An Old Tale

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Nar Shaddaa was a mess. Not the kind of mess that Mustafar was. Mustafar was stifling and confined, but it was safe enough within the many mining compounds dotting the hellish landscape. There was nothing safe about this planet. The hotel room Roran had just barely managed to reserve certainly wasn't. People broke into these low-end-low-security places all the time, and Roran really couldn't blame them. For a population with a pension for poor morality and a lack of credits, tourists, specifically the luggage they left in these rooms, were too easy to pass up.

Fortunately Roran had nothing to his name save for his ship and its cargo, all of which were locked safely away. The thought reassured him as he exited the hole in the wall that served as his current quarters and strode out to the main streets. The only place he could find a buyer interested in what he had to sell operated out of the red light zone. It was a particularly massive section of Nar Shaddaa'a underbelly, and the perfect place to engage in some of the galaxy's more amoral activities.

But Roran wasn't like that. He needed this money to survive; not for simple pleasures. The trade hub was a rather open section of metal and asphalt filled with hundreds of being from various different species. Kiosks were splayed out along the massive courtyard, selling everything from spice to exotic beasts. Much of Nar Shaddaa had been tamed by the Jedi, and now the Hutts that controlled the world, but parts like this would be forever wild.

He felt for the DC-15 he carried on the inside of his leather jacket, cracking a thin smile as his gloved fingers wrapped around its familiar form. He wasn't the best shot in the galaxy, never actively trying to hurt anything save for the lava fleas back home, but he was ready to defend himself.

Blue eyes locked on the Nautolan he had spoken with on the holocomm. The alien was flanked by two large Weequay bruisers, and his compatriots were haggling with another man about travel fees. Seemed mister Nashke was involved in the smuggling of people, too.

"Mister Nashke?" The young man asked. The Nautolan's huge black eyes narrowed at the redhead "Aye. You were the ore boy."

"I was."

"Where is the product?"

Roran smiles. "It's safe. Show me the credits, and I'll take you to it."

The Nautolan pulled back his blue lips in distaste, "I meant to speak with you earlier - the price, it must be lowered."

Roran blinked. "What?"

"We value your services, young man, but what you haul, it is...insufficient."

"How insufficient?"

"Half the initial price."

Roran had to make a conscious effort not to snap at the Nautolan. Grumbling a curse under his breath, he spoke, "Half won't even cover the fuel cells I used flying out here. No deal."

"Unfortunate. Perhaps you will return when the modified tonnage of ore has been met." The Nautolan nodded past Roran toward another customer. Their business was concluded.

Mumbling curses to the heavens, Roran wheeled about and stomped off toward the travel kiosks. He would need to find a passenger to cover the flight costs home.

As the young man left, the Nautolan turned toward one of the Weequay. "Track him to his ship. Subdue him, and bring Jabrim the cargo."

The Weequay nodded his affirmation and marched off in the direction Roran had gone.

 

[Sek Kali]

If there was anything to be found in trade markets that attracted Sek's interest, it was two things: travel offworld, or blaster power packs for her rifle. Energy, rhythm and a disgusting scent that trailed from the nearest bars and most popular clubs. Despite the shine of holograms and the bright lights that kept the place lit, darker shades hid in alleyways or makeshift paths, you could easily run into danger just as much as you could run into a good time. Just like the clubs, and just like the entire planet, or thats at least what Sek had thought of Nar Shadda, but the experiences she had were all in a few years, the rest of her life spent elsewhere on other worlds on in starships, which was something Sek had been restricted to seeing for her entire time spent on this law-forsaken urban world.

And the exact reason why she was in the red light zone, you could buy anything here, like a ticket offworld.

Any attempt of doing so before was met with prices that could only be paid by the Hutts or some sort of celebrity dumb enough to be here. But that changed today, thievery, mercenary work, a few hit-and-run jobs on the top of the Nar Shadda hierarchy and working as an exotic dancer for almost her entire life here. All these things contributed to a ever increasing credit count to be used to buy a shuttle off this world and somewhere else, and the Trandoshan could only see "Anywhere else" as better than this moon. The travel kiosk was just in sight, the first step into finally breaking her shackles from this place.

Only, except, as soon as she approached a untaken kiosk, she did nothing. Only staring at it baffled with little determination to click on anything or read any of it, for one, single, reason that she said to herself.
"I have no idea how to work this thing."

 

[Placeholder 03]

That Weequay was far too close for his own good. The massive bruiser made little attempt to hide his approach as he stalked up behind the young man. The alien stood a head taller than the rest of the crowd, and most folks gave him a wide berth. It took little more than a simple look over his shoulder to confirm Roran's suspicions; he was being followed. It seemed the Nautolan was not too keen on letting the ore leave the planet.

Roran came to a sudden stop a few paces away from the travel kiosk, and wheeled around to face the intruder. If he could confront his pursuer now, amidst the crowd, he might have a chance to solve this little issue. The Weequay gave him a short once over, grunted, and walked on past him. Confused, Roran parted his lips to ask where the alien was going, but thought better of it.

The sound of a disgruntled stranger drew his attentions anyway.

"Search for where you want to go, look up accepting starports, and cough up the credits." He grunted, arms folding his chest as he pressed his weight against the kiosk wall. "You, uh, don't travel much, do you? I'm Roran. A pilot."

[member="Sek Kali"]

 

[Sek Kali]

The sudden arrival of the pilot had brought a gasp to the Trandoshan, it was quiet, but by her body language it was obvious she was surprised. The scaled head shined back the lights from above, causing each scale that moved to be coated in a near perfect shine as she rotated her head, the red paint on the back of her head would dim the shine. Looking to the human, Sek did a common raising eyebrow expression, though instead of an eyebrow, she merely had plates of scales slighty thicker than the rest that represented what would be eyebrows. "A pilot...one who could travel offworld?" She asked, her attention drawn away from the travel kiosk now, as her hands were barely close to it. Her arms too, were folded- except the right arm was propped up on the left, the right hand rubbing the side of her neck. Skepticism was high, muggers, con artists, general thieves- she had been all three, and an act like this wasn't uncommon. "Is this honesty? It can't be." She thought, almost baffled, for so long having read people's behaviors, from offworlders to the native population, but this was actually confusing. People had been honest before, but the actual chance of getting offworld seemed so far away from her, it was almost impossible to believe.

Despite the inner skepticism, she didn't dare express it, instead, observation and time is what she believed in relying on this time around. "I hope this is cheap." Her thoughts continued, only a mere half-a-second after the last, "A lot cheaper than the kiosk..." and with that her brain fell silent. Instead of thinking, it was time to listen.

[member="Roran Carthal"]