[ TT ] [ WP ] `` The station is under attack ! I repeat , the station is under attack ! Send backup ! ! ''

The lights of the cantina flickered and the station shook as explosion rocked the outer hull, patrons spilling to the floor from their stools or else knocked over their drinks. A scantily dressed Fallen waitress spilled a tray of whiskey across the floor, the strong smelling Corellian liquor reaching up to Tomess Ghast's nose. 
 
 He drained his stein of lambic beer and rose from his seat, helping the waitress up as he placed his bill into her palm. With a brief smile from her he was gone, vanished into the panicking crowd. As he made his way to the exit he pulled out his comlink, flicking the channel to a preset. 
 
 `` Hyrlo, it's Ghast. If you hearing this pick up. I got a business proposition for you.'' 
 
 A brief pause of static before a voice sounded out from the comlink's speaker. 
 
 `` I'm a little busy at the moment, Ghast. This better be good.'' the gurgling voice said in similar basic. 
 
 `` Those are Poleo Husk's boys out there are n't they? How's your security forces gon na fare? Four hundred weekend warriors against... oh'bout six hundred of some of the hardest pirates this side of the Rimma Trade Route. Face it, you need me and my blaster. Twenty thousand credits and I'll help defend Deepsea Station for today.'' 
 
 `` Twenty thousand?! Robbery!'' came the reply. 
 
 Ghast merely smiled at the Quarren's audible shock. 
 
 `` Nope, Hyrlo. What Poleo's crew will do is robbery, I'm just being opportunistic. So what's it gon na be? I could just get to my ship and leave...'' He drawled. 
 
 `` No! No, no... You'll have your twenty thousand credits. Just defend my station!'' 
 
 Tomess Ghast smiled at the news. 
 
 `` Thanks, Hyrlo. You're a great gun. Do n't die.'' With that he flicked off his comlink, severing the connection in a burst of static. 
 
 -- 
 
 Ghast raced to Docking Bay 23D and to the ship waiting there. She was a deadly looking craft, with a broad shield like base with engine and built-in entry ramp, an elephantine hull perpendicular to it. She was a Firespray-31 patrol craft, wicked deadly and just as swift. The *Red Wake* was painted a matte grey with plates picked out in rust red, a slogan scrawled along the hull in a lilting hand. 
 
 * < Death flies on swift wings./ A hunger that can never be slacked. > * 
 
 A press of a button on his wrist and the defensive measures that girded the ship powered down and the boarding ramp extended to the hanger floor, Ghast racing up it without time to lose. He threw his sleek looking jacket into a corner of the cargo room and opened up the weapons locker. Within the battered cage was a handsome selection of weapons and tools of the trade. In the middle was a rather weathered suit of armor made with bronzium plates backed by armorweave fabric with matching vambraces and greaves. A helmet made with the same metal stared at Ghast with long nasal and cheek guards. Ghast bowed at the suit of armor, whispering in reverence. 
 
 `` Bitáil miotal de dúsigh, gníomhais thit ag fanacht.'' 
 
 * < Awaken spirits of the metal, fell deeds await. > *
