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"The targeting computers are supposed to be able to track an A-wing somewhat effectively. Since you seem to be in possesion of one, I'd like to see that substanciated." Neb stated, "Ganil, turn the power down on the lasers, we wouldn't want to destroy the ship... All right old chap, nothing fancy, lets see what the guns can do. You shouldn't feel too much up there. We'll just pop a couple of shots off, let the shields charge, and retest. just fly.. like you're holding back."

Mordranna fiddled with the panel and shield controls. "Ok, that looks like it should do it," she mused. And, let's hope he doesn't shoot the ship down!
Of course, an A-wing wasn't in the same class as an Imperial Star Destroyer. She then flicked the panels, with a littel green light confirming that all systems are go.
"Yes, the shields are at 100 percent," she announced, calling out the status on her board.

((*loooves Celestia's avi*))


"Alright."

Ganil flipped a few switches and lowered the turret's power to low and activated the targeting computer on the A-Wing. It locked onto it, but then the A-Wing started doing basic combat manuevers, throwing the computer off completely.

"Well, I see that the targeting computer needs some work."

He entered a few codes and flipped more switches and buttons to recalibrate the targeting computer. After a few seconds the computer went online and successfully targeted the A-Wing. Ganil placed his hands on the triggers and fired off a few shots. Many of them missed the A-Wing, but several of them hit.

"And that's the second thing to be fixed."

Ganil began to calibrate the laser turrets. He pushed buttons and entered codes and other miscellanious things. When he was finished, he put his hands on the triggers again and fired. This time all but one of the shots missed the A-Wing. He turned to Neb.

"Everything's good here."

((technically no. You have to train one fully. aka, find one, train one, and through four planets. since DA was FP's apprentice, and he's technically not a master (yet), he gets priority on the call, and hence, he gets masterdom. Also, on a totally different note, could you please look at page one and send me a bio in the format there? sweatdrop if nothing else, I'mma kinda wonderin what skills you are using... But, I imagine more people will join the RP. when the next force sensitive padawans come around, you'll get dibs due to your knigitdom.))

"Okay. Targeting systems are now working... both linked and independent. Shields and defensive paneling works... masking system works... So that's about it. If you want to go, old friend, then you may." Neb stated.

He turned around to the padawans, stating, "Before we get to our assignment, I think it would be wise to have you know at least one skill that is battle ready. So, get ready for practice.."

"Acknowledged. There's really nothing else for me to do here, so I'll just leave for parts unknown. I wish you well, Jedi. I guess it's redundant to say 'May the Force be with you,' but you don't believe in luck." He smiled.

(( back from baby-sitting hell! xd ))

Mordranna nodded thoughtfully to Neb. "Agreed. What would you have me do?"

Neb landed the craft, watching the A-wing take off for unknown regions.

"I've been thinking about the skills. I have a bad feeling that something... bad is going to happen some time down the road. So I'll have you not follow the same training course. It may help augment you two when you one day reach battle. Ganil, I want you to be able to levitate any object. Mor, I need you to be a bit faster. So I designed this. I shall hold a pebble in my hand. Ganil, try to levitate it out of my hand, until you do, you won't be able to do much. If you happen to master that quickly, you can levitate that box of rations over there. If you master that quickly enough, then the speederbike outside will do quite well as a new challenge. Mor, this pebble you must snatch from my hand. If you can make your hand faster, then your body will follow quickly. But first, the hard part of speeding your hand up. Snatch the pebble from my hand young padawan, and then we'll talk."

Selkisto set his A-Wing down in his hangar bay. Yes, it was unofficially his, as he was the only one that used it and he knew the owner of it. Plus, the owner owed him a few favors for a number of "incidents" he had put down singlehandedly against some of the more heavily-armed spacers trying to land without paying the fee.

He got out of his fighter and hopped the short fall to the bay floor. As his ship was relatively small, the bay also was relatively small. No complaints though; he knew Jhat Yir just didn't want to give away one of his larger bays, but it was also practical. Jhat greeted him when he debarked.

Busines was slow that day.

"Hey, Hothun. You sure were gone a long time. I almost-"

"Yeah, tell me about it," the mercenary cut him off. His mind was swimming in the credit figures he owed. He should've been able to pay them off with the bit he saved up, but then there went his savings. Oh well, whatever kept him alive.

Jhat frowned. "That bad, huh? Where the hell have you been?!"

"Doesn't matter. Waste of time." Selkisto left the other man staring at him in puzzlement.

But then, business was slow that day.

It was raining on Nar Shadda. The drops of liquid, composed of a mish-mash of toxins and chemicals, plunked noisily off the armored, top portion of Selkisto's mask as he trudged along a platform extended from the hub that was the docking bay assembly he'd just departed from. It seemed to reflect the pounding in his brain. Only one way to fix that.

Binot's Bar. Not a place mercenaries often went, but it was the closest place that sold anything hard. It was mostly inhabited by the more desperate, rough-and-tumble smugglers that smart bounty hunters tended to avoid. Selkisto wasn't feeling particularly smart, just depressed. Hunched over his drink, he reflected on the fact that only two things made him depressed. Well, three. Money, cosmic thinking, and-

"Hey! It's Selky Hoth!! The Jedi killer!"

Before the overweight spacer, reeking of body odor and liquor, could let out a guffaw, Selkisto's fist had been rammed into his face. The man's foam-covered mouth was wide open in preperation for the purpose of laughing, so that fist went straight through, down his throat, opened a tear in the passage to his lungs, and proceeded down into one of the purple sacs, charred and black from the overuse of death sticks. This suited Selkisto fine, because in his fist was a grenade. The grenade was meant to be thrown and stuck into targets, so it had a sharp bottom that facilitated the maneuver. It was counting down from three seconds when Selkisto removed his arm, grabbed the spacer by his collar, and hurled some two-hundred-odd pounds of scum out the open door and into the abyss that hung between the great rising Nar Shadda buildings.

An explosion was heard, then the sickening sound of flesh ripping from organs and flying into nearby duracrete, and finally the sound of yells and screams from passersby. These noises echoed across the chasm they originated from, enhancing the chilling effect they had.

Selkisto glared at the late spacer's cadre of companions. "Go ahead. Finish the joke. There's plenty more where that came from." His ominous viewplate dared them to speak.

They decided to let their blasters speak for them. Selkisto was already behind the counter when the first volley shrieked after him. WIth a pluck, switch, and toss, the guns were silenced by the more impressive sound of another grenade.

He got up and surveyed the damage. It was pretty bad. Blood was strewn everywhere. The other patrons who weren't lucky enough to clear the building when the 'nade hit were victims alongside the men who were its intended targets.

Oh well. Selkisto had no love for these people. He didn't bother leaving any credits to pay for the damage. He just didn't care anymore. He staggered out of the bar and down a walkway that lead nowehre he'd ever been before. It was strange, and ironic. Despite all the jobs he'd taken, now he finally felt the deaths weighing on him.

No, it was just because the bar reminded him of the slavers' lab beneath Coruscant. He still hadn't forgiven himself for that.

There was something else that he'd never forgive himself for. "Heh." Add another one to the tab.

Speaking of which, that Corellian Ale was really settling the wrong way. He cluched his stomach and plunged forward. "Ugh." It wasn't very pleasant.

He continued in this way until he bumped into something hard. He reeled away and looked up, expecting to see a wall in front of him. Instead, it was a weequay. There were three of them, in fact. Selkisto turned and tried to run. Four rodians closed in in the direction he now faced. On these walkways, suspended on this level at least a good mile above any surface, this was as tight as a trap could get.

Selkisto drew his blasters and fired. Two rodians went down. A shot came from the other direction, hitting him in the leg. He doubled over and fell on his back, aiming back at the weequays. A rodian fired, sending a bolt of crimson through his right arm. Selkisto's remaining weapon, his E-11, let off another shot. It hit a weequay, sending him over the side and hurtling down to meet a nasty end. Its final shot went wide of a second weequay before it was artfully hit and exploded in his hand. Curled up on the hard metal, toxic rain beating down upon him, Selkisto was defeated.

A weequay spoke. His voice and dialect were harsh, but Selkisto understood the rough Huttese well enough. "You have some debts to pay Sharba."

Leaning his head back and twisting it to face the sky, Selkisto gave up on attempting to hold his body together. He collapsed onto the grate supporting him through Nar Shada's violent skyline.