A green light winked on the console, then another, and another. The tiny ship came to life as docking protocols shot back and forth between the droid at the command of the ship and the one sitting somewhere inside Astral Astoria. The ancient droid began to whine as its gears began to churn. It set about entering the proper access codes into the command console, ensuring to the droids at Astral Astoria that this ship was indeed registered and legal.

And though the ship hadn’t been seen in known space for the last two decades, the codes were still legitimate. Had it been a man at the console, he may have considered where the tiny craft could have been for the last twenty years, but the droid was simply programmed to scan codes for irregularities. It punched in the final authorizations and gave a final wink to the droid at the ship controls.

Had it been sent through the intercom, it would have sounded something like “Thank you, and have a good stay.” But the droid simply received the final message and shut himself down as programmed.

One of the many tractors beams of Astral Astoria grabbed a hold of the ship and began to slowly tow it into the docking bay.

“Welcome to Astral Astoria.” A voice boomed over intercom. “You will be landing in docking area 132C. You will be subject to an inspection upon landing. Please do not be alarmed, it is simple procedure and will be over quite quickly.”

Upon hearing the voice, the droid sprung back to life and began to open a line of communication with the Astral Astorian. A massive claw on it’s shoulder stopped it before it could finish the transmission.

”Thank you droid, I will take over from here.” It said. The droid turned and gave what would be a smile in droid speak to it’s master. Even hunched over, he was still well over 6 feet tall. The small ship wouldn’t allow him to stretch as he liked, but the ship was the only one he had. He threw his cloak around his coppery red skin, and pulled the cowl low on his face.

“This is the captain of The Essex. Access for inspection denied.”

Astral Astoria Security was one of the best security teams in the galaxy. They trained hard to be the best. The Vinda Corporation ensured that.

"Commander Cinto, this Cindy at AA flight control."

The Security commander awoke from his cat nap and picked up his comlink, "Yes Cindy."

"We've got another live one, refusing inspection in Hangar 132C."

"My team will be there in five. Go ahead and seal off the area please."

Cinto hit a another button on his comlink that would signal the nine members of his team, and then he began to suit up. A blast vest, raid helmet, blaster rifle, sidearm, riot stick, concussion grenades, flashbangs and of course, his trusty vibroblade.



Commander Cinto's Special Weapons and Tactics team converged on Hanger 132C at they same time. They looked intimidating: all lined up decked out armor and weaponry.

"Okay... Lets move!"

The team moved into the hangar and took up tactical positions around the unique ship with rifles all aimed at exiting platform of the ship.

"Sir! Come out of the ship with your hands up! NOW!"

The Essex’s hangar door creaked open, releasing twenty years of dust into Docking Bay 132C. The troopers trained their rifles on the now opened ship. Lights winked randomly from inside. Slowly, but dutifully, a barely-functioning droid hobbled onto the ramp, and begin its slow descent down the ramp.

After several tense moments, the droid made it off the ship and began moving towards the troopers. All 9 carbines of the Special Weapons and Tactics teams were aimed on it. Upon closer inspection, one could tell that this droid was actually made up of several different types of droids. It’s right leg, slightly shorter than it’s left, gleamed silver, and its head was half polished metal, and have rusty slag.

“Greetings, sir.” The droid said merrily. “My master wishes to convey his deepest apologies for the earlier events. It seems there was a miscommunication.” It said. Some of the soldiers lowered their guns slightly.

“My master presents you a gift, in the hopes that these transgressions can be forgotten.” The droid said, giving something similar to smile to the troops. One of its clawed hands moved to its chest and released a latch that was apparently holding the chest plate together. The metal piece slid down, revealing two primed thermal detonators.

”Detonation sequence activated!” The droid said cheerily.

Commander Kreg Cinto surveyed the ship as he waited for the rusty ship's hangar door to open. In faded letters, he read the name Essex. Then the hangar door began to open. The pistons screeched, begging to be oiled. A droid made up of a hodge-podge of parts made its way down the ramp. Some of the team lowered their weapons.

"Keep you're fucking rifles up!" yelled Cinto to his men. They were trained better than that. Droids are threats too.

The droid began to speak of misunderstandings.

"Detonation sequence activated!"

The confidence that the he and men's faces changed to surprise. Cinto could tell they were worried. Explosives inside of a space station gave you so many ways to die. Being Blown up, decompressing, decommpressing and than being blown up. The ways to meet the maker seemed endless to the team.

If we'd gone full combat suit, we could of opened up the airlock and sent them straight into space but it's Astral Astoria not the Vong invasion of Caprica.

Ideas began to come to Cinto's mind. None of them seamed reasonable, so... He went with his gut.

"Team! Slowly fall back to the airlock. Do not make any aggressive moves. Cindy, prepare to release the contents of Hangar 132C into the vacuum on my signal. Not before. Not after."

"Will do Commander," answered the Astral Astoria flight controller.

"Hurry...” Bel said impatiently as the fusion cutter slowly sliced its way through the back of his ship. He took a cursory glance outside and saw that the team of guards was backing up, weapons still aimed on the smiling droid. With a final sweep, the entire back section of the hull was cut free. He tosses the cutter to the ground and wedged a black talon into the newly made exit.

Another look told him that the guards were nearly out of the docking bay, as was everyone else that had been there. He knew either one of two things were going to happen. They were going to attempt to disable the droid, or open the airlock. He prayed the latter didn't happen.

The thermal detonators were fake. Well, they were real, but the detonator cap had been removed. All that would happen on his signal was a loud bang, but no detonation.

He knew he only had one chance to make this work. If he ignited the detonators too soon, the sound of the door crashing down would warn everyone, and too late would have the same effect.

Bel shifted his weight against the door, and with one clawed hand flipped open the casing of the detonator switch. Using every ounce of his great strength, he wedged the sheet of metal out of its place, and simultaneously flipped the switch.

The makeshift door slammed onto the floor, but was unnoticeable next to the massive detonation sound of the bombs. Wrapping his cloak around him, Bel sprinted as fast as he could to where he hoped the exit was.

The Eagle , Xavier Cassius's modified Y-Wing, plunged out of hyperspace and radioed Astral Astoria. "This is the Eagle. I am cleared to land in the reserved bay 132B." The Controllers voice came over the com. He sounded bored. "Cleared. Inspection will be carried out on landing." Xavier replied: "Copy that." The com cut off and a tractor beam grabbed the ship, pulling it towards the hangar bay. The Y-Wing docked safely, but no inspection crew came. He spoke to Red, his R2 unit. "Keep a sensor on the ship." He told it, opening the cockpit and swinging himself out, his silver Mandalorian armour gleaming in the spotless hangar bay. He grabbed his E-11 as suddenly, a huge explosion threw the bounty hunter to the floor. Picking himself up, he ran towards the source of the sound, the neighboring bay. Palming the access door, he witnessed a window into hell. The ship was damaged badly, and the droid no longer existed. He leveled his E-11 at the ship and ran forward. He noticed a large alien creeping away from the carnage. Xavier activated his jetpack and rocketed towards the creature. His armoured boots caught th alien in the side of the head, sending it sprawling. He manipulated his pack expertly, landing on top of the alien and sticking his blaster rifle in its face. "What the hell is going on?" He demanded.

Bel had nearly disappeared into the shadows when a dark shape collided into the side of him. Off balance and unexpecting, Bel tumbled to the ground, wrestling with the shape for control.

“What the hell is going on?” The man screamed, jamming a carbine into Bel’s mouth. He could see now that it was a Mandalorian, or at least someone in Mandalorian armor. The man had his finger on the trigger, and Bel knew there wouldn’t be much time before the Astral Astoria Strike team figured out the bombs were fakes.

The Mandalorian was tiny compared to Bel, probably about 3/5ths his size, but he still had a comparative advantage while atop him. Bel raised his hands palms out, in a non-threatening manner, slowly reaching to pull his hood off. The Mandalorian kept his finger ready, but didn’t move.

Bel removed his hood, revealing his true nature. His head was canine in form, the snout extended slightly with a row of razor sharp teeth. He had a gold ring in his nose, and his eyes were a bright yellow. His skin was a coppery red, and even his neck muscles bulged with power. Atop his head, two curved, bleach white horns were filed to razor sharpness. He couldn’t tell if the Mandalorian was startled, or attempting to keep his hand steady, but now was his only chance.

Bel swung his bull-like head sideways, knocking the gun safely out from over his face, and with his left hand grabbed the barrel. Bel sprang upwards, knocking the Mandalorian off his chest and stumbling backwards.

There was carbine fire behind him, and several lasers blackened the wall behind him. He wasn’t sure if it was the Mandalorian firing, or the Strike Team. He really didn’t like either option.

Xavier was thrown off the alien. God, he's strong! He thought, as he scrambled to his feet and fired off several shots from his E-11. They missed. The SWAT team was behind him. "Freeze!" Yelled one of the members. Xavier turned. "He went that way!" He replied, pointing towards the door. He turned and dodged though the door, as Red opened fire with the Y-Wing's cannons, perhaps at the alien? An explosion erupted in the far end of the hangar as the laser blast connected with the ground.

He had almost reached one of the airlock doors when the world around him exploded. Something had erupted behind him, and he wouldn’t realize until sometime later that a laser fired by the Mandalorian’s pilot-droid had ignited several barrels of fuel.

Bel flew forward, knocked off balance by the explosion, straight into the wall. After quickly dousing the flames on his robe, her turned backwards to see what happened.

A large section of the Docking Bay was now aflame, and several ships were now smoldering ruins. But there was something far worse.

In the spot where the barrels of fuel had exploded, a massive crack had appeared. Bel shifted his weight slightly, and the crack began to snake forward. He tried to stop himself, but it was too late. With a horrible splintering sound, the crack began to move towards the glass wall on thefar side of the docking bay. The glass wall that was the only thing keeping everyone inside the bay from spontaneously decompressing.

Things were about to go from bad to worse.

Neacamus, "The Shadow" to his bounty hunter friends, loved to wander, even if it was just to the docking bays and back to the Bazaar. Most days it was quiet save for the stray droid or lost tourist, and the Anzati reveled in this. If he found any soup, so be it - no one noticed when the occasional person went missing, anyway.
But something was different; Neacamus smelled soup, and lots of it, coming from Hanger 123C. In fact, the soup was disappearing faster than normal - and was that an explosion? I have to go in there, he thought as he pulled out his DC-19 carbine and rushed toward the bay. Must...get...the soup...