Welcome to Gaia! ::

Trey nodded and continued walking.

"So...are you dead?" he asked Neb solemnly.

"Humility wasn't the key. It was instinct. Rook trained alot like I did. You see, even a person who has never picked up a sword can be an advanced swordsman, should he learn one thing: awareness. Every time you got bopped on the hands, you were supposed to learn something from it. You were supposed to learn not to get your hands bopped. After about three months, the pain would hopefully sink in to the point where you would never be caught off-guard. If you ever fight rook one-on-one, you'll notice he's not exactly easy to take down... even for a jedi's skills. You see, he got to the point where he was so aware of his surroundings, that any technique thrown at him he could see, and therefore, dodge. That's the point, to make it to where you naturally dodge and defend by instinct, then let your learned skills take you from there. But... nevermind," Neb answered.

"And define dead. It is such a vague word in the protoplasmic capacity that you really don't get much from it. If you mean I lack a corporeal body, then yes. Etherally, however, I am very much not."

"So...what you're suggesting to me is that I go and loot these command stations of his, plant bombs, and then blow them up when he's not looking. Correct?"

(( As in, their mirror self, their opposite, or what their desires are? You lost me. ))

" I see. " Angel said. " All this time I thought there was some deep meaning to it all. Now I'm told there was none. Though I DID become more aware... Aware enough to never try to have a normal conversation with a cranky old man with a stick. " she said, with a light chuckle. " Do we go in together or one at a time? "

"You want to go first?" Trey asked Angel politely.

"Unarmed you said, right?" Trey stated to himself as he pulled out his lightsaber, comlink and lightdagger and dropped them into the marsh.

Cale shook his head.
"Novara, if I may call you such, I'm not about to stoop to the level of a terrorist, no matter what the situation is. What you're proposing might be alright for Mandalorian Supercomandos, but it's not what space pirates do. Not that I'm comparing you to terrorists mind you. But it is a thin line between them."
Cale took another bite of his food, chewed it thoughtfully, and swallowed.
"For months Ive been raiding those poorly defended transports of his, taking valuable materials that he could have used building warships and battlestations. Ive also taken lone ships of his that have pushed their noses into my buisness, stripping the weapons and anything else I need off of them before selling what remains at E-port, the Auction world. I have a rather large stockpile of heavy ship guns, shield components, and hull materials hidden away, a sort of Pirate Treasure you could say. Now I have a drydock in my possecion, a place where starships are made, upgraded, and outfitted for combat, hidden in a place my enemies don't even know exists."
"Novara, tell me. If you had such a stockpile of military starship equipment, a stardock, and enough money, what would you do?"

Solms stared out a window overlooking the bleak desolation of Ord Mantell.
Twice Cale Darksun had eluded him. Twice has his armor been damaged to the point of repair.
Despite the huge up front sum Drako had given him to bring down Darksun, Solms considered himself on hard times. Armor repair wasnt cheap. Neither were Stohkli Cartridges. He wasnt about to squander what was left of the Darksun job fee. That money would run out soon enough if he wasnt careful. And as a Hunter, his reputation would be damaged if he didn't start bringing in bounties.
What he needed was another job.
He turned away from the window and made his way to his computer, passing Moradin in the Armory on the way. The Dutiful robot was busy repairing Solms' Commando suit with the skill of an artisan. His Armor would be ready soon.
Solms sat himself down in his desk and began to look for a suitable job.

"I'll say whatever the hell I want to say Bucket head." Cale said sharply. "You're not my superior. Nor is anyone else for that matter. And frankly, the man who comes begging to me for help in his sibbling Rivalry is the last person to tell me what to do."
Cale Stood and looked down the table at Novara, an unreadable poker expression on his face.
"Let me tell you about the Reward and the Reputaion. The Reward from the jedi? A saber in the back, just like the last time the Darksun Clan helped the Jedi. The Reputation? the undivided attention of both the Republic and the Imperial Navy, for they'll certainly come after me next when Drako goes down."
"It becomes clear to me Novara that you're really no good at Naval tactics so do me the honor of shutting the hell up and listening to someone with experience. You may have fought a bunch of ground pounding wars and you may have even gone toe to toe with the Reps and Imps a coulpe times in those oversized gunsboats of yours. But Ive lived my whole life in space. I know more about how to fight and survive in the sea of stars than Most of the trash that gets pumped out of the New Republic Naval academy. Imperial too."
Cale took a breath and then spoke slowly and carefully. "Listen Novara. I'm keeping that spacedock. You can keep those precious fighters you love so much. You and your wife can take turns shoving them up each others asses for all I care. But If I'm going to build a fleet, I need that Stardock. So I'm keeping it, You jawa-giving nerfherder. And if you dont like what Im saying, then thats your own damn fault. Ive coddled your ego long enough and Ive been way to damn patient with your ignorant armored a** for too damn long. On top of that, this poultry's dry, the greens here are soggy, and theres no damn strong booze. I could piss stronger drink than what you've been serving me."
Cale took a glass full of drink and shattered it on the floor.
Nimbly he lept upon the table and casually rested his left hand upon the hilt of his vibrocutlass, pointing at Novara with his right.
"Ive put up with your cranky wife, your attempts to keep me under surveillence, your slipshod attempst to kill me, and your idiotic zeal in this poorly led crusade of yours for long enough. You've insulted me, shot at me, spyed on me, and fed me a lousy meal! Now you're treating me like an inferior, and thats the straw that broke the bantha's back!" His voice quieted a bit as he continued. "And theres a reason why I'm repeating myself. I want to make sure you're understanding the basic that's comming out of my mouth. I know youre a bit slow, so I figured I'd do my best to aid you in your comprehension."