He dropped a calling card on the bed and headed out the door quickly. She sat up after a few minutes, being exhausted after having 198 sequential multiple orgasms in under an hour thanks to the skills of Pellinore "What a guy" she said, attempting to stand but feeling too shakey.

Pellinore went out the window, hiding in an alleyway to pull on his boots and jump suit on before making smartly back to the spaceport, there collecting the voicemail about this action. He put a cigar in his mouth "I suppose its time you proved why youve got the bally Diamond-Eyes old dog" the pilot spoke to himself as he climbed up into the cockpit of the E-Wing.

Minutes later his fighter was orbiting Voss' hangar, keeping a couple of miles distant, but none the less able to move in and be at the hangar in seconds should his aid be required. He also sent notification to the NRI Team "Pell here, let me know if I am needed, over."

Voss was within the cockpit of the Nevermore, counting down the hours left until the New Republic dropped their credits off and the modified YT-1300 Salamander and its crew retrieved the goods. There were alternate forces standing by, largely comprised of the pirates who formed the core of Voss' little raiding operations in the Outer Rim. He'd covered his tracks well, just well enough that there should be little to no interference. As it was, such things could always occur that were unforeseen, such as Njon the Hutt's attack on the spice-carrying freighters above Taris. That had been the bad to balance out the ease in which the Lucian Alliance had ceded Taris and the spice they'd accumulated to his forces. Lim Hejin deserved a bonus for his good work.

Voss planned to be gone from Tatooine before the drop was made though. He never oversaw the actual work himself unless absolutely necessary. In this case, a simple blue milk run as this should be wouldn't require his skills. Before he departed, Voss planned to do one last check-of the outside of his ship. It paid to be cautious and make sure nobody tossed a homing beacon on it. Such tales were legendary. A homing beacon had led to the death of Jango Fett and the Battle of Geonosis after all. Using the under-cockpit landing ramp as his primary ingress/egress method (which served to keep the cloth-covered forms in the inner compartment hidden from sight, twenty of them in all), Voss exited into the warm weather of the docking bay, beginning his look-around.

The initial inspection of the front put him in the clear. Something tugged at the back of his mind, almost like a chill down one's spine. An unseen watcher, perhaps? It wasn't unheard of. Despite the fact that the Nevermore was registered under a false name, he'd been unable to completely leave a trace behind. The message he'd sent to Gavrisom had been from here on Tatooine, after all. While he'd not taken the landing craft to Dantooine, his image could still be traced, providing they had something to go off of. A sudden and very real chill raced down Voss' spine. Perhaps he hadn't been as careful as he thought he'd been. Perhaps he'd left too many traces. Perhaps, in fact, it was time to call in the backup.

Even though it was little more than simple paranoia (as he chalked it up in his mind), paranoia had kept him alive far longer than any other survival skill, aside from the Force. Paranoia and making powerful friends. He'd been about halfway around the landing craft when he paused, then turned back towards the landing ramp, one hand in the pocket of his dust-brown robe, grasping a control of sorts. Backup was only moments away if needed, and heavy backup... well, that would take time to arrive. No sense in alerting anyone to the pickup if he was being watched. All he needed to do was get back inside and he'd be just fine. Once in the relative safety, he could utilize what he'd need to get off-world.

Now there were a few problems that resulted with this method of attack. Had they indeed waited until the Nevermore's systems were active (or indeed, even if the droids were active), it would have accomplished far more than it did. With the ship in 'rest' mode, so to speak, the primary systems that were disabled were the standby functions of the on-board computers; systems that made it easy and quick to power the ship up. Now, with those gone, the ship would effectively have to be cold-started, a process that took more time. As well, a number of computers would have to be reset before it could truly be of much use in flight.

The droids as well, switched off as they were at the moment, could hardly be expected to suffer from any ion damage. A shut down droid was, after all, practically a dead droid. To ionize the droids would require them to be 'live' so to speak. The primary problem would come from the respirator shutting down. This though, was mitigated to an extent. It was not quite common knowledge, but most Force-users with time for research came across the story of Darth Vader nearly being defeated when his chest-plate had its systems deactivated through the Force by an opponent. Realizing it had been one of his few weaknesses, Voss had taken steps to implant redundant systems in it. For a good, long moment or two there, Voss knew a panic he'd not felt since childhood: the inability to breathe. Then the backup unit kicked in and he inhaled deeply. So, an ion weapon. That was all it could be. Damnation. His ship would not lift so easily now... but it could still be used as a bargaining chip. So far though, nobody had taken a shot at him, which was odd. Someone wanted him alive.

With his mind working quickly, this could mean one of two things: that either he was needed for questioning, which was possible... or the higher chance of them not knowing for sure and doing their best to find out. It didn't seem prudent to pull his sabers yet; instead, he decided to duck back into the protective overhang offered by the landing craft's cockpit. If they were coming, they'd likely need to blow the door. Odds were good they'd laid a tractor beam on his ship as well. Creative bargaining was in order. They certainly wouldn't expect him to be hale and hearty. Ah, well. Even if the ship wouldn't fly, it would be quick enough to send a signal to the backup he had in the fringes. If that could be avoided... well, that would be much better. So now, it was time to wait again.

"Gentlemen... is there something I can help you with? I'm not accustomed to being attacked by pirates while I'm heading for my afternoon nap."

Voss moved with the opening shots, and here it would become apparent that his attackers were not facing something quite as normal as they may have assumed. Voss, being unable to extrude Force in the traditional manner as most users, instead focused inwards, improving the abilities that directly affected himself. The result was a rather odd blend of a very deadly close-range fighter with very little in the way of ranged attacks. By the time the men pulled the triggers on their weapons, Voss was on the opposite side of the bay having moved as practically a blur, his lightsabers up and in his fists, albeit not yet activated.

"Two million credits for safe passage!" He shouted to the man outside the bay door. Any fool could be manipulated through money, especially those on Tatooine. The man had the look of a rough sort, after all. Hired muscle with little in the way of brains often jumped at the chance for easy cash. Of course, that left the men still without an assault. This would change, for at his current angle, the ship was between himself and the attacker on the E-web.

The second the E-web opened fire, Voss moved, taking off like a blur once more, not around the side of the shuttle from which the team was approaching, but around the back side, keeping them in the dark for the moment. Four seconds, five, six, seven, eight. Voss crouched slightly and pushed off as hard as he could, body defying gravity in a jump that no unassisted human could make, the lightsabers coming alive in his fists; nine seconds, ten. Eleven seconds. Voss came down, landing on the balls of his feet, eyes taking in the man who was half-turned towards the docking bay door, presumably keeping his eye on the rifle-toting man therein, his hands busy on the E-web's power generator. Too late. Far too late, most likely, and not enough warning. Both weapons would strike at the same time, spearing forwards towards the man's chest, Voss' arms still powered by the Force in a vicious stab and then rip outwards to return to a guard position, aimed to cut in through heart and lung and then sever outwards, taking off the arms just below the shoulders.