Jobs going wrong…

The Event Horizon, a modified HWK-290 Light Freighter, sat at the docking bay unloading the little bit of cargo they had smuggled to this awful rock. First Officer Alejan did not mind the smugglers, the cut throats, thieves, and hired guns. They had their place in this galaxy and they did keep some form of order.

Alejan leaned against the supports of the ramp as their cargo was unloaded. Weapons of course, crates of arms and explosives for the next upsizing or warlord to try to take over.

“Not as nice as our last cargo,” one of the crew said holding a blaster rifle to make sure they were paid.

Alejan had managed to smuggle a group of women out of Nal Hutta beneath the nose of the Hutt Cartel.
“We got paid,” the pilot said, pushing the gun barrel back down the ramp away from his legs.
The other man smiled as he said, “You got paid.”
The crew had been paid well enough that the Captain of the Event Horizon had even taken the ship independent.

This cargo haul was weapons of course. The kind that made small cities disappear and little problem into big problems. The struggle was it paid and the risk was manageable. Run a blockade, make a jump for uncharted space, then change the transponders.

A small eruption came from a warehouse near their landing pad. Blue and white bolts flew through the warehouse doors along with shouting.

“It always goes wrong,” he said turn and running up the ramp.
“R8, plot a course out of here and get those engines warmed up,” the pilot said heading for the cockpits and control of the ships forward guns.
The droid beeped back in an irritated tones.
“I don’t care where! Just not here.,” he shot back.

The struggle with his profession was someone was always making a play for control of the city, planet, sector, or galaxy. Most of the time, he did not care as long as they were getting paid and no one was shooting at him.

They had gotten paid, but now they were being shot at.

The captain and two of the crew came scrambling out of the warehouse shooting back. A small eruption went off throwing men in white armor out the door and throwing fragments of debris through them men.

“Get in,” he shouted to the remaining crew as he cold started the engine. As power came up he swiveled the gun sights and pulled the trigger throwing heavy energy bolts as more stormtroopers appeared and started firing weapons at them.

As the ship groaned and shook. He let off a round hitting the detonator dropped on the pad.

R8 chirped.
“Yeah, I hope the credits are good too,” he said as he moved away from the eruptions.

He could feel the ship needed to be repaired.Between the cold start and the violence behind them, the ship needed some love and they needed a new job.