The Rebel Faction

Cull leaned back in his seat, letting the Gs hold him down. He had turned off the artifical gravity regulation and G force dampener. Sometimes it was just good to feel the power.

A sleak swoop bike pulled up on his left, and another from the right. Fifteen swoop bikes bore down on The Cunning Pawn like hungry Mynocks.
It was hours until the smuggler would reach the Underworld safehouse. If he broke and ran now Faine would have to not only loose these bantha fodder, but most likely a handful of the Nar Shadda Federales as well. Not as easy as it sounded.

He began by simply moving aside, hoping this was all just a coincidence.
The swoop gang dispersed and reformed on his tail once more.
"Alright.. " Faine's eyes twinkled in the glow of the sunset as if he had secretly hoped they wouldn't back down.
Cull eased off the speed just a touch, letting the bikes get as close as possible.
They would know what was coming, but he did it will such a smooth transition it was hard to avoid.
His rear deflector shields snapped to life catching the several of the bike's central repulsor pods with a shower of sparks. As a crescendo to the confusion, Faine punched his sublight engines frying two more bikers in the light blue exhaust.
Breaking form, The Cunning Pawn tore underneath the traffic lane at a breakneck speed.

Faine barrelrolled his ship over and through ajoining towers then dropped as close to the surface as he could. The lower he was, the less likely his antics would be caught on Police sensors.

He punched the accelerator ever further. Seven bikes were on his tail. In fact they were gaining.
"F...king swoops."
Dodging towers and antenna he could barely even conciously register, Faine let the moment just flow right through him. The smuggler's fingers glided over the controls without tension. He let the speed surround him and angled his ship into a large 180 arch around a collection of towering skyscrapers. At the speed they were travelling, the bikes had passed the buildings as he made the maneuver, and scrambled to recover.
Instead of driving hard or finishing the arch into a 360, Cull raised his ship close to the building driving straight up into the sky.

The swoop bikers could not see the backside of the tower and drove straight past him once more. Before they could spot him, Faine had rose high enough to reach another sky traffic lane. He cut his speed to match the flow of traffic, blending perfectly into the background.
He used an old smuggler trick to mask the signature of his engine as he had tore up the side of the building. It wouldn't last long, but it might last long enough to let him escape.
While he waited in the traffic, Faine removed a canteen from the co-pilot seat and took a swig.
Being a smuggler did have it's perks. Top quality triple filtered six hundred year old single malt whiskey was one of them, outwitting this trash was quickly becoming another.

The group of swoops were investigating the traffic lane now, but most of them were so far behind him, that it would take ten minutes to check every ship that had passed since Faine had entered. By that time he would have switched lanes and be gone.

To be that lucky.. From the far distance he heard a sound that made him kick the canteen back over his head for a very long swig.

Sirens.

"Onyx Blade, I'm sorry. You must have this ship confused for somebody else. I'm a Kowakian monkey-lizard on a honeymoon with my seven Twi'lek concubines."

Damn it, so much for that smuggler's trick. The comm frequency was encoded with an old spice runner's encryption.
Caught by my own kind..

The sirens were almost in viewing distance now. If this idiot wanted to stick his kneck out to help, Cull he had no problem with that. Not to mention the fact that the voice over the radio had not even ask for compensation. How did his ex-wife put it? Greedy to a fault. Never knew greed could be a "good" thing to begin with..
Maybe if this Onyx Blade could draw enough fire, Cull could escape in the chaos.

The Nar Shadda Police flashed into view and were bearing straight for him. Damn that Saeone, there must be more leaks in his organization then a Askajian had breasts. He shouted over the intercom to his droid.
"T3! You didn't happen to find a tracking device, while you were looking for that bomb did you?"
He waited for a response.
"That's what I thought.. Now instead of playing dumb, go ahead and disarm the tracking device IMMEDIATELY. I'll be up here taking a nap."
The comchannel crackled off.

"Damn it!"

The police were on top of him now. There were no other options. He opened a comm to the Onyx Blade.
"Onyx Blade, this honeymoon is getting stale REAL fast.. Would you mind spicing up the atmosphere with a little music, or maybe some blaster fire directed towards those Federales. If you really want a sticky hand in the honey pot, be my guest.. We'll rendevous at these coordinates. Cunning Pawn OUT."
He sent the coordinates to the safe house. No smuggler worked for free, and he did not have time to negotiate. Saeone could go straight to hell.
Cull Faine began to charge up his laser cannons and hit one last shot of whiskey.

Time to deal out a little pain.

As the sirens became deafening and laser fire begain to fire freely, the ships in the traffic lane panicked. Freighters, convoy ships, and speeders cut out in every direction conceivable. It was total chaos, and Cull was alittle drunk.

Following the shadow of a large Nubian K-type, Cull Faine lurched the Pawn into a barrel roll and bolted. Checking his sensors, two swoop bikes and a squad of police speeders followed his trajectory.
The Onyx Blade kept most of the Nar Shadda police at bay.

"Do I have a broken tail light, T3?" He said over the comm.
"No I didn't think so either... How's that tracking device coming?"

"The bomb is fused to the tracking device... great. How long will it take till you can disarm it T3.."
Again he waited, punching his sublights as hard as he could planetside.
"Urgk.. " Faine dropped back into his seat from the Gs.
"Well if it takes that long, they can pick your burned out husk from of the crater were about to make. Disarm it NOW..T3."

Faine felt the urge to escape into the atmosphere, but he didn't want to risk being hit by the planetary defense grid. So much for loosing those swoops the easy way.

The entire outline of the ground around him was a blur now. All he could do was hang on, and force himself not to blink. The swoop bikes were almost beside him, and the speeders were carving a nice hole into the rear deflector shields.
Buildings rushed by him before he even registered them consiously.
"T3... better idea. Can you REMOVE the bomb from the ship, doesn't matter if it's disarmed or not, in fact I'd prefer it not."
The droid chimmed over an affirmative.
"Great."
Faine pulled upward, driving the Pawn high enough so nothing stationary would hit him. He unbuckled his seat belt and and fell out of the cockpit, down towards the storage closet. Unlocking the door, Cull threw the deactivated R8 droid down the central corridor, the Gs blowing the little robot to the back of the ship. He restored the G-force Dampener and the artifical Gravity as best he could then chased after it.
Tearing down the corridor, Faine entered the cargo hold.
"T3, get me that BOMB damn it! CARGO HOLD now!"
He could barely hear himself over the vibration of the ship, and sound of blaster fire. The entire ship ricoceted as another federale speeder hit his mark.
"Didn't know these boys could be paid enough to shoot that well."
As he waited for his droid, Faine buckled down Saeone's precious cargo, imagining his hands clenched around the snake's rubbery kneck.
"T3!" He screamed over a deafening blast against the rear of the ship. Sparks flew in ever direction, and he could hear the rear deflectors give way.
The little droid chirped like an Endorian mud squirrel as it entered the hold.
"Finally!"
The bomb in the droid's extensor looked like a TB-47 time bomb, but now his head was spinning so much from the vibration he couldn't be sure.
"Give it here.."
Faine snatched the bomb from the little droid and carefully placed it inside the R8 unit.
"Don't whine T3.. No, I would never do this to you.. Now SHUT UP..and get ready to open the cargo bay doors."

He veered the R8 close to the edge of the cargo bay and bolted back to the cockpit. Strapping in, the smuggler clenched his jaw; focusing his mind for a delicate maneuver.

The Cunning Pawn suddenly changed vector, carrening straight skyward. He noticed all of the vehicles giving chase followed.
"Now T!"
The cargo bay doors opened, jettisoning the R8 droid into the cloudy sky below. As it dropped to match the height of his pursuers, Faine targeted it with his rear laser cannons and fired.

The ensueing explosion was truely glorious. Like fireworks both swoops and three of the five speeders ignited with sycronistic timing, and beautiful color arrangement.
"A bloody work of art.." Cull said under his breath.


The Pawn's engine's cut, and Faine let himself free fall for several moments, just to revel in the rush. He cascaded downward through a hail of metal and fire.

Punching his sublights back on, the smuggler continued on his warpath towards the safehouse, his remaining pursuers lost in the confusion of the explosion.
Gaining distance behind several glowing domes, Faine knew he had lost them.

Faine eased the vessel back into a steady speed, working with his droid to take stock of the situation and and account for all the damages. He made a list of interior parts they would need, god knows what the hull would require.

Only after a good hour did the realisation of how insane that escape truely was dawn on him. He didn't even have trouble aiming at that little R8 droid, it was as if his targeting reticule was guided there. Easing off of the whiskey, Faine knew he needed his wits about him if he was going to get out of this alive, and more importantly stinking filthy rich. There was at least one new player in the game now, the captain of this.. Onyx Blade. Nothing like sharing the wealth, at the very least maybe he would have a fall guy if the situation went from shit to a total f___king catastrophe.

The Cunning Pawn approached the safehouse with a quiet hum.
He received a comm channel and opened it.
"Good evening Saeone. How are you on this beautiful evening?"
Cull said with a slow deep tone that rose and fell like waves.

"You caused quite a stir Faine. Now put down before you can cause anymore trouble."

There was a pause.
"You know Saeone, I really don't think so. Whatever this cargo is, it's worth far more than the 100,000 credits your offering me for this job."

"Faine, you really think I would load up that cargo on your ship with a backup contingency?"
The smuggler cut him off.

"Oh thank-you for the R8 astromech droid. It came in very handy. You were saying?"

With a slightly angered fluster, the gangster continued.
"You don't land that ship right now, I will blow it from the sky."

"How's that tracking device working for you Saeone.... It was worked great for a gang of swoops and half the entire Nar Shadda Police Force. That is... until I removed it and bomb it was attached too."

The gangster started to laugh.
"You really think I would put only one bomb on your ship. There is another RIGHT inside my cargo."

"Oh that is conveinent.... Check your long range scanners now."
Faine opened the cargohold and began to unbuckle the precious cargo.

"Faine.."
He cut Saeone off again.
"This cargo is worth more to you whole then 100, 000 credits. I'll be a reasonable man and only ask for 900,000 in return for the hassle and the damages you have cause my ship, and the irreprible damages you have caused my person and that of my droid."

There was a pause...

"Fine." Cull retorted and dropped the first crate out of the open cargo bay door.
The sound of Saeone's screech distorted as it peaked in his headset.
Then there was the sound of heavy breathing.

"You FOOL! I will KILL you for this..."

"Keep talking Saeone, I have 39 more crates to go."

"NO. Wait...wait. We can offer you 500,000 credits for your...troubles."
There was a low hiss and the sound of two voices argueing in the backgroud.
"EIGHT Saeone. You will give me eight and I want half delivered to my account as we speak."

"......Done. Now land your ship." An exasperated but now controlled voice returned.

"No Saeone. I will drop the cargo at a landing pad of my choosing after I hear what you need me to move next."

"Those crates and more. With this kind of money, I will not answer any questions. Pick your spot smuggler, and make it close."

Cull paused again, letting his words linger in the gangster's ears.
"Nice to do business with you. You'll hear from me very soon and after I get the 400,000 down payment."

He broke the comchannel with a flick of the wrist and raised his cargo bay doors.

Slowly, moving back to the cockpit, Faine reevaluated the cost of his life.
900,000 credits was alot of money, but it wasn't enough to tip the scales.
He had better be damn careful.

He thought of the other vessel suddenly, the Onyx Blade. That captain was on a crash course with one very angry Gangster. If he let that happen, the Huttese frontman might just hire the ship to take him out. Not with this cargo..but still. The urge to give the Onyx Blade the cold shoulder and let the gangster sort him out was not an unappealing one.
A pang of guilt came over him. The ship had gone out of it's way to help him, and at a time like this when Faine was surrounded by enemies, he would need friends.

With an agrivated growl, Cull transmitted new co-ordinates to the vessel named Onyx Blade, and quietly drifted into the night sky.

Faine put down on a quiet landing pad miles above the safehouse and made a full dosier of what supplies he would need to repair the ship. He sent the document to a blackmarket wholesaler he knew, and ordered the parts to be shipped to him on rush delivery. This was expensive but the bill was wired to the Besadii Clan, so why not.

Now to fix those rear deflector shields. Cull went to work in the engine room, he needed to make sure he could get out alive before the deal would be finalised. Try as he may, the crates were magnetically sealed and he could not open them. Scanning was equally as fruitless.

Scanning the media channels, the image of his ship was everywhere. Perhaps he would need to get out sooner than anticipated.

Ordering the supplies under a false alias was a smuggler code given, but how long would his alibies hold.