Oh frak. "Nestil, whatever you do, don't stop. I don't like the look of this at all." Worry and a bit of fear crept into Rehn's voice as he made his suggestion. "I don't care if you have to ram every one of them down, don't stop."

His hand tightened around his blaster, until his knuckles turned pink. He kept it below the dashboard, knowing he might very well have to use it again shortly. His other hand--his cybernetic one--unconsciously pushed his purple hair back away from his eyes in a none-too-subtle display of his nervousness.

"Now Would someone please tell me, Why we had an exploding refrigerator aboard?" Nesitl asks, Before she grows preoccupied with keeping an eye out for more security officers, or threats that might endanger they're mission.

"Perhaps you guys back there should make something else into an explosive just in case." She shouts towards the back and continues to drive without stopping, as she listens to Rehn.

Leaning forward, Kurr says, "Oy Sweet-Cheeks, slow 'er down. Ain't you got some pull here, Pinkie? Maybe we could swap 'em th' truck fer us t' get past 'em, eh?" Kurr motioned to the Mandies. "Ain't like we don't have th' muscle t' help us out, eh? Hell, it'd be better than tryin' t' motor through the gristin' lot o' 'em." Kurr smiled as he puffed on the cigar. "'Sides, ain't like they ain't enterprisin' businessmen like erselves, eh? Plus I got me some gear I don't want t' be leaving, Mate." The Feeorin chuckled deeply at that though and then leaned back in his seat. Almost there baby ... almost there ...

Rehn stares wide-eyed at Kurr. "Are you out of your frakkin' little mind? This is J'rill the Red we're talking about! You don't want to meet a red Kushiban. Ever! No, no, no, we have to get outta here. We'll find another way to get your precious gear. We can't stop!"

His fingers clutched just a little tighter around his blaster as he tried to steady his racing heart. He took a deep breath, then explained again, calmer this time. "J'rill is the frakkin' worst swoop gang leader on the Wheel. If we give him our frakkin' speeder, he'll probably take us with it. I don't wanna try that, thanks."

The improvised bomb worked better than expected as it took out the pursuing speeder. Well that's one hump down what could be left? Wes sat back looking at the sites. It wasn't much to look at as the area became more run down as they went. Looking at the landscape he talked to himself. "I see that things have gotten better here in the future."

Wes laid back against the cushion again and closed his eyes. The efforts of the day were beginning to take a more serious toll on his body. He just wanted some rest and he finally got some. He opened his eyes when he heard the Zeltron whining again. Looking at the chrono on the was displayed in his helmet he saw that thirty minutes had passed. Not enough down time. He thought.

The others exchanged ideas. as Wes looks out and sees the check point. Kurr had a point. Besides they couldn't fight everyone between where they were and the spaceport. "Listen, worst swoop gang leader or not, we can't be fighting everyone in this place and we can't afford another running firefight in this thing. If this little runt is no friend of Gil'usa maybe he'll make a deal. If not we can deal with it when it hits the fan. Wes emphasized the last statement by lifting his carbine. "Besides I'm just plain tired." He finished as he leaned back in to the seat.

Callia glances curiously out the window, apparently mildly interested in the gang of thugs now surrounding them.

His protocol droid Jasper, however, whirls on Wes. The little droid's sensors and lights wink on and off furiously.

'If he is no friend of Gil'usa's he is still no friend of ours, and happens to be the kind of person to extort using a toll booth he has no authority to manage! That is to say that he is unlikely willing to compromise in any manner that promises our safety. He also will believe we are affiliated with Gil'usa due to our having this truck, no matter what our story. Stopping, if you will forgive my rudeness sir, is a supremely stupid idea, worthy only of the most inbred of country Nerfherders! The chances of it working out in our favour are slim bordering on none, whereas we happen to know this vehicle can survive rather more firepower than we are currently being threatened by as evidenced by its performance against those speeders.'

Kurr puffed the last of his cigar, thinking to himself, Kushiban ... Kushiban ... nope, dunno what th' grist he's so worried about. No one worried that one time when we karked off that Wookie a few years back.
Grinning as Wes finished his statement of tiredness and ignoring Callia entirely, the pirate looked at Rehn and said, "Look, Pinkie, yer gunna have t' grow a pair at some point, so ya might as well start t'day. We bust through this gang o' bantha poodo an' we'll be th' ones covered in it. No offense, I jus' want t' get off this metal trouble-finder an' get me way into th' black with all o' me effects ... includin' th' ones in that container. So, let's talk t' th' Red an' see what we can haggle, eh? Besides, we start a fight down here an' I think we'll have sumthin' much worse on er hands than the station pogs that've been chasin', us, eh? So, if'nye please ... let's slow this beastie down an' get the grist outta here ..."

Wes looked at the mouthy, if that description is even applicable for the hovering droid, trash can as Kurr talked to Rehn in the front seat. "Well then please forgive my nerfherderly intelligence. I take it you haven't dealt with gangs much. Let me tell you something. If they are still anything like they were before I got stuck in that box," Wes Jerked his thumb behind him. "For every one that you see there probably one you don't see. And just because you don't see any heavy ordinance doesn't mean there isn't any. Yes this vehicle is more durable than most and its already been damaged. How much more can it take? Besides we've already tossed the refrigerator, gotta sink handy for the next one following us?"

He looked forward to the driver, Nestil. "Your call Jetii blow by them or stop. Either way we'll have to deal with them sooner or later."

Jasper emits a noise that sounds remarkably like a disdainful sniff.

'Well, really!'

He floats back to Callia's side and begins to berate the young Fyrthen.

'Master, it is unlike you to associate with individuals who fall for such fallacies as allowing purely speculative factors to inform their decisions. Why exactly are we even here?'

Callia doesn't answer for a moment, then his mouth gapes slightly. He raises a hand as though to gesture, probably while speaking, but neither occurs and he lowers the arm again.

'I don't really know. I think they're rescuing us?' He finally manages without even a trace of certainty.

Nestil did slow down long enough to shout a message out the window. "You can have the truck when we're done with it. Docking Bay 94."

She wasn't really interested in negotiating with the rabble that would have been below her notice in any other situation. But hopefully this short fictional message would be enough to prevent immediate pursuit. After delivering the message, she guns the engine, once again not carrying of they weren't intelligent enough to get out of they're way.

(Pilot +9)

Nestil applies accelerator to floor, plowing into the makeshift barricade. J'rill's eyes go wide, although whether its from recognition that the speeder trucks driver is not, in fact, Gil'usa or that the multi-ton vessel comes barreling towards him is anyone's guess. The Kushiban manages to dive out of the way, as do several of his more nimble cronies, but a number are either flattened under the A-A9c's powerful repulsors or squished between the truck's nerf-catcher grill and the barricade. (15 Damage to A-A9c, A-A9c: 42/80 hitpoints)

The Imperial Knight drops the repulsor craft into low gear as it begins to stall against the impediment, and with one last grunting effort the A-A9c is through, bits of crushed humanoid sliding up over the hood and windshield. Nestil up shifts and guns it, leaving what remains of the toll booth in the dust.

But the swoop gang doesn't remain dazed for long, as several blaster bolts soon harry's the speeder truck's departure. Through the rear window, those in the passenger cabin can see the crimson-furred Kushiban smacking his minions into order, pointing, slapping, and in one instance shooting until they're all scrambling into nearby alleys and garages for their swoops. As the A-A9c crests a rise about thirty meters away from the toll booth, Kurr and Wes see a somewhat sizable mob trailing after them.

********************************************************************************

Through multiple detours, several brushes with death, and Rehn's frantic directions, the A-A9c arrives at the entrance to the Wheel's fourth spire starport. In the center of the large corridor between where the repulsor truck emerges and the blast doors leading into the starport is the weapon's locker where all spacer's check their (most visible) weapons before gaining full access to the Wheel.

"Welcome to the Wheel! Once you have registered your weapons with us, please enjoy all that our station has to offer. Master Pol Temm bids you welcome, and hopes that your stay will be a pleasurable, and non-violent one!"

Currently on duty behind the counter are a pair of electrum-plated protocol droids, while a security droid flanks the weapon depot at each of its cardinal facings. There doesn't appear to be any heightened degree of security on this level, but surveillance droids appear to be buzzing about all through the corridor.

Each occupant of the speeder truck that checked in a weapon upon coming to the station has a datacard that can be exchanged for their gear. This excludes Rehn, who by virtue of being a Wheel employee was able to maintain his firearm.

Nestil pilots the speeder truck along the row of docking bays. "So which ship is ours?" She asked the Feorin. Even now she refuses to let herself feel the sadness that would have taken over any other at the thought of leaving her companion behind.

She stops at the security station, long enough for those that needed to to reclaim they're weapons. before continuing on their way.

With the swoop gang left behind them Nestil pushed the trucks accelerator to the max in an attempt to put as much distance between them and the mob that is beginning to pursue them. Wes just shook his head as he watched the bloody carnage fade away behind them. "You better be hoping that this truck is faster than them swoops or we'll have more trouble than you're worth Matilda." Wes smiled behind his helmet knowing that the name Kurr had given the Force user was one she didn't like.

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They came up on the starport quickly. The A-A9c repulsors whining from the stress they were being out through. In the center of the corridor there looked to be a checkpoint. Nestil asked Kurr which ship was his and where it was berthed. Wes saw a couple of droids that were on duty as they blew by the checkpoint quickly. "Welcome to the Wheel! Once you have registered your weapons with us, please enjoy all that our station has to offer. Master Pol Temm bids you welcome, and hopes that your stay will be a pleasurable, and non-violent one!" Wes looked them over as the Imperial knight pulled up along side the weapons depot.

He waited as those that needed their weapons retrieved what was theirs. Ever watchful he watched all around the truck for any problems that may occur. The gangers were still coming. That he was sure of. The disarray they caused by crashing through their roadblock would only give them a few moments of reprise. Soon they would find them.

He sat back for a minute as he was beginning to sweat. Weather it was just the profound tiredness that was falling over him or the fact that he hadn't showered in a century that ws bringing this on he wasn't sure. So in response to this fact he activated the armor's environmental controls. In seconds cool air was circulating through the armor. The relief was a welcomed, one he relished till the others that needed their weapons climbed back aboard.

Realizing that it may be a few minutes till the get to Kurr's ship Wes looked at the Ithorian. His voice sounded tired as he spoke. "I have questions for you. More than can be answered in with the time we have here in this truck. One thing bothers me. Why was I placed in the Oubliette? Why not some Jetii from my time. I have no idea on what's going on here. I'm told I'm like her," Wes gestured with his left hand towards Nestil. "And you, but the question is still there. Why me?"

Seeing them stop at the lockers, Kurr hopped out of the truck and made a quick dash to retrieve his items from the desk. Axe ... grenades ... Jazmin, Kurr thought, taking inventory of his weapons and slinging them over his shoulder. Taking a last second to make sure they're secure, he then dashed back to the ship, taking the code cylinder from his pocket.
"Awright, Sweet Cheeks," he said, hopping back in the truck. "Let's get off this spinnin' death trap, eh?" He waited as they approached the ship and hopped out almost before the truck stopped. Opening the plank, Kurr pulled "Jazmin" [his sporting rifle] out, just in case there are any "unexpected" difficulties.

Rehn was relieved when they arrived at the docking area without running into any more difficulty. Once again, he stuffed his computer back into his bag and threw it over his shoulder, as he let out a long, relieved breath.

He looked back as Wes interrogated the Ithorian. He didn't say anything, curious as to what the Ithorian had to say on the matter. Rehn didn't think he was as curious as Wes was on the matter, but he was close. He just didn't like unanswered questions.