It had been a long while since he had done any of this. Just after he had delivered his brisk message over the com, he wanted to do a facepalm. Luckily enough there was no one around to see, and the droids wouldn’t register or even fathom why he was ashamed. Prepare to be boarded? It sort of was the other way around, wasn’t it? Basically she, if she was the only one on the ship, was boarding him, in his hangar bay. Surrender your vessel, prepare to be towed in, prepare to... well.. for anything. But boarded? Not at the moment, no. Oh well, at least the message was delivered in a proper way. And on board of the Skipper, they’d understand. It figured: look out your window: an oversized, fat, bulky, heavily weaponized vessel is holding your little ship in a tractor beam. You get the message? It was so uncommodorish of him. Was that even a word? He needed to have these little retreats more often, he was actually having fun.<br/><br/><i>Understood</i>, again that sultry voice. It rang his ears as he made his way to the hangar bay, leaving the automation with the last commands. The barrage of ion fire was completely automated as well. He was putting the brand new (or rather, rebuild) corvette through her paces. A proper trial run. He wasn’t at all displeased with the specs of the thing. This ship could be operated by one man alone. Normally a corvette would need a crew of three hundred. He had arranged a crew of twenty for the<i>Night Caller</i>when he would hand her back to the technicians. A few tech specialists, a captain and second in command, bridge officers and soldiers to lead the droids. Getting a few of these vessels in the fleet would increase his patrol capacity without having to train endless personnel, which was actually the largest problem out here.<br/><br/>Minutes later he watched her ship settle down on the hangar bay floor. He had taken the stance of an officer: hands behind his back, chest puffed out, as he watched the sleek vessel. She looked nimble, quick. He could imagine why the design was coveted by private owners, even though it was rare. That ship would sell for a pretty penny, it was far to small to serve him any other purpose. Already he was making an estimate how much credits it would haul in. It would be a nice bonus to getting Erogolo in the brig of this ship, he was to be send off to the space mines of Kessel for delivering bad merchandise to the Empire. A mild smile playing on his lips as he thought of that while he waited.<br/><br/>At first, nothing seemed to be happening. Of course he didn’t know there was only one female inside, not the prey he was after. He sure as hell wouldn’t suspect such a pretty specimen, one with certain abilities beyond the scope of his experience too. But he projected an air of confidence. The facepalm back on the bridge now forgotten. You didn’t get to command thousands, perhaps hundred thousands of people without a certain belief in oneself. He watched the view outside of the hangar as the stars seemed to suddenly be swiped to the right, towards the rear of the ship. The droid automation had taken them into hyperspace for a short jump out of the system. Making sure no one would disturb this scene.<br/><br/>His gaze was drawn towards one of the viewports then. He could see a blonde, or whitish haired apparition, for just a split second. His eyes widening slightly, the corridor which she stood in seemed lightly illuminated (even through her clothing, but probably enough skin showing), that should be impossible. The ion barrage would have taken out any power source left in her ship. Unless she was using flashlights, of course, or rather, they were using flashlights. Dankorin still believed he had Erologo in his fingers.<br/><br/>The door opened slightly. He could sense the droids around him taking aim, waiting for his command. She was half in view, but her skin seemed to shimmer with light. He arched his brow. A radioactive woman? He had never seen the kind. Though she half shielded herself in the doorway, he could already notice she was attractive.<i>Just stay where you are!</i>The commander droid next to him seemed to change his attitude. Any action was stopped though as Dankorin raised his hand. “Wait…” he said quietly, so she wouldn’t hear. She ranted on, angered by her captivity. As she cried out he wouldn’t have rights here, he spoke his next order. “Stand down”. The droids around him easing their stance.<br/><br/>The man in the black Imperial uniform then just walked up to the Skipper. He did it casually, as if walking down a promenade; hands at his sides. He ended up just below the ramp. It was clear he was unarmed, his ‘posse’ remained where it was, a good twenty meters back from him. He looked up the small ramp into the Skipper. Seeing her, in all her curvy glory for the first time. His eyes widened slightly. An Auroun? Oh fuck. He had trouble keeping his gaze locked with hers, to not let it flow down her body, to drink up the image of her. He had heard of these creatures before. But had never encountered one. Fuck Twi’Leks, these were the true sextoys of the galaxy. Already his mind was rolling through imagery of them, sweaty, panting, as he would pound her into submission with rough strokes. Prepare to be boarded indeed.<br/><br/>When he finally answered her question, it came with a gentle voice. A warm vibrato. And no words to combine with the images she had brought up in his head. “It’s not the ship or its contents I’m interested in. I’m here for Erogolo.”. His eyes remained locked with hers. “He has an outstanding debt to the Imperial throne.”. Nice move Jack. An empty Imperial throne with the Emperor and Vader dead. For a second he wondered who was leading at Imperial center now. Could well be Grand Admiral Thrawn, he had heard rumors. Oh well. She got the point. He leaned slightly to the side, to look past her, only seeing a cat seated on the floor. The feline was a few steps behind her, watching the commodore with interest. “Is he in?”. As if he came a-calling at her parents house. Wondering if her brother would come out and play.