Log:Array Consortium: The Inheritance, Part One: The Corellian Drive-By Shooting Blues
< After a rather humbling job interview that reminds Adhar just how far he has to go as a player on even the most minor galactic stage... >
Adhar heaves a heavy sigh. "I really need a better ship," he mutters. "And more money. Waywards gonna hire everyone out from under us."
"But you got me? I don't even know what a Wayward is? They by chance don't pay better or got less rules declaring me as trouble?" This is coming from Si as he comes walking into the hanger. The twi'lek is eating something earthy and quite pungant. It might be some type of fried fungus.
Mandl asides, to Si: "Mandl could check Wayward manual for regulations involving-- well, whatever it is you are called?"
"I just shot a man last night who wanted to slave the crew while you were asleep in the ship, Olorar," Adhar says, frowning faintly. "You wanna go work with the Waywards, you're welcome to go see 'em. Otherwise, we need to make a flight to Corellia."
Si rolls his shoulders seeming less than upset. "I'm a Twi'lek. What the Bith are you?" He says to Mandl with a slight grin. He says eating another of his fungus. " You told me you had it. It's not my fault I'm a deep sleeper. It worked out. Wait you didn't shoot one of my relatives did you?"
Mara Jade looks to Si, "You could try causing less trouble." It's practical advice. But perhaps the most welcome.
"Stay awake next time, and you'll find out." He's not /really/ mad, but he's crabby. "Mandl? You coming with?"
Si Olorar shrugs, "I could." He says popping another fungus in his mouth. "Though to be honest. Not sure what trouble I caused other than claiming to cause trouble." He says heading up the ramp to the Voidhome.
The captain comes up the ramp behind Mara and Si, grumbling. "You're not being trouble," says Adhar, "Just a little bit of a pain in the ass. Why don't you lot relax and I'll get the ship powered up." He doesn't stop on his way to and up the cockpit stairs while he says this.
< Adhar powers up the ship and gets the crew on the way to Corellia. >
"I would assume so. Mandl?" Si says as he finds a place out of the way. "Though don't know what we're doing or what's going on? Does the Captain keep a schedule?"
Mandl says, "Corellia, we're headed to Corellia..."
"Which we'll be arriving at soon," says Adhar; the captain comes down a few steps and sits on the stairs, looking at the two of you. "Si. I'm sorry I was crotchety. It's been a hard week for me - we're going to pick up something my uncle left for me. He died last week."
Adhar Gann adds, "He and I were pretty close, so I've been pretty raw about it."
Mandl says, "... was in the message? A gift?"
"Something like that. I don't know." Adhar shrugs. "That's why we're going. I need to see what he wanted me to have. Anyway, it doesn't mean I get to be grumpy, so I'm sorry."
Si finshes off his fungus. He chews carefully. "I hate that. I hope you find peace and tranquility in the matter soon." He says as he turns to look over something on a screen.
Mandl fusses with various belts and belt-related equipment. Medpac, *check.* Blaster loaded, *check.*
"All right," says Adhar, nodding along. "Right, so we should be there soon. I'll be back in a few minutes and land us."
< Adhar brings the ship down to land 'Voidhome' at Coronet spaceport. >
Mandl nods. "Grieving must be done. Time must pass. It is a thing to--" Mandl shushes.
Si Olorar shakes his head, "A few days. I think that didn't translate well. There's nothing that can be done about death. Only peace and acceptance can come close to healing wounds." (repose)
Adhar Gann descends the steps. "All right," he says, "We're here. Everybody...." He pauses and blinks at Si. "You're right, I didn't get that from that at first, Si. But thank you, now I understand."
That said, he gives the Twi'lek a tight smile before walking to the aft hatch. "All right, let's get into character."
Mandl rolls shoulders, flexes fingers. Nods.
Si Olorar pushes up and goes to follow.
Corellia is a beautiful world, and Coronet is a place of gilded towers - not Coruscant's ridiculous global city, mind you, or its miniature copy called Nar Shaddaa, but a pastoral, beautiful place that also happens to be filled with advanced cities. And big banks.
Really. Big. Banks.
Adhar enters the bank with the two of you, navigating queues. "I guess we're going to need to find a spot in line," he says with a sigh, frowning at the sizable strings of sentients here. "Come on, lads."
Mandl follows Adhar, perhaps practicing an overheard phrase or two in the half-dozen languages within earshot? Meanwhile Mandl's focus is on its feet.
From out of the crowd comes a protocol droid, bold blue plating marking it from the rest of the throng. It shuffles toward the three of you, holding up a hand in hail.
"Excuse me. Excuse me!"
Adhar looks at the two of you like 'whaaaaat' before turning to greet the droid. "Ah, hallo," he calls. "Yes. Can I help you?"
"Yes, sir," replies the droid. "You are Master Adhar Gann, are you not?"
"...yes?" Adhar blinks twice. "Can I help you?"
"I have orders to conduct you to a safe-deposit cubicle upon entry," the droid explains. "Please, follow me."
The droid shuffles off down a corridor.
Mandl says, "Ah, prompt service!"
Si Olorar looks at Mandl and shrugs, "I didn't know Corellia was known for such things." He turns to follow the Captain and the droid.
"....yeah, that's something," all right, Adhar says with a grunt. "They don't have murder-rooms in this bank, do they?" He leads on, following behind the droid.
Eventually, the three of you are led into a smallish room with a small table and a number of chairs surrounding it. "Please wait here for the system to deliver your goods," says the droid.
"...I didn't...I didn't ask for anything," Adhar points out.
"Of course, sir," says the droid. "Your uncle, Master Felan Gann, has issued instructions that upon your arrival you be conducted to a safe deposit cubicle and your inheritance dispensed. It is part of our platinum service."
Adhar stares at the droid. "...right," he says finally. "Okay. Thanks."
The droid shuffles out of the room, leaving the three of you standing there.
Mandl shrugs? "Perhaps your uncle had more invested in the bank than you knew of."
Si Olorar shakes his head, "On Corellia? Nah. I don't think they have murder booths at the bank. Although I'll happily stand outside the cube just in case.... you need that extra security."
"I guess," Adhar says, squinting at the door - and then at Si. "You're a real hero," he says with a chuckle. "All right, well...let's just sit, I guess."
And sit. And sit. Eventually, however, a hatch opens up in the ceiling, and a large box floats down on its own hidden repulsor generators. Upon reaching the table, hidden magnetic locks buzz, and its lid pops open. Inside the box is a small holoprojector and a single datacard.
Mandl sits, hands folded, curious. "Another message?"
Si Olorar sits down, "You wanted a hero, hire a jedi or maybe a member of the Resistance? I like my pretty blue ass the way it is. In one piece." He frowns, "Are you sure you want us here to watch this? It is Private?"
"No, you can stay, Si." Adhar takes the datacard and slots it into the projector; the lights are already dim, and the projector engages. Shimmering into being are...technical specifications. For a ship. A Corellian freighter, one of the heavily armed YZ-775s, 'light' in name only.
"All right," says Adhar, "So it's a ship. Oh. Another file."
Paperwork. Ownership registration, all for a ship of that class called Moonstormer. Previous owner? Felan Gann. Current owner?
Mandl's brow-ridges rise. "That is a... considerable inheritance. Congratulations, Captain."
Si Olorar nods, "Nice, Those are little gunships. In the same line of work as a Blockade Runner or a Hammerhead. Not subtle but I don't think you need it to be sublte."
Adhar sits back in his chair, struck dumb. It takes him the better part of a minute to find his voice. "...yeah, no kriff," he mutters. "Thanks, Uncle Felan." Adhar takes a breath, leaning forward to scan through the file. "...uh, there's no location data." He gets to his feet, rummaging around in the box. "That's it. Just...okay. So I guess...I'm going to have to do some detective work."
WHY CAN'T THINGS EVER BE EASY.
Mandl says, "Mandl doubts the bank has any boxes that large. Yes."
Si Olorar rises, "Alright Captain, You don't need a mouthy twi'lek following you around. I recommend asking the droid siff they got anythign of use to answer their questions. I'm heading back to the Home. I'll get heir prepped if you need help from the ship or a pick up." Si stands up bowing.
Adhar takes the datacard from the machine, frowning faintly. "All right," he says, "Let's go ahead and get out of here. Need to make sure that we can go over this in greater detail." He takes the projector - it's a really nice miniature model, blue-enameled durasteel chased with golden vines. "You ready?"
Mandl says, "Mandl's as ready as Mandl will ever be." Mandl rises.
"Well then." He puts the card in his breast pocket and the projector in a thigh pocket, and the two of you step outside into the street.
As the two of you emerge, a speeder pulls off the curb on the opposite side of the sreet - its passenger windows open, revealing a pair of Rodians armed with blaster carbines. Without further ado, they open fire.
Over the line of parked speeders, a hail of fire sears the air, illuminating the bank's facade; lances of red light streak past, one sailing past Mandl to spend itself against the bank's marble skin, while another strikes Adhar in the upper arm.
It is not, however, his gun arm, so letting out a cry of pain, the Captain ducks behind a parked speeder and draws a pistol from its place at his hip.
Mandl casts a concerned glance at Adhar, attempting to gauge the seriousness of the Captain's wound. "How bad is it?" This fairly yelled, while assessing the oldest and heaviest land-boat to huddle behind in search of cover. Eyes out for a speeder made thirty years ago but still, improbably, running...
"I'm fine," he roars in a haze of pain and sudden, decisive rage - he fires over the top of the speeder's hood as the Rodians fire away; the speeders rock as they soak up blaster fire, the sound of metal giving way, the smell of ozone, and the heat and glitter of showering sparks throwing rampant chaos in your collective sensorium. All around, terrified citizens dive behind cover wherever it's found, or simply run screaming.
And while the two of you fire away as best you can, the results are simply property damage.
"Take that, you bastard!" Adhar continues to fire from over the top of the speeder's hood, squeezing off another lance of bright right light from his Model III; this time the bolt strikes the center pillar of the passenger side of the shooters' speeder, sending sparks and a cry of pain from one of them. The speeder begins to pull away, though they continue to pour fire down upon you both.
Mandl's clipped pistol flares *foompew!* and when the acrid white smoke clears it's nailed one of the pair through the window, now slumped in the passenger-side seat!
Mandl's decision to stand was ill-timed, making its shot clip the 'speeder and giving the Rodian a clearer view. *paff!* goes the shot against Mandl's bright red armor, smoke spewing!
The speeder begins to peel off quickly, now; the Rodians intensify their fire against your cover, but even as Mandl pops up to fire, the speeder is rather spry for its wear and age. Adhar catches the shrapnel from a shot that hits the speeder's interior, shards of plastic drawing blood in several places across his cheek and the side of his head; he retailiates by firing a final shot as the speeder pulls away, striking the gunman in the front passenger's seat. Slumped against the door as it is, it's clear they're leaving a man short.
They bring a shitty jalopy and blasters, you shoot them in the face. That's the Corellian way!
Adhar then slumps against the side of the speeder, holstering his blaster as the sound of Corsec sirens fill the air. "Mandl," he calls, "You okay?"
Mandl says, "Mandl will survive."
Mandl pulls the medpac from his belt and ministers to Adhar, dutiful.
Adhar Gann wipes blood from the side of his face; the wounds there stream with red blood, while a neat hole has been drilled in his left bicep. "I just want you to know," says Adhar, closing one eye as the as he tries to let you tend to him, "That this is the worst week I've had in a long time. And I was nearly killed by a crazy Wookiee /and robbed/ just a month or so ago."
The endless medical record of Adhar Gann continues...