flicking it off and giving them a half-hearted smile at the same time. "Sorry. I'm a little jumpy. Damn Imps have an ah, interesting way of making themselves memorable, if you catch my drift. No harm meant, huh?"
"Must have really been something." The sergeant still looked uncomfortable, but he gestured to the others, and they lowered their weapons. Nuro relaxed when they did, and pulled his lekku closer around his throat. "Come on, let's go, guys. I may be back for that talk later, captain, if you don't mind. I think I want to hear more about that."
Ruane gave an uncomfortable smile, but nodded. "Not at all. I'll pour a couple pints and we can talk all you want."
The sergeant gave him a weak smile in return. "Thanks." He looked between them and said more firmly, "Welcome to Coruscant."
When they were out of earshot, Nuro said dryly, "Da doth chatpop wa kouwauevasa." That was almost a disaster.
"Reflex, buddy. You'd be jumpy too, if some crazy Sith lady and her pack of assassins had a hate-on for you. Glad that crazy manka cat's locked up. Think I'd sleep even less if she was still around. Come on, I got a date with real kriffin' meat on a bun." He clapped Nuro on the back, then led the way through the spaceport as if he'd been through it a million times before. After the second lift ride, he grinned. "This place really is somethin'. Should visited years ago. This ain't nothin' like home." They reached the lobby and he looked out at the Senate building off in the distance with a wide grin. "Ain't nothin' like home at all. Come on!"
Nuro found himself following in the big Guard's wake as he made his way towards the Senate and the market underneath it.
Twenty minutes later, they lounged in chairs with pints of Corellian ale and plates full of greasy Corellian food. Nuro ate his greedily, but Ruane only nibbled at his, washing it down with generous droughts of ale. He was working on his third refill and except for a slight flush to his cheeks, showed no more signs of of the alcohol than when they walked in. He held a few of the cantina patrons' attention as he finished a story, a wide grin on his face. "...and that, ladies an' drall, is why you don't make fun of a Sith's hat. I think I picked bits of that Hutt's stupid statue out of my ship for the next week." Laughter greeted that pronouncement and he took a long drink from his pint glass, finished it off, then winked at the bartender. "Worth it, though. Hey, how 'bout a refill, sweet thing?"
Nuro looked up from his food long enough to say with an unwilling smile, "Fa doth stoopa. Uba doth nyowkee uba doth tee poodoo." It was stupid. You're lucky you're not fodder.
"Skill, not luck." Ruane grinned at Nuro and balanced a credit chip on one finger deftly before flipping it to the bartender. "So, where's your...what? Sister? Cousin? You told her we were here, right?"
Nuro nodded. "Jee jot uen wa wankee. Ua noa-a wata, ua doth bakanu ten." I left her a message. She'll be here, she was expecting us. He did pull out his datapad, though, tapping out a text message into it as he sat there.
"Hope she's not gettin' the third degree from security. Thought I was tryin' to set down on the wrong planet for a sec. Hey, is that the Rotworms on the holo? Turn that up, I missed the game." He leaned forward, digging into his plate now as he watched the huttball game.
Nuro just shook his head and sipped at his ale. They would either escape notice or get thrown out as tourist nuisances.
Nuro climbed into the co-pilot's seat and leaned forward to tap at the display. "I thought you said you've flown here before." Ahead of them, Coruscant loomed. Up close and definitely not a holorecording. The visible defenses were more intimidating than Nuro had given the Republic credit for.
"I have. Once. We weren't exactly worried about being arrested at that point. Darth Malgus was causing a bit of scene at the Jedi Temple at the time." Ruane slowed the freighter and reached for the comm. "I guess we'll see how good my impersonation of a Republic accent is."
Nuro tucked his lekku closer around him. His face was still colored with bruises and he gave Ruane an irritated look. "Well, don't look at me, I contributed a smuggler that would have gotten us past this."
"He ran off before I could even raise his pay, my lord." Ruane thumbed the comm and plastered on a wide smile. "Coruscant Control, this the Grinning Spectre out of Nar Shaddaa, requesting permission to land at the Senate Spaceport." He held up a hand to silence Nuro, watching the comm tensely.
"What's your cargo, Grinning Spectre?" The voice on the other end sounded bored and Ruane couldn't blame him. He'd probably had this same conversation several times already today.
Ruane actually grimaced. "Hutt kindness and generosity." A cargo hold that was even questionably full of air, much less anything of value. "Gotta belly full of holes patched with mesh tape, buddy. Some kriffin' pirate decided to make off with everything that wasn't bolted down. We're here to see Jedi Phinea and make repairs."
"Here to see a Jedi, right." Ruane didn't need to see the traffic controller's face to note the disbelief. It was clear even over the ship's second-or-third-hand comm. "Names, please?"
Ruane made a face. "Cap'n Folen Tirise. My first mate is Nuro. And I don't give a kriff about the Jedi, I just wanna get this bucket of bolts flying straight again. She ain't in the air, I ain't getting paid. My first mate wants to see her. Twi'lek business, I dunno."
Nuro scowled and barked out, loud enough to be heard over the comm, "Stoopa!" Despite his strong Kaas accent when speaking Basic, he spoke Huttese with an almost-convincing Nar Shaddaa accent.
Ruane could feel tendrils of the Force brushing against his neck and he made a cutting motion across his throat as he gave the Sith a stern look. Now was not the time for Sith temper. How to explain, with an open comm, that he'd counted on just that reaction from the Twi'lek Sith Lord? "Look, buddy, can we land or do I need to get the escape pod ready? We ain't got all day if you know what I mean." They really didn't. He'd been monitoring the situation in the cargo hold, and sooner or later the patches were going to give way completely. They were already straining the temporary shields just to keep a seal on the cargo hold door to prevent loss of atmosphere.
"Docking bay three, and have your identification ready for inspection upon entry." The operator sounded less bored, which made Ruane wince, but also less suspicious, which gave him a glimmer of hope.
Ruane decided to push his luck one more time. "Look, I got identification but my first mate don't. Busted him outta some work detail on Nar Shaddaa, okay? You can talk to the Jedi. He's tellin' me she's some kinda family."
"It may take time. We would have to ask you to remain with your ship while we follow up."
Ruane feigned outrage. "Can you believe this, Nuro? Leave a planet for a while, an' come back to suspicion all around. A kriffin' Imperial boarding party is sounding downright friendly right now."
Nuro, for his part, seemed to have caught on to the fact that it was an act. He crossed his arms, shooting the comm an insolent, stormy look, and muttered, "Jee ritke banag bai neu mah whokena." Louder, he added, "Stoopa."
There was the reaction Ruane was hoping for. The controller sounded exasperated now. "Captain Tirise, just have some identification. We'll sort the rest out later. Docking bay three."
"You got it." Ruane reached to turn the comm off, then gave a relieved sigh. "My lord, you may wish to contact Jedi Phinea from the passenger compartment and let her know we're about to land and that she may be contacted by security forces later. I suspect Lord Iqbal and whoever else owned this ship ran it less than legal. We shouldn't have gotten quite that warm of a welcome."
"Right, Captain Folen. Whatever you say." Nuro stood, giving Ruane a stern look. "I didn't realize you had a Republic identity."
"You didn't ask. You know my men and I are former Imperial Guard. I had quite a few responsibilities with the Guard. A few of which necessitated a secure Republic identity. I'm a retired Republic military officer, a pilot, and I last worked as a freighter captain out of Corellia during the conflict with the Empire. As long as the Jedi haven't gotten overly zealous with my Master's records, my acquisition of the Spectre can be explained away. Smugglers are notorious gamblers. It's one of many reasons they dislike spending any time on Dromund Kaas." Ruane winced as the ship hit the atmosphere and the hull groaned in protest. He swore he could feel pieces of metal shearing away from the holes that the pirate missiles blew into the cargo hold. "I should have properly gutted that Zabrak worm when I killed his master." His hands tightened on the controls as the ship shuddered. The Spectre listed dangerously to port, and he only just managed to get it back into its designated lane before it could collide with a mass transit speeder. "Assuming we land in one piece, we only have a few more minutes. You should probably contact Phinea, my lord."
Nuro nodded. "Try not to get us killed. I would like to get back to my master mostly intact." He started to leave the cockpit.
Ruane frowned at his back, but turned to pay attention to his flying again. "He's not who you think, my lord."
"What?" Nuro turned to glare at Ruane's back, but the Guard didn't turn back around. He let those "fingers" of Force energy curl around Ruane again, and was surprised when something rebuffed him.
"The Setekh Feraan you knew has changed. Drastically. You don't serve him anymore. You might do well to find out who you serve now, before you do anything rash." Ruane never looked back, never showed Nuro the eyes that glowed just a bit more orange as he channeled the distant power of his Master. Only made available because, clearly, they were being watched through the Force.
Nuro sounded suspicious. "Wouldn't he be mad at you for telling me this?"
"Respectfully, my lord, I keep to Imperial protocol, but I have not been subject to any Sith's whims but my Master's for a long, long time. I work with Darth Exedo out of respect and because we serve a common goal, but I am not and will never be his underling." He slowed the ship as they approached the correct docking bay. "Two minutes until we're landed and able to disembark."
Nuro stared at Ruane, eyes slitted, still suspicious, but turned away to move towards the passenger compartment and the larger holo there. He punched in the frequency quickly and recorded a message quickly, "Phinea. We've arrived and we're at the Senate Spaceport now. Once we get out of here, we'll be at the Senate cantina until you arrive. Phelan has a hankering to see how the other half lives, and I could use food that isn't over-processed mush. Meet us when you can. Nuro out."
Ruane managed to get the Spectre inside the hangar with only minor difficulty. Starboard thrusters cut out unexpectedly, and the resulting list while they were entering the hangar sheared off the sensor array. Ruane gritted his teeth. Just another piece of equipment to replace, but at least on Coruscant, they had more access to Corellian parts for the thing. He winced. He would have to contact someone to add more credits to Folan's accounts. He pushed a button on the comm, plastered on a grin, and said in a cheery voice, "Hey, listen Deryck, buddy. You know that job you owed me for? You know, the Corellian gig? Listen, I gotta collect on that debt. I know you guys are short on credits now, but it's a tough galaxy, you know? So are we all. Guy's gotta eat, ship's gotta fly, you got me? Get back with me soon." Ruane cut the transmission. As secure as they were able to make the Spectre's transmissions, he had no doubts the longer-range transmission he just made to Nar Shaddaa would be analyzed by the SIS. He only hoped that despite its destination, an Empire-affiliated research lab, that it was innocuous enough to escape too much scrutiny but specific enough for Keller to get the drift.
Behind him, a voice said softly, "The Corellian gig?" Nuro could move quietly when he wanted to, and he stood leaning against the bulkhead behind Ruane now, as the Guard gingerly set the Spectre down.
"The Emperor had an interest in elements of the Corellian war. The Jedi eliminated those elements, despite concerted efforts to shake them. Keller knows what I'm talking about. It's just to give him a frame of reference when he messages me back. Shall we?" Ruane gestured towards the cockpit exit and headed towards it himself, pausing only to tap a code into a security panel, shutting everything in the cockpit down. "Might as well get this over with. Hopefully, this identity hasn't been leaked to the Republic."
"And if it has?" Nuro gave him a hard look as he shed his robe and fussed over the spacer's leathers that Ruane had given him. He had blasters on both hips. His lightsaber was tucked away inside his jacket, out of sight. A constant, low level application of the Force kept him looking healthy, instead of the pale and corrupted creature that normally lounged about in RGS's Nar Shaddaa facility.
"If it has, then I am sure between us we will be more than a match for the security they have on hand at the moment and we can flee to the lower levels of the city to regroup. With the Force, we might even avoid a fight altogether." Ruane strapped his electrostaff to his back and a pair of blasters to his hips, then straightened his jacket and his wide-brimmed hat. "I would prefer to avoid a fight if at all possible. We didn't come here to single-handedly storm the planet. Darth Exedo is watching. If my efforts aren't enough to convince them, then a stronger application of the Force may be needed."
Nuro narrowed his eyes. "You know, this wasn't supposed to be an ordeal."
"Things change, my lord. In character now, Nuro, we don't want the stuff-shirts getting itchy, right?" The last bit was said in a close imitation of a Corellian's friendly drawl, and the Twi'lek only crossed his arms and glowered in response. Ruane gave a raucous laugh as the airlock opened and they stepped down out of the ship.
Three bored-looking security personnel were there to greet them. One was more distant, analyzing the bits of the Spectre that fell off as they entered the hangar. One, whose insignia proclaimed him to be a sergeant and the ranking member of the trio, stepped up. "Captain Tirise?"
"Come on, fellas, I retired years ago. Cap'n Folan. This is Nuro." Ruane motioned towards Nuro, whose injuries and put-out-feline demeanor only dissuaded them from greeting him at all. "What can I do for you?"
"You want to explain what happened? " The sergeant gestured towards the holes in the Spectre's underside, which had widened considerably in the descent through the atmosphere.
Ruane whistled appreciatively. "Don't make Corellian birds like this anymore, do they? Pirate got a real hankering for good Narsh adrenals. Took the whole kriffin' batch and practically left us stranded."
The sergeant winced in sympathy. "They've gotten worse since Zakuul took over. I think the Eternal Fleet has been hitting their operations."
"I know they've been makin' my life hell. Both of the kriffin' bastards. How's an honest pilot supposed to put holes in some Imps and make a couple credits when every son of a Hutt is out there waitin' to pounce? I've snuck into Imp bases an' didn't get as many blasters pointed at me as I've had in the last three days." Ruane huffed, then held out what looked at first like a credit chip. "Stuff-shirt comm-jockey said you'd need to scan this."
"Yeah, protocol. Sorry." The sergeant held up a device and scanned the chip, then his eyebrows shot up. "Sir, I didn't realize..." He looked torn, finally lowering the device and stammering, "Captain Folan, I mean. It's good to see you. I didn't realize we'd be inspecting a war hero."
"Told you, I'm retired now. Crossed blasters with enough Sith. Anything else you need, sergeant, or can we get goin'? I gotta date with a pint of ale or three and a nerfburger. Or three. I haven't decided yet. I miss real kriffin' food." Ruane winked to ease the sting of his words. "Gonna be here a while gettin' this old girl back together again, if you wanted to talk later." Something materialized next to him, possibly just having turned off a stealth generator, and Ruane reacted without thinking, as his training demanded. One moment, he was grinning, at ease with the Republic soldiers. The next, his face was devoid of any emotion as he whirled, almost too fast for even Nuro to follow, the electrostaff almost magically at a fourth soldier's throat.
The fourth soldier stood absolutely still, eyes wide, staring at Ruane's cold, strangely-colored orange eyes from inches away, as the Guard held the sharpened tip of the electrostaff to his throat. "Uh, sergeant, I, uh. I checked the damage. Story checks out."
Nuro shifted, restless. His hands fell to the blasters at his side and he looked around at everyone else. Two of the soldiers had blaster rifles pointed at Ruane. The sergeant just stood staring, startled, as if he hadn't truly seen Ruane before.
Ruane broke the spell, relaxing and pulling back the electrostaff, flicking it off and giving them a half-hearted smile at the same time. "Sorry. I'm a little jumpy. Damn Imps have an ah, interesting way of making themselves memorable, if you catch my drift. No harm meant, huh?"
"Must have really been something." The sergeant still looked uncomfortable, but he gestured to the others, and they lowered their weapons. Nuro relaxed when they did, and pulled his lekku closer around his throat. "Come on, let's go, guys. I may be back for that talk later, captain, if you don't mind. I think I want to hear more about that."
Ruane gave an uncomfortable smile, but nodded. "Not at all. I'll pour a couple pints and we can talk all you want."
The sergeant gave him a weak smile in return. "Thanks." He looked between them and said more firmly, "Welcome to Coruscant."
When they were out of earshot, Nuro said dryly, "Da doth chatpop wa kouwauevasa." That was almost a disaster.
"Reflex, buddy. You'd be jumpy too, if some crazy Sith lady and her pack of assassins had a hate-on for you. Glad that crazy manka cat's locked up. Think I'd sleep even less if she was still around. Come on, I got a date with real kriffin' meat on a bun." He clapped Nuro on the back, then led the way through the spaceport as if he'd been through it a million times before. After the second lift ride, he grinned. "This place really is somethin'. Should visited years ago. This ain't nothin' like home." They reached the lobby and he looked out at the Senate building off in the distance with a wide grin. "Ain't nothin' like home at all. Come on!"
Nuro found himself following in the big Guard's wake as he made his way towards the Senate and the market underneath it.
Twenty minutes later, they lounged in chairs with pints of Corellian ale and plates full of greasy Corellian food. Nuro ate his greedily, but Ruane only nibbled at his, washing it down with generous droughts of ale. He was working on his third refill and except for a slight flush to his cheeks, showed no more signs of of the alcohol than when they walked in. He held a few of the cantina patrons' attention as he finished a story, a wide grin on his face. "...and that, ladies an' drall, is why you don't make fun of a Sith's hat. I think I picked bits of that Hutt's stupid statue out of my ship for the next week." Laughter greeted that pronouncement and he took a long drink from his pint glass, finished it off, then winked at the bartender. "Worth it, though. Hey, how 'bout a refill, sweet thing?"
Nuro looked up from his food long enough to say with an unwilling smile, "Fa doth stoopa. Uba doth nyowkee uba doth tee poodoo." It was stupid. You're lucky you're not fodder.
"Skill, not luck." Ruane grinned at Nuro and balanced a credit chip on one finger deftly before flipping it to the bartender. "So, where's your...what? Sister? Cousin? You told her we were here, right?"
Nuro nodded. "Jee jot uen wa wankee. Ua noa-a wata, ua doth bakanu ten." I left her a message. She'll be here, she was expecting us. He did pull out his datapad, though, tapping out a text message into it as he sat there.
"Hope she's not gettin' the third degree from security. Thought I was tryin' to set down on the wrong planet for a sec. Hey, is that the Rotworms on the holo? Turn that up, I missed the game." He leaned forward, digging into his plate now as he watched the huttball game.
Nuro just shook his head and sipped at his ale. They would either escape notice or get thrown out as tourist nuisances.