A Good Start [Completed]

Somewhere in hyperspace, Atretes was sitting aboard the Morvak with his six new crewmen. Well, two were women, but he wasn't giving them special privilege. They were his crew now, and as long as he was signed on as a privateer for the Republic, everything he did was sanctioned as long as it somehow negatively affected the Empire. He liked that condition, and it meant for an easier time making them loyal to him, not the Republic. The extra payoff only sweetened the deal.

As a sign-on bonus, Atretes was granted 150,000 credits to work with. He huffed at the cost, but not out of some spoiled resentment. It was out of astonishment. He figured the Republic needed help but... not that much help. Maybe it was a typo. Whatever the case, he has this sum in his account and he intended to use it. The Morvak was a good ship, but its shortcomings made for many inconveniences and dangers along the way. He needed more space, anyway, for pira- privateering. so it was off to a Corellian ship dealer, but not the Corellian shipyard proper. That was under too much... contest. So basically Nar Shadaa.

"Right, so we might as well get introduced," Atretes said as he set his vibroblade next to him on his seat, instead of holding it to him like he had been the whole time. "I'm Atretes Rhoujen, your new captain and commander. You may call me Atretes, Rhoujen, Captain, Tretes, Rouj, or any combination thereof. I expect to be obeyed, but if you have something to say, say it. Whether or not I listen is not guaranteed. Any questions?" he asked finally, to the silence of the Republic people now under his command. he tapped his finer on the arm of his chair.

"Oh come on, one of you has to have something to say!" he threw out, egging them on to say something. Anything. To be less... military. It was aggravating. Then one raised his hand.

"Don't raise your hand, this isn't school." he told the male human, who paused for a long while. This caused Atretes to speak, again.

"Well, what is it?" he pried, then the adventurous new crewman finally spoke.

"Is it true you're a pirate?" he asked. Atretes took a good long look at him. Young, probably new to the Republic. Used to mommy's stories of pirates and brigands. Well, no time like the present to teach him that his mom was probably right!

"That's right, kid. Don't worry, we don't really murder, pillage, and take women on long trips to never be seen again. Those are Reavers. Pirates usually only lighten the burden of others for assured profit.  It's all very businessy, and there's plenty less shooting involved than with Reavers, or even your militaries. Don't worry though, you'll get a taste of action." Atretes let his words sink in. Everyone seemed somehow more comfortable now that it had all been explained, like they knew now what was going on. They were an odd bunch... and it was dead silent again.

"So what's everyone's names!" Atretes piped up, "You all know mine but I don't know any of yours!" he said, then pointed at the kid he just had a conversation with, who already looked lost in thought at the potential of being a pirate. He looked up at the Captain and stammered, before answering.

"Tomlin Shrike" the young man answered. Atretes nodded, then continued pointing down the line.

"Kelon Goria"
"Niha Zurrey"
"Alaster Neena"
"James Kikke"
and finally,
"Vivian Seelo"

The name Seelo rang in Atretes' head like a bell. A piercing, deafening bell. He felt nauseated, dizzy, like he was just clubbed over the head while drunk.

"G-Good to know..." he stammered, then excused himself and shambled to one of the cargo holds where he slumped into a corner behind some containers. He held his head, feeling like he was experiencing the worst hangover ever and shut his eyes tight. The feeling of the world around him swirled and twisted, and then... nothing. Stillness, strange and unfeeling. He opened his eyes and found himself gazing at the world around him frozen, and... strange. He stood, and found himself standing without his body. he turned around and looked at himself, then lofted a brow and tried to touch the body. He made solid contact, but the feeling was airy and dream-like, not solid. He stepped around the containers and was suddenly assailed by flashes of light and colour, all to blinding and fleeting for him to take notice of. He felt pummeled by invisible blows, and curled up on the floor. He was blind, and had no way to find his way back to himself.

"Find your way..." a whisper said to him, fleeting as the wind, "...use what has been gifted." it continued, before it was washed away like a voice in a hurricane. Atretes had no idea what the voice was talking about. He had no gift, he was a lab rat. That's hardly gifting. Then he felt something within him. Not in his genetic code, like some override like what normally happened when he felt something coming on. This was from deeper, in his blood and ancestry. He closed his eyes again, and when he opened them the light was gone. He no longer felt pressed down, and the world... he was himself again but the world was as he saw it like in his... dream. He looked around, and to the onlooker his violet eyes seemed to be softly shining. He could see vapor-like trails of colour flow through the ship, and thread-like tendrils weaving through the entire ship like vines. They clustered around him, and moved with him. He blinked, and the strange sight was gone. This left him curious, but at the same time... he didn't feel like he was just punched in the kidney.

He stood up, and went back to his new crew.

"So what's everyone good at?" Atretes asked, as if his episode had never happened. They all looked concerned, but Rhoujen remained chipper, so they let it go.

"Well, sir, I've been trained to fly." Tomlin spoke up, first again, and Atretes got the feeling that the kid would be the easiest to turn to a pirate's life. Atretes nodded.

"Good. I'll need a capable copilot on the new ship." he said, and when he was finished the next crewman on the line chimed in. They went down the list, and Rhoujen took note of their specialties.

Kelon and Alaster were gunners, which would be useful later on, James and Vivian were medical specialists with the lady the junior, and Niha was a technical specialist -- engines, droids, and the like. He nodded thoughtfully to himself, and noted to allow them all their own niche on the new ship. Things on the Morvak were getting tight and, naturally, its name and some goodies would go to the next ship.

"Well, it's good to formally know you all," he said, standing with his vibroblade in hand, "I expect we'll be arriving soon. Shrike, you're with me. The rest of you mind the ship until I return, likely with engineers in tow." he said with a grin. He took his seat right as they reverted to realspace, and the port authority recognised the Morvak and informed Atretes that he was allowed to land directly in the private sector for "Good behaviour". Taking the blessing, he landed at the designated landing pad, smack in the middle between lodging and a shipyard, both of which would be needed.

The crew were all rather nervous to be on the Smuggler's Moon, but Atretes waived their worries and grabbed Tomlin to come along as they descended the loading elevator and set out into the markets. Again, it was quiet and calm. A harsh contrast to the bustle of the place. He made his way, following his ears, toward the racket that was a shipyard. He looked around and discovered exactly what they needed. An old YT-1300, but in horrible condition. The cockpit was laying next to it, the engines were nearly destroyed, and a chunk of the hull was missing. Atretes grinned, and sought out the shipyard owner. He found a human assisted by a team of Jawas.

"Welcome to Sam's Shipyard!" the human said upon seeing Rhoujen and his copilot. Atretes cut to business immediately.

"How much for the derelict thirteen-hundred?" he asked, and Sam looked genuinely shocked.

"That piece of junk? I was selling it as scrap for twelve thousand." the man said,the hesitation suggesting that the price had just been ramped up. Atretes decided to try his hand at lowballing.

"I'll give you nine thousand for it, then another thousand for repair costs." he suggested. Ten thousand, two lower than what the man had implied initially. This got another look of shock, but this one had a hint of anger.

"Who do you think I am? A junk dealer? Destroyed as it may be, what's left is sturdier than a Gamorrean!" he exclaimed, then hit a counter-offer, "Ten thousand, two for labour." Artamis resisted raising a brow at the tactic. He still got twelve thousand, he just rearranged it.

"How about I give you nine and a half, and one and a half for your labour cost?" Rhoujen knew he was penny-pinching with negotiating a whole one-thousand credits off the total cost, but he had a feeling every credit was going to count.

Sam thought on this for awhile, as if he was studying the seriousness of the young captain before him. Finally, distracted by the screeching as a Jawa set its fur on fire, Sam caved.

"Fine, fine, I'll take the eleven. Now we'll talk about parts cost..." he trailed off, in thought, but Atretes interrupted him.

"No need. I have a Class 580 that should be quite handy for repairing the hull, among other things. It's equipped with quad laser canons that I'd like transferred over. Additionally, since the cockpit's fallen off, I'd like to reposition it central to the ship rather than on the starboard side." he finished his piece, and Sam looked, again, surprised. It was as if he didn't expect Rhoujen to have a ship, or know what he wanted. The shipyard owner nodded, and Atretes led him and his team of Jawas to the Morvak. While Sam inspected and appraised and planned, Atretes got his crew off the ship and led them all to the local lodging. A few sentences and credit transfers later, they all had a room to stay in.

When Atretes went to check up with Sam, the man was already working at dismantling the Ghtroc 580 Morvak and the Jawas were clearing a massive area to work on the YT-1300, which Atretes already planned to name the MSV Morvak II.

"So how long is this going to take?" Rhoujen asked Sam, and the older man looked to the younger one with a sigh and a glance to the work.

"About five days, maybe a few more. I'll have the hotel secretary send you a message when it's done." Sam said. Atretes nodded and returned to the hotel room they were all shacked up in.

Luckily, the days spend on Nar Shadaa were uneventful. Being in a secure, guarded section of the Smuggler's Moon meant that trouble was short-lived, if it found life at all. As the days went by, Atretes got to know his new crew better, and had a better understanding of how they thought. Tomlin was inexperienced and fresh to the galaxy, the gunners wished there was more to shoot, and Vivian wanted adventure. Niha was a typical tech. There could be nobody around, but as long as she could tinker she'd be happy. The older man, who was the current chief medical officer, was the only potential problem in his converting the crew's loyalty from the Republic to, well, himself. James had been with the Republic since it was a fledgling Rebellion, and he felt deep commitment to the faction. As far as Rhoujen's future plans went, that would pose a problem. Perhaps they could abandon the man on Mon Cal or something. He didn't want to space the old guy, but his unyielding loyalty was going to be a problem.

"Captain Rhoujen?" a fetching Twi'Lek housekeeper asked through the door.

"Aye?" he asked, going up to the door and activating a holographic display that gave the illusion of making the door transparent.

"Mister Sam has sent word that your freighter has been completely repaired." she said, then politely bowed and went on her way. Atretes shut off the screen, and turned to Tomlin.

"Come on, then." the Captain said as he grabbed his militaristic jacket and swept out of the door to the shipyard.

They existed the hotel to the usual scene. The marketplace was a little more lively today, and as a result there were more guards. They crossed the median threshold of the private docking bay and made their way to Sam's. For a moment, Atretes wondered about the lack of a surname, but dismissed the idea as several Jawas huddled around Rhoujen and Shrike and ushered them further in, to where the construction was taking place. To one side, the Class-580 Morvak was dismantled down to nothing, with only some pieces of landing strut and hull remaining. On the other side, the YT-1300, rigged with a central cockpit that jutted out jut slightly like a hybrid YT-1300 and 2000, was perched upon strong landing gear, with diagnostic systems emitting hydraulic gasses and sparks flying here and there from the Jawas finishing up welds. On either side of the ship, the quad laser canons were mounted and aligned to forward positions. The top and bottom where turrets normally went was bare, but patched with a quick plate. The cockpit area was sill an open hole, with a matching one on the opposite side. Atretes looked at the possibilities all over the ship and knew what was going to happen next.

"How d'ya like 'er?" Sam said through a mouthful of some sort of spacewich, seeing Atretes' eyes wandering over the open holes and ports.

"Looking good. I'm assuming you're going to advertise some extra parts for all these holes in my ship?" Rhoujen asked the older man, and yet again Sam was taken aback by the young captain's ability to see through his marketing techniques.

"Well, yes, but seeing as how you look to know exactly what you want, why don't you tell me?" the older man said after swallowing down the last of his lunch. Atretes nodded, and looked to the 1300 before him.


"Let's put dual proton torpedo launchers on the two matching holes you've carved out on port and starboard. Only a little bigger than the small ones that starfighters use to conserve space. On the spaces on the top and underbelly, put dual turbolaser turrets. I'd also like you to do what you can with the engines, hyperdrive, and shielding to buff them up. I want to survive for quite awhile if I get into trouble. If you can reinforce the hull, that would be appreciated as well..." he trailed off, then realised that all this would require a good power source. "Put in a bigger generator as well. It won't do having all these toys if none of them work." Rhoujen finished, and it turned out that Sam was taking notes and finalising prices.

"So that'll be four warhead launchers, two dual turbolaser turrets, engine upgrades, a faster and more efficient hyperdrive, shields... with how you're talking I'll see if I can dig up some MonCal shields I er... "found".." he spared a glance at the two, and Rhoujen shot Tomlin a look and the boy remained still. Satisfied, Sam continued, "hull upgrade and reinforcement, and a bigger power generator. With all this, you'll need another engineer, and I hope you already have one, so I'll sell you one of my Jawas..." the Jawas squawked in insult, but otherwise kept working.

"That'll be 120,000. If you feel insecure, I'll take sixty now and sixty later." Sam looked smug, and Rhoujen looked unamused.

"Look, Sam, can't you cut me a little slack? I'm buying all this at once, after all. That's quite a chunk of change. Why don't we settle on, say, a hundred thousand and we'll call it squared?" Atretes pulled off that typical smuggler's persuasion, and Sam let out a tut.

"You know how much I'd be givin' away for that price, kid? I see your side, though. Tell you what, I'll go easy on ya. A hundred fifteen all in advance and we're squared." Sam gave a salesman's smile and Atretes shook his head.

"I agree on the price, but I'll give you seventy-seven now, and the rest when it's done." Atretes said. Sam thought on it. Two thirds now, the final third later, and a settlement of a hundred fifteen thousand. It all sounded reasonable to him, since he was dealing with what looked like a newbie and not some chiseled and hardened pirate or something.

"Agreed." Sam said, then shouted for his Jawas to get to work. After a short transaction of funds, Sam went to work with his crew and told Atretes that, as before, he'd be sent for once everything was finished.

[This thread has successfully bored me. Assume he gains his ship, and a Jawa engineer. THE END.]