Private I Got What They Waiting For (Kalak)

[Jerec Asyr]

NAR SHADDAA — HIGH ORBIT

was no stranger to weird ships. Often as not, nobody'd bat an eye. Jerec had sold a dozen of equal weirdness at randomly generated points in this region. Today, admittedly, was a big one, big enough that Quekko's Choice Ship Emporium was only the middleman. Shadowy buyer, enigmatic seller, brace of old Ganker Limpets, huge price tag, and a derelict Rakata battleship in tow behind the Infinity's Free. Big.

"Boys," he said to his second cousins slash bridge crew, "we pull this off, we'll eat like kings."

Kalak the Raykkan

 

[Kalak the Raykkan]

If there was one constant around Hutt Space it was the appetite of the Raykkans when it came to salvage. They had destroyed their homeworld and once they found a new lush planet to make their home, they soon turned it into a toxic heap that outputted misery and cutthroat capitalism.

It wasn't a surprise then that when they caught wind of a Rakatan ship being sold on the black market that they were extremely interested.

The Raykkan vessel reverted out of Hyperspace at the appropriate time and coordinates previously established.

There was nothing elegant about their ship. It was burnished copper, like rust or stained blood, and it was grotesque in its shape. Jagged edges, sharp angles, bulk patched together from different ships and designs. Some of the tech was probably several years out of date, but one had the distinct impression that if need be they'd shove this scrapyard of a ship through their enemy's throat and make them choke on it rather than rely on any fancy gadgets.

"Infinity's Free, this is Kalak of the Makesh Cartel. We are looking forward to making a... Mutually satisfying arrangement today."

The hologram would show up on the ship's bridge.

The Raykkan would look comical if it wasn't for their reputation and that hungry look made apparent even in the digital flickering.

Jerec Asyr

 

[Jerec Asyr]

So the buyers were Raykkans. Jerec didn't even attempt to hide his sudden dismay. Most species couldn't read Ithorian neck expressions. He usually got away with truly rancid emoting around Jedi, for example.

As one of the galaxy's leading experts on jury-rigged and rusty ships, he examined this one with intense and only partially fear-motivated interest. Impractically, but also to get his nerves under control, he appraised its resale value.

"Hello, Kalak," he said. "I'm Captain Jerec Asyr of Quekko's Choice Ship Emporium, and I'm on a mission to get that deal. My client is eager to sell if the price is sufficiently tasty. And if you'd be interested in something on the side — a nice pre-owned Fringe Confederation planetary assault container ship, maybe...?"

 

[Kalak the Raykkan]

Amber eyes flicked down to the Ithorian's neck.

Much like most of the Galaxy, Kalak wasn't well-versed in their communicative style. But Ithorians were prey animals. Granted, according to Raykkans, anything was a prey animal if they looked tasty enough. And this particular predator had the distinct impression that the Ithorian was uneasy from the moment its shape came into view.

"Truly a pleasure meeting you, Jerec Asyr of Quekko's Choice Ship Emporium." Honeyed words could be just as dangerous from someone like him however. "Then your client and mine have something in common. We are only interested when things are sufficiently... tasty."

Its eyes flicked back down to Jerec's neck.

It took a bit of restraint not to let its imagination run wild.

"The Makesh Cartel misses the Fringe Confederation. When it existed we feasted daily on some of the most exotic things." The kill of the Akure Leviathan was still a national holiday for the Raykkan people. Somehow someone had managed to carve out a veritable amount of meat from the carcass and smuggle it out of the Sanctuary Pipeline.

It had been wonderful.

"We will take anything Fringe-related. Do you have anything else that might be... tasty to us?"

Jerec Asyr

 

[Jerec Asyr]

Jerec developed the distinct sense that his neck was in danger. He wasn't quite sure what to do with that. However, money. An agreement in principle to sell the Finality-class Supertransport he'd had drifting off Denon for a decade? Beautiful.

At the push of a button, the Raykkans received a bog-standard Quekko's Choice random-encounter contract — advance and payment schedule through one of the big reliable escrow firms, in return for airlock access and system admin codes, legal title under Denon law, and the ship's actual mooring coordinates. Very, very reasonable price.

"Done," he said briskly. "And if what you just received is a setup that'll work for the Rakata battleship I'm towing, it can be just that simple. Pending negotiation, of course. It's a feth of a prize. Once we've got that locked down, I'd be more than happy to trot out my Fringe collections to see what's to your taste."

Kalak the Raykkan