Just Your Simple, Multi-Million Credit Drug Deal (What Could Go Wrong?) - 8.163

[Kyp]

Local time: 4.25 hours before sunset.

The second the ship set down, Kyp was out of the chair, directing traffic. "Ok, no time to waste, fellows. Hunk, being much closer to no-good criminal scum than we are, I'm assuming you have a better idea where to turn up a buyer for us. Start scouting." He clapped and pointed at the big man.

"Remember what's in it for you and what we talked about before. And try to keep to the small-time guys. You know how it goes. Big buyer means big organization means lots of goons means we die."

"T'teek, you're staying with the ship. No one can understand you anyway and I need you making sure she's in tip top shape in case we need to high-tail it out of here. Try not to break her; she doesn't even have a name yet. If you get bored, try to think of one. Nothing lame. I don't want people rolling their eyes whenever they say it."

"Anton, you're with me. We're finding some medical facilities for our Imperial salvage. We deliver him alive and it could grease some wheels down the road. I don't spend any more time out here than necessary. The sooner we get back to civilized space, the better."

[Hunk]

He followed the others down the ramp to the lower deck. As the others rounded the corner, Hunk continued forward, toward his berth at the back of the ship. Kyp suddenly stepped in front of him, appearing out of nowhere to slide in his way.

"Where ya going, big guy?"

"To my room to get my gun. That ok with you, Captain?"

"Here, take mine, I don't think I'll be needing it between here and the med center."

That damnable slick grin was on his face again, masking whatever was going through his head. Hunk shrugged and took the offered firearm. He didn't really have any reason not to take it. One blaster was as good as another.

"So, you want me to just set up a meeting some time tonight if I find someone? Tomorrow?"

"Nah, just give me a call first. We'll need all hands on deck. This tub have some portable communicators?"

"Yeah, they're back in the supply closet in the back of the starboard hold. I'll go grab 'em."

"You know what? On second thought, let's not complicate things. I trust your judgement. Set something up whenever. It shouldn't take us very long to find the med station. In fact, we'll probably be back here before you are anyway. We can work out the details then.

Look, I know I'm kind of laying a lot on your shoulders here. Since you're setting up the meeting and everything, I'll toss in another 5%. Cool?"

With the profit they were looking forward to, 5% was a hefty chunk of credits. Thoughts of communicators in the back of the ship were forgotten, replaced with the thoughts of big-breasted women waiting on him hand and foot.

"Yeah, cool. Let's roll."

Hunk lead the procession and was the first off the gangway to set foot on Vaynai. They split up, the brothers heading left while he went right. Just before they were lost in the bustling crowd of tourists, Hunk did a quick about-face. He followed them at a safe distance, using Kyp's bright red silk shirt as a beacon.

[Judas Voss]

Vaynai. A planet of sun and it's shine. It was a bane on the existence of pale skinned youths the galaxy over. When he had first come to this planet it had burned him with it's hot indifference, turning his body red until he cocooned himself in the cool sanctuary of indoors to heal and evolve into a bronzer version of his previous self. Now life on Vaynai was easier. His pale exterior had been the work of many years spent in a basement but even that was a thing of the past now as he looked like every other inhabitant of the resort planet. Bronze, half naked, and smiling.

It was a far cry from his previous set up on Ord Mantell. After being chased on that planet by the ever determined Empire he had aided his rescuer Akrabbim and moved here to Vaynai. His parents in all they're wealth owned a summer home here that they had not used in a very long time. Not since before Judas dropped out of the Academy and took up a life of professional rebellion. Back when they were a happy, together kind of family. Now every day was split between enjoying the paradise he had found himself in and rebuilding his technological supercomputer in the basement of his parents' summer home.

However, in the meantime he had other pleasures to pursue. As much as he enjoyed the locals it had been some time since his last fix and he desperately needed something to tide him over. What credits he had were stolen and swindled and had gone almost exclusively into getting the parts he needed to build his computer system, or Slice-o-matic or Slicematron as he usually referred to it. That meant no credits for spice. He was not a heavy user but he did enjoy using them now and again and the locals had gotten him hooked on Ryll lately. Seemed everyone was doing it these days.

There were places in town where you went if you were looking to buy or sell. These were the dark alleys that offered just about the only consistent shade in the entire city, making them dark and cool, as well as leaving anyone who just walked into it hopelessly blind. Made them easy targets, but Judas was hardly unprepared. He had bought a few times and knew the importance of being ready for anything. Despite his flip flops, swimming shorts, and open floral print button shirt over white shirt, he was indeed carrying a knife and he liked to think he knew how to use it.

They alley was empty today. That's cool. That just meant playing the waiting game until someone showed up to sell him some spice, or whatever else they were selling. Sometimes he could find other things for sale, like black market weapons and stolen electronics. The latter was more his taste than the former. He had no use for disintegration weapons. Vaynai was not as pleasant as it appeared, and there were a lot of seedy undertones on a planet of pleasures.

In the meantime he just pulled his datapad out of his pocket and surfed the holonet while he waited.

[T'Kreet]

Local time: 4.10 hours before sunset.


Damn this ship was cold. He'd never understand how humans, with their hairless pink bodies could stand such frigid temperatures.

"T'kreek, you're staying with the ship. I need you making sure she's in tip top shape."

Stay with the ship? What was he supposed to do in the hour they'd be gone? Supercharge the thing? Install a new hyperdrive? A new paint job? Maybe he wanted the thing bristling with turbolasers or something.

Where were they anyway? The plan was for them to just get the pilot off the ship, then circle back around and let the girl go.

"No one can understand you anyway."

What an ass. T'teek was confident he was twice the merchant the human was, even while dealing with a handful of words and some gestures. Somehow Kyp never wondered why he was able to consistantly buy parts dirt cheap. T'kreet was why.

Screw it. The brothers might be broke, but he wasn't. He had a hefty balance of credits saved away. No use letting an opportunity like this get away from him. It wasn't often he was in this part of the galaxy. With Raxus so near, there was bound to be plenty of merchandise to be had. If they were unloading all this cargo anyway, there'd be plenty of room to haul his purchases back with them to Coruscant or whatever the destination was.

His mind made up, T'Kreet grabbed a datapad and a gun. As the ship's gangway rose up behind him, he locked it with a code, preventing anyone from entering while he was gone.

[Kyp]

Local TIme: 4 hours before sunset

Kyp and Anton continued to fight their way through the crowds. Kyp stopped to look at an information board, taking the opportunity to glance back behind them. The pilot was plain to see, a few dozen yards back, standing head and shoulders above most of those around him. Kyp had noticed they were being followed almost immediately, but had continued on, talking with a few locals along the way to figure out where some of the more shady dealings went down.

"Dammit, he's still trailing us. I think he thinks he's being clever. Whatever, we've wasted enough time already with this little act. Anton, I'll keep him occupied, you head back to the ship and get rid of the girl. Make sure she can't find her way back. I wasn't bullshitting her about her things either. Toss them in a pack or something; there must be one on the ship somewhere." He turned back the way he came, feigning a pleased surprise as he approached the pilot.

"Hey, flyboy, fancy meeting you out here. Looks like I'm having a little trouble getting my bearings. According to that board back there, there's actually a med center in a hotel back the way we came. Anton's heading back to take care of things. I figured we can work together to find us some buyers. Word is, the spacedock on the other side of the city is where we want to be. We're over in the touristy area, the clean face. All the good stuff happens over there on the ass end of things. Anton, we'll catch you later. If we're not back by sunset...doesn't matter - we'll be back by sunset. But if we're not, don't be flying off. I expect you and the jawa to go all commando on things and save us."

[Tal]

Local TIme: 3.9 hours before sunset

Bacta really was a miracle substance.

Just hours after being blasted back into an escape pod by a massive explosion, Tal opened his eyes. The light was too bright. He closed them again. Slowly, his brain began to sort through the physical simulus and the recent memories.

He was laying on his right side.
The bed was hard.
His head was throbbing. That hurt quite a bit.
The left side of his body hurt. That was a little worse than the head.
His mouth was extremely dry. That was simply annoying.
An experimental shift of his body sent wave of pain through him, making him forget about his head, his dry mouth, and just about every other experience in his life. Moving was bad.

"Sir, please remain still. You are badly injured."

What was that? Tal opened his eyes again and scanned the room. He saw a large, blurry, horizontal column with stripes...no, wires running down the side. Why was a pipe talking to him? No, he was on his side. The pipe was really vertical. There was a bulge on the left side...no, the top. It had lights. It was spinning. Maybe he was spinning. He closed his eyes again to think.

Cylinder, bulge on top, wires...no, arms, lights. It was an FX droid. He'd be damned if he let a machine tell him what to do. He moved his right under arm underneath himself and began to push himself into an upright position. The pain was intense, but it was no match for the spite. He felt felt something slide off his body - pads or cloths or something similar.

"Water."

"Sir, please remain still. You are badly injured. I am administering bacta both topically and internally, along with fluids."

"I know how to drink, robot. Water." Internally? Did it say internally? He felt along his arm until he felt the lump where a small tube broke the surface. "Where's the doctor?" Tal had always insisted on a living, breathing medical professional when he needed care, even if most of the galaxy seemed content to be poked and prodded by machines.

"I am the primary medical functionary on this ship. If you wish, I can contact the nearest local medical facility to offer you further assistance."

"This ship? What is the name of this ship?" Every word he spoke felt like he was tearing his larynx out of his throat.

"You are aboard the Ghtroc 720 Freighter, Designation: Shalandria's ****"

What?! Name aside, a 720 Freighter was not even a common Imperial ship. Why was he here? Nearest local medical facility? Was the ship on some planet?

His body was slowly growing accustomed to the pain of sitting up, the stabbing having been replaced by a dull ache. For the first time he looked down at himself. He was half nude, the remains of his uniform laying around him. The right sleeve and the attached material was still on him, as was much of the slacks. In places, the cloth was cut; in others it edged in a charred mess. His left side and much of his front was an angry red hue. His left hand was in ruins. Much of the outer layed of skin had sloughed off. Wiggling his fingers hurt more than everything else combined.

Still, he was done being beholden to some machine. He felt along his arm until he felt the lump again and yanked out the offending tube. Favoring his right side heavily, he gained his feet and began to explore.

[Hunk]

Looking out the windows of the train was like watching a time lapse video. Before his eyes, the gleaming city transformed into a sinister slum. The wide boulevards and pedestrian malls were replaced by narrow, cramped streets. Buildings were crammed closer and closer to each other until the sun almost disappeared - this was an area ruled by shadows. From what he'd heard, the people who lived in these parts of the city were far better off than the poorest, who dwelled in an underground cavern system. Land was a premium on Vaynai and only the most fortunate lived on top of it.

The train pulled into a station and Kyp and Hunk departed, two in a motley sea of people. They couldn't have looked more different - if Kyp was a shot of Corellian whiskey, Hunk was a frosted mug overflowing with beer. If Kyp was a a knife, Hunk was a sledgehammer. If Kyp was a silk handkerchief, Hunk was a dirty sleeve.

A few questions directed towards the locals got them a handful of grunts and pointed directions leading them to what was known by the inhabitants of this charming little neighborhood as "Smuggler's End". Handy, that.

They were soon lost in a maze of dead-ends and streets that turned back on themselves with no clear order. The dense crowds of pedestrians, speeders, and the occasional wheeled vehicle gave way as they got deeper into Smuggler's End. The only people here were those ready for trouble and some looking for it. Kyp, who had taken the lead, presumably trusting his instincts to find what they were looking for.

"I'm going to check out this place here. You coming in or you want to split up?" The smaller man gestured across the street to a seedy-looking joint. Screaming Hammerhead's. The entrance was under a garish neon sign of an Ithorian. Every few seconds, a series of lights around the mascot would light up. Crude, but effective.

While they were less vulnerable together, Hunk got a bad feeling about the place. "I think I'll look around out here a little more. Don't worry, I won't go far. I'll probably join you in just a bit."

"Fine with me. If we get separated though, let's meet back at the train station." Both of the men were now regretting not grabbing the communicators.

As Kyp crossed the street and disappeared through the door of Screaming Hammerhead's, Hunk continued down the road, keeping his eye on the alleys and doorways for trouble.

[Tal]

Local Time: 3.5 hours before sunset

The ship was empty, so far as Tal Kellison had seen in the part of the ship he'd explored to far. The explored part of the ship comprised the room in which he'd woken up; the head, next to the room in which he'd woken up; and now this berth, across the hall from the room in which he'd woken up. Three rooms thoroughly explored.

Tal was presently standing at the base of the ramp that lead to the ship's cockpit. For the life of him, he couldn't remember how he got on this ship. For that matter, he couldn't remember waking up or putting on these strange pants either. A small streak of blood marred the bulkhead next to him. How did that get there? Was someone bleeding? He looked down. Oh, it was him. What happened to his hand? Why did the left side of his body sting with every move he made? Why was he standing there?

He tried to retrace his steps. Mentally, that is, he didn't especially feel like moving.

The head. He remembered the head. He remembered trying to wash his hand in the sink. He remembered the pain. His face! He remembered looking up and seeing a strange face in the mirror. It was his face. It was red and blistered. He was missing hair. A lot of hair. His eyebrow was gone too. Was it real? Tal lifted his right hand and gently tried to feel the left side of his face.

Oh! It was real alright. Every muscle in his body tensed. He sucked air in, filling his lungs and trying not to cry out. He suddenly remembered a chapter from his childhood. He had burned his arm badly. His father talked him through it, taught him how to fight the pain, to face it down. Why could he remember that and not how he got on this ship?

The ship. He wasn't supposed to be here, he remembered that much. He should get off. Where was the exit? He felt fresh air, it had to be close. There, it was brighter on the other side of this ramp.

Why was there blood on the bulkhead?

[Kal Olorin]

Local time: 3.4 hours before sunset

The Screaming Hammerhead ran a high stakes sabacc game in the back room every other Zhellday. Contrary to all the holofilms, the room wasn't filled with cigarra smoke, and the game actually started at noon, local time. I was several thousand credits lighter and making my way to the bar for a consolatory drink after losing quite thoroughly, and the sun wasn't even down yet. Vaynai was a nice enough planet, but I wasn't really sure what I was going in this part of it. Smuggler's End sounded like a place where people in my line of work came to die.

Anyway, the plans for the new casino were well underway. There was no reason for me to be hanging around, except to get fleeced by the locals at sabacc. I flagged down one of the bartenders and got myself a Rotten Eyeblaster, a local spin on a popular drink. When it arrived there was a raw egg floating in the alcohol like a blob of lava in a lamp.

I stared at it, my mind blank for the first time in weeks. What. The. Fuck.

[Judas Voss]

Local time: 3.3 hours before sunset

Screw this. Waiting was taking way too long. The sun would be down soon and he did not want to be out here after dark if he could help it. There was no real danger on Vaynai, but the nightlife had a tendency to scoop him up and not drop him off until morning with a hangover for a present. That was not the ending he wanted for the evening. Just a little ryll in a quiet corner to help him sleep. Just sleep.

Pushing off the wall he moved down the alley amidst a storm of grumbling. One of the buildings Judas was standing between was the Screaming Hammerhead. It was the slightly less than super popular watering hole. The other place across the street was more popular, but he did not like things that were too mainstream. The Hammerhead would do for the night. Just a quick drink and then he would drag his disappointment back up to his parents' vacation home and pass out in the pile of dirty laundry he called a bed.

The bar was a little populated, but there was an open spot next to some dude he did not recognize. No biggy. It was not like he was looking for any of his friends to party with for the night or anything. Taking the stool, he ordered a Trandoshan Tea. Nothing said alcohol like hard liquor bathed in enough sour mix to twist your tongue. Checking out the dude beside him, Judas noticed his drink choice and the expression on his face.

"Flip what the zip? Th'hell is that?"

[Kyp]

Local time: 3.3 hours before sunset

Kyp slipped in the front door behind what seemed to be a tourist, judging by his sandals and flowery shirt.

He took the time to scan the crowd, eyeing up the patrons. The joint was surprisingly crowded considering the neighborhood and the early hour. not shoulder-to-shoulder, but the booths were all occupied and only a handful of stools remained unoccupied. With no better option, he took up a position at the end of the bar, waiting to get the attention of one of the beleaguered bartenders. At the moment he was at the opposite end of the bar, sliding a drink to the tourist.

He didn't have the first clue how to broach the subject. With legitimate business deals, it was easy, but did one figure out who wanted to buy something like spice? It was a shot in the dark, but he had to hope the bartender might have a lead for him. He had very little to lose. At the most, the question would simply get him tossed out on his ass.

[Anton G]

Local time: 3.3 hours before sunset

No. No no no no. This simply could not be happening.

The entirety of Anton's brain was currently occupied trying to form a hypothesis to explain what the hell he was seeing. They had left no more than an hour ago. It had taken longer than expected to return, first because he and his brother had to deal with the pilot, and then because he'd missed the berth where they'd left the freighter, overshooting it and having to circle back. But still, how did this happen?

T'Kreet - gone.
The woman they had locked up in the cargo hold - gone.
The Imperial officer that should have been unconscious and under the care of the FX droid - gone.

Blood was everywhere: in pools on the ground, dribbled in criss-crossing paths through the front of the ship, and smears on various walls. His first thought was that someone had raided the ship and there had been a battle, but, curiously, the cargo was the one thing that wasn't gone. He considered the idea that the woman had gotten free, and killed T'Kreet, but then why was the ship still here? Did T'Kreet let her go and escape with her? That made less than no sense. Did local security arrest them? No, they would have confiscated the cargo too.

Perhaps the droids could fill him in on what happened. Besides the FX-7 medical droid. the ship was home to an Otega service droid and a pair of RIC droids used for loading and unloading cargo. Between the four, Anton was confident he'd be able to straighten things out.

[Kyp]

No more than a few seconds passed from the time the previous occupants vacated it and Kyp slid into the empty booth. The seats were still warm and the table was still waiting to be bussed, but he had his base of operations.

Kyp had eventually gotten the bartender's attention and explained to him let him know what he was looking for. After a substantial tip (most of what was left in Kyp's meager account, the man had been amazingly helpful, indicating a few potential leads among the current patrons and even a couple of places to check if things didn't work out here. A few more credits ad the man agreed to play middle man and send any interested parties over to him.

Hence, the booth. A booth was more conducive to buying and selling than a stool, bench, or street corner was. It offered a modicum of privacy and an inclusive feeling. Soon the table would be cleared and the game would begin. With the ball rolling, Kyp began to relax a bit. He was in his element now.

[Kal Olorin]

I knew my bodyguards were laughing at me, though they were doing a pretty good job of hiding it. As they were also doing a good job of not being completely obvious they were bodyguards. Being a Vigo in my own right meant I could, and should, bring muscle along with me on business trips. Not like the old days when I was a glorified personal assistant/bodyguard myself.

I guess I'm supposed to feel good about moving up the food chain. Instead I just get less sleep. The thing about a food chain is that there's always something bigger out there.

I looked steadily at the Rotten Eyeblaster and then at the kid who'd just sat down. "I'm pretty sure it's a drink." I saw Gronan at the other end of the bar make a bottoms up hand gesture, and I glared at him.

The bartender leaned close, and she said, "If you leave it long enough the egg undergoes a chemical change and gets hard. Better drink it now before you have to chew it." She winked, wiping a glass and pushing a napkin over to me.

Well. I'd done my fair share of distasteful things before, mainly in the bedroom with Sasseeri. I raised the multicolored drink to my lips, opened the back of my throat and chugged it. I set the glass back down, licking my lips, and picked up the napkin. There was a note in Aurebesh written on it.


http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v471/jainhollie/napkin.jpg*


I turned around on my stool and looked at the booth. There was a greasy human sitting in it, complete with a cheap suit and a laid back look about him. He looked like a used speeder salesman. My stomach churned, complaining about what I'd just put into it, and I ordered a water before walking over to the booth.

"I hear you're looking to do some business while you're in town," I said. "Mind if I join you?"

* booth behind you guy looking to unload some product, thought you'd be interested

[Kyp]

Anton motioned to the seat opposite his own.

"You hear correctly - please, have a seat. You'll have to forgive the mess, I wasn't expecting guests so soon."

The man moved with the practiced ease of someone who was used to getting his way, who was used to being feared and respected. Kyp noted a pair of men who made a note of the man's movements. Their gaze followed him just a fraction of a second longer than anyone else's, a mere blink of an eye. Bodyguards. Good ones, too. Anyone who didn't make their living by reading people wouldn't pay them any mind.

Warning klaxons sounded in Kyp's head. The was not the kind of small fish he'd been hoping for. He had a choice. He could let the man know, straight up that he was mistaken and that there was no business, or he could forge ahead. The latter choice was fraught with danger, but could potentially lead to an endgame where they had every bit of illicit cargo sold off by sundown.

Getting the ball rolling had been the hard part. Kyp was in his element, now. Droids, spice, guns, hell, he could sell an umbrella to a Tatooine moisture farmer.

Full steam ahead.

[Hunk]

This sucked.

He'd found a couple of vagrants, a group of tourists who looked completely lost, but no targets to sell to. What did he know about setting up these deals? All he did was fly the ship, load things on and off the ship, and help fix the ship. A handful of times he'd been brought along as hired muscle, but that was the extent of things. This simply wasn't his game.

Hunk meandered back up the same road he'd just went down. An empty wrapper of some sort floated down the sidewalk, keeping him company. Suddenly, he found himself back in front of the same place Kyp had disappeared into. Maybe he had the right idea after all. Maybe inside was the place these sorts of things happened.

It took only a few seconds for Hunk's eyes to adjust to the interior lighting, which was barely better than the shadowy street outside. It was his lucky night. A stool right at the bar sat open, front and center. On the right side sat a Quarren, surly looking even for one of his kind; on the opposite side was a human male, dressed in a flowered shirt.

Hunk squeezed between the two and settled his bulky frame down on the stool. He turned to his left and addressed the flower shirt man.

"Hey Chief, what's good here for someone that wants to forget a long day?"

[Tal]

Local time: 3.0 hours before sunset

In his mind, Tal was doing an admirable job of concealing his injury. A slight limp, perhaps, but nothing more. He was used to people getting out of his way on starships, this was no different.

In reality, the crowds were giving him a large space cushion not out of respect, but because he cut a rather disturbing figure - a shirtless, shoeless man, wearing nothing but but a pair of ill-fitting bright orange pants, his left side reddened and blistered with more than half his hair gone.

Several people had offered him aid, but he'd stubbornly refused. He was on a mission and couldn't be dissuaded.

He suddenly stopped. What was he supposed to be doing?

He was supposed to be trying to get to a ship, that was it! No, or was he trying to get away from a ship? Why was it so hard to remember? He thought back. He was commanding his ship. They were patrolling the coordinates on a hyperspace route commonly used by smugglers. But then what? It was right there, right on the edge of his consciousness, but it was obscured by a fog. Every time he tried to pin down the details, they slipped away, skittering back into the mist. On the other edge of the fog all he could remember was an FX droid and a streak of blood on the wall next to him.

He should stop and find some place to rest; walking hurt too much. No, he had already stopped. How long had he been standing here? Maybe he could get his bearings, figure out his next move. He was in the middle of a wide boulevard. Trees and flowers stood along the center while a thinning crowd walked every which way to either side. To his right, there was a railing. Beyond that was open air and a breeze carrying the smell of salt water. To his left, a facade of buildings. The architecture was unfamiliar to him - he'd never been here before. About 200 yards behind him a freighter sat on a landing pad with several more behind it.

[Kal Olorin]

"Yeah, well, I happened to be in the area." I took the offered seat, and stretched an arm out along the top of the booth. "So, what sort of product are you peddling? Ah, thanks." My water arrived, and the waitress quickly bussed the table, giving the synthetic surface a quick wipe down before turning to leave.

[Kyp]

He caught the eye of the waitress just as she turned to leave.

"You carry Ithorian Mist? judging from the sign out front, I'd hope so." She nodded in the affirmative. "Ok then, Ithorian Mist with just a splash of water."

Kyp focused back on the man sitting across from him. His new ally and enemy rolled up into one.

"Spice, mostly. Pretty good variety, from muon gold to glitterstim. Got some weapons too, if you're interested in those. DLT-19s, thermal detonators, some HX2 mines. Any of that sound up your alley?"

[Judas Voss]

His friend with the sour face and disgusting drink got up and left, switching to a table booth on the other side of the room. Not that Judas cared much. It just meant that much more room at the bar. His own drink finally arrived and if the bright green color was any indication the thing had enough sour mix in it to kill a bantha. And that was just the way he liked it. It was sipped carefully, seeing as the liquid contained within was more than enough to burn his throat with just a few drops. A quick clear of his throat alleviated the pain, and since he was a gentleman after a fashion he turned his head when he did so, almost in the face of the man who just squeezed in the freshly vacant seat.

"Slippery Zeltron." Judas chimed back immediately. "It's pink and it makes your mouth feel like a bubbly heaven and has enough liquor hidden behind the flavor to stun a dewback. Or maybe the..." His voice drifted off as he grabbed for a nearby drink menu with a holographic surface on which all manner of drinks were scrolling. Like a billboard in your hand. "... Supernova. That shit is like candy. Candy that gets you wasted, man. Or you can get that nasty egg drink the last guy ordered." His face screwed up in a mask of disgust as he recalled the abomination that guy had ordered. He had to wash the memory away with a drink of his fabulous Trandoshan Tea. Mmm. Sour mix.

"Where you from friend? They must grow big on your world."

[Kal Olorin]

A variety pack of spice and weapons. I idly scratched the side of my nose, and then stretched my arm out again. "Pretty eclectic collection you got there. I could be interested in the thermals and whatever glitterstim you have, but I'd want to check the quality before taking it off your hands."

I smiled. "You know how it is."

[Kyp]

Kyp hid behind an impassive face, all the while studying the subtleties of the man across from him. No tells. no ticks, nothing to indicate he was doing anything but telling the truth. The scratch on the nose, the almost imperceptible shift in his posture, those were more likely cues for his buddies. There was danger here, of that Kyp had no doubt, but he head to take the chance. The thermal detonators and the high-ed spice would be the hardest thing to get rid of. That he had found a buyer for them so quickly was a minor miracle, ad not one he was about to turn his nose up at.

"Of course. I wouldn't expect you to take the stuff sight unseen, especially being that this is our first time doing business. If you want, you could drop by and inspect it tonight."

[Kal Olorin]

"That would be acceptable," I agreed. I sat forward a bit. "The detonators - are they baradium core? And what sort of detonation triggers are we talking. Timers, fail-deadly triggers, or both? I could go as high as 1,400 credits each, depending on the quality of the product."

[Hunk]

"I think I'll go with the Supernova. Sounds perfect." Others might scoff at a drink described as "candy", but Hunk didn't really give a crap. He had a major sweet tooth. He established eye contact with the bartender and waited patiently for him to make his way back to their area.

"If y'from around here, you've probably heard of the iceball I grew up on - Ammuud? Name ring a bell? And no, I'm just special. Broke the mold when they made me." hunk theumped his chest triumphantly. The Quarren vacated his stool, perhaps not appreciating being forced to slowly cede his personal space to the bulky newcomer.

[Kyp]

Kyp slowly stretched his mouth into a tight smile, never breaking eye contact with the other man. Cores? Triggers? How the hell was he supposed to know? It's not like he was a real gun-runner. He began to figure totals in his head. 1400 credits each? Even at half that price, with the amount they had on board - he was looking at a large chunk of credits If anything, his earlier estimates had been grossly conservative.

"See, the thing is, I didn't take inventory myself: one of my guys did. So I can't tell you all the specifics. But I can assure you this is some quality shit. Like I said, come on by and see for yourself. I assure you - you won't be disappointed in what you see."

[Kal Olorin]

Okay. So either this guy was a total boob who didn't know I was lowballing him on the price, or he had substandard product and just wanted to unload it. Thermal detonators were pretty scary when they were put together properly, I didn't want to be within twenty meters of a crate or two of shitty ones.

"Okay," I said agreeably. "What quality is the glit?"

[Kyp]

"Again, top notch stuff. You won't be disappointed."

"I've got..." Kyp drew a datapad out of his jacket pocket and consulted it. Thankfully, his brother had done a thorough job in his inventory. Everything was carefully listed in number and size. "...five containers of it."

He tossed the datapad across the table. It slid across the slick surface and came to rest in front of his customer.

"It's all there. All itemized. Why don't you just take a gander and see if you think it's worth your while to swing by and check it out."

[Kal Olorin]

I picked up the pad and glanced at the inventory. Spice was something I knew about, and the grading indicated here was a good purity. Not top notch, but close enough that I wasn't worried about it having been cut with phetaril or the like. A visual inspection would indicate if the spice had been tampered with.

Once glitterstim was exposed to light, it activated and needed to be consumed quickly or it was wasted. If the black packets looked like they'd been repackaged or opened and resealed, they were worthless. I pushed the datapad back toward my new 'friend.'

"I'd be happy to stop by tonight. I think we can do business." I smiled.

[Kyp]

"Bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea! BAD IDEA! BAD IDEA!"

His inner voice was screaming so loud he hardly heard the man's reply. This was going way too smoothly. How long had he been sitting here? A couple minutes? Five at the most? Where was the haggling? Where was the bargaining? Where was the threats to walk away? What the hell was this? "Hey, want to exchange a few million credits for a pile of illegal goods?""Sure.""Cool." That's not the way commerce worked. Or maybe it was. Maybe the more illicit the goods, the faster the negotiations. A sweater - niggling for hours over fractions of a credit. A weapon with the capability to wipe out a planet - bam bam, done in a matter of seconds.

Or maybe this guy simply had no reason to worry. Men in his position didn't worry; they made other people worry. And Kyp was beginning to get worried. Thankfully, his poker face was flawless. Though his stomach was doing backflips, outwardly he was calm as could be.

"Just what I love to hear. I'll get back to the ship and get 'er ready for you...in just a sec."

He flagged down a passing waitress, placing a menu he'd been casually perusing on the table. "Hey there doll, could I get an order of those bacon-wrapped nerf medallions? They sound aMAzing"

He turned back to Kal. "Want to stick around? I might need help finishing those off."

[Anton G]

Local time: 2.8 hours before sunset

As he hoped, together, the four droids were able to paint a fairly complete picture of what had happened.

- The FX-7 confirmed that the injured man had awoken and left under his own power, counter to the advice of the droid, who was quite put out that a patient would not listen to him. The FX-7 had no information on the woman who had escaped, nor on T'Kreet's location.

- The RIC droids were nigh useless. They had been in standby mode in the port hangar. One had been awoken briefly when its battery had finished charging and had recorded the presence of the injured man 45 minutes earlier.

- The Otega droid was a treasure trove of information. The chatty droid had a childlike enthusiasm and was very eager to share all he knew. The droid had seen T'Kreet leave soon after the humans. It had witnessed the escape of the woman. When questioned why he had let the prisoner go, the Otega innocently replied that it had been told to watch the woman - which it did. It watched her override the lock of the holding cell, it had watched her gather her things from her room, and had watched her leave not long after the Jawa. The Otega had also noticed the injured Imperial officer stumble about the ship and bleed over everything. It had apparently been questioning him about what he was doing, carrying on a mostly one-sided conversation. He did, however, indicate that he was intent on leaving and finding an Imperial outpost so he could be debriefed.

Anton was pondering what to do next when T'Kreet strolled up the ship's loading ramp. Behind him, waiting on the landing platform, was a repulsor sled overflowing with assorted disassembled droids and other parts.

[Kal Olorin]

I raised an eyebrow, and then shrugged. I didn't have anywhere to go, nothing to do, and... I was a little hungry. Of course, it was a little weird to hang around, but this guy was intriguing. "Sure, why not?"

I raised my glass and ordered a refill with my eyes as the waitress looked over. "My name's Olorin. Kal Olorin."

[Kyp]

Names? He didn't want to share names. He had a feeling names got people killed in this world. Dammit.

He reclined, settling into the soft cushion surrounding the booth. "Kyp. A pleasure."

His arms went up, hands interlaced behind his head as regarded the man again. "Kal, mind if I just call you Kal? Can I be frank? You strike me as a pretty calm person. You're not easily rattled, are you? I like that. Too often I deal with guys who are all nervous, looking over their shoulder, afraid of their own shadow."

[Kal Olorin]

I half-smiled at Kyp, no last name, and said, "You probably deal with amateurs. No offense. And my last employer... Well, she taught me how to keep calm under pressure."

I raised my eyebrow at him, and added, "You seem pretty desperate to move your product, if I can be frank." Of course, if we were both Frank that would make exchanging names just way too confusing.

[Blaze Revoch]

Some days, tracking her boss down was easier than others. Today, its wasn't so bad. All she had to do was follow the pathetic sound of his screaming credstick as he got fleeced at sabacc. Again.

Blaze pushed her sunglasses up into her hair and stepped into the bar, eyes adjusting to the dim indoor lighting. Kal was there, seated in a booth with someone who looked like he needed a serious day at the spa. She slipped through the crowd of sentients, ignoring their stares as she approached, stiletto heels (http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=49212019) clicking along the floor.

She leaned a hip against Kal's side of the table, tapping on the surface of the datapad with her stylus. Blaze nodded to Kyp before turning her attention back to her boss, a warm smile curling her crimson lips.

"Half an hourr until yourr meeting with the arrchitects. The speederr's waiting." she said softly, her accent rolling the r's through her words.

[Avdid Asm]

Error Error

[Kyp]

"Caught that, did you? Well, it's true, I am under a bit of a deadline." He slid into the lie as if it was a well-tailored suit.

"See, the fact of the matter is, my girlfriend, she doesn't really like me in this line of work. She's afraid that I'm going to get killed dealing with the kind of people that, you know, buy and sell this shit. No offense to present company, of course. I'm sure you're a stand up fellow."

Kyp was momentarily distracted by the approach of Kal's assistant. He took the opportunity to somewhat subtely admire her curves, evident in a dress that he suspected had been sewn around her.

"Anyway, she agreed to marry me on the condition that I give all this up. And I went with it. I mean, sure, the money's good, it gets the adrenaline pumping, it's easy but, sure, whatever, I'll go legit. I figure it's worth it in the long run. Hey, she's a good woman

And then the other day I get this sub-space communication from an old business partner. He's go some merchandise for me. Rock bottom prices. I don't know where he got it, I don't care. Suddenly, this stuff practically fell into my lap. I couldn't pass it up. Just a little extra cash to add to the nest egg, right? Problem is, the wedding's next week. Now, the way I see it, a marriage is just another contract. And I don't break contracts. So I need to unload this crap fast. I don't have the time to shop it around or go through my usual channels.

That's why I'm so anxious to sell and that's why the prices are so good. You just happened to be in the right place at the right time to profit from it."

[Kal Olorin]

I held a finger up at Blaze while Kyp talked, spinning his tale of bridezillas and deadlines and deals too good to pass up. It was all just a little too slick. But first things first.

"Looks like I'm going to have to pass on the nerfsteaks," I said to Kyp. "My day job is calling and Blaze here is pretty handy with a whip. Give her the pad number and I can be there around nine pm local." I pushed up from my seat and extended my hand to him. "Enjoy the meal."

[Kyp]

He watched his new business partner leave the Screaming Hammerhead, his gaze lingering on Kal's stunning assistant. What was the name? Blaze? Fitting. A trio of goons emerged from woodwork, trailing them.

9 o'clock. That gave him slightly more than 3 and a half hours to find Hunk, get back to the ship, and prepare for Kal.

Step 1 - find the pilot. He couldn't have gotten far. Likely outside, no more than a few blocks away. With a smooth motion, Kyp slide out of the booth and out the front door with a little skip in his step. His drink hadn't arrived yet, neither had the appetizers. Oh well, he didn't have the credits to waste on them anyway.

[Hunk]

Local time 2.6 hours before sunset

Hunk tossed his head back, downing the last of his drink. He looked cross-eyed at the last drop clinging to the rim of the glass, waiting patiently for it to fall.

A sizzling sound announced the arrival of the waitress. Kara, he thought that's what she had told him her name was. She pushed past him to address the barkeep. "What a jackass. I can't believe he just skipped out like that. Now what am I going to do with these?" Must be new to the job.

The smell hit him like a roundhouse kick to the face. He swiveled on his chair to see what it was, the glass still poised above his open mouth. He was made acutely aware by his rumbling stomach that he hadn't eaten in over 6 hours.

"You cen dus slide thoth othah hea." The drop finally splashed against his tongue.

"Sorry. You can just slide those over here, Kara. I'll give them a good home. What's that drink? Ah, doesn't matter, I'll take that too. I'm sure it's delicious." The girl slid the tray of meat and the drink over to him with a smile.

"Thanks, dear, these look aMAZing." He wrung his hands together, prepared to dive in. He glanced to his left at the man in the flowery shirt as he popped the first savory morsel into his mouth. "Hey buddy, you want any? Dig in."

[Judas Voss]

Judas was having far too good a time to notice anything else going on in the rest of the bar. His new drinking buddy was going nuts for just about anything Judas suggested he drink. He had finished his own drink and started on a second; Ice Comet. He didn't know how they managed to make a minty drink so damn tasty but it hurt a little to drink. So he got a shot of Twin Sun and washed the mint down with burning cinnamon.

"Phew!" Judas exclaimed as he set the shotglass down and wiped the tears out of his eyes. The warm sensation was filling him up. Damn. It always made him want to take a nap. "Oh hell to the yes!" His hand snaked over and grabbed one of the forks on the platter and speared one of the stakes and ate it like a damn corndog.

"M'not so sure what that one is." He said through the food in his mouth, indicating the mystery drink on the tray with a finger.

[Hunk]

Hunk picked up the glass, studied the dark brown liquid carefully, decided he didn't care, and tossed it back.

"Mmm...whiskey. Good whiskey too. Bartender, I'll take another one of these. Actually, make it two - one for this fine gentleman next to me."

He regarded the flowered shirt guy thoughtfully. "So what's your story, Pal? What brings a guy like you to Vaynai?"

[Judas Voss]

"Vacation." he replied, trying to hide the whirl and click of his brain behind a pleasant smile. It was a pretty serious question, and one he hoped to avoid. He was hiding out after all. After his operation on Ord Mantell was blown he came here, to hide in his parents' vacation home hoping to glob that he disabled the security system properly so that they had no idea someone was living in their home. The last thing he needed was to have his parents come in and be all disappointed in him and give that speech they give every time. And they would, right before they called the Empire and told them their wanted criminal son was on Vaynai.

"My family has owned a vacation home here on Vaynai for generations. I'm between jobs at the moment and making a little time for myself. How about you? You just here for the party life like everyone else?"

[Hunk]

"Nah, nah, business, not pleasure."

And with that, Hunk launched into his story. He left out nothing. It wasn't the alcohol that loosened his lips - his bulk and alcohol tolerance left him clear-headed despite the copious amounts he'd imbibed. He was simply that talkative. Three more rounds came and went before Hunk finished.

"...so now we're here trying to unload the stuff. This Kyp guy was supposed to here looking for leads, but it looks like he took off. Speaking of...you know this place pretty well, right? Want to get out of here and see what else is going on tonight? There must be some other good joints around here. Ones with more ladies maybe?"

[Judas Voss]

Massive drug load, eh? That was what Judas caught out of the entire train wreck of a story that was just told. The rest like flew through huge holes in his mental filter. All those drugs, at arms reach. Hell if he was not going to try and get some of that before the night was out. He didn't need a lot of it. Just enough to last a few weeks. More than that and he'd end up dead hanging in his closet with his pants off.

"Yeah. Let's blow this popsicle stand." He replied before getting up from his stool and, after a few shaky steps, found his footing. Drinks were paid for, and a few left on the tab because he didn't want to pay for them just yet, and then the pair departed. Judas had a nice buzz going and took a few moments once outside to urinate in an alley, because that's just what you do when you've been drinking. Judging by the pools of liquid on the ground everyone else was doing just that.

"There's a place down here. Pretty good. Has a dance floor. Chicks dig that." Judas talked over his shoulder as he led his new drinking buddy deeper into the city to where a place with lights blinking madly in every color sat. The inside of Corellian Sunset Princess Funtime Now was an orgy of lights, sound, and color. It was almost too much to process at once. Everything was bright and cheerful and everything, even the floor, lit up and pulsed to the highspeed beat. The music was fast and distorted and kind of sounded like two droids have coitus. The dance floor was crowded with people trying to move quick enough to keep up with the music and looking like crazy people for it.

And like he promised this place was at least half female. Unlike the last place. "Whatdoyouthink?"

[Anton G]

Local time 2.2 hours before sunset

Anton was happier than a pig in slop. With everyone else gone, he and T'Kreet were free to tinker. And tinker they were. It had taken a while to find the controls to the ship's main cargo lift, but once he had, Anton and the jawa had quickly gotten the repulsor sled on board. In no time, they were sorting out the parts, occupying much of the floor space in the port cargo bay.

By the holy stars he had misssed this. While captive of the crime syndicate he'd been fed a steady diet of broken blasters, underperforming jet packs, and malfunctioning gadgets of all sorts. Anything he was given, he fixed; it was likely the only reason he'd been kept alive. But it was unsatisfying work. With each day that passed, he could feel his mind atrophying. This pile of parts was like a great feast to a man who'd been staying alive on a diet of stale bread.

Already he was building. A robotic arm sprouted from a small repulsor platform. Anton had attached a programmable control unit to the arm's actuators, but nothing was happening. As soon as frustatration began mount, he beat it back. With the frustration being held in check, he allowed his subconscious mind to spring into action. It attacked the problem from all sides. Like a voracious swarm of ants, it consumed everything he saw; every diode, every soldered connection, every grounding wire being examined. In short order, the offending voltage mismatch was identified and rectified and Anton brought his contraption to life.

And an odd contraption it was, comprising simply a robotic arm mounted to a repulsor platform and attached to a small sensor array. It was programmed to identify and follow the nearest life sign. If it "saw" an opened hand, it took it in a gentle grip and shook it, released it, and then waved goodbye. It was harmless, ridiculous, and it greatly amused Anton.

But as soon as it was completed and tested, it fell in priority behind his next project, already forming in his mind.

[T'Kreet]

"Sabioto! A beton opakwa nya mombay m'bwa!
(Oh, right, most people don't speak Jawaese. Let's just translate.)
Stop! Those are my parts! All mine!

Anton dropped what he was doing. "Oh, I'm sorry, T'kreet, I wasn't thinking, of course this is your stuff. Don't worry, I'll get you whatever you paid for those."

The jawa laughed. An eerie, high-pitched titter echoing from inside the roughspun hood.

"I'm joking! You idiot, I haven't seen you in almost 2 years. As far as I'm concerned, you can consider that whole sled a present. Besides, once you and your brother sell this cargo, we'll have more credits than we know what to do with."<jawaese></jawaese>