A Known Quantity

[Hurst Falco]

Level 128, Port Town, Cloud City

"Echani wa tengo no buta."

Hurst shook his head at the cart vendor, peddling hot caf at a promenade hub in the Port Town district. Pedestrian traffic was heavy around this circular venue, filled with kiosks and hawkers for all sorts of things.

The Rodian shook his head, and the Imperial captain held up three fingers for emphasis.

"Tengo! Tengo no buta, du wani?"

The alien seemed to think about it, and nodded.

"Tengo no buta, da sechu no boska."

He pointed off in the distance, down one of the larger hallway thoroughfares as he passed a pair of cafs off to Falco. With a smirk, Hurst tossed a chit to the alien before passing a caf off to Redd and keeping one for himself. In the background, a half dozen stormtroopers hung back, weapons slung off the shoulder and looking cagey. They were Hurst's hand-picked posse of shitkickers, pulled for any given concerted beat-walking they intended to do. Today, they were stepping into the rough and tumble mid-levels. Other companies of the garrison were already installed on the top levels and keeping those locked down easily. Not much in the way of real trouble ever happened up there, even before the Empire. The real heartbeat of Cloud City was below the towers.

Hurst walked alongside Redd, and the rest of the troopers filed along behind with a bit of slack in the ranks.

"Yarbo says we're right down the way from the candy store. Rocks, sticks, glitterdust, any sort of shit we want. Just stay on the swivel. These hood dealers are sloppy as hell."

Sure enough, it didn't take them 200 meters of strolling before they found a Zabrak leaning against an edifice, loitering around nothing at all worth seeing. He caught sight of Falco's beat patrol, and tried to play it off cool, strolling off in the other direction.

"Hey! Spike! Get over here!"

Caught in the midst of fight or flight, the Zabrak's eyes met Falco's, and he squared himself to run.

"Don't you fucking..."

And he bolted. With a sneer, Hurst tossed his caf aside, and like a junkyard dog, ran after the first thing stupid enough to run from him.

"...don't make me chase you, asshole! Redd, get your stunner out!"

[Redd Bantha-Horn]

Redd whipped a R-88 Suppressor riot blaster into the air and fired off shot that hit the Zabrak in the back, almost hard enough to knock him down. On impact the cannister fired a burst of compressed steam over the runner, and soon he was hacking and wheezing for air as the aerosol cloud numbed his senses and reflexes. Civilians scattered as Redd jogged alongside the alien, shoved him to the ground and gave him a swift boot to the kidneys – or at least where he figured the horn-heads kidneys would be.

“Aint no one ever tell you: you run you're only gonna die tired, shit-head.”

[Hurst Falco]

There was a very ancient, unwritten rule about chases. If somebody runs from you and you catch them, you give them a beating. No matter what modern marvels you might have at your disposal to incapacitate with stun bolts, knockout gas, or other such means, you gave the ignorant shit a couple of cracks for making you breathe hard. Somewhere in the long term, the calculus made sense. For every four dumbasses who might bolt, one might think twice about that beating they know they'll get. You can't stop all people from being stupid, but you can give lots of incentive for other options.

Falco let Redd take his shots on the Zabrak, and then he gave a few boots to his middle. The alien, wheezing for breath and with a mucus-streaked nose, was wrenched to his feet by two pairs of hands at his arms and pressed against a wall.

"Where'd you get your scrips, pinhead?"

Hurst gave him a light slap to his face to make sure his eyes were on him, nodding at the vials Redd had already pulled off the guy on a pat-down. The perp put on a tough face, or attempted to past the pain and snot on his nose.

"I found 'em, Cechueta."

Falco smiled evilly at the curse-laden attempt at bravado the Zabrak put up.

"I'm hazy, what's the punishment for 'finding' scrips on Cloud City, Redd?"

The point was, this two-bit dealer was in a world of shit if he didn't give up his source.

[Redd Bantha-Horn]

Redd jerked a knee up into the alien's groin. He didn't know if the pinhead had balls, but based on the reaction he got, it was a safe bet he did. The Zabrak bent double on reflex, but Hurst was dragging him back up in seconds, slamming his tattooed face against the alley wall.

“Oh I'm sorry man, my boot just found your ass.”

The alien swore in mangled Basic and spat blood onto the duracrete. Grabbing the Zabrak by the jaw, Redd forced the idiot's unwilling eyes onto the spice vials he'd been carrying.

“What, you think the stars-damn glit fairy just flew by and sprinkled a bunch of spice into these, without you knowing? You gotta be high, if you think we're believin' that bantha-shit.”

[Hurst Falco]

Falco smirked at Redd's moxie, laying into the Zabrak an extra measure or two.

"Maybe you hadn't heard, but the Empire's back in control of your little shit heap. I don't know how the old Baron Administrator dealt with stains like you, but I've got gulag detail green-lighted for junk pushers. You like that? Cast you down to work with the Ugnauts, how about that?"

Real fear was starting to distill into the alien's eyes.

"Maybe better than that. Back in the good ol' days, we used the old carbon freezers when we wanted to send a message. You're my first king shithead caught. How about I turn you into a modern art masterpiece? Park your frozen slab up on Baroness Tagge's wall as a conversation starter?"

He let his intense glare bore into the Zabrak another moment before looking back to Redd.

"You pull his ident tag yet? I want a name with this ugly face."

Turning back, he gestured to the alien's bare arms, marked in several spots by tattoos.

"Ahh, let's see..."

Falco had a decent knowledge of gang ink, at least for major players he was more likely to encounter on most given garrison worlds. So, seeing a Black Sun tag on the Zabrak's upper arm didn't surprise him.

"...who's pushing merch for Black Sun, and where can I find 'em?"

Inwardly, Hurst was all smiles. Black Sun. He was hoping it would be them.

[Redd Bantha-Horn]

“Looks like we got ourselves a wanted man!”

With a vicious grin, Redd held up the data-pad he'd used to call in the alien's ident. There, on the screen, was a picture of the very same Zabrak, though looking a couple of years younger and sporting a black eye and a split lip. Otherwise, the resemblance was unmistakable.

“Big-time here's got himself a history with local law enforcement – and they thought you were outta the game, spike.”

“I not know what you talking 'bout.”

Redd nodded. “Yeah... yeah maybe you're right. You guys look all the same to me anyway, and you sure as hell haven't got the stones to be running for the Black Sun in our town.”

[Hurst Falco]

"Priors, huh? Well, that's enough excuse to drum you up to a death mark."

Falco tossed a knowing expression to Redd. They both knew they didn't want to waste the tibanna on a blaster shot to this guy's head. But with enough pressure...

"Holiday Towers! Rezner! Her name's Miss Rezner!"

The garrison Captain looked to Redd momentarily. He didn't remember anyone named Rezner. It wasn't a surprise if he was dealing with new players entirely, but maybe his right hand man had an angle.

[Redd Bantha-Horn]

“No shit,” Redd cracked a grin at Hurst. He knew the name and the face that went with it. Holiday Towers wasn't exactly low-class, but you didn't catch any officers hanging around their bar. Too many aliens on the staff. “I seen her around. Feisty looking piece a' alien tail. Wouldn't be surprised if she was running glit and girls, from the look of her.”

[Hurst Falco]

Falco stepped away, leaving his posse the task of slapping binders on the perp.

"Cart this genius up to detention and register him."

He turned back to the Zabrak, who was rather grateful to not simply be shot on the spot.

"Don't make me have to see your ugly face again, spike. Got it?"

With that, the posse parted with the prisoner, leaving Falco and Redd to talk things over.

"Who's this Rezner bird? Guessing just the local franchise, eh? Figure that means we ought to be making our way to Holiday Towers pretty soon then."

[Redd Bantha-Horn]

Redd glanced at his wrist. “Well, no time like the present. We can swing by Biscuit Baron on the way there, get some of them breakfast biscuits with blue sauce.”

There were many perks to being part of the Bespin garrison. Fast food at a five-finger discount numbered high on Redd's list. He was just finishing what was left of a QuickSnack meal as they neared the entrance of the Holiday Towers and tossed the crumpled up paper-bag over his shoulder. A pair of Trandoshan guards were on duty, looking about as discreet as scale-heads could. They were carrying snap batons, collapsable staves that could be worn without attracting attention – but could expand to a meter in length.

“You better have a permit for those.” Redd pointed to each of the guards. “I got my eye on you both, y'hear?”

[Hurst Falco]

The Trandoshans growled something unintelligible, and Falco gave them both a rancor's smile. For all the pointy teeth in their scaled heads, it was clear among them all who had the scarier smile.

"We're here to see Miss Rezner."

The aliens' bravado melted away into a look of mutual confusion, and one ducked inside, no doubt to check with the boss to see what should be done about the presence of some nasty-looking Imperials looking to ask questions.

[Arriana Rezner]

In short time, the pair were escorted inside. Whilst the Trandoshan guards remained at their posts, three Twi'lek and a Zabrak acted herded Hurst and Redd through the crowds inside the casino's ground floor. It was busy and there were at least three pick-pockets – on the company payroll – who needed to be deflected away from the boss's guests.

They found Arriana at one of the sabacc tables, not playing but observing a game that on the surface seemed light-hearted – but based on the nearby security and credit chits stacked in the centre of the playing table, was anything but casual. Arriana glanced up and the hostesses smile she wore lost some of its warmth. A discreet explanation and introdiction was made. Arriana gave one of the card players a warm pat on the back and then excused herself, striding towards Hurst and Redd with a feline sway in her hips.

“Officers. Is there something I can help you vith?”

[Hurst Falco]

"Word on the street's that if I'm looking to have a good time, I should head to the Holiday Towers, but I don't think the upstanding young man I just chased down had anything to say about your sabacc game."

Hurst gave her a look up and down. Redd was right, she wasn't a hard sight on the eyes.

"Got some place you'd like to talk where folks can't overhear, Miss Rezner?"

He gave a glance back to Redd, knowing that they were best to talk about the Cathar's real game in private.

[Arriana Rezner]

Already, the present of Hurst Falco was beginning to draw dark glances. Letting men like him loiter on the casino floor was sure to be bad for business. Reluctantly, Arriana nodded and gestured towards the back of the Ison Lounge.

“Of course. This vay.”

As they moved towards a discretely located door, two of the Twi'leki who had escorted Hurst and Redd inside followed. Beyond the door, the sound and heat of the casino floor gave way to a cold, narrow corridor. A gun turret protruded prominently from the ceiling, at the far end of the hallway.

They passed beneath the turret and through another door, into a darkened room with few contents of note, save a handful of couches and armchairs, and a dejarik table. Arriana's guards paced into the room with an air of nonchalance that bordered upon arrogance.

“Vould you.. gentlemen like something to drrrink?”