After a few minutes, Larik feels like he can stand up with some confidence of not immediately toppling over. When he stands, it's a bit closer of a call than he'd like to admit, but at least he doesn't have to close one eye to focus anymore. My body must metabolize this differently than any other liquor I've had, he thinks as a semblance sobriety rushes back through him.

"Lyka, are you going to be OK for a bit," he asks the mother. "I'd like to talk to some of the others and see if they have any ideas on how to get your people back."

She nods assent and he heads outside, ducking back in briefly to grab the bottle. "You know, for calming their nerves," he says as Lyka appears to do the Krogan equivalent of an eyeroll.

The other Krogan they rescued agree to assist and mention that while they have a small cache of weapons, there may be more powerful arms on the downed Star Destroyer.

It seems dangerous but necessary he decides and calls to Lalam on the comlink.

"If you're ready, now might be a good time to head back. I think we're gonna have to raid a Star Destroyer as a warm up to our rescue here."

He then confers with Naught and Queg.

"You said you wanted to kill some Imps," he says to Queg. "You might get that chance."

Queg's mouth curves slightly upward in the manner of a Rodian grin. "Excellent," he says, clasping his hands and rubbing them together. "Just show me the way."

Naught notes Queg's enthusiasm for killing Imperials but lets it pass without comment. "This Gand fears such a raid will be necessary. It is unlikely that the 'Runts' have ordinance capable of breaching a fortified position, and it sounds as though an aerial insertion would be ill-advised." Naught crosses her arms and thinks for a moment. "We should of course be prepared for the possibility that the surviving Imperials will resist our attempts to scavenge, but it is also possible that they will be injured, incapacitated, or otherwise in no condition to fight. Trading medical supplies and food might work if they are desperate enough."

Lalam takes his time in the afternoon and finds a nice sheltered spot to bed down for the night. He is up on a second floor for a good view, with warm blankets and cold trail rations. The speeder bike is off the street and out of sight but he has a clean run out of there if the need arises. He also have a good view of this fort the Krogan Slavers are in, although not too close so more than seeing simple comings and goings will be tough. Hopefully he can learn some more of this clan overnight.

Larik and Naught are in their new truck, making the rounds to some of the local Runt families, gathering together a small force to face off with against any surviving Imperials. With night rapidly closing in the Duo find themselves in charge of 12 of smallest weakest Krogan they could find... Thankfully Krogan are a big tough species so even the weak are formidable combatants.

Khit is out in the ruined sprawl somewhere, you spot Ronto poo a couple of times, at one stage you even get a short radio communication from her "I've seen an Imperial patrol today, I tried following but they jumped in an airspeeder and took off, I'll catch up with you tomorrow." She then finds her own shelter, and is lucky to even find some rare greenery for Gup to munch before the two settle in.

As night takes hold a strong wind picks up, bringing icy weather with it, outside temperatures plummet and long exposure could be deadly. But it is also likely to keep others indoors, abandoning their usual nightly activities to keep out of the bitter cold.

Once Naught and Karol manage to gather the "troops", they bring everyone back to the Krogan mother's abode. Much, much drinking ensues. The ruckus raised by the group is enough to drive Queg out into the first beginnings of the snow. He looks,up at the angry, darkening skies and sighs. "Definitely not the weather to be doing this," he mutters to himself. "I need to invest in a decent coat or jacket when I return to civilization...or steal one from an Imperial officer."

He smirks and mounts his speeder bike, speeding off. With Khit's partial directions, he is very easily able to drive half the distance towards the downed Imperial Star Destroyer.

Almost as soon as he heads off, the storm worsens, as though he is driving into the heart of it. He shivers and shakes violently in his seat. Rodians were not evolved properly for wintery conditions. Frost and ice were building up on his clothing, eyelids, and antennae.

He spots a sheltered alcove a short distance ahead and brakes hard, almost being thrown from the bike in his hurry to get out of the weather. He curls up in a fetal position and shiveringly sleeps out the night...

The celebration continues after Queg leaves. It's a mix of excitement and foreboding, knowing that they're all possibly headed toward a warrior's end. This puts the Krogan into a frenzy, the drink flowing more liberally than likely prudent. But, as is their custom, they live for the night they're guaranteed rather than fear for the future.

Larik, being naturally social, does his best to join in; he knows there's no way he can keep up with the Krogan. He tries, but a disapproving look from Naught snaps him back to reality. They'll need all their wits about them tomorrow if they want to carry out the plan.

He sips one last belt of the Krogan liquor before excusing himself for the night. On the way to bed he takes one last look at the revelry and darts down the stairs. He finds an unoccupied bottle and hoists it aloft.

"Tomorrow this ends! Tomorrow we find a way to free your families!"

He staggers a bit back up the stairs, hoping he's as eloquent as he feels. He then passes out, face down on the bed, thankful to get a spot of rest before what's sure to be a challenging day.

Lalam beds down, glad for the shelter and warm blankets. The struggle to keep checking for any activity is real, often he snaps awake unaware of exactly how long he has slept. Gradually the night creeps on with occasional rain showers and flashes of lightning. Some time close to first light there is strange high pitched scream heard off in the distance, barely enough to notice, certainly not by a sleeping Weequay.

If the heavy sleeper had been awake he would have seen red flashes of light off in the distance. The flashes would have been seen hurtling across the sky. More red flashes would also be seen retuning in the other direction, emanation from the two turrets atop the Slavers base... Then they impact.

BOOOOMMMM!!!! With a deafening explosion one of the turrets explodes, shaking the buildings in the area and sending fresh rubble crashing from old walls. Lalam wakes with a start, staring out at the now flame lit sky, and hearing the scream of a Squadron of Tie fighters racing overhead. They are low to the buildings and absolutely flat out, moving fast to turn in a wide arc for another attack run. As they turn the one remaining turret unleashes fury upon the 4 Ties, hitting one and sending it crashing into the city below.

The three finish their turn and the sound of their engines raises quickly, more laser fire emits from their cannons, this time missing their mark and breaking part of the roof of the building away. This gives the cannon enough time to take down one more Tie. It explodes not far from Lalam and crumples into the street just behind his hiding spot. As the llast two turn and make a run for it one more looses a wing and loops out of the sky out of control. With enough damage done for this assault and the element of surprise lost the last remaining Tie escapes range and hightail sit out of the area.

Steadily its high pitched scream fades into the distance, and the sound of wind takes over once more.

Dawn rises over the drenched ruins of this ancient city. Wind lashes the crumbling walls and water floods down the streets, the drains collapsed or blocked with thousands of years of dirt. Pools of it form in any low-lying area making the task of navigating in the already complex city much more difficult. Our three seperate groups all rise together even with the distances between them, the Force can do mysterious things some times. Everyone looks out to a bleak sky, dull grey in every direction, the biting wind whipping cloaks and hoods but thankfully the rain has relaxed to a slight sideways drizzle.

Larik is surprised to not be the least bit hungover in the morning and hopes his liver hasn't suffered too much from the alien liquor.

By the time he gets outside, he sees Naught already has done incredible work disguising the truck and hiding the alterations he made to the rear doors the day before. Despite the miserable weather conditions, Larik decides he's best suited to acting as a lookout for the group and the best perch from which to do that is the sidecar of Naught's speeder bike.

He explains to the Krogan that they will be in charge of leading the way in the truck while he and Naught act as a spotter and rear guard.

This seems agreeable to everyone and the little force sets out for the downed Star Destroyer. En route, Larik and Lalam try to work out a rendezvous point, but as the day wears on it becomes more and more obvious the Krogan are having a difficult time navigating through the hazardous terrain.

Making matters more interesting, Larik is certain he keeps spotting black felines, but they disappear from his vision as soon as he notices them. No matter, he thinks, we have to push on. At least we know they're still out there. We can be better prepared for their next strike.

Queg shivers himself awake early the next morning. A thin layer of frost coats his exposed side and he stiffly brushes it off. He manages to push himself,up to stand, though every tendon aches from the previous night's exposure to the elements. Out in the street, his speeder bike is also coated in a sheen of frost. He knocks some loose from the storage compartment and pulls out a ration to nibble upon. No sense in calling the others in the group. They're probably busy getting the civilians prepared. Not to mention nursing hangovers. It's also likely the surviving Imperials are monitoring local communications.

With a sigh, he consumes the remainder of the ratio and mounts his speeder bike. It starts without a complaint and he drives off.

A few hours later, Queg dismounts. Driving any further risks discovery by the surviving Imperials. Despite the miserable weather, it was far safer to finish the journey in foot. He retrieves his rifle and now from the storage compartment and hides the speeder bike. After hiding it, he takes off on foot.

Another turn, another cul-de-sac. Lalam gets off his speeder and scrambles over the rubble ahead. If he could get his bike over the stones it looks like exactly where he needs to go...he looks back at it, floating there, mocking him. "You can float, but you can't fly. Why would anybody make you like that?" he wonders. He's not a technician, the innards of the speeder are as incomprehensible to him as the Force. But still, he can't help but think somebody just made it that way for a laugh. "Fine," he grumbles, "I'll go around." He pumps the throttle, and the drizzle gathered on the floaty-pods sizzles as the engine roars.

Hours later he pauses at an intersection. He's soaked to his bone spurs, and between the wind and mist he can't see or hear anything...until a truck emerges from the mist. He gives a start and reaches for his blaster, but...

"Oh, hey Larik, Naught...Krogan..." he says, casual-like. "Nice day for a ride, eh?"

Reasoning that if the Imperials had air power, that it would be difficult if not impossible to sneak the large, noisy truck up on them unnoticed, Naught elected to aim for "Peacful Merchants" in disguising the truck. The cold rain and sleet rain off her carapace, but the thermal cloak from her survival kit kept her warm enough. That kit may have been the best credits this Gand has spent all cycle, she thought as she lashed tarps over the rear doors to cover the holes Larik had made yesterday. The truck needed to look a bit beat up to play the part properly, but it wouldn't do to look like it'd just been through a battle.

Naught, little perturbed by the weather, took to her speeder bike. She suppresses a chuckle as Larik climbs into the sidecar shivering. At least he's not hungover , she thinks as they take off, this weather is miserable enough without a sharp headache.

After a time they came upon Lalam, looking just as miserable as Larik. Naught responded to his ironic greeting in kind, saying, "Oh yes, this day looks like it could turn out to be this Gand's best day on this planet yet. Shall we proceed on to the Star Destroyer and see if the Imperials are enjoying this lovely day?"

An already miserable day turns worse as Queg makes the trek on foot towards the downed ISD. The rain and sleet have literally soaked through his clothes, and the eight hours or so it takes him to find a proper nest close enough to the ISD to properly strike (long range) feel like an eternity and then some. He is also fairly sure that most of the skin bristles on his head that people think is Rodia n hair has frozen and broken off. Thank heavens this wasn't Hoth or some other godsforsaken ice ball.

The sniping/scouting nest appears to be perfect. None of the patrols have noticed his approach, and this lone, crumbling three story building on the outskirts of the city is like a tower of heaven. Perfect sight lines, cover from the weather and prying eyes, and a nice little open window right there on the top floor. It appears deserted, so he pushes open the front door to climb up to the third floor, sighing with relief...

Queg settles down in his little nest, with the slight rise this building is on and the extra height it has over the surrounding area, he can see most approaches to his position. But most of all he has a solid line of fire on the entrance to what the surviving Imperials are using as a makeshift base.

When the giant kilometres long starship crashed out of orbit it caused significant damage to the already crumbling suburb it landed in.

I imagine it was something like this.

Right down this flank of the looming structure are deep black blast marks, holes the size of small freighters are burned through the armoured hull, armour that was once meters thick in places. The immense prow of the giant triangle is buried under a mound of rock, brick and dirt. It came in with such force and is buried so deep the Imperials had to use a hanger door half way up the length of it to exit through.

At that exit a path has been cleared down the rubble pile to the city streets below, a small squad of Troopers can be seen at the top of the ramp standing lookout. A single AT-ST stands at the bottom of the ramp, unoccupied and locked up, ready for tomorrows scouting through the city. Dim light emits from the open hanger, now tilted at a slight angle, the primary and backup power systems must be down with only Emergency supplies still lasting. Inside the hanger you can see 2 Tie Fighters, with what looks to be some kind of ground transport.

At this time of night, roughly 8pm you think, there is little action, these survivors clearly thinking they have control of the immediate area and in no risk.

Hours of travel behind them, the group decides it's best to take things a bit easier and rest while they have a chance. After looking around a bit they find a ruined building that will at least block the wind and ever present sleet, and have the added benefit of being more defensible and easily guarded. Larik has been jumpy the entire ride since spotting the felines that attacked them several nights earlier and he wants to take as few chances as possible.

They get their makeshift camp set up and Larik offers to take the first watch. A pair of runts that were in the back of the truck when Larik and Queg commandeered it offer to stand watch with Larik and he has them help him with learning some Krogan as they keep an eye out for trouble.

Every now and then, like earlier, Larik sees a smudge move across buildings, black and almost ghostlike. He never sees them for sure, but he knows what they are and what they mean. An apex predator is stalking them, one that won't wait forever before striking.

He wakes the next group and warms them to watch carefully. The felines are keeping their distance, but they're out there. Waiting.

As Larik retires to bed Lalam takes up the watch, 2 Krogan join him and as the night draws on they chat quietly. It turns out the Slavers are a relatively new arrival in the building know as the Citadel. They arrived under cover of darkness one night using a large air transport to drop onto the undefended roof of the building. From there they took the upper floors by killing everyone they encountered, including the previous chief of the clan. This draws parallels with Lalams own life experiences and he proceeds to share his own story of failure and exile. A friendship is formed as the Krogan feel a sense of camaraderie with the Weequay.

This outpouring of personal loss has the unfortunate effect of distracting the trio from their task. In the distance and unbeknownst to them dark shapes creep forward through the dark and rain, guided by there exquisite sense of sight and smell, directed by an individual hidden and observing. The predators take their time, knowing the long night hours will dull the senses of their prey, slowly moving into striking range. Their black coats are perfectly suited to this night time stalking, blending into the near blackness that envelops the world.

Lalam and his new friends talk on into the wee hours of the morning, until sleep calls them and they decide to wake the last shift and find some rest for themselves. The two Krogan wake their friends and after rousing Naught Lalam prepares to climb into his bed. Everyones attention is upon themselves and the sleep lost to this miserable weather when suddenly black shapes come leaping silently out of the night, the time to strike has come...

Lalam breaks into one last song.

"Blaaaaack shadooows, creeping over the desert stone, and my

soul is breaking apaaaart.

You left me and now I am all aloooone, with the

blaaaack shadooows in my heart."

Black shadows leap at him from the rubble. "By the Quay, it's true!" he yells. Reflexively he flings his cup of brew into the nearest feline face. It hisses and flinches.

"She didn't destroy me, and neither will you," he growls.

Out of the darkness of the night leap a mass of black, so dark it looks to be moving shadows. They come into the building from the front, but others drop down from above, yet more soar through windows too high for any person to reach. Instantly the quiet of night become a ferocious tidal wave of anger.

The group which entered from the front lunge straight for the man with the dulcet tones, his look of calm defiance leaving them questioning their choice of target... But attack they do, claws and fangs finding flesh, leaving blood stains on the tough Weequay.

The second group took to the sleeping Krogan. Entering from unexpected and unprotected openings they land right amidst the sleepers and immediately begin savaging them. Before ever waking one is dead, another is bleeding and all are frantically trying to retaliate.

The shadows come alive with teeth and hot breath. The felines swarm Lalam, raking his tough skin with their sharp claws. This could be worse than that time on Sor Plano , he thinks as he fails the fend them off. His new Krogan buddies come to his rescue, kicking and yelling, giving him some space to move. One feline gets kicked right where nobody wants to get kicked, and runs off yowling.

"I got a claw of my own right here!" Lalam yells as he draws his knife. A feline jumps in his direction and he disembowels it on the spot. The others seem to have had enough, and flee into the night. Only the fading yowls of the insultedly injured feline mark their progress.

"Whew! Those things are tough! I...I think I need a bandaid." Lalam sits down roughly and rummages through his pack, pulling out his last stimpack and eyeing it dubiously. Do I use it now, or wait? he wonders.

Queg sits quietly in his little lookout, the thin line of light across the distant horizon beckoning forth the beginning of a new day. After broken sleep in cold wet clothes the Rodians face only shows the faintest of smiles at the thought of what this day could bring.

------

Below, the remaining crew of the massive Star Destroyer wake from their sleep in warm and dry beds it may not be heated any more, but being out of the weather is luxury enough. Inside the recently arrived building a clean shaven officer approaches his new commander with a small clipboard under one arm.

" Commander McKinnon, the scouts reported back from their night mission, the scanners picked up a small group of locals headed our way, they look to be traders or scavengers. Its possible they are looking for bones to pick over, but they may have useful supplies we could use. " The officers uniform still remained clean even in this time of abandonment.

" Nice work Adin, So we didnt loose any more Ties to stupidity last night? Good. Get your brother and one of the squads of troopers, take a transport out and meet these scavengers. See if you can get anything out of them, if they show any sign of resistance just shoot them, these locals are little more than savages. Oh and get Mick to hurry up and finish work on that ST, we need it if we want to set up a proper forward outpost on this hell forsaken **** hole. "

The aged commander turns from his subordinate to return to his morning breakfast, cereal and cold caff, Will the Empire actualy return for us? I can only hope so, we dont have much left and that shuttle only fits a quarter of the survivors we have here... If worst comes to worst I guess.

----

Outside a small squad of troops move down the ramp, accompanied by a large droid and what looks like a mechanic, they stop at the AT-ST. The white hats stand guard while the mechanic and droid start moving around the walker apparently performing some repairs. A few minutes later an engine roars to life within the open hanger and a wheeled transport vehicle rolls out and down the ramp, heading off into the ruins of the city. More activity can be seen inside the Hanger, but no other movement outside is obvious.

Queg watches this activity through the scope of his hunting blaster, but he can't make out the uniforms of any commanding officers quite yet.

Slowly surveying the camps below, he sees the darker uniforms of officers through the glass of a lone transport craft. He grumbles to himself over the missed opportunity and continues watching the field.

The felines complete their hit and run and disappear into the night, leaving Lalam battered, one runt dead and another wounded.

"We've got to be more careful," Larik says as Naught tends to Lalam's wounds "This is twice now they've gotten us. We should think about setting some kind of trap or early warning system next time we camp."

No more sleep will be had this night, so the group sets out on a somber ride through the night. Along the way they spot little signs Queg left to mark his trail and they're thankful to know he's out there somewhere, hopeful he's OK.

Light begins to crest over the horizon and the unwelcome sight of an Imperial patrol greets the travelers.

"OK everyone, remember the story," Larik reminds everyone. "They've got no reason to suspect anything from us. We're just traders. We're supposed to be here."

He says it with far more confidence than he feels.

As you round the corner and spot the Imperials 8 Troopers efficiently exit their vehicle and form up either side of it, blasters raised in your direction through the pouring rain. 2 senior individuals exit after them, one has an enormous rifle over his the shoulder of his white laminate armour, the second a black raincoat over a pristine white uniform. The second speaks

"You're approaching Imperial territory, state your business"

Under his breath Larik tells Naught to follow his lead and then dismounts from the speeder bike's sidecar and breaks out his biggest, most diplomatic grin.

"Imperial territory? The Emporer truly has completed his mission of uniting the Galaxy, because I have to think this place was the last on his list!"

He walks toward the imperial contingent and stops half way between his group and the imperials.

"If you really want to know, we're simple traders, scrappers, jacks of all trades and we heard there was quite a ripe find out this way. Of course, if it's yours, we'd never dream of interfering. We're no claim jumpers.

"But," he looks back over his shoulder and flashes a look to Naught, Lalam and their Krogan retinue that he hopes they pick up on, "we may have something to offer you in the way of assistance for your endeavor. We happen to have an entire truck of the locals with us we've hired on, but they may work for free...for you...if you catch my meaning.

"Would you like to come have a look at our goods?"

"Hmm interesting. So let me get this straight, you have a truck full of helpful locals and you thought you would just drive on over to pay us a visit... What exactly do you think I need them for? I'm an officer of the Imperial Navy and resources are rather abundant for us."

-------

As Queg quietly observes he notices a couple of interesting things. The superstructure of the ISD is quite a long ways away (past extreme and into close planetary range) yet there can be seen a small number of lights on within it. This is odd since there appears to be very little power anywhere else within the ship.

Inside the hanger he can see a number of silhouettes moving around, mostly close to what must be a Tie Fighter.

A while after the transport had left the Mechanic and Droid stops work on the walker they are fixing, then the Mechanic gets on his comlink, too far away for you to identify words, your left guessing what's said. Almost immediately 8 Stormtroopers march out of the hanger, accompanied by a Uniformed individual, making their way down the ramp to the AT-ST.