A new captain

[Jhaiisiin]

It'd been several years since Maximus had left the Empire behind him. He started as a wiley youth that got into more than his fair share of trouble. After getting his head knocked in more than once, he decided on a change of plans, and joined the Imperial Army. He'd joined up originally with some deluded sense of duty and pride, and watched as it got stepped on and torn up. After a few years of taking their crap, he'd split and ran off to be his own boss. Of course, things hadn't worked out that way. Xim made life hard for way too many people, and being your own boss wasn't as popular or profitible as he thought it would be. As such, he found himself working as a hired gun here and there. The various smugglers and merchant captains he dealt with taught him the more raggedy edges of space and survival. He learned to lie, to cheat and to fight very unfairly to be able to get by day to day. Things went fairly well. He managed to avoid making any really solid enemies, but likewise found very few good friends.

Then one day he got a message from an old war buddy. One of the Imperial Knights that had supported his team (or had he been supporting them?) had some ideas of a get together. It was more than a little out of the way, what being way the heck out in Mos Eisley, but maybe this was the ticket he'd been looking for. He found his current captain to bid him a fond farewell. The captain apparently had other ideas, however.

"No," he said sternly. Vor Tri'liath was a Weequay with a bad attitude, not that many of them had good attitudes. He was in a particularly foul mood today.

Maximus was a bit dumbfounded. He didn't expect to find his leaving the crew a difficult thing. "I'm sorry, captain?"

"I said no. You're in my employ. I need you here." Vor's voice seemed to hold little room for dissent.

That didn't stop Max though. "Then I quit. I'm sure you can find another hired gun. I'll just need my cut so I can get going."

"I'm not sure you heard me right," Vor started.

"I heard you fine, Vor," Max cut in. "I just realize it doesn't matter. I've got something I've got to go check up on and that means leaving the crew. You owe me my cut, now hand it over and I'll get out of your hair. I'm not asking anymore."

"You're not getting a single credit if you walk off the ship." Vor was starting to get angry.

Max stood up to his full height and bore a stare into the weequay. "You're not seriously trying to stiff me out of my share, are you?"

"It's not yours if you're not on the crew. So, I guess that means you're staying?"

Without hesitation or warning, Max floored Vor with a solid fist to his head. An instant later, he had a blaster pistol trained on the captain.

"Are you insane?!"

"Looks like. No one stiffs me on my earned cash. I'm taking it, my stuff and I'm out of here. You have a problem with that?" He flipped the switch to arm his weapon as if to punctuate his question.

"We'll hunt you down if you do."

"You should have told me my contract was one of slavery, not employment. Then maybe we wouldn't be in this predicament. Come after me if you want. It's your funeral." He adjusted his aim and blasted the ships controls several times. The captain reacted in a fury, leaping up and at Max. Max sidestepped him and clubbed him into unconsciousness with the butt of his blaster. "Thanks for the fun times, Captain," he said to the unconscious attacker.

Max gathered his stuff, his cash and a little "grief pay" for the hassle he just went through. The captain would be upset about the extra cash missing, but Max realized he'd be upset either way. He used the pay to hop a transport and beat feet to Tattoine as fast as he could.

Mos Eisley was as great as everyone said. Now spit that crap out and get a whiff of what it's really like. Things in Mos Eisley are a simmering pot of barely controlled violence and thieving. Smugglers tended to stop here, and there were several junkyards about selling everything you could think of. Whether those things worked or not was always debateable.

He found his way to a specific docking bay, designated in the message he'd received. As he entered, he looked up at the ship that was housed within. The thing was an aging hunk of Correllian engineering, with it's command pod set dead center between the pylons extending forward, and the typical circular areas behind. It looked as if it had been maintained (poorly) and might actually be functional. Near the loading ramp were two individuals. One was a grungy looking human, presumably the owner of the shoddy vessel. The other was a Kel-dor, appropraitely dressed for the outer rim, but familiar, if Max wasn't too much mistaken. It seemed he'd run into Dorn, one of the Imperial Knights he's fought along side back in the day. I guess this was his contact. Max looked up and sighed. And this was their ship. Wonderful.

[Snake]

Good story but who's the Human?

[Jhaiisiin]

Random dudar who currently owns the ship we purchase. Figure he's similar to the guy selling ships to Mal in Firefly. Basically he don't need the ship, and he's selling it off for as much as he can get for it. (New Price on the ship we made was 135k, so used would be 45-67.5k, assuming 1/3 to 1/2 of pricing... might be more if you want it that way, leaving it up to you)

[Snake]

We should roleplay that...

[Jhaiisiin]

I figure that's the plan. That's why I stopped my story there.

[Snake]

Actually we need to get Mike W.'s Perspective on this since Mike H.'s story had him owning the ship...

[Jhaiisiin]

And he will. The Kel-Dor and the Human are in negotiations for exactly that purchase in my story. :-) Araris simply hasn't shown up yet.

[Snake]

Ah... So now I just have to work in My Character... I still have to decide whether I'm gonna have him go Sith Warrior, Jedi Master or both...