Ord Mantell had suffered from a checkered fate of late.  The Clone Wars had swept across the planet, only to be followed by the arrival of the Galactic Empire.  The Black Sun were unhappy.  The locals were unhappy.  As a result, tensions were running high.<br/><br/>The mountain-top spaceport of Tenxi had long served as a way-stop for ships passing through the sector.  A booming trade, both legal and illegal, had grown around the sprawling landing pads.  Then the Empire arrived.  Tenxi became a place to avoid as Imperial soldiers inspected ships and caused trouble for both legal traders, and illegal ones.  The locals grew angry as their way of life was interrupted, and the Black Sun encouraged it all from the background.<br/><br/>Pad 29 was bustling with activity as Tina, Miria, and Septimus went about their business.  A dozen or so individual berths sat amidst a sea of chaos.  Of temporary stalls, ramshackle buildings, and crowds of people coming, going, and just trying to make a living.  It was perfect for those that wanted to avoid attention.  Well, it would have been perfect of Tina had returned to her ship to see it swarming with Imperial troops from the local garrison, and if Miria hadn't had to hoof it after an old warrant popped up on a routine check.<br/><br/>It was pure chance, or perhaps the force, that brought the trio to the shade of a small temporary cantina where a Twi'lek served drinks that smelled, and looked, like they were made of ship's fuel.  There was a tension in the air that seemed to build until it was revealed, a group of protesters on one side, Imperial Anti-Riot Troops on the other.  The protesters were dockworkers, criminals, and other locals who made their living from the shipping industry.  The troops were locals, poorly trained, with a chip on their soldier and the promise of power ringing in their ears.  It was almost inevitable that something would go wrong.  A rock was thrown, a blaster was fired, then everything went to hell.<br/><br/>The troops started to fire at the protesters, and anyone else in sight.  A few of the protesters fired back, but only a few had blasters.  It was a slaughter.  The trio were forced to flee or find themselves in the middle of it all.  The exits from the landing pad were being blocked off.  The ships were rapidly departing, with or without their full crew.  The trio had a choice.  They could stay and be shot or arrested, or they could run.<br/><br/>A G-9 Rigger, named the Expedient Devil based on the lettering on the side, was the only option.  If the crew was alive, they were in no position to use it themselves.  The hatch was open and there was no activity nearby, except for the occasional stray blaster bolt.