Notice: This installment is rated PG-13 for mild violence and mild adult situations "Good word?" The Captain growled. "There's no good word, lass. Heln says there's no way we can take the prize we want." Ikara nodded thoughtfully. "There are other prizes out there, Captain. Maybe she's right. It's not the only ship in the galaxy. The richest right now, perhaps, but not the only one." "So, you're agreeing with the coward?" Roark asked harshly, slamming his mug to the table. "This time," Ikara said. "It's what she's good at. Good enough that you haven't shot her head off, no matter how annoying you find her." The First Mate crossed to a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of rum. She filled her Captain's mug and then poured some for herself before dropping into another chair. She propped her booted feet up on the table as she eyed the older man. "Besides, with all of the technology on that ship, C'Mos would risk practically anything. If she says it's not doable, it's not. Not now. Later, maybe." "Later will be too late," He grumbled. "The Empress enjoys these lavish displays. As long as she is around, it will never be too late." Ikara made a face. "There are always the smaller cruise vessels, bound for gaming planets. Not much in the way of interest for C'Mos, but enough financial gain to keep us happy for a short while." "I want a bigger fish," he said. "You were the one who said I needed to think big. I have and my own crew is cutting me down." His eyes were full of a dangerous fire. "I don't take kindly to that." "You were the one who advised caution." She set her own mug down carefully. "You have to make up your mind, Captain." "And you'd do well to remember who you're talking to." "I'm not in the mood for a fight," she snapped. "At least, not with you." Ikara fingered the knives in her boot top, just in case. "You're mad at Heln, mad at not being able to get the ship you wanted and you've been drinking. It's not a good combination." Within the next instant, a deafening roar filled the air as the far wall of the Silverstorm blow apart from the outside. Dust and debris flew everywhere as captain and crew took cover under their table. Being small and light of foot, C'Mos was the first to roll away from under the table and find cover elsewhere behind the bar. Above the clattering of falling timber the roar of a "swoop" or speeder bike could be heard. Ultraviolet laser beam searchlights preceded the swoop inside the Silverstorm. Other customers were either finding cover or making a run for their lives. The whine of the engine increased as the swoop and rider made their way inside the darkened chamber. The swoop made several insane circles about the room as the rider fired indiscriminate charges around the room, setting the Silverstorm afire. Roark knew only one madman who would dare ride a swoop indoors like that. At the same time behind the bar, Kyro had noticed C'Mos roll behind and under the bar. He regarded the small one as a minor annoyance in the midst of the chaos. The owner, Haruka Silverstorm, had been in the kitchen preparing an order. She had pivoted on the balls of her feet with the first explosion, dashing outside, wielding her wok at the sound of the crash; the rage on her face matched the fire now blazing along the remaining walls. She had paused for a brief moment to take in the scene and her eyes traveled up to the man on the swoop. Her left eye glimmered as she charged at the man. She leapt upward a good ten feet and brought her wok crashing down overhead and upon the rider's head with a resounding boooooong! Haruka, still in flight, twisted and somersaulted in midair to retain her momentum as she approached a wall and instinctively, with a panther-like movement, sprung off with a triumphant hehehehe escaping her lips. The swoop rider fired sporadically into the ceiling with his blaster as he yelled in a growling tone, "Ouch!" The next instant, Haruka's wok bashed the man across the temple as she flew by, then landed like a cat on the floor. "Nobody trashes MY PLACE!" Haruka's rage was still building within her like a volcano about to erupt as she leaped at the rider once again yelling, "Bakaaaaaa!" Unfortunately for Haruka, the man was not taken off guard this time as he dropped his swoop suddenly to the floor with a flip of a control switch. A look of surprise swept over Haruka's face as she flew right over him and headed right for Kyro! She crashed into the wolfman, shattering the mirror behind the bar. "Tarnation.... Where did that flying she-devil come from?" The rider flipped down a red tinted remote control sensor over his good eye, then took out a blaster rifle and twirled it around in three circles on his fingers before firing at the bar above everyone's heads; there was no doubt to anyone this was a deliberate warning shot. As the blasts landed well above the bar area, Kyro pulled Haruka under his body to protect her from the blasts "Stay down," Kyro whispered to Haruka. "Stay put and you won't be harmed" The rider tossed a data pad over the bar and it landed at the feet of the trio bunched underneath. "I'm looking for pirates today...not saloon keepers who smuggle bad Corellian hooch." "Smugglers!" Haruka started to get up. "How dare--" Kyro yanked her back down. "Don't. He's not worth getting your head blown off." "Take your friend's advice, neither are the scum I'm after. You can inspect the copy of the bounty warrant from both the Empire and Ord Mantell." "Roark, show your heathen hide. I've been trailing you for the past six months." The rider fired more random blaster shots as he yelled at the top of his lungs in a coarse voice. "Ah, it took ya that long to finally learnt how to walk hasn't it?" Roark chuckled as he taunted the rider. "I'd rather take you in dead anyway, Roark." The rider bit at his lip as he slowly circled with his swoop. Crouched under the table with Roark was his First Mate. "I see you've been practicing that wonderful diplomacy of yours, Captain," Ikara said dryly; even as she cringed at the sound of another blaster bolt hitting home somewhere in the Silverstorm. "Friend of yours?" "Do you 'member when you took a vacation on New Alderaan six months ago and we lost that load of spice we stole from some smugglers?" Roark took a swig from a bottle lying nearby. She nodded, comprehension dawning. "So, who's he working for, the smugglers?" Her hand dropped down to her blaster, pulling it free. "No, not exactly...That's just the last time he caught up with me." Roark rubbed his chin. "He's a slow one but a sure one." "Who in the seven Sith hells is he?" Confusion now replaced the comprehension on the first mate's face. "Butcher Quincy, a bounty hunter...He used to be in the Imperial Navy." He took another sip. Ikara swore viciously. "I've heard of him. You can't make easy enemies, can you?" "Well, let's just say I make easy friends with the wives of hard enemies." A gleeful grin flashed broadly across his face. She aimed a glare at him. "So, he's trying to kill everyone because you can't keep your pants zipped?" "He's a mite touchy...he caught us together in bed, but he missed me and ended up shooting her instead." The memory in Roark's mind was evident by the look on his face as his entire face smiled widely. Ikara leaned out, trying to see if she could get a shot. No such luck, the swoop was moving too quickly, too erratically. "You'd be better off paying for your wenches," she snapped, pulling back. "I can't hit him, not from here." "Look who's talking. Have you ever paid for anything you could just take? Let alone it being offered for free?" He folded his arms with a slight huff. She made a face at him. "It's not me he's aiming for." "Like I said, he never was a good shot." He tried to peer around a corner as a blaster bolt shot past. She shook her head. At least the firefight, as one-sided as it was so far, had cleared the man's mind of the rum-induced fog he'd been slipping into. "Well, any ideas?" she asked. "Don't move. Who's this here trying to make a run for it?" The bounty hunter hovered his swoop over to the bar after his scanners picked up a life form moving. He reached down and picked up C'Mos Heln by the scruff of the neck as she tried to scurry for the exit. Ikara swore again. "We need her." "I can tell from the wanted holo-vids this one is part of your filthy pack of dogs," Quincy hissed. "You stay put...and start working on plan B." Roark motioned to his first mate to stay down. "You've got a plan A?" Ikara asked in amazement. "Hey, Quincy, what's the bounty on me up to now?" Roark yelled in jest at the bounty hunter. "The Empire is only offering 50,000 Imperial credits for you, but the Governor of Ord Mantell is offering 250,000 in local credits, but I'll do for just the personal pleasure of having your hide." The bounty hunter said as C'Mos flinched from the blaster being pressed against her cheek. "Tell ya what, Quincy, take me to Ord Mantell and we can split the reward for me. If we're lucky, after a few nights I might be able to arrange with the Governor's wife to have you elected the new Governor." The captain's taunting seemed to know no end. "Show your blasphemous hide or this pup gets her head blown clear off." The bounty hunter was obviously losing patience with the pirate. "You don't want to do that!" C'Mos protested. "Look, he can do what he says." "Keep working on plan B." Roark looked at Ikara then started to raise his hands. "Do I got your word the squirt goes free if I give up?" "Plan B ends up with us all dead," Ikara hissed. "We don't need her that badly!" "No tricks, Roark. I know you!" He pressed harder against C'Mos' head. "I'll do you no harm at all afoot of this planet, you have me word. Now how 'bout yours?" Roarks tone became suddenly demanding as he pressed the issue about C'Mos. Ikara shook her head, trying to draw a bead on the bounty hunter as the Captain talked. He hadn't said anything about anyone else harming the Butcher. "Show yourself," Butcher demanded, using C'Mos as a shield. Roark stood up with his hands in the air. Ikara spat a curse, certain there was no longer any way to get a shot. C'Mos tried to get away, squirming in the bounty hunter's grasp. "Now throw your blaster down," the bounty hunter said as he pulled chains and manacles from a side saddle bag and tossed them on the floor. Roark threw down his blaster and walked toward the chains on the floor. "Captain!" Ikara said, trying to stop him. "Is that another of your vile dogs, Roark?" The bounty hunter spat his words as if they were spoiled milk. "Never mind that one, you got me and we struck a bargain ain't we?" Ikara's eyes narrowed. She'd love to get just one clear shot of the bounty hunter. "Put the manacles on, Roark, and I wanna hear them close shut." The bounty hunter watched every inch of movement that his prey made. Roark looked over his back to Ikara and winked an eye at her before he placed the manacles on himself. Ikara was halfway tempted to shoot through C'Mos at Quincy. She had no idea what the Captain was up to. This was no way to get free. "I'll set the pup free once we're at my ship. Make sure we're not followed, Roark." Quincy was a devil of a bounty hunter and regarded throughout the galaxy as a ruthless killer, hence the name "Butcher." However, he was also known as a man of his word. "That one over couldn't find her way out of a Jawa sandcrawler," Roark laughed, ignoring Ikara's scowl at the insult. "Let alone learn how pilot a ship. You've got me. Now let's be off." With the manacles clasped closed the bounty hunter reversed his swoop out of the Silverstorm, dragging Roark in the dirt behind him. Has the Captain met his match? Will he hang from the gallows? Will the bounty hunter ever find true love? Tune in Next Time…Same Pirate Time, Same Pirate Channel. For the Misadventures of the Calico Star To Be Continued in... Ahoy Ord Mantell: Part One - Facing the Hangman's Noose
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