Character
The mottled green and white orb of Nar Shaddaa loomed ahead, its horizon fractured by endless urban sprawl. From orbit, the Smuggler's Moon was a web of flickering neon arteries, each tracing an avenue of commerce, vice, or power. Titus brought the Adenn'Am out of hyperspace with a sharp shift of the controls, the hull humming under the drop in speed. The stars steadied into distant pinpricks as the moon swelled in the viewport, the pale glimmer of traffic beacons forming intricate lanes around the planet's surface.
Starships queued in dense formation ahead, their hulls ranging from rusted freighters to gleaming private yachts. Docking authorities broadcast approach vectors in a clipped, efficient manner. There was no chaos here, no spiraling dogfights or open piracy in the flight paths. The kind of order that didn't belong on a place like this — unless someone was enforcing it.
The Adenn'Am fell into line behind a Corellian bulk transport, automated systems calculating descent through the traffic stacks. Below, the upper city was a tangle of skyscrapers locked shoulder to shoulder, each bristling with comm towers and landing pads. Rooftop platforms flashed docking clearance lights in the darkness between towering facades.
Titus cut thrusters and brought the ship down onto a high-tier pad on the outskirts of the Red Light Sector — a vertical maze of casinos, cantinas, and pleasure dens bathed in lurid neon. This district never slept; every level was alive with noise, light, and the movement of credits. It was also the kind of place where power shifted behind closed doors, and where certain names carried a weight far greater than their public reputation.
The ship's struts locked into the platform's clamps with a sharp metallic click. Dock personnel in slate-gray jumpsuits moved without comment, their eyes lingering just long enough to acknowledge the arrival before turning away. Titus left the ship sealed and its systems locked down, the bound councilor remaining in the hold under the watch of the Adenn'Am's security measures. Here, the man's value was in being kept unseen until it was time to present him.
From the platform, a wide access bridge led into the heart of the Red Light Sector. The neon here bled into every surface — garish reds, pulsing purples, and shifting golds reflecting off durasteel facades. Holosigns promised every imaginable indulgence, their projected figures swaying or laughing in loops. The air was thick with the mingled scents of spice, alcohol, and machinery, vented from hundreds of competing establishments.
Titus moved without hurry, the crowd parting subtly around him. Even in this district, where danger was casual and everywhere, his presence was enough to carve a path. Street hawkers called out offers in Basic and Huttese, their voices fading the moment they caught sight of him.
At the sector's central avenue stood the Velorum, a casino whose design dwarfed its neighbors. The facade rose in sweeping arcs of crimson transparisteel, veined with gold tracery that caught the light in dazzling patterns. Twin columns flanked the entrance, carved into abstract shapes that hinted at symbols only the underworld recognized.
Security gates scanned entrants without ceremony, their systems humming under the pounding bass of music from within. Titus stepped through without pause. No alarms sounded, no questions were asked.
Inside, the Velorum was built for sensory overload — vast gaming floors beneath ceilings lit with shifting holographic constellations, the stars rippling across polished marble tiles. Gaming tables ringed with players filled the air with the clatter of chips and murmured bets. Along the walls, curtained alcoves hid private negotiations, guarded by discreet sentry droids.
Titus bypassed the main pits, moving instead toward an upper gallery overlooking the floor. From here, the whole casino stretched beneath him — a theater of lights, credits, and calculated excess. He found a seat at a corner table, the vantage point giving him a clear view of the entrance below. He'd sent word of his intent and arrival hours to his arrival, now all he had to do was wait. Someone would eventually greet him, or he'd get the hint that his venture was a wayed effort.
Aktur Seii
Starships queued in dense formation ahead, their hulls ranging from rusted freighters to gleaming private yachts. Docking authorities broadcast approach vectors in a clipped, efficient manner. There was no chaos here, no spiraling dogfights or open piracy in the flight paths. The kind of order that didn't belong on a place like this — unless someone was enforcing it.
The Adenn'Am fell into line behind a Corellian bulk transport, automated systems calculating descent through the traffic stacks. Below, the upper city was a tangle of skyscrapers locked shoulder to shoulder, each bristling with comm towers and landing pads. Rooftop platforms flashed docking clearance lights in the darkness between towering facades.
Titus cut thrusters and brought the ship down onto a high-tier pad on the outskirts of the Red Light Sector — a vertical maze of casinos, cantinas, and pleasure dens bathed in lurid neon. This district never slept; every level was alive with noise, light, and the movement of credits. It was also the kind of place where power shifted behind closed doors, and where certain names carried a weight far greater than their public reputation.
The ship's struts locked into the platform's clamps with a sharp metallic click. Dock personnel in slate-gray jumpsuits moved without comment, their eyes lingering just long enough to acknowledge the arrival before turning away. Titus left the ship sealed and its systems locked down, the bound councilor remaining in the hold under the watch of the Adenn'Am's security measures. Here, the man's value was in being kept unseen until it was time to present him.
From the platform, a wide access bridge led into the heart of the Red Light Sector. The neon here bled into every surface — garish reds, pulsing purples, and shifting golds reflecting off durasteel facades. Holosigns promised every imaginable indulgence, their projected figures swaying or laughing in loops. The air was thick with the mingled scents of spice, alcohol, and machinery, vented from hundreds of competing establishments.
Titus moved without hurry, the crowd parting subtly around him. Even in this district, where danger was casual and everywhere, his presence was enough to carve a path. Street hawkers called out offers in Basic and Huttese, their voices fading the moment they caught sight of him.
At the sector's central avenue stood the Velorum, a casino whose design dwarfed its neighbors. The facade rose in sweeping arcs of crimson transparisteel, veined with gold tracery that caught the light in dazzling patterns. Twin columns flanked the entrance, carved into abstract shapes that hinted at symbols only the underworld recognized.
Security gates scanned entrants without ceremony, their systems humming under the pounding bass of music from within. Titus stepped through without pause. No alarms sounded, no questions were asked.
Inside, the Velorum was built for sensory overload — vast gaming floors beneath ceilings lit with shifting holographic constellations, the stars rippling across polished marble tiles. Gaming tables ringed with players filled the air with the clatter of chips and murmured bets. Along the walls, curtained alcoves hid private negotiations, guarded by discreet sentry droids.
Titus bypassed the main pits, moving instead toward an upper gallery overlooking the floor. From here, the whole casino stretched beneath him — a theater of lights, credits, and calculated excess. He found a seat at a corner table, the vantage point giving him a clear view of the entrance below. He'd sent word of his intent and arrival hours to his arrival, now all he had to do was wait. Someone would eventually greet him, or he'd get the hint that his venture was a wayed effort.
Aktur Seii
