With his blaster still pointed at the diminutive robed figure, Jarren uses his comm link to instruct the protocol droid to open the blast door and prepare the ship for flight. His captive audience is still paralyzed with fear, worried that he could start shooting at any moment. After speaking on the communicator, Jarren lays into the Jawas with venom. "OK, my little droid stealing thief, this is how its going to play out. I keep the gun pointed at your head until the droid and myself enter the ship. Once the hatch closes then I'll blast off and you and your cohorts and scurry away and try and rob someone else! "

Juba, the nominal leader of the Jawa group, lowers his upraised hands indignantly at the accusation that he and his cohorts are thieves. Speaking again in Trade Language that the hostile alien seems to understand, he issues a warning, his voice becoming hard. “We not steal. You are thief. You take what is ours. You take what was found from us. We no more trade with you. We tell others about you, blue man. They no trade with you.”

Behind and above, the characteristic woosh of the blast door opening breaks the exchange. Firming his grip on the blaster, Jarren chances a quick glance up at the opening. The Tin Man, Y-3PO, is peering out pensively, it’s drill-arm hanging limply, seeing the standoff for the first time. “I just knew that something bad would happen. Perhaps I can assist, I am fully programmed in diplomacy and…”

Y-3PO’s comments are cut off by a sharp and rebuking look from Jarren who is finding it hard to believe that the protocol droid actually serves a useful function. It seems to be perpetually whining and is never very prompt in obeying his commands as demonstrated by the fact that it’s not preparing the ship for take-off as instructed. The physical reaction by the droid is so theatric it’s almost comical. The droid reels back on it’s peg leg from the look as if struck by an actual blow, then it looks left, toward the front of the ship for no particular reason before looking back at Jarren and the Jawas.

If Jarren’s body language doesn’t get the point across, the directed nod of his head toward the front of the ship does. The message is clear – get the ship ready! Fortunately, even if it doesn’t seem so, the protocol droid really is gifted in the art of communication, verbal or otherwise, and picks up on the not-so-subtle directive. It hobbles quickly out of sight mumbling to itself, “Tin man do this, Tin man do that…” before receding out of audible range.

The Jawa seems to have said his piece and isn’t offering any additions to his monologue, so Jarren tells A-18 to get aboard the ship. Inscrutable as ever, the worker droid flatly replies with it’s customary “Affirmative”, agonizingly scales the ladder, and eventually disappears inside the ship after what feels like an eternity.

About the time the ASP droid is entering the ship, the high-pitched whine from the freighter’s engines fills the air. Jarren can feel the power build up in his chest as they come on line. Finally the protocol droid is following instructions, he thinks to himself as sand spirals out from the rear of the ship. Time to go.

The entry ramp on the sand crawler lowers with the first sounds of the ship’s engines and some Jawas can be seen motioning to the others that Jarren has at gunpoint to come get into the gargantuan vehicle. As Jarren starts to back away from the group, keeping his blaster squarely aimed at Juba of course, they turn and break for the safety of their mobile shelter.

Jarren takes the opportunity to spring up the ladder and into the ship, keying the door closed behind him. He then dashes into the cockpit where Y-3PO is finishing the pre-flight setup.

“The ship is ready, sir” says the droid matter-of-factly.

Beginning to power up the engines, Jarren tells the droid to go check on A-18 to make sure the Jawas hadn’t tampered with it or harmed it in any way. With only minor reluctance the protocol droid walks out, it’s plasteel leg ringing each time it hits the metal floor.

Shuddering, the ship lifts off the ground at Jarren’s urging. The blue-skinned humanoid seems to have adjusted to piloting now, the required motions coming as second nature as opposed to something he has to actively try to remember how to do. Jarren raises the landing struts and rotates the ship to align it with the direction to Mos Taike that Dex had passed along. In the process, he gets a view out the window of the sandcrawler below. The group that Jarren had held at bay apparently made it inside because they are nowhere to be seen outside the vehicle and the ramp has been raised. Also, In addition to the hatches that had contained the Jawas with the slug throwers, more hatches on the side of the vehicle have opened, revealing even more of the robed figures, all shaking their fists at the ship. Jarren has no doubt they are shouting obscenities as well even though he can’t hear them. “Just as well, the little thieving vermin”, he thinks as he spins the tail of the ship around toward the mining vehicle, kicking up a minor sandstorm. Knowing full well that the engine wash is going two pelt the sandcrawler with tons of debris, Jarren cranks up the engine power to take him out of there.

Looking back as the ship gains altitude and speed, the sandcrawler is not even visible in the cloud of choking sand that the ship created. Smiling wryly, Jarren mentally pats himself on the back, confident that justice has been done.

The Nerf Chop clips along at a good pace over the baked landscape below. With the information that Dex passed along, he navigates the ship toward Coozer’s spaceport, taking a moment to make a radio call to Coozer himself and let him know that he’s about to arrive. Coozer replies in a friendly tone, relaying that he was expecting the ship to show and that the port was ready.

Soon enough, what must be Cal’s junkyard passes below followed shortly by the buildings of Mos Taike. The spaceport is a short distance outside of the settlement, it’s blinking landing lights beckoning Jarren on. Jarren closes on the spaceport and hovers above it, lowering the ship with much more of a practiced and expert air than the last time out, touching down softly and dead center of the landing pad. [OOC: Rolled a nice 17 for ya].

After hearing that A-18 is function perfectly from Y-3PO, he leaves the protocol droid to power down the ship. Jarren hisses open the crew door and climbs down to be greeted by a human who must be Coozer. Coozer is a husky man with sandy brown hair, probably about 40 years old by the look of him, with sturdy boots and an old flight suit that now doubles as coveralls.

Coozer extends his hand and shakes Jarren’s after he hops down from the second rung of the ladder. “So, this is it huh? The “Nerf Chop”- that seems appropriate enough.” Taking a deep breath and giving the ship a once-over, he adds, “ Well, don’t you worry, we’ll fix her up in no time. Cal told me to put everything on his tab.”

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

The Rodian bartender’s large, black, liquid eyes stare unflinchingly at Ian as he asks for a couple Andos and directions to Jako’s place. “Jako? Do you mean Joko? What business do you have with him?” Ian can see that the snouted alien looks extremely suspicious. “And, where do you think you are anyway? Coruscant? The most exotic drink we have here is some imported Rylothian ale.” The tough-looking human at the bar grunts in amusement.

As Ian walks off toward a booth, the bartender cajoles him, “That’s it, go sit down… “ He also does not answer the question about Joko since Ian walked off. Turning to the man seated at the bar, he shakes his head. “I swear Dersh, the quality of immigrants on this lousy planet is hitting a new low.”

Looking to Dex, he picks back up the conversation. “Are you with him?” he asks in a slightly more pleasant tone without so much attitude. “That towel is a little ridiculous, but you seem like you’re from a little better stock.”

Dex nods, indicating that he is indeed with Ian.

“Rylothian ale then?” inquires the bartender with exaggerated false sympathy for Dex’s misfortune of being tied to Ian. Dex gets the distinct impression that the Rodian doesn’t care much for his human companion.

Dex responds that Rylothian ale will be just fine, planning on just lying to Ian and telling him they’re Andos. He orders some food as well. Pulling two medium-sized clear mugs from the overhead shelf, the pale blue alien pours some rosy brown ales from the tap, sloshing them onto the counter in an apathetic manner.

“Comes to 20 credits,” he says expectantly. After Dex pays with his credit stick from Cal, the Rodian walks off a few paces to the serving window leading to the kitchen with the food order. He hands the order slip to someone named Strochan in the back, presumably the cook, leaving Dex alone with the other human at the bar for a minute. The human ignores him and sips at his drink.

After a moment, the bartender saunters back toward the bar with a quizzical expression on his snouted face. “What?” he asks abrasively, holding up his hands, wondering what else Dex could possibly want now that he has his ales and his order has been placed.

In the back, at Ian’s booth, Ears grabs hold of the hanging lamp that’s lighting the table and begins to swing on it in front of a grinning Ian. The monkey-lizard cackles gleefully at the exhilaration of the ride as well as Ian’s approval.

“Hey! I SAID keep that thing under control! This is your last and ONLY warning!” barks the Rodian. Facing Dex he adds, “please talk to your … friend and get that vulture to stop using my light as a trapeze.”

The comm link crackles " Dex, come in Dex. I'm on my way, I should be there in a few minutes. I'll wait for you at the hanger bay… Jarren out."

Fishing out the communications device from his pocket, Dex sends, "Affirmative. We'll see you there."

“Can you cancel that food order?” he asks the brooding barkeep.

Walking back over to the serving window, and giving Ears the evil eye on the way, he calls back into the kitchen, “Hey, Stroch, you start that order yet?”

A muffled and barely decipherable “Yep, just a minute,” comes back in Basic with a heavy alien accent.

“Sorry, going to have to charge you, but I can still cancel it if you want me to,” explains the bartender.

Dex figures what the hell, he can just take it with him, so scoops up the two ales and hurries to the booth, sliding one in front of Ian. Dex tells Ian that Jarren is inbound to the spaceport and to drink up. As if on cue, the rumble and shrill hum of a spacecraft passes overhead.

“Order up!” echoes the barely intelligible shout from the cook.

[OOC: I think this is a good point for you to decide what actions to take, plus I’m getting freakin writer’s cramp ;) Dex – at this point you are unable to gather information about Joko and/or the local crime setup. If you wish to take the time right now, go ahead and ask your questions. Alternatively, you can come back later.]