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Um, the genuine pirates that we are 'allied' with right now don't really have a name--they're just the 'Sernpidal Pirates' in reference to the planet that they banded together at or whatever. However, if you can think of a better name, I would much appreciate it.

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Korm agreed with Jasson. Really, these freighters didn't have too much of value, and that little was being loaded onto their own Action VI transport, where it would eventually--and furtively--be offloaded onto a New Republic freighter. Still, the entire point of this raid was to start to gain notoriety in this area and others.

As he walked, he made certain that his posture was imposing, using every inch of his not-inconsiderable height to loom over those captive crewmembers nearby, such as the captain. A now-timid Coruscanti human, he was visibly shaking, and drops of sweat were rolling down the sides of his face. Korm sneered. Humans could be pathetic, sometimes.

Off to the side, Valera and Jasson both reacted at the same time to a subtle difference in one crewman's attitude. As the crewman fell with two bolts in his shoulder and Valera on top, Korm gestured to Garos and Jhoran, who acted accordingly.

--------

Jhoran smashed his elbow into the captain's face, breaking the nose, and grabbed his arm as he lifted it, too late, to shield his face. From such a position, it was easy to slam the captain facedown to the ground and pin him there. On the other side of Korm, Garos had one of the other crewmen down as well.

Holding his vibroknife to the captain's throat close enough that he had to be able to feel the tiny breeze caused the by rapidly-moving blade, Jhoran raised a questioning gaze to Korm.

"We're not being nice anymore," the Feeorin said, then raising his voice so everyone could hear. "The Bloodhawks only give their prey one chance. If that chance is thrown away, then so is the prey."

It was the matter of a moment to secure the crewmembers with stuncuffs. It took hardly any more time to run back to the bridge and wipe the navcomp, which, since this was the lead ship, wiped those of all of the other ships as well. Jhoran entered one system into the navcomp, though--a known haven for pirates and ship thieves. The shippers would have no choice but to head there. It was potentially a worse fate than just killing them, but only if they lost their heads and did something crazy.

A few minutes of work by Garos, and a canister was hooked up to the airvents, which would put all of the crewmembers into a nice, deep sleep once it was activated, which would be as soon as the Bloodhawks were offboard.

"Now," Korm said, "let's go."

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Val kept the scowl firmly plastered on her face as the team returned, uneventfully, to the hangar. After all, they had a part to play, even if was just for the holocameras that fed into the security banks. If the ship's crew got out of this situation reasonably intact - in a few weeks, of course - the Bloodhawk's reputation would be well on its way to being established.

Kriff. If they were being recorded, she would need to take more care with her disguise.

Well, she couldn't change what had happened this time, but she would be more careful the next.

As the party walked into the docking bay, their astromech droids automatically brought their snubfighters out of standby. Climbing into her E-Wing, Val slapped her helmet on and prepared to embark.

======

"How's she looking, Chix?"

The R2 unit whistled back at Jasson, spitting out a stream of stats onto his screen. The lower starboard engine was looking a little roughed up, but other than that, his ride was sound.

Korm gave the order to lift off, and the landing flight smoothly rose as one, rendezvousing with the rest of the Bloodhawks outside the transport. A short, direct flight was all it took to put them back in their home docking bay.

Jasson rolled his head gently around on his neck, while guiding his X-Wing into place. Even though the combat had been brief, and their appearance on the convoy ship even shorter, he could use a shower, after the debriefing. High intensity-situations tended to make him sweat.

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<center>Nothing but the Rain</center>

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Ram watched impassively as both Jasson and Val attacked/restrained the man who would have tried to resist their boarding party. He had been scanning the other side of the room at the time, looking for threats over there, but it wouldn't really have mattered if he had seen the man before the others. It would have taken him longer to pullout a pistol and shoot the man with a Verpine shatter gun in one hand than it had for Jasson to pull out a blaster with no hindrance. A Verpine shatter gun was good for killing, which is why Mandalorians liked them, but they weren't very good for disabling people. If Ram had shot the man in the shoulder, it would have made that arm useless for the rest of his life unless he got into a bacta tack very quickly or just blown the arm clean off by pulping the shoulder.

He watched silently as Korm ordered the nav databases to be wiped and now truly wondered if these people would survive to tell anyone about their encounter with the BloodHawks or if they would all be killed before they were able to relate their story to anyone who cared. He climbed into the cockpit of his TIE and lifted off with the others.

Once they landed, Ram initiated a diagnostic on his TIE to find any damage done by debris, as the gunners hadn't hit him. So far, all of the systems checked out, but he wasn't going to leave until all of them did.

***

Zayne linked up with the rest of BloodHawk squadron and returned to the bay. He would have to ask what had happened on the ship, as he had felt something akin to pain in the Force emanating from the ship the others had boarded, but he could not tell whom it was from. He told his R8 astromech unit to check and see if there were any problems with his ship.

While he waited, he rolled his shoulders around in their sockets. He enjoyed flying, but just not flying patrol, that made him too tense and was in no way enjoyable. So the Miraluka sat back and tried to relax as he waited for his R8 unit to tell him what he needed fixed on his ship.

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Four Gods wait on the windowsill,
Where once eight Gods did war and will,
And if the Gods themselves may die,
What does that say for you and I?

Now, three Gods wait on the windowsill
Where one God's blood was lately spilled
While black tongues lap at the spreading pool
And build the strength they need to rule.

(I'm going to be on a bike trip for a week ... you can powerplay my charries if necessary. K, cheers!)

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<center>Nothing but the Rain</center>