Episode IV: Part Two - The Lion’s Den

THE VOID
The non-discernible sun began to set as Voyla and the clones followed the Striders, hoping beyond hope they'd soon be closing in on Pons Ora.
"Don't these damn birds ever get tired?!" Yelled Vox.
By now, all three if them has bloodshot, stinging eyes and sore arms and legs ruin sitting in one position for several hours.
In contrast, the Striders are still trucking across the flatlands at an unwavering pace, unfettered by neither heat nor dehydration, maintaining the same speed they had started with almost half a day ago. The two clones' heads glow with perspiration, a reflection of the simmering, sweltering heat that envelops their bodies.
Then, without warning, the lanky birds dig their heel talons into the sand, skidding to a dangerously abrupt halt in front of the three speeder riders.
The speeders swerve to avoid the Striders then again top avoid going over a sheer wall. Threw walls mark the borders of Pons Ora, a small city set into the groundto shield it, somewhat uselessly, against the ravages of Abafar.
"Well, here we are...." Says Voyla as she dismounts the speeder.
"I was beginning to think Pons Ora was a myth." Replies Jak as he stretches, his joints popping. "Aaahh...."
As the three Renegades dismount their speeders and approach the walls of the isolated little settlement, they are met with a series of loud, aggravated screams, gruff voices winging threatening words and violent promises.
Moments later, they are given a visual indicator of what they're hearing: A small gang brawl seems to have erupted near the edge of town, a gaggle of about a dozen rough-n-tumble types throttling each other in the narrow spaces between buildings, fighting as if their lives depended on it.
"Right. Let us just keep our heads down till we find the Captain and Karrde a doctor." Says Voyla as she walks past the brawling group.
The environment doesn't become any more welcoming as the trio progresses. The streets are sparsely populated, and the people that are there look a cut below the standard population; Spice junkies, sketchy spacers, and the occasional armed hooligan mull about aimlessly, seeming to have nothing better to do, no prospects.
They give the Renegades a wide berth, likely due to the presence of Jak and Vox, eyeing the clones with cautious disdain. As they make their way further into the settlement, they come upon what looks to be a diner, albeit one in virulent disrepair, its windows boarded up and its door hanging open.
A broken neon sign above the door reads "P O - - - - - - D - - S"
"....... You don't think...? Starts Vox.
"That this is where Gregor worked when he lost his memory?" Says Jak."
"Who?" Asks Voyla curiously.
"One of our brothers." Said Vox. "Special forces. His whole squad vanished after the Geonosis campaign. Presumed K.I.A."
Power Sliders may have been a dive during the Clone Wars, but now it's devolved into a dump; The stench of alkohol and spice hangs in the air, sticking to the back of the throat, wet and choking, bullying the gag reflex.
However, it seems to be the busiest spot in the settlement, which unfortunately makes it the best place for the Renegades to start their search. They need to be strong for Karrde and Kirk.
"Alright...." Voyla sets her blaster on stun before holstering it again.
The brothers do the same as enter, trying not to retch from the stink.
The inside of the diner is littlw better than its exterior: A noxious mixture of various spices clings to the ceiling in a thin haze, sinking into furniture and clothing, promising not to come off without the most thorough of washes. What little clientelle there is of the seediest variety, carrying their weapons openly, scowling at the newcomers from behind hunched shoulders.
"No!! No, absolutely not!"
A gruff bark draws the Renegades' attention to the bar, where a vicious old Sullustan stands, portly and ill-kempt, his beady eyes glaring daggers. "No clones here! Not now, not ever!"
"Borkus." Grunted Vox.
"Who?" Quizzed Voyla.
"Borkus." he reiterated. "Gregor's old employer. Like we said, Gregor went missing. He was found here by Colonel Gascon and a few droids. He had amnesia. Vox explains the story in a short summary, eyeing the Sullustan nastily.
"No, you vat-grown morons." The Sullustan seethes, clenching his fist and the cloth he was holding. "I'm his cousin, Shmorkus. He contracted sand rot a couple years back." His tone remains scornful, but with a hint of mournfulness to it.
"Power Sliders is mine now, and I don't plan on making the same mistakes he did." Slapping his cloth onto the bar, he walks around it and onto the diner floor. "Starting with you genetic mistakes. Now get out, both of you!!"
Vox snaps and pins Shmorkus to a nearby table, punching his arm. "Don't you dare disrespect my family. We died defending thousands of worlds, and losing many more brothers along the way! And what did we earn? To learn it's all for naught!" He grabs Shmorkus' cheeks with one hand and locks eyes with him.
"Vox. Easy." Jak walks up and pulls his brother off the Sullustan. "He's not worth it."
Voyla walks up. "If you could just point us in the direction of the local doctor, we'll leave you be."
Despite his bulk and stature, the Sullustan barkeep buckles against Vox's strength, letting out a gurgling growl as he's flung into the nearby furniture. All eyes turn to watch the scene, though no one comes to Shmorkus' aid, content to watch him get throttled in his own bar.
"You think a doctor would waste their time in a dump like Pons Ora?" The Sullustan scoffs. "You'd have better luck trying to find a Jedi out here!"
"Then they must be the luckiest spacers in the galaxy." A voice calls out from the crowd, drawing Voyla and the Clones' attention to a booth in the corner of the room, where a lone figure is sat, partially obscured by the darkness.
The Clones stay by Shmorkus as Voyla walks over. "And who are you." She asks suspiciously.
As Voyla gets closer, she gets a better look at the stranger. He's a rough-looking fellow, at least in his forties, with short but wild hair and a dry, spotty complexion. He looks Human, but sports a rather unattractive mutation of the nose, malformed and pig-shaped.

"Just an old physician trying to get off this rock." He answers coyly. "I'm a bit out of practice, but I can fix anyone up in a pinch. You get me off of Abafar and onto a more hospitable planet, I'll take care of your buddies for you."
Voyla's stomach turns seeing him but she keeps her composure. "What's the catch? The charge?"
The pig-nosed man shrugs his shoulders, letting out a dry chuckle. "I already told you the charge. In exchange for my services, I want you to take me somewhere better than Abafar. Maybe the Hindasar system. Not too far from here, moderately populated, perfect place for me to set up shop."
"Fair enough. I'll contact the Captain. Where should we meet when you're ready?"
With a brisk clap of the hands, the old doctor stands up from his chair. "I think I saw where you parked, I'll go meet you there." He wipes the little bit of dust off of his tattered vest, adjusting it so it's not so baggy and uneven on his hunched frame.
"Try not to cause any more trouble before we leave, eh?" He remarks coyly, gesturing to the two clones and their Sullustan foe. "Unpleasant though he may be, Shmorkus is a local, and you're not. Ruffle too many feathers, and you may have a fight on your hands."
"Alright, albeit it was a family squabble if you think about it. Does this place have a?market where we can gather rudimentary supplies?"
"There's an outpost near the centre of town." The good doctor replies with a wave of the hand. "Nothing fancy, but they should have what you need. Try not to take too long, the sooner I get outta here the better."
There's a perplexing urgency to Evazan's voice, but before it can be further elaborated upon, he gets out of his seat and adjusts his vest, moving to the exit with a sort of tense hobble. Then he's gone, and the quiet, unwelcoming atmosphere of the cantina sets in once again.
"Let's get outta this dump." Says Voyla as she heads to the door, the clones giving one Shmorkus one last look before following.
"Sooner we get off this dust ball the better." Jak grunts as they walk to the center of town.

Meanwhile....

"How's it coming, Nakei?" Asks Karrde as he pokes his head into the engine bay.
"Mee'm working on it. Doe primary ignition couplers hagwa naga tah fire." Replies the greasy Dug from beneath the center engine.
"Right. Well Kirk and I have the holes patched. She's not airtight, so we'll have to all pile into the cockpit."
"Schutta."
"That's not all.... It seems we lost the ventral turret." Adds Karrde delicately.
"SCHUTTA!"
Karrde lets out an exasperated sigh, reaching up and scratching his head, his fingers tousling the salt and pepper strands above the back of his neck. "The ignition coils were probably slagged when the ship hit the atmosphere. I could have the boys head back to our ship and salvage what we have left."

Despite his injuries and the dire circumstances, Talon Karrde has remained remarkably composed. This seems to have rubbed off on his crewmates, who, while seeming a rowdy and abrasive band of brigands before, have now become impressively composed and agreeable, doing what they can to aid in repairs and making sure to stay as far away from Nakei as possible.
"Good idea." Replies Kirkran. "I'll send Nakei along."
"C'mon you two." Says Voyla as she walks to the center of town.
"Do you think.... Gregor might still be out there?"
"It's wishful thinking." Replies Vox. "But then again he was always a little different...."
Despite the sheer prevalence of clone troopers during the Clone Wars, it's been quite some time since Jak and Vox had come across another one of their brothers. Ever since the end of the war, traditional Jango clones in the Imperial army have been increasingly phased out in favour of citizen recruits, leaving them increasingly rare among the ranks of the Stormtrooper Corps. Even less common are Jango clones outside of Imperial service, of which the twins have only heard stories and the occasional rumour.
Their pondering is cut short when they reach the town centre, where the good doctor Cornelius is waiting for them, carrying a small rucksack of personal belongings and a blaster pistol on his hip. "You're right on time." He remarks with a toothy grin. "I do admire punctuality."
"The bikes are at the entrance to town." Says Voyla replies, offering to carry his rucksack. "Ezavan.... I swear I've heard that name before...."
The clones talk amongst themselves, wondering if they'd be able to locate Gregor.
Dr. Ezavan pulls his sack closer to him in a protective manner, shrugging his shoulders. "It's a popular surname. C'mon, let's blow this joint." He seems anxious to leave, though it's difficult to tell if there's a particular reason for it, or if it's just because Pons Ora is a rather miserable place in general. If it is the latter, it's easy for the trio to sympathise with.
As the group makes their way back to the speeder bikes, they're met with an aggravating sight: They find their speeders being inspected by eight vagrants, clad in tattered spacer leathers and wielding various weapons, three of the goons carrying holdout blasters. As the Renegades and their new companion approach, the vagrants become alert, moving away from the bikes and forming a sort of semi-circle towards the smugglers.
"Easy brother...." Whispers Jak as he sees Vox's hand sliding to his holster.
"Can we help you gentlemen?" Asks Voyla tersely.
The apparent 'leader' of the group approaches, a tall Iridonian Zabrak with a dusty eyepatch and a broad, husky build, sporting a prominent pot belly and tree trunk arms. He wields no weapons but looks like he could punch through solid durasteel if given the chance. A couple of his subordinates flank his sides, anxiously rubbing their weapons.
"These're some mighty fine bikes you've got here." He remarks, his voice holding a deep, gravely tone. "Ain't seen nothing like these in Pons Ora before. Y'all must be spacers." He gives a wide grin, his mouth sporting a checkerboard of yellowed and blackened teeth. "What brings spacers like you out this far?"
"Avoiding Imperial entanglements. Dance as every other freelancer." Says Voyla as she crosses her arms, eyeing the Zabrak. "What's it to you?"
"Bumming around, keeping an eye out for anything interesting." The Zabrak's gaze shifts back and forth between Voyla and her Clone escorts, their presence seeming to discourage him somewhat. His men are affected similarly, losing some of their bravado at the sight of the veteran soldiers, looking just about ready to back off and leave them alone...
... that is, until one of them sees Dr. Evazan. The scruffy-looking vagrant immediately becomes agitated, stepping forward and pointing. "Pig-Nose!! He exclaims. "They got Pig-Nose with 'em!"
The mere mention of the doctor is enough to whip the grunts into a frenzy. Without any further warning, they go on the offensive, surging towards the Renegades with violent intent, brandishing their blunt weapons and readying their blasters.
Slightly taken aback, Voyla and the Clones go on the defensive, their blasters set for stun.
"What'd you do, Evazan?!" Asks Voyla as she grabs his shoulder and shakes him.(edited)
Jak and Vox have little difficulty taking on the first couple grunts that come their way, but as the rest of the group surges forward, the situation becomes more precarious. A bulky Devaronian takes a swing at Jak with a metal pipe, missing his body but knocking the blaster out of his hand, as two men attempt a similar maneuver with Vox.
Evazan lets out a throaty grunt as Voyla manhandles him, raising his hands defensively. "I'm not the one trying to kill us right now, twintails! Focus on keeping us alive, and interrogate me after!!" He shoves her back before reaching into his jacket and brandishing a knife, following the clones' lead and going on the
"That's it!" Growls Vox as he backs up, thoroughly fed up the events of the past three days. "Weapons free!" He switches to live rounds.
Following his brother's lead, Jak draws his pistol.
Voyla draws her two mismatched blasters and opens fire. "Take 'em down! I'm not dying on some godforsaken dustball!"
The change in dynamic has the desired effect; Those that had dared to get too close to the Renegades are swiftly gunned down, and those that aren't recoil and retreat from the oncoming blasterfire, running for cover or thoughtlessly sprinting into the endless salt flat that surrounds Pons Ora. Even those with blasters of their own make no attempt to fight back.
However, they're not the only threat Voyla and her two Clones now have to deal with. Stirred by the commotion, vagrants and spacers emerge from the nearby buildings, seeing only that the newcomers attacking some locals, not having witnessed the preceding interaction. Enraged at this, they start to swarm out, brandishing their weapons and seeking to retaliate.
"Oh hell! C'mon!" Yells Voyla.
Now dealing with two fronts, Voyla forces Ezavan behind some barrels as she and the Clones repel the attackers.
"I'm low!" Yells Jak as he loads the last cartridge into his blaster.
Vox continues firing until he's out, his ill temper getting the better of him as he runs forward, going hand to hand.
Dr. Evazan lets out an aggravated yelp as he falls behind the barrels, using the momentum to get down low and put his hands over his head. Meanwhile, more vagrants pour out of the nearby buildings, adding to the mass of enraged bodies that are converging upon Voyla and her Clone companions.
"I think it's time to leave, brother!!" Jak rushes forward and grabs his comrade by the back of the shirt, dragging him away before the mob can absorb him. Despite the fact that the Renegades's speeder bikes are still intact, it'a unclear whether or not Voyla and the Clones will be able to reach them before they're overwhelmed.
As if by some divine intervention, the Moonrunner, battered and bruised descends behind them, kicking up dust.
Karrde's voice echoes around them. "Everyone here go back inside before I blow a new hole in this wasteland."
The dorsal gun, having been relocated to replace the ventral one, trains on the group as the cargo elevator lowers, several of Karrde's men loading the speeder bikes into it.
"Let's get doe hell nenoleeya of unko!" Calls Nakei from the boarding ramp.
Sand sweeps up and outwards from beneath the busted old freighter, disturbed by its barely functional engines, adding to the intimidation of its presence. At the sight of the Renegades' reinforcements, the denizens of Pons Ora scatter like bugs, trampling over each other to retreat back inside or behind cover, not daring to challenge Kirkran's ship.
The rest of Karrde's men not loading the speeders onto the ship surge forward, moving to help Voyla and the Clones. One of them even thinks to grab Cornelius Evazan, grabbing him by the back of his shirt and hoisting him into the cargo elevator.
As the ship lifts off, it kicks up more dust. As the ship rockets skyward, Nakei cackles. "Stupa locals. Can nopa even tell doe wanga's nonfunctional."
Karrde walks up to Voyla. "I've got good news and bad. Good news is the ship is space worthy, bad news is the hyperdrive is in need of severe repair."
"Which means we're going to have to ask Car'das for help." Jak remarks, to which Vox adds. "Which means he's going to use this to squeeze even more work out of us. No offence to your boss, Karrde, but I'd sooner give a bath to Jabba the Hutt than pull off another job for that lousy snake."
Talon opens his mouth to respond but is cut off by approaching footsteps. Two of his crewmen walk in, followed close behind by Evazan, who looks around cautiously.
"We grabbed this guy on our way out." The senior crewman remarks, gesturing to the pig-nosed man. "Says he's with you, Voyla?"
"Yeah." Answers Voyla. "You two show him to Karrde and the Captain."
As they walk, it is clear more than just Kirkran and Karrde were injured.
Indeed, the crew of the late Wild Karrde look far worse for wear. They lean against the ramshackle walls, doing their best not to touch the exposed electrics and wiring with their battered, dehydrated bodies. The mood aboard the ship is one of exasperation and fatigue, everyone ready to put this dreaded planet behind them and get back to the galaxy at large.
Doctor Evazan claps his hands together. "Alright, let's get to work then." He gestures. "Everyone in line, single-file. You! Bring me some supplies."

---------------------------------------------

The Moonrunner hangs precariously in orbit above Abafar, its patchwork hull groaning against itself, wheezing as it struggles to keep itself together. The patch-job Kirkran and Karrde pulled off is holding for now, but it's a temporary solution at best, and any attempt at jumping to hyperspace would be suicide.
Luckily, things seem to be looking up. Car'das has been contacted, and the seedy smuggler has pulled through, a rescue crew on their way from the next system over. Better yet, Evazan has proven to be a worthy investment, paying for his chaotic getaway in dividends; The beleaguered spacers are now nicely tended to, their wounds swaddled in bandages, soothing homemade concoctions nursing their wounds almost as well as a professionally produced bacta kit could.
Kirkran sighed and stretched in relief, his back popping. "Ah! Ohhh that was good. I can't thank you enough doctor. Wasn't quite sure I'd get off that hellhole alive."
"Nor us." Said Jak and Vox simultaneously as they entered the lounge. "Why did those dregs what you?"
Dr. Evazan's disposition quickly changes, his shoulders slumping and his face gaining a guilty expression. "Oh, you know how spacers can be." He says dismissively. "Jumpy. Presumptuous. They'd shoot at their own shadow if it startled them enough."
"Doctor...." Replies Jak bluntly.
Cornelius flinches, feeling the sting of Jak's tone, seething quietly. "What? What? Can't a guy have his secrets? You don't see me prying into your history!"
His protest hangs in the air for a few moments, before he lets out a sigh, surrendering to the Renegades' scowling faces. "Okay, okay. Maybe I've gotten a little experimental with my medicine, here or there. And maybe it was with some of their friends. Apparently, people tend to get upset when you mutilate their pals, even it's for the sake of scientific endeavor!"
"You'd best tell us if you used it on the captain or Karrde." Replies Vox.
The group watch the twitchy man as he stands there, firmly caught in the spotlight.
"What do I look like to you, a nerf herder?" Evazan retorts, flashing the clone an offended scowl. "You lot are my only ticket off of Abafar. I'm not about to compromise that by poking around in your boss's guts! They received the best medical attention I could offer. Nothing less."
"Let's hope he's telling the truth." Talon's voice calls out, the senior smuggler emerging from the cockpit, a hand rested on his bandaged abdomen.
"We're entering orbit, and Car'das is inbound. If the patch job Pig-Nose did is anything less than perfect, I might not survive." He says this with a jovial tone, but not too jovial, his expression weary and anxious.
"I'll have a few words for him when we meet." Says Kirkran as he entered from his room, finally having rested.
"I think most of us will, Cap." Replies Voyla.
"Well now. Isn't this a conundrum."
The Renegades find themselves standing with Talon Karrde in the hangar of Jorj Car'das' personal frigate, lined up across from the smuggling kingpin himself, as well as his armed entourage. Behind them, the patchwork Moonrunner is at rest, barely in one piece even after all of the desperate repairs.
"I promised a buyer two ample shipments of Rhydonium, but he tells me he only received one. So, not only did I lose half of the revenue on this job, I had to discount the one shipment that did arrive to keep him as a customer."
Despite the calm, amicable expression on Car'das' face, he radiates a livid energy that everyone present can pick up on. His retinue stand anxiously at his sides, itching their trigger fingers against the triggers, looking not unlike hungry dogs on the leash.
The only person's energy to rival Car'das own was Kirkran's. His ship was battered and dented, more so was his crew.
"Car'das, I've little patience for your belittling right now, pay up and we'll be on our way. And please, don't ever contact us again." Says Kirkran, thoroughly fed up.
A gentle chuff escapes Car'das' throat, something between a scoff and a laugh. "Stakes, you're a real hardcase. That's what I like about you."
He folds his arms over his chest before continuing. "But my favour only goes so far. I trusted you to do a job, and you floundered it. The only reason I haven't had you and your crew tossed out the airlock is because Karrde vouches for you, and I'm still on the fence about it."
Car'das' hefty retinue looms threateningly over the scene, but they remain motionless, letting their commander speak. He saunters closer to Kirkran, giving a broad gesture with his arms, bringing himself within a couple yards of the junior smuggler. "No, like many of the men you see here before you, you and your crew are indebted to me now. I'm not about to let you slink away in what's left of your ship. Not yet."
He turned to face his crew, who look livid and exhausted. There's a moment of silence before what came next. In what seemed a split second, Kirkran wheeled around and slugged Car'das in the right cheek, spinning around and crashing to the deck unconscious. He then drew his large blaster, pointing it at Car'das' men, the Renegades following his lead.
"Please. PLEASE give me a reason." Said Kirkran as he seemed itching to unload his weapon on the first person who twitched.
It all happens so fast, most of those present barely register what happened. One moment, Car'das is standing triumphantly before Kirkran and his crew, confident and cocksure, wearing the biggest
poodoo-eating grin in the sector. The next, he's flat on the ground, face plastered against the metal hangar floor, his body slacked in an awkward position.
The withdrawal of Kirk's blaster snaps Car'das' men out of their shocked stupor, prompting them to brandish their own, pistols and rifles raised threateningly towards the Renegades.
However, before the situation can get any worse, Karrde intervenes.
"Enough!" He exclaims, lunging forward and outstretching his arms, putting himself between Kirkran and Car'das' crew. Many of those present were part of Karrde's crew down on Abafar, looking just as dishevelled and tired as the Renegades themselves.
Keeping his hands outstretched, Karrde insists. "This whole job was a mess from the start. Let's not end things on an even worse not by killing each other." Despite the tension in the room, those from Talon's own crew eventually capitulate, prompting the rest to do the same.
Kirkran is that last to capitulate, holstering his gun. "You tell Car'das we are DONE. Even if we have to result to doing small food runs, it's better than this." He smiles tiredly. "Look after yourself, old man."
Talon Karrde manages a similarly weary grin, though it quickly fades when he turns his attention back to Car'das, still out cold on the ground.
"He's not going to take no for an answer." Karrde asserts. "Our intelligence network is inescapable. If you so much as breathe near a major hyperlane, he'll smell it. Even if he doesn't vie for revenge, which is tremendously unlikely, he'll be keeping tabs on you for the rest of your lives."
With a sigh, Talon runs a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair as he returns his gaze to Kirkran. "We can buy you enough time to get the Hell out of here, though. After that, all bets are off...."
With a grimace, he concludes. "It's like he said. We're indebted to him."
"We'll deal with it when it comes." He pats Karrde's shoulder before dropping his stern posture and limping to the ship, still hurting.
"Take care, Talon." Voyla hugs him and follows and Jak and Vox nod, Nakei hobbling away in silence.
The Car'das crew watch as Kirkran and the Renegades take their leave, sharing looks of hesitance and exasperation amongst themselves, wordless signs of discomfort about what they're letting happen. Though none of them said it, many wish they could join them, leave this behind them...
... but for now, they're trapped. Car'das' fangs have sunken deep, and it will take a miracle to wrest them free. In time, maybe Talon Karrde or some other upstart will have the courage to take a stand, but for now, all they can do is watch and wish.
With nothing left to oppose them, the Renagades, depart from the smuggler frigate uncontested, their patchwork freighter groaning as it pushes into space.
Wounded, but with their pride intact, Kirkran and his crew are free to take their leave, set back out into the galaxy and find their fortune on their own terms.

Huttese to Basic translations:
SPACE

"Mo doe Empire coming tah collect um take our ship tah doe scrap heap. Seeing kava jee-jee're wanted."
(Nakei translated: "Or the Empire coming to collect and take our ship to the scrap heap.... Seeing how we're wanted.")

"Choy doe hell happened tah u!? U look like u've escaped do sando people camp. Damn."
(Nakei translated: "What the hell happened to you?! You look like you've escaped a sand people camp. Damn.")


"Aww schutta.... Okay." Where're we meeting?"
(Kirkran translated: "Aww dammit.... Okay." Where're we meeting?")


"Eh, sooner jee-jee get it done, sooner jee-jee're rid of da sleemo."
(Nakei translated: "Yeah, sooner we get it done, sooner we're rid of that slimeball.")

"This sa loca." "Being near two ships carrying rhydonium. Mee can't count doe ways it could bolla goola.. Hand je da hydrospanner."
(Nakei translated: "This is crazy." "Being near two ships carrying Rhydonium. I can't count the ways it could go bad. ..... Hand me that hydrospanner.")

"Mee still tinka this sa loca."
(Nakei translated: "I still think this is crazy.")

"Nothing can ever bolla smooth, can it?"
(Nakei translated: "Nothing can ever go smooth can it?")

Schutta!"
(Voyla translated: "Dammit!")

"Mee'm working on it!"
(Nakei translated: "I'm working on it!")

Schutta, no response."
(Voyla translated: "Dammit, no response.")

"Why do u care?"
"Mee settah jee-jee get this thing airborne enough tah reach do panksta. Car'das will probably tinka jee-jee're dead."
(Nakei translated: "Why do you care?"
"I say we get this thing airborne enough to reach a spaceport. Car'das will probably think we're dead.")

"Nopa koona tah happen. Doe circuit needs rewiring."
(Nakei translated: "Not going to happen. The circuit needs rewiring....")

"So let je get this straight." Nakei says suddenly.
"While u three bolla running ovv into doe void, mee'm stuck taking care of these two um fixing doe ship? Grancha."
(Nakei translated: "So let me get this straight."
"While you three go running off into the void, I'm stuck taking care of these two AND fixing the ship? Great.")

"Bite je, Jak."
(Nakei translated: "Bite me, Jak.")



"Mee'm working on it. Doe primary ignition couplers hagwa naga tah fire."
(Nakei translated: "I'm working on it. The primary ignition couplers don't want to fire.")

"Schutta."
("Dammit." x2.)

"Let's get doe hell nenoleeya of unko!"
(Nakei translated: "Let's get the hell out of here!"

"Stupa locals. Can nopa even tell doe wanga's nonfunctional."
(Nakei translated: "Stupid locals. Can't even tell the gun's nonfunctional.")