Oz walked right past Drex without a word. Drex watched him go by through the bulkhead before heading over to Oz’s older sister. “Are you ok?” Drex asked.
“Fine,” Lyaia responded angrily, her accent thicker than usual as though she were manhandling the words. “He’s going to stay with them.”
“What, Marsyas and Samedy?” Drex asked, “pudu!” He inhaled sharply, “I guess it’s his choice though.”
“He’s barely even an adult,” Lyaia snapped, “what the hell does he think he’s doing? He’s abandoning our father’s ship! His legacy! It’s not supposed to be like this!”
“Look,” Drex began, “if you want to back out of this you can. Do right by your family first.”
“No,” Lyaia shook her head. “He’s made his bunk, now he’ll have to lie in it.” There was acid in her voice.
“Alright,” Drex nodded, somewhat surprised at the tone Lyaia had taken. R3 rolled up behind him.
“I finished up the bug sweep while you were buying supplies,” Lyaia said, calming herself. “It looks like we’re clear.”
“Thanks,” Drex said, “I owe you for this. It’s been about a day since I put out the word that I was looking for hirelings. I know it might be too much to ask, but somehow I’m hoping that we’ll hear from someone soon.”
As if on cue, R3 squawked an alarm drawing Drex and Lyaia’s attention around. Their gaze followed from where R3’s dome-cam was facing towards the bulkhead, where a twi’lek, naked but for a gold belly-chain, was slowly approaching.
“Pardon my intrusion,” Quailee said as she approached, “but I’ve heard your offer.”
“Excuse?” Drex questioned, “are you talking about my call for a merc company?”
“Yes,” she smiled as she got within arm’s distance and drew herself up before him. The difference in their height made the gesture almost absurd, but Quailee remained dignified despite that and her lack of clothing. In fact, she seemed so comfortable and confident, that Drex began to feel insecure and overdressed.
Quailee continued, “I’ve not always been a porn star Mr. Odagon; and I don’t always do this. I know where you can find a good company. We’ll have to travel a bit to get there though. You won’t have much luck looking here, so you’d have to travel anyway.”
“I see,” Drex nodded. “I’m not necessarily against traveling Quailee, but I’d like to try my luck a bit more here first, see what my options are. Also, wouldn’t the master of this place take exception to your going with us.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Quailee responded, “we’re not slaves here. Every one of Nerun’s harem is in it of their own free choice. We can come and go as we please.”
“What are your qualifications?” Drex queried, not sure whether or not to take the compact twi’lek female seriously.
“Well, I know which end of a blaster to point at the sentients I don’t like.” Quailee chucked, “and I’ve flown a transport before. But that’s not really where you’ll find me useful. It’s more who I know than what. I am personally acquainted with the leader of the Elrod Star-Razers.”
“I haven’t heard of them,” Drex said facetiously.
“I have,” Lyaia chimed in, “they’ve got a pretty good reputation, but they’re not so famous that they’ll be outlandishly expensive.”
“That sounds pretty good,” Drex nodded to himself.
“Well?” Quailee asked, her lekku twitching slightly.
Drex regarded the twi’lek for a moment. She was being honest as far as he could tell. “Right, ok. So I’ll let you know. How can I get in touch with you?”
“Here,” Quailee said, “my comm frequency. Call me when you’re ready.” Smiling the twi’lek turned around on her heel and strode off down the docking spoke.
“It’s at least worth it to keep that frequency,” Lyaia commented, “she might be your only choice.”
“We’ll see,” Drex responded. “Ar-three, let’s get those provisions aboard.”
Chief Vandar Di Myrto sat at his desk, in his ready-room, aboard the Eclipser. He was sitting, feeling the ever present rumble of the ship’s powerful engines resonating throughout his bones and blood. That very same blood had been chilled moments before by that which his eyes had just seen. He didn’t want to believe it, but he had no choice.
The message had come from Austeron, and been authenticated through their decryption system. It had come from Myrto’s boss, Dym Ledax, head of the DSA. What it had said was disastrous. Dym had seen fit not only to send an urgent recall message to return to DSA HQ immediately, but also to encode a private communication within the general message.
The hidden message had detailed how the Sith Lord Ledax had sent his son and heir to the DSA shipyard, and then unto Dym’s own office. There, Lord Kedrian Ledax had taken Dym’s office, and dishonored his daughter as well as issuing the recall to the Eclipser. Dym had seen fit to issue a plea to Myrto for help. The trouble was that Myrto couldn’t see how that would be possible.
In order to help Dym, Myrto would have to figure out how to take out four Sith, one of whom was the heir to the Ledax fiefdom. In his mind, it just could not be done. That left him with few options. He could return to Austeron, as ordered, and face dishonor and execution. He could return to Austeron and try to rescue Dym and Mym as Dym had requested, or he could abandon ship and take off on his own. Any choice now was a bad one, and it was all because of that blue flash on Nar Dundo, and whomever it was who had caused it.
Myrto’s blood began to boil as he thought on it. For the life of him he could not remember what had happened, only that it had cost him his career and his life. Gone now was any chance at power and prestige, now there was only dishonor and death before him. He could not even image the face of the being which had did this to him. He had only his rage, and the thought that perhaps if he saw the being again he might remember and exact revenge.
It was that last thought that began to drive him as he sat in contemplation. Turning to the side Myrto gazed out at the sea of stars before him, and made up his mind. “Commander,” Myrto said into the intercom, “order navigation to plot a course for Austeron.”
“Aye sir,” came the response through the speaker grill in his desk.
Myrto rose slowly to his feet, and pressed a button beside the desk console switching the comm. channel to the main docking bay. “Dock, this is Myrto, prepare a long ranged shuttle for immediate departure.”
“Aye sir,” the reply came.