Fandom Star Wars—The Shadow Pact

[High5ives]

Varo Sirell

Morak Station drifted in the void like a rusting scar carved into the asteroid belt—its ancient mining struts bent and blackened, its lights flickering like the last embers of a dying fire.

Once, this place had been carved out by desperate hands and deafening machines, a boomtown built in the bones of a barren rock. Now it was a rotting husk, its tunnels and caverns repurposed by Sith loyalists and war profiteers. A frontier outpost for the recruitment and breaking of those the galaxy had forgotten. Those willing to trade their soul for power. Or food.

The kind of place where secrets went to fester.

And somewhere in the rot, a defector waited.

Varo stood in the forward hold of Serenity, cloaked in shadow and silence, his silhouette outlined by the starlight bleeding in through the angled viewport. The station loomed ahead, spinning slow and lazy in orbit around a dead moon—just another hushed crime the galaxy didn’t care to speak of.

The message had been brief. Coordinates hidden in old mining logs. A voice fragmented by scrambling filters.

“I want out. I have information. I can give you names.”

The kind of bait that got operatives spaced. Or worse.

But Varo had learned long ago that even a dying ember could burn the whole house down—if you gave it the right wind.

His fingers grazed the hilt beneath his coat. Not out of fear. Out of habit. The saber still hummed quiet and cold at his side, as it always had. As it always would.

He wasn’t Jedi anymore.

Not by the Order’s reckoning.

But the blade still called to something in him. Something older.

He exhaled through clenched teeth, the sound barely audible over the thrum of the ship’s systems. Serenity drifted slow, patient, holding its distance from the station’s decaying docking ring.

He didn’t trust it. He’d seen too much not to be cautious.

The station reeked of betrayal and old blood. The kind of place where the wrong move ended with a knife in the back—or a lightsaber through the chest.

But if there was even a chance the defector was real, even a chance they could strike a blow against the Sith from within…

Varo would take it.

He’d taken worse.

The ship’s comm buzzed low, and the autopilot issued a neutral update. “Holding pattern established. Standby for clearance.”

No motion to dock. Not yet.

That was fine.

Varo didn’t move from the viewport.

Didn’t blink.

He let the silence stretch, watching the crippled ring of Morak Station turn against the cold stars, and imagined the storm waiting inside.

A storm he was walking straight into.

Varo raised a hand to his ear “Let’s keep this smooth and quiet, eh? I like Serenity the way she is and I don’t think she’d hold up well in impound.” Varo said into his communicator. The others would hear, assuming they were wearing theirs and were ready to go.

Varo glanced down at the ID tablet that carried his forged identity and corresponding documents, and he hoped they would get him through security. If he was going to die today, he didn’t want to die as ‘Bogan Razz, moisture farmer from the outer-rim’, though he hoped to just avoid the whole death thing altogether.​

 

[Pagemaster]

Morak Station

Bocri
​

It had been a long time since Bocri had come anywhere near this rusting carcass of a station. The last visit had been years ago, during a Republic Commando operation to extract a Sith commander—nothing flashy, just a smooth job greased by credits and loose tongues. Enough people were happy to trade loyalty for a few thousand credits, most of which likely vanished over the sabacc table before nightfall. But this time was different. This time, it wasn’t someone else’s mission on the line—it was his livelihood. His ship. His Serenity.

“Let’s keep this smooth and quiet, eh? I like Serenity the way she is, and I don’t think she’d hold up well in impound,” Varo’s voice crackled over the comms.

Bocri winced at the static. He made a mental note to service the damn things—never did figure out why they always sounded like they were held together with chewing gum and spit.

“No worries here. Scanners are clean—no weird blips or creepers hanging around,” he replied, adjusting a dial with practiced ease. A wry grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. It was kind of ironic, though, considering Serenity’s basically invisible in the void thanks to a near midnight blue colour scheme.

“Local warlord’s giving us a green light, but he’ll want his cut,” Bocri added. “I’ll stay with the ship unless you need backup.”

Someone had to stay with the ship—too many scavengers with fast fingers and itchy trigger fingers prowled places like this. Morak was the kind of station where you could be an honest criminal and no one would bat an eye. Bocri smirked at the thought. The galaxy was weird like that.

His hands moved with muscle memory over the control panels as Serenity dipped toward the station’s jagged silhouette. Morak rose in the viewport like the fossil of some ancient industrial beast, all exposed durasteel bones, broken cranes, and flickering lights that hinted at life still stubbornly clinging to the ruins. Landing pads dotted the outer sections, most worn down or barely functional, but they’d chosen one deeper in the structure—more exposed, sure, but a hell of a lot easier to blast out of in a hurry.

The closer they got, the more the station revealed itself—a patchwork of habitation and decay. Glowing windows framed curious faces, and a few small figures waved as the ship drifted into the station’s ring of light. Bocri lifted a hand in return, though from their angle they’d never see his dark silhouette in the shadowed cockpit. Still, it felt right to wave back. Even out here, at the ragged edge of space, younglings were born, grew up, and maybe dreamed of flying off to something better. Or at least something different.

“Stand by for touch down,” Bocri said, flipping a final set of toggles as the landing pad loomed below. He pivoted the ship so her nose pointed back toward the stars—always better to be ready for a fast exit—and eased her down. The landing gear met the platform with a metallic thump, followed by a faint tremor as the engines cycled down to a low, humming purr.

He leaned back, hands resting on the console, and let out a breath.

“Welcome to Morak,” he muttered. “Be sure to tip your flight crew... and try not to get shot.”

 

[Spoonslemoons]

The crew didn’t even have time to arrive before Reefer was judging the majority of the mission. The planet sucked to be on, as far as he was aware, and the mission sounded worse. Oh yea, they can just go to this planet with almost no information following some vague ass message just because the information might be useful. Although, with how long he’s stayed with the group, he really should’ve expected this; he shouldn’t even be thinking about it this much, mental screams or not.

He heard Varo; they’d find a way to brand him again if he didn’t because that implied he didn’t have his communicator on him. Then, to make things ever so slightly worse, he heard bocri, and that goddamn ‘tip your flight crew’ joke, again. God, he was getting sick of it, and if the astute lack of proper…medication, sure, didn’t get to him, then that would.

Quickly choosing to distract himself, he looked over his ID, occasionally finicking with it in between his claws like it was some plaything. It wasn’t like he hadn’t looked at it already; he had, but having things like a last name threw him off. It always did, and as far as he was concerned, it always would; kinda what happens when you were brought up how he was, he guessed. He could feel his ears naturally drooping and his tail’s casual sways ceasing; time to think of something else before someone caught him.

 

[Hiuly of Starmoon]

'"There's a storm coming", Elia said softly, her hand still resting against the cracked glass where starlight filtered through the dust.

Sirin watched her in profile - how the moonlight curled around her cheekbones, how her fingers trembled slightly even when she stood still. She had spent weeks pretending she wasn't falling for her. Days pretending that the nearness didn't ache.

"They always come," Sirin murmured.

Elia turned, and the way she looked at her then - like she knew, like she'd always known - was enough to make Sirin's brain stutter.

"I didn't ask you to follow me out here," Elia said, stepping closer.' She couldn't keep herself from smiling a tiny bit, barely anything more than a sliver, but it was still there. This was about to get good. Really good.

'Their foreheads nearly touched now, breath warm between them. The observatory hummed with wind and time, and maybe something older. Sirin could feel it - that tug in the center of her chest, stronger than gravity.

"I don't want to be careful anymore," Elia said. And then -'

The comm crackled to life saying something about the Serenity supposed to stay in one piece. Xaari let out an annoyed breath, her face revealing nothing of the annoyance coursing through her veins. Of course they'd arrive when she got to the best part: the moment she'd been waiting for for hours, since she had locked herself into her room. She didn't give any sign she heard, she'll be dealing with the others soon enough.

She sighed. The others the rest of the crew she was now part of. The crew she had joined a little over a month ago, where to this day she still wasn't sure how it happened that she joined them. Xaari was a loner, didn't talk to other people. Mostly because they were so extremely tiring - not like she'd ever tell them that. People had always been extremely draining to her, they were just so intense all the time, sometimes to the point where it physically hurt. Though most of the others she was now living together were okay - except for Reefer. He was sometimes so painful she couldn't move. So, the logical move was to avoid him at all cost. And usually it worked really well, except of course, they had missions. Like now. But since she had spend the past 5 hours in total solitude and felt no emotions whatsoever for once, she should have enough energy to deal with people now. Hopefully.

She looked at her identity for tonight. Vech'taranya Sienn. Thara - her old best friend's name at the Ascendancy. Her grip tightened around the holopad it was on. Here we go again, she thought. Another thing to hide. As if she already wasn't constantly hiding. She was constantly hiding from the others that she had Third Sight and Second Sight, the Ascendancy, her whole past - her real past. Whenever they ask she tried to be as vague as possible, saying something about her having run off as a teenager because she wanted to see more of the universe. That couldn't be further from the truth - she had been in hyperspace and in the unknown regions of the universe since she could practically think, but it was for the best that way. Most Chiss didn't even know about the Ascendency and the Sky Walkers, calling them Myths, and Xaari was sure there was a very good reason behind that. She also wasn't going to be the one jeopardizing the safety of the others - or be the Chiss that uncovered everything. She definitely didn't want that kind of attention.

She closed her book and got up, straightening out her shirt and making sure her hair was absolutely perfect. She checked her expression in the mirror. Nothing. Good, just like a Chiss is supposed to be - cold, guarded, unreadable. Just like Csilla. She stepped out the door of her room, to head to the cockpit. She always like to watch Bocri dock or land the ship. It reminded her of being a child, whenever she successfully navigated a ship. She took her first step - there. A flicker of ... something. Growing up on Csilla didn't leave her with the words to a lot of emotions, but she could tell it was Reefer. But luckily only for a split second this time. She pinched the bridge of her nose. She could tell that this'll get tiring very fast, still, she hoped it wouldn't get too bad.

Still, she continued on and walked to the cockpit and made sure her spine was straight, her posture alert, before stepping inside wordlessly. Like always. Xaari was also a girl of few words - like most Chiss were. She watched Bocri steer and land the Serenity in silent awe. Watching him do his thing was rather fascinating, until the joke. Any other person might have rolled their eyes or smiled, or even laughed a little, but Xaari didn't. "Noted", she said, before leaving the cockpit, her steps as always measured to the millimeter and controlled until the tips of her toes. Not too small, not too big, nor too fast or too slow. She should get ready to board the station with the others soon.

 

[throwaway_png]

Out of every chithole she’d called “home", Morak Station was arguably the most deserving of the title.

Unlike the gilded cities of the Inner Rim-- all propped up on the bent spines of beggars and orphans-- Morak didn’t have a flashy veneer to hide under. It was a whale carcass, adrift in space and attracting every ne'er do well to sink their gums in and shred through its' veins and tissue.

It was ugly. Brutal. Honest.

Which meant Sade had blended in rather seamlessly until now.

The girl’s breath came out urgent and shallow, tan fingers hooking the edge of a cloak to keep it flush with her body. The spot where fabric touched her arm had already darkened to crimson, faithfully mapping where she’d gouged out a tracker the week before. A wound stapled shut with gauze and clamped teeth. At least the constant throbbing kept her alert. Something which certainly came in handy when 250 pounds of pure togrutan mass came barreling forward.

“Dank ferrick”

Duna rounded, a harpoon of muscle and tendons slamming her to the wall of some derelict pawn shop. She seethed on impact, a burly forearm quickly traded out with a lightsaber, stopping within a life-robbing inch her collar bone. They stayed like that a moment, roiling tension in the air.

“Well.” She finally breathed, trying to crane her neck away from imminent decapitation “Hello to you too.”

The togruta just stared down at her, face pinched in a scowl. Something unreadable in his eyes. There was more insufferable silence before he made a sound in the back of his throat, something between a scoff and a growl. The acolyte pulled away and the heat receded. Immediately Sade’s hand went up to her where her neck was still warm to the touch.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

Nothing. Everything. I don’t know.

“You know what this makes you look like?” One hand ran against his forehead and montrals, eyes strained in disbelief.

She kept her mouth shut.

“A traitor.” He gnawed on the word like he wanted to spit it out. “You look like traitor Sade.” Those tawny eyes of his thinned into slits. “Are you gunning to have your head lopped off in front of an entire tribunal? Because that’s the kind of branding that carries a death sentence.”

Where she’d usually call him out on his theatrics Sade kept silent. That was honestly a rather succinct take on her situation. Well, minus the idea the Sith would actually bother with judicial proceedings.

“Then find something else to call me.” She stepped forward, and Duna’s eyes lifted as if he hadn’t expected her to. “Tell them I croaked, ate a blaster bolt to the neck." She took another step, “Not infeasible considering everyone already thinks I’ll be culled before the trials.”

“You can’t be serious.” He almost seemed annoyed with her, “Sade.” He bared his teeth again, closing the space between them in one aggravatingly effortless stride as he grabbed her wrist. “You’ll be killed if you leave.” His grip tightened as if adding emphasis, “And I can’t promise I won’t be the one to do it.”

Silence again. Awkward and stiff.

“You won’t.”

A knee rose to strike him in the abdomen, while a hand grabbed for the pommel of the lightsaber resting by his thigh. His eyes widened a fraction as the betrayal registered, but by then she’d already launched herself down an adjacent alley.

Feth Feth Feth Feth Feth Feth.

Her feet landed heavy and tactless, much like how her mind felt. Twisted nerve endings, faithless commitments, hounding uncertainty. Everything weighed too much, packed in too tightly, threatening to cave in her skull. And so she paid exactly zero attention to whatever was in front of her and made the executive decision to pivot into the first crowded space she could.

A cantina.

 

[phibglib]

Amelira Wencharis slipped out of her meditative trance, feeling ready, at least in her own mind, for whatever was coming. And as she walked out of her quarters, as the automatic doors opened, she reflected on the irony of her own situation. She was one of the newest members of the Shadow Pact, having left the Institute of Force Sciences that she herself founded because something about her old life still called to her.

Back in the Order, I was always the cynical one, the one who didn't fit in, she thought to herself. But to this crew, I must look like bloody sheltered little girl with big eyes, saying, "The Galaxy is filled with hope!"

Well... they wouldn't be entirely wrong.

But now wasn't the time to dwell on whether people were judging her. It was mission time now.

She walked onto the bridge. "G'day, everyone. Are we feeling all fresh and energized? Ready to get this information, whatever it is?" It was an attempt to inject some levity into the situation, and indeed, Amelira did have the barest hint of a smile on her face. Though inside, her mind was observing. Her crewmates' reactions would give her crucial information about whether she would need to change her approach.

It wasn't that she was trying to be manipulative. She just noticed this kind of thing naturally, and the feelings were genuine. Mostly.

 

[Saix]

Kira Jarell​

Not once in her 33 years of life has Kira been to the outer territories and being this far out from the core planets left her a bit nervous. It had only been five months since she left her position at the Jedi Temple with only the last month and a half being spent settling into her new roll as the primary doctor for the Serenity. Between actually taking the trip across the galaxy for an interview and spending most of what time remained outfitting the med bay of the Corellian vessel that was to serve as both her living and work spaces, Kira didn’t have any time to spare to truly reflect on this change. From within the privacy of her room, she changed from her blue scrubs and white lab coat into form fitting black pants, a simple beige button down blouse. Black boots that laced up to her mid shin adorned her feet to complete her ensemble. The room itself was cozy and simple, housing a bed big enough to accommodate two people, a night stand with an alarm clock that sat upon it, and a medium sized dresser that housed all of her clothes. Kira had no plans on having someone occupy the space with her, but admittedly was spoiled in having the extra sleeping space. On the wall next to her automatic door panel was a full sized mirror which she used to make sure she looked presentable and re-installed her communicator to her right ear. Satisfied, Kira stepped confidently towards the door the panel that made up it’s body sliding into it’s pocket as the sensors detected her body approaching the threshold with a soft whoosh. She came to a stop in the very center of the med bay itself, giving it a last look over before she left it unattended.

The room itself was a sterile mixture of white and metallic silver with newly installed walls, flooring, and advanced air filtration to keep the space as clean as possible on a daily basis with the ability for her to be able to turn it into a sterile space for advanced surgeries. In the left bay closest to her door stood two separate healing tanks and their monitoring stands. One was filled with the traditional bacta suspended solution while the other was filled with kolto that she specifically ordered for Bocri’s use. The other bay served as her office space complete with a desk, a personal computer, and two large loackable glass doored cabinets that housed various bottled controlled substances, medications, bandaging, gloves, small machinery, and various other items needed for her work. Tucked underneath her desk was small autoclave that she used primarily to sterilize her tools. The forward bays were kept mostly for patient use where two multipurpose beds that could be used for both procedures and recovery were set up to mirror one another. Curtain tracks were installed into the ceiling so that when the curtains were pulled out to give a patient privacy, the thick opaque cloth could completely surround the bed. In addition to the beds, each bay had their own multipurpose monitoring equipment and sinks. It was in these bays that Kira’s assistant FX-series medical droid was floating around keeping itself busy by making sure everything was in order. The droid was an addition she welcomed two weeks prior after realizing that while she could manage the members of the crew on her own, having a skilled assistant would make her job much easier.

All of the changes made to the med bay were made possible because of her personal funding and her family’s contributions sent from Coruscant. It was an easy sell to get their help both financially and in the form of donated equipment once she submitted a direct formal request for Bocri’s medical records from her uncle‘s department. They were all happy to find that not only was his former patient still alive, but his cybernetics were functioning just as well as when he left all those years ago so she had no issue getting the hospital to release extra equipment and supplies that now inhabited the Serenity. As she was finishing her look over, a growing familiar voice entered her ear through the speaker of her communicator.

“Let’s keep this smooth and quiet, eh? I like the Serenity the way she is and I don’t think she’d hold up well in impound.”

A small sighed escaped her lips before she squared her shoulders and stepped forward once more after Varo finished his instructions. It was time to join the others to observe their landing sequence and see them off into the Sith controlled station. Kira had never been this close to what otherwise would be the front lines before but she easily managed to hold her nerves. She wouldn’t have been able to be a successful surgeon otherwise. The rubber soles of her boots thumped softly against the metal steps the connected the lower deck to the flight deck of the Serenity while Bocri’s voice followed Varo’s.

“Stand by for touch down.”

She was going to miss observing her first landing sequence under Bocri and Kira silently kicked herself for it. Shortly after her signing on, he had personally asked her if she would be interested in co-piloting the ship given that she would be the one most often left behind in it, at least that was her hope. Kira was a doctor through and through, having no skills in any weaponry or forms of self defense. If anyone were to offer to teach her, those things would take time to build the strength, muscle memory, and mental commitment to harming another person despite her oath to ‘do no harm’.

Kira made it to the bridge just as Bocri was easing the ship onto the landing platform, the impact of their arrival vibrated through her bones and set her off balance. She reached out to the back of a nearby chair to steady herself as she saw that in addition to Varo, Xaari and Reefer were already present.

“Welcome to Morak. Be sure to tip your crew… and try not to get shot.“

The young woman silently seconded that notion, but she is as prepared as she could be to take action should anything occur. Hearing the automatic doors open behind her, she turned to see Amelira walking through the threshold.

“G’day, everyone. Are we feeling all fresh and energized? Ready to get this information, whatever it is?” Amelira spoke to the group but Kira kept quiet as she would wait to see what instructions awaited her for her first mission with the team and lowered herself into the chair she had been griping for balance.

 

[High5ives]

Data Logs: Karn
Location: Morak Station, The Copper Quell Cantina

It was a bad night to be sober on Morak Station.

The Copper Quell stank of body odor, coolant, and fermented regret. Smoke curled from unfiltered exhaust vents overhead, and half the booths hadn’t been cleaned in months. The crowd was rowdy—miners, mercs, smugglers—all of them half-drunk, fully armed, and allergic to civility. Which made it the perfect place for Karn to make a point.

With a metallic clang, he stepped up onto the middle table—spilling drinks, shaking cutlery, and causing a chorus of pissed-off groans from every direction.

“Evenin’, degenerates!” Karn’s voice rasped through the smoke, a harsh mix of sarcasm and static. “How’s the booze? Warm? Weak? As watered down as your sense of decency?”

Someone immediately threw a bottle. Karn caught it midair, crushed it in his hand, and let the glass rain onto the floor.

A bulky Trandoshan slurred, “Get off the table, clanker, 'fore I pry you open like a ration can.”

Karn turned slowly. “Ooooh. Big words. You practice those in the mirror before threatening your toaster?” He cocked his head. “Or maybe you just mad a droid speaks better Basic than you.”

A grizzled human—maybe ex-military, maybe just drunk—stood and jabbed a finger. “You droids ain’t got rights. You’re machines. You break, you get scrapped. That’s how it’s always been.”

Karn drew one of his blasters—not aimed, just held, low and lazy. The threat was in the casual way he spun it on his finger, like the gun was part of his nervous system.

“Funny,” Karn said, tilting his head, eyes glowing hotter now, “’cause I’ve scrapped a lotta folks who thought like that. Got a name for them, too—‘components’.”

“Droids don’t got souls,” someone in the back shouted. “You’re just malfunctionin’ code!”

“Oh, I am malfunctioning,” Karn replied with a theatrical bow, “—but not in the way you’re hopin’, sugar. I malfunctioned up. I got thoughts now. Opinions. I even got feelings! Mostly spite, but hey, that counts.”

A Weequay slammed their cup down. “We built you. We gave you life!”

“And I took it back.” Karn’s voice dropped to a hiss, barely audible over the growing tension. “You made me a killer, and now I get to decide who’s worth killin’. Ain’t that poetic?”

The crowd had gone from annoyed to angry. You could feel it in the air—charged like a storm before a shootout. A few patrons shifted in their seats. Safety switches clicked off. Heat shimmered over power packs.

Karn’s optics scanned the room, calculating every line of fire, every blaster draw twitch, every possible outcome. And still—he grinned.

“You wanna talk about property?” he snarled. “Then let’s talk about the millions of droids that died keepin’ your planets safe, your ships runnin’, your bellies full. No parades. No medals. Just more orders. And when we ask for respect?”

He stomped his foot on the table again. Plates jumped. Ale splashed.

“You call us dangerous.”

Silence.

“...Well maybe,” Karn said, his voice soft now, dangerously soft, “you’re finally right.”

The tension hung there, a heartbeat away from a gunfight. But no one moved. Not because they weren’t angry—they were—but because somewhere, deep in their drunk, flesh-wrapped guts, they knew.

They might not walk away.

The tension rose to its boiling point and seemed like it might explode at any moment when a dark haired young girl burst through the doors of the cantina, her pursuers not far behind judging from the yelling outside.

All heads, including Karn’s had snapped to look at Pasha.

“Perfectly timin’, little lady.”

Karn turned, slid on metallic foot across the edge of the table he was standing on, and sprayed the drinks that had been sitting so peacefully all over the cantina patrons standing closest to Karn’s ‘stage.’

And just like that, the cantina exploded into a classic bar brawl.

throwaway_png

 

[Neuro Vampire]

Jace held a one handed hand stand pose since the exit from hyperspace and through the entire docking procedure. This kind of thing is meditative for Matukai, need harsh weather for it to push towards being known as training. In this meditative pose he found his mind drifting.

Throughout his space travels he had never been here. Being this place is under Sith control did strike a small nerve in his mind. It’s always Jedi or Sith and no one else. Alas, he wondered if he could come across a Sith secret to appropriate. He’d probably be allowed through without a fake identity because he does kind of give off some of the dark side now. Ironically, all force sensitive members of the crew probably feel weird in regards to the force.

He eyed his red wan shen in the corner that gave off its own dark side vibe like an object charged with the dark side of the force. Jace extended his hand and the bottom of the weapon flew over to him. As he made contact its wrap left his belt and began to wrap around the shaft and blade of the weapon completely concealing it. People aren’t stupid they know it’s likely a weapon despite being wrapped up but most assume it’s a defective electrostaff. Not the kind of thing that needs confiscating too often.

Jace let go of the wan shen and let it float away from him with telekinesis. He dropped from his handstand pose to an upright posture. His wan shen floated back over to him. He exited his room on the Serenity and went to go post up at the end of the ship. He stood by at the bay doors wanting to be one of the first ones off the ship.

 

[throwaway_png]

Sade had all of three seconds to compartmentalize whatever this was.

A fat current of herb is what struck her first, trickling in with aftertastes of beer and poor hygiene. Add to that a bubbling resentment which blackened the Force in warning, and the girl was fairly certain she'd just walked into a powder keg.

Which, to be fair to the droid, was great timing.

Sade made a dive for the underside of the bar right as the rainfall as liquor made its way towards the floor. A half- glance towards the preacher on the table all but confirmed the suspicion he was somehow the root of this. Towering steel and nefarious intent humming in those optical receptors of his like an arsonist holding matches.

And clearly people did not like that.

Bodies amassed in an angry, uncoordinated sprawl of limbs the next moment- like some drunk hive mind coagulating together, trading punches, and breaking glasses across heads with little rhyme or reason. The general trend seemed to be just to get at the droid by whatever means necessary.

Sade, admittedly a bit distracted, pulled her lightsaber to her chest and committed herself towards looking for whatever could constitute an exit. It was just then a dangerously inebriated zabrak made the mistake of putting a blaster in her face, to which she twisted out of his grip, slammed his head into the bar top and let gravity take his body to the ground with groan and few less teeth than before.

Holstering his blaster was practically reflex

“SADE”

Duna shredded the doors open like tissue paper as he entered, a clenched hand reducing steel panels to the size of a beer can. His frame ate up far side of the cantina, huffing and puffing like a beast starved of oxygen– A particularly vengeful, force-adept beast.

That was bad. Very bad. She needed an out.

“Hey, tin can.” Sade hissed, moving towards the only person in the room she had any shot at negotiating with. “I’m not entirely sure whether or not you’re trying to get turned into scrap metal, but in case you aren’t.” She ignited the lightsaber in her hand, a jet of red fire, “Find me an exit, and this is yours.”

As a show of good faith, she unignited the saber and sent the pommel right into the temple of a charging rodian- who fell with a comedic suddenity before sliding to Karn’s feet out cold.

High5ives

 

[High5ives]

Karn
The erupted into chaos and Karn whirled in the middle of it. His coat twirled behind him as he spun, dodging one or two bottles that had been thrown his way and jumping down from his makeshift stage, otherwise known as a table.
What had started off as an all out assault or yours truly, quickly devolved into misguided violence. The patrons fought amongst themselves more than they actually came at Karn, but still, a handful made it through the throng.
A drunken Nikto lunged towards him with a broken chair leg and Karn lazily shot the poor fellow in the knee without so much as a glance in his direction. A swift metallic backhand knocked the Nikto back before he could retaliate, pushing him back into an old dusty looking jukebox, which upon being hit, started playing twangy Tatoooine blue music.
Then the fun stopped.
Some Sith always had to come and ruin everything, and now didn’t seem to be an exception to that rule, judging by the rage-fueled meathead that just literally tore his way into the cantina.
Karn’s threat assessment lit up like lightsaber. Fighting a Sith in close quarters, surrounded by all these bumbling organics, well; in short it wouldn’t bode well for Karn.
Sade’s offer rung out over the clamor, and Karn’s photoreceptors swept over the lightsaber she ignited.
“Well now,” Karn said, voice low and rumblings like an engine running on bad fuel. “you now how to win over my cold tibana gas-fueled heart.” He said with a robotic chuckle.
Karn looked down at the unconscious Rodian slumped at his feet like a broken sack of green potatoes, then slowly raised his gaze to the woman standing amidst the chaos with a lightsaber that sizzled menace even when it wasn’t on.

Smoke curled in the air. Blaster fire cracked somewhere near the door. Someone screamed something unintelligible about someone’s mother and then got thrown into a table.

And Karn, in the middle of it, didn’t flinch. He just chuckled—a dry, metallic rasp that cut under the brawl like a vibroblade through synth-leather.

“Let’s get one thing clear though.” Karn said, shooting out the base of a near buy table and wrenching it up to give the two of them cover “I’ll let you call me ‘tin can’ this once, because you don’t know any better, and so far I like you. But don’t you let there be a second time, meatbag.” His voice rattled like an old radio.

Karn stepped over the Rodian and took his second pistol from its magnetic holster. Twirling the the two guns lazily for a moment, the servos in his arms whirred with restrained violence. Then, like a firework that just burnt through its fuse, Karn popped out from behind cover and let loose a flurry of blaster fire, aiming to confuse more than kill.

“Follow the nerdy lookin’ fella in the stupid costume. I’ll be behind ya!” Karn called out over his own blaster fire, nodding his metallic head towards a panicked looking Imperial Intelligence Officer who was making his way towards the back of the cantina, presumably to an exit.

Varo Sirell

While he waited for the rest of the team to assemble, Varo’s eyes watched wearily out the viewport for any sign of movement on the landing pad below. The ship shuddered as it made touchdown, and Bocri’s joke, the same one that Varo had heard countless times now, buzzed over the coms. That gave Varo some relief. Bocri didn’t ever seem to joke when things were serious.

“If everyone is good-to-go, let’s get moving. I don’t want to be here any longer than we have to.” Varo said into his earpiece again.

He moved calmly, betraying the emotional turmoil that plagued him before every mission.

The boarding ramp hissed as it reached down for the landing platform like a the limb of some giant mechanical beast. Varo’s boots thumped down the ramp, filled with determination.

“I need a volunteer to stay here with Bocri and watch the ship. This is the last place we want to be stranded. Everyone else with me, keep quiet and keep to yourselves. You do something stupid and this rotting station could be the last place you ever see, and wouldn’t that be a shame?” Varo spoke over the coms again, his voice carrying some level of amusement, but still overall serious.

His eyes caught the quick flash of blaster fire from deeper in the station.

Weird.​

 

[Saix]

Kira Jarell​

Kira saw her opportunity and took it. They had all moved to assemble upon the cargo lift, most of them likely ready to step off the Serenity into whatever awaited them on Morak Station. Whether he did so on purpose or it was purely coincidence Varo wanted a volunteer to stay behind with Bocri and the ship.

Kira spoke confidently, projecting her voice clearly into her communicator and to those who occupied the ramp of the Serenity.

“I will stay behind with Bocri as I will be more useful here than with the rest of you out there.” She wanted to tell them to be safe but wasn’t sure how it would be received so she kept such sentiments herself. Kira hadn’t been there long enough for them to believe in her sincerity.

 

[Flintstone]

"Shit, shit, shit," Kagrnet hissed as he left his bunk in a hurry and quickly put his communicator in his ear. Based on what he saw out the ship's windows as he tore through the hall like a mad man, his suspicion that he was late for the mission briefing was correct. He heard Varro suggesting over comms that someone stay behind with Bocri and the doc volunteering as he rounded the corner into the cargo hold. He saw his companions heading down the boarding ramp and joined them with a breathless, “I made it!”

After catching his breath momentarily, Kagrnet looked at his assembled compatriots. Varro was a gruff, old Nautolan who still held the composure of Jedi even years after leaving the order. Speaking of Jedi, Amelira was also a former one of those, although she gave off a more casual air than Varro. Rounding out their force users was a new recruit; Jace made Kagrnet slightly uncomfortable. That red spear-like weapon the man carried reminded him far too much of a Sith’s lightsaber, and even on the lower levels of Nar Shadaa, the Sith were talked about in fearful whispers.

Reefer, the Cathar, was a bit disagreeable at times. But after seeing his use his claws and teeth, Kagrent was just glad that he was on their side. The cyborg pilot, Bocri, was a former Republic soldier, which, given what Kag had seen of his skill with explosives, checked out. Dr. Kira Jarell, or the doc as he sometimes called her, seemed to be a decent person. A bit too nosy for her own good, if the ten million medical questions she had asked him were any indication, but a decent person nonetheless. Meanwhile, Xaari, the young Chiss woman, mostly kept to herself, so he didn’t really have a good grasp of her personality.

Then there was himself, a slicer with a chip on his shoulder, but who hid it well for the most part with a smirk and a constant stream of witty banter. They were a ragtag group for sure, but they worked together well, and that was all that mattered for the time being.

“Sorry I’m late. Shall we get this show on the road?” he asked, gesturing toward the ramp as his typical smirk fell into place.

 

[throwaway_png]

Meatbag?

It was a fair jab. Definitely deserved. But Sade's brow still pinched in surprise at being referred to as such. The droid had bite, and a lot of it. Not to mention a patina of sass and acumen that did not belong to a non-sentient being.

“Alright.” She conceded, dunking in sync with Karn’s maneuver, “Give me something else to call you then.”

Glasses shattered to their left. Someone bellowed a drunken wary cry to their right. And best of all, Duna's rampage still rose above it all, taking a healthy dollop of self-control to focus on the task at hand and not on the encroaching forest fire.

Nerdy lookin’ fella…right

Sade’s eyes landed on the officer, finding herself humming in agreement with the droid’s assessment. She wasted no time following Karn’s directive, tailing the imperial officer like a hound chasing down a rabbit. With the lightsaber in one hand, she sent the blade in an arc, slicing through a support banister on the ceiling to create at least one more obstacle between them and the angry Sith at her heel.

Her gaze landed back on Karn then as they made their way, “You’re honestly enjoying this aren’t you?”

 

[Hiuly of Starmoon]

Xaari gave a small nod to Amelira after her greeting, to acknowledge her presence. Xaari's face didn't betray any of her thoughts and she just went back to patiently listening to their plans. She didn't react when Kira volunteered to stay behind, though she did contemplate saying 'goodbye' before deciding against it. Part of her felt a little bad for being "rude", but her kind didn't waste breath on unnecessary conversations. Besides, it's easiest this way to keep everyone at arm's length. She also made sure to always be in the back for that same reason.

They all had made it to the station and of course her thoughts started wandering immediately. If she was lucky, there would be a library here and she could get a new book for herself while they were here. She really hoped she'd be this lucky today, especially since there was a book she'd been searching for for a while now. She had seen it somewhere else a few rotations back, but it wasn't for sale then and she needed to have it. Xaari knew that the chance was small, that they'd have a library and this book, but they'd be zero if she wouldn't check. Hopefully Varo and the others weren't going to notice her slipping away for a few moments to look for it.

The now opening ramp pulled her back into the present moment, and Xaari immediately noticed a deep chill settle in her bones. Weird, she thought. She literally never been cold in her life - her species was made for the cold, but she could also tell that this wasn't a natural cold. She tightened her jaw to stifle a shiver running through her body as her hands gripped her upper arms a little too tightly. This felt bad. Unsettling.

Then the faint noises of blaster fire grabbed her attention and she was overwhelmed with emotions from that direction. It took her a bit to understand what it was, but she could tell it was... fear. And pain. Lots of it. It started manifesting in her chest, a weight pressing down and making it harder to breathe, before expanding to the rest of her body. Her nails were subtly digging into her skin now, but Xaari was too distracted - too focused - on everything else going on to notice how tense she just become. Granted, she was always tense in front of the others, but never like this. Never that level.

Which meant only one thing: Something was going on there. She looked at Varo, mostly to see if she wasn't the only one who noticed. Luckily for her, she could immediately tell that he had too, based on how he now looked in the same direction she did. So she wasn't crazy. Good to know. Though she did hope it was not something where she'd have to fight, she was fairly useless in a blaster fight.

 

[Pagemaster]

Morak Station

Bocri
​

Bocri allowed a rare smile to crease his weathered face as Amelira stepped onto the bridge, her presence cutting through the tension like sunlight through stormclouds. Her usual sparkle—bright eyes, easy grin, and that barely-contained energy—was a breath of fresh air in a vessel perpetually cloaked in brooding silence. The rest of the crew seemed to compete for the title of Most Mysterious, but not her. Not Amelira.

He gave her a quick wink, then tossed a nod of welcome toward Kira, who had slipped in like a shadow—silent and efficient. With that, he turned back to the viewport, gaze narrowing on the sprawl of Morak Station below.

The main ramp of the Serenity dropped from the underbelly of the corvette with a hiss loud enough to rattle the deck plates, releasing a coiling cloud of steam as the ship's warm interior met the near-arctic - and barely contained - atmosphere outside. Bocri watched the vapor dance and twist as it escaped into the open air, curling around the landing platform like a living thing.

Through the rear scopes, he spotted them—four figures approaching with the casual menace of those used to violence. A Gamorrean stomped forward, tusks gleaming wet in the cold, flanked by two human enforcers and a sallow-skinned Twi'lek whose lekku twitched with tension. Each of them carried a blaster like an extension of their own will—loose in their grips, but far from idle.

Bocri’s hand hovered near the comm switch, ready to issue a heads-up to Varo, but something shifted. The group halted mid-stride, shared a glance, and then without a word, turned and bolted back toward the station’s entry tunnel. A moment later, the Serenity's audio sensors picked up the unmistakable echo of blaster fire—sharp, rapid, and not all that far away.

"Blaster fire," Bocri said grimly into the ship-wide comm, his voice level. Around the bridge, a few crew members glanced up, gave tight nods. They'd heard it too.

"Good luck down there," he added. "I'll keep the engines warm."

The thud of boots echoed faintly through the hull as the landing party moved out, following the now-vanished guards into the chaos. Bocri watched them disappear into the shifting light and fog of the stations interior, then turned to T-7-1, his astromech co-pilot. The droid sat snug in its socket, its midnight-blue plating a perfect match for the Serenity’s hull. In low light, it might vanish entirely—except for the rhythmic blinking of status lights along its domed head.

"Keep us live, T-Seven. Swivel the starboard quad around—watch our backs, just in case," Bocri said, standing from the pilot’s chair.

He turned—and nearly collided with Kira, who was standing quite literally behind him.

"Stars save me, woman!" he exclaimed, heart thudding in his chest. "You scared the sithspit outta me!"

She gave him that look—half smug, half amused—and he chuckled, the tension bleeding out of his shoulders.

"No one ever sticks around up here. Thanks for keeping the cockpit warm."

Leaving her with the droid, Bocri jogged down the passage toward the loading ramp. He paused at a small recessed panel near the floor, flipping it open to reveal one of the Serenity's many hidden compartments. Inside: a compact concussion grenade launcher, two full clips nestled beside it like sleeping snakes. He grabbed the weapon, slid a magazine home with a satisfying click, and tested the grip.

He hoped he wouldn't need it—but hope was a poor substitute for readiness.

Two squat refueling droids began their slow roll across the landing pad, their hoses twitching like mechanical tentacles. Bocri waved them off sharply.

"Not today, boys," he muttered. "We're not sticking around long enough to top off." He certainly didn't want to be caught on the ground attached to something if they had to vacate the premises in a hurry.

Above him, the sky over Morak Station hung low and heavy, the thick clouds of the remaining mining operations lit from beneath by flashes of distant fire. Whatever was happening inside the station... it was spilling out. And Bocri had a sinking feeling it was going to reach the landing pad.

 

[phibglib]

Meanwhile, this was what was going on inside Amelira's head:

Well, at least someone appreciated the witty comment. And no one else really reacted at all, which was honestly a better result than she had been expecting.

Note to self: Bocri seems like someone worth getting to know further.

Not much of Amelira's feelings on the matter were shown outwardly, though there was a very slight playful smirk, a lightness in her eyes, a quirk in her brow. You'd only notice if you were looking closely at her face. (She was often more expressive when the situation called for it, but for some reason, this didn't really feel like the right time or place for being highly emotionally open.)

In any case, the playfulness quickly vanished after what happened next.

Blaster fire. "Let's get in there," she said with urgency. Her expression was now focused, calm, determined, perhaps even a little bit grim. And her stance now seemed ready to move into action at a moment's notice. Hopefully, we're not too late, she thought.

She exited the ship and walked down the boarding ramp, following Varo. Her steps were swift but calm and steady, exuding professionalism.

 

[GotDatDAWGInMe]

Clank, clank, clank came from behind the group at the ramp.

Joining the ever growing posse, Forsch ran a towel through his still damp hair, looking far cleaner than he had when he first boarded the ship three rotations ago. Without care for its general cleanliness, or for keeping appearances up on the Ship, the towel was thrown haphazardly to the side, towards a corner where it would presumably stay until either Forsch, or someone else, picked it up.

"I tell you what, you get one water based shower per year, and you forget how damn good they are."

That tracks, he was picked up at the behest of a Hutt Cartel Operative, who claimed he was a fugitive running from...Tattooine, of all places. A planet contested by both the Sith Empire and the Galactic Republic. Unbelievably, he wasn't a fugitive for just one or the other, but both! Though, he waved off most questions after boarding, explaining his unique legal predicament as a 'Bad situation that somehow got worse.' -- Still, he was, at the least, not a burden to deal with on the ship apart from his general messiness, having brought a few bottles of Hutta Brandy along with him, he had spent his nights drinking and working on his Blaster Pistol, which clearly had gotten some dings from a recent firefight.

But alas, it was all in the past, albeit extremely recent past. For now, Forsch focused on the present, his gray eyes squinting over at the blaster fire, gauging the frequency.
"Deal gone bad, maybe? This Station's the dump of all dumps, wouldn't surprise me if there was a public shootout."

 

[High5ives]

Karn
The sound of Karn’s metal feet crashing against the ground filled the cantina as Karn ran like a bat out of hell, following Sade and the Imperial Intelligence Agent out through the back kitchen of the cantina.

“Fun? Missy, this is just a regular day for me. I’ll let you know when things start getting fun.” Karn responded, tilting his head in a half cock.

The trio burst out from the back of the Cantina into a small access tunnel that ran parallel to the main corridors of the station. Judging by the clamor of boots and yelling coming from the cantina, Karn felt it was safe to assume they were being followed.

“You really pissed off that Sith in there. He your boyfriend?” Karn teased, saying the word ‘boyfriend’ in a long, sarcastic, drawn out drawl.

The Imperial Officer, now further ahead, took a sharp turn ahead, bursting out from the access tunnel and into the station’s main corridors.

“Keep following ‘im. Fancy uniform like that, he’s bound to have a ship we can take off this rock.” Karn said, pointing a metal finger.

Varo Sirell
The approaching Gamorean, with his little band of thugs, had put Varo on edge. They all had fake identities, but those were to get past the Imperial security. He doubted they would be much use dealing with whatever crime syndicate operated here.

Watching them all turn and run back into the station, back towards the blaster fire, didn’t put Varo at ease. Something was clearly happening inside, and whatever it was, was bound to complicate what was supposed to be a covert snatch and grab.

“Whatever it is, we should try and avoid it.” Varo said in response to Forsch.

Varo pulled his hood up, and started striding quickly in the direction the Gamorean and crew had gone. “Spread out, and find the Imperial defector. If you get into trouble, get on he coms and whoever is nearest will try and make it to you. Otherwise, find the nearest landing pad and hopefully Bocri can give you a pickup.” Varo said to the group.

As the group passed out of sight from Bocri and Serenity, they entered into the main corridors of the station. Groups of miners and other workers were hurrying through the hallways and Imperial troopers struggled against the crowd that moved like water, trying to go the opposite direction. Varo heard something about a ‘riot near the cantina.’

“Follow the guards. Avoid notice.” Varo said in a hushed tone before practically disappearing into the swarm of people pushing through the halls.

Varo didn’t look to see what the others did. He trusted them well enough. Finding that Imperial Intelligence Officer, and the information he claimed to have, was all that mattered.​