Just Because It's Made Out of Junk... [Sinistra]

[Catalys Maijora]

One thing about having a galaxy full of countless worlds is that there's no shortage of Junk. With trillions upon trillions of souls inhabiting the galaxy, you can bet your credits that they've thrown away tenfold more of their stuff. In fact; there were worlds dedicated entirely to carrying junk--dangerous places, places that Catalys avoided.

Yet one junk outpost was known for having particularly good pickings. Namely because it was so far out of the way from the core that no one bothered to travel there. Deep within Wild Space, and just outside the former territory that once held the Primeval's religious empire was Neelgaimon. The world is known for its sand mines, but those who've spent time in these parts of space also know that it's home to a junkyard located around an abandoned mining colony.

Catalys' Caisson-class transport touched down on the desert world, finding itself in a makeshift port and surrounded by numerous vessels. Most travelers were junk dealers, smugglers, or refugees. You either came here to trade, hide, or find work. In the case of this agent, it was the former most option.

The One Sith were looking for technology, and due to the unfortunate events surrounding the Gulag Plague, much of the galaxy's technology fell behind. Yet if you wanted to find leftovers from the eras before that, you had to dig deep. Well... Not too deep. For those wiser, they know that ignorant salvagers often throw away the old technologies because they assume they're... Well; junk.

Catalys hoped he could find what he was looking for in time. Because the Sith fleet lurking above wasn't going to wait around for him, and he certainly didn't want to insult his new new allies, or the dark masters which led them.

[member="Sinistra"]

 

[Sinistra]

These new little trips set up by the One Sith central HQ were not exactly Sinistra's cup of tea. However, this trip was an assessment. Catalys was a new face around the OSI and even though she had been firmly taken to a position separate from it now, it was the prerogative of her former superiors that she accompany this trip in order to get a feel for Catalys, to observe him in the field and ultimately decide if he would be able to assimilate into the OSI seamlessly or if he was too attached to his former allies. This is where the part of being a spy kinda sucked. She didn't like being a shadow. She wasn't sure Catalys knew the true reason she had been attached to this mission but if he was an agent of the Primeval, then he had to have an inkling.

The Sith Lord glanced out over the vessels parked around them, most of them looking like they could have been part of the field of debris that fanned out in all directions, streaks of metal and detritus in the sands. The mask she wore took the glare off, but the moon was rising up over the edge of the horizon, a giant white disc hanging in the air like a silver coin, huge and bright only to shrink as it gained height in the skies, like a child's parlor trick.

"Let's get what we came for, shall we?"

All in all, if they could get in and out, as quickly as possible, she would be content. Low key, just the trade and gone. But she was dressed for a fight either way. She was Sith, no need to hide it any more.

[member="Catalys Maijora"]

 

[Catalys Maijora]

"Don't worry. The people here may have disliked the Primeval... Wit a passion... They have no quarrel with Sith; I think." Catalys tried to reassure her that their trip would be a blue milk run.

Assurances, however, were not his specialty. Perhaps he was far too used to Anja's strange sense of mercy towards him, or maybe she simply allowed him a long leash for far too long. Either way, [member="Sinistra"] would either learn to love or hate his methods. Quite honestly, Catalys didn't care which. He's long since been a dead man walking, so if he didn't do things his way then he'd have truly lost everything that made him who he was. Odd. Many agents were fond of being nobodies, of being able to blend in and go unnoticed.

Leaving their vessel behind under the watchful eyes of Sith troopers, Catalys maneuvered through the younglings that rushed to his side, begging for credits or food. Growing up on the Primeval's homeworld meant he hadn't much heart for beggars. It was a paradise to anyone's eye, but to have lived there... That was a burden that many Sith would deem far too torturous. All except [member="Darth Vornskr"] of course, who took pleasure when he saw the Primeval's methods used against the Gulandi of Gulamendis.

Among the junk was something he searched for. A piece of technology that would undoubtedly fit in place with the One Sith's efforts to develop a stronger and improved war machine.

[member="Sinistra"]

 

[Shia Karn]

Junk.

Waking up surrounded by Junk was far from what Shia had in mind, she groaned as her eyes opened. For whatever reason sleeping from dawn til dusk had a habit of causing terrible migraines. Slowly leaning up and out of her bed, the pajama-clad junker strode sluggishly through the messy room and towards a desk against the wall opposite her bed. A tanned hand grabbed a small tin containing chewable tablets that helped reduce such annoyances.

"Wake up, man," she picked up a datapad and tossed it forcefully back at a jump forming under her bed sheets.

The results? "Ugh! What the hell!?" The exclamation came from a green-skinned Mirialan male who finally showed his face; albeit with an unhappy expression. He had been spending some quality time with Shia over the last few weeks ever since he found out his homeworld had been massacred by the mad Warlord, [member="Zambrano the Hutt"].

Shia often feels little pity for others, it comes with the job. Here on Neelgaimon it was a junk-eat-junk world, and anything short of an akk dog's attitude would get you killed for sure. Shia smirked slyly, feeling no remorse over her impulsive act. "You've spent enough time here, don't you think? I'm going to be gone for a month; maybe longer." She'd leave the finer details out of her explanation. There was no reason for him to know exactly why she'd be gone. They may've been mingling, but that didn't make them lovers.

"Yeah?" Was the only word he managed to mutter, he was still rubbing his shoulder where the datapad had landed. "I expected you to ditch me formally," he chuckled. Shia's smirk briefly became a frown. As much as she wanted to tease him, she still couldn't help but feel sorry... What was it like to be an endangered species, or to have it happen in such a terrifying way? Part of her empathy was due to her own longing for a home.

Oh well. Dwelling on the past time is over. "I'm heading out, lock up when you leave, okay?" She quickly tossed her pajamas aside and slipped into her day clothes before heading out the door and off towards work.

 

[Sinistra]

"Quarrels seem to find us one way or another."

Sinistra had no tolerance for children, and for each one that rushed to the hem of her cloak, she brushed a gentle gloved hand over their dusty, dirty heads. They fell one by one, nauseous and dizzy, holding their tender bellies or vomiting as she applied just enough malacia to make the other ruffians think twice about begging from the very nasty looking armored woman. Behind the mask, she smiled. It's the little things sometimes.

Catalys went to the office, a squat low sitting building piled around with junk and sand, like an ancient fortification that was slowly being overtaken by the deserts and the dunes of salvage. Sinistra had no want to haggle for the goods, in fact, she was rather curious on why they were here to trade for older, forgotten technology when surely there was a shipbuilder in the galaxy who had this information that they just could have infiltrated and stolen the plans from. Mostly Sinistra just hated sand.

She caught the shapes of starfighters through the fence around the junkyard, some of them with carbon scoring on them from battles long over. The vast majority looked worse for wear, scavenged for parts until only the husk of the ship remained. Others looked fairly intact. New was a stretch for anything that was contained therein. She only hoped they wouldn't have to fly this garbage back to the fleet. She certainly wasn't going to risk her continued existence getting in one of those antiquated relics.

Shaking her head, she stepped into the building behind Catalys, her looming presence much larger than her short stature seemed capable of.

[member="Catalys Maijora"]

 

[Catalys Maijora]

The armoured Umbaran's armour caught the glint of the sun as the eve fell upon them. Entering the office, he walked over around the side rather than straight across the room. It allowed him to scan his surroundings, and his eyes saw much. He didn't need the force to sense what someone was feeling, or even thinking. He didn't need the force to see their heart racing or their body heat fluctuate. An Umbaran who knew his senses well could even tell when someone was lying, and potentially subjugate their will to his own.

Approaching the counter, he leaned forward in front of the alien master that ran this particular portion of the yard. "Greetings, friend!" He over emphasized on the words purposely. "Would you be against allowing us to scour your yard in search of goods? I'd be happy to pay generously for anything I find of use." His attitude was far from sincere, and certainly unusual for an Umbaran.

Behind his helmet however, there was no smirking nor chuckling. In fact; the nature of his attitude was more due to his modulator than anything. Good tech. He liked it; a lot.

"Hrm, I suppose... For an upfront cost." The man leaned over the counter, a sly grin forming across his face and revealing some grotesque teeth. It was very clear he never brushed, nor kept much care of himself for that matter. Such is why these places were stereotyped so often. "What's your price?" Catalys asked curiously. Unfortunately he hadn't any force powers to persuade, and wasn't in a position to intimidate when their goal was to remain low key.

"Five hundred credits." Enough to buy a speeder, or a nice gun.

Catalys shook his head. Credits were relatively new to Neelgaimon, and the only reason they adopted them was due to the fact the Primeval lacked an economy all together. In fact; their presence had destroyed trade across the eastern portion of the galaxy. Which wouldn't be good for the long haul. The agent turned to the Sith Lord, silently waiting for her to step in. He didn't have five hundred credits to spare, and enough left over to buy what he needed.

[member="Sinistra"]

 

[Sinistra]

"Five hundred credits to look? From what I could see through the fence outside, you have enough aging useless junk that's been picked clean that I wonder you don't throw in a forge and start melting the rusty frames for slag."

She stepped to the counter, her gaze locked on the disgusting specimen of dental hygiene. Her eyes narrowed as she spoke, her voice drumming through his little mind until she hit the bottom.

"We can look for free."

"You can look for free." He droned a little, a vacant look behind his eyes.

"That's a good lad. Now, show us the best fighters you have left."

"I'll show you the best fighter I have left." He stepped from behind the counter and lead them through the door out into the yard, the sand shifting under their feet from where it had accumulated on the once visible stone paths through the yard. Sinistra followed behind Catalys, watching him look from piece to piece, searching for whatever it was that they were sent for.

[member="Catalys Maijora"]

 

[Catalys Maijora]

Watching [member="Sinistra"] go to work seriously intrigued the agent. It had been a while since he saw the force used so effectively. Too many people wished to destroy, but he appreciated most of all the power of persuasion.

The Junker led them into the yard, and towards a particular stash of fighters. Most of them were of newer makes but one he set his eyes on is exactly what he was looking for. It was an A-Wing, mostly intact. The infamous interceptor lives on through eternity. People still tell the tale of how one took out a super star destroyer single-handed. Of course; how it happened had been altered drastically over time. Such is the way of legends, however. Unfortunately in reality, the pilot died instantly when his fighter crashed into the bridge of the command ship.

"This is the one. Now, I wonder how it became so effective..." He muttered as he approached the vessel. Crawling on top, he lifted the canopy and went to flick the ignition switch. The engine struggled, its fuel likely dissipated over the centuries it's been here but the battery cells had enough juice to power the main computers. "Systems oper--What's this?" He pondered over the display. "Seems the vessel utilizes projectors to trick tracking and sensory systems into... Well not seeing them. The ships are basically ghosts, blips.. Errors picked up by any vessel. Of course, it's not perfect and specialized systems can find them." He explained briefly how it all worked, only grasping the basic details. He wasn't an engineer, but after spending time in the archives of Bastion and Lorrd, he had picked up knowledge that most in the galaxy were not afforded.

 

[Sinistra]

The junk dealer slithered off after Catalys stopped by the relic of a bygone era. Sinistra could tell it was an old starfighter but she wasn't aware of what it was or the storied history of the model. To her, everything in the immediate vicinity was monument to decay, not truly worth of her time or attention. He scampered up on the hull, flipping switches and checking out the systems. Apparently enough of it was operational that it would be satisfactory for their needs. The question on her mind was how much she was going to have to manipulate the weird little man in order to get that piece of tech out of here with minimal cost and difficulty.

"That's fascinating, will it work for what we need it for?"

She couldn't have cared less if the damned thing could disappear from sensor systems, cook you breakfast, or dance a jig. What she was concerned with was getting it and them back off this dusty, nasty rock before the urge to yank off her mask and brush her teeth became overpowering.

[member="Catalys Maijora"]

 

[Catalys Maijora]

"Definitely. With it our fighters can enemy defenses and strike true," he replied.

Hopping back out of the canopy after shutting down the starship, he slid off the interceptor's hull and approached Sinistra. "If we get this back to the ship, our engineers can figure out how it all works." Once they did, it would only be a matter of time before Sith fighters were able to deploy the technology that made the A-Wing such a successful model.

If its technology was great enough to help a rebellion bring down an empire, he wondered how effective it would be in a situation that was the other way around. With the Galactic Alliance relying heavily on their own starfighters, it would give the One Sith a much needed edge. Catalys was very pleased by all of this, and found himself convinced that their objective was completed. All that was left now was to get the starfighter off this world.

Too bad they had to leave so soon.

[member="Sinistra"]

 

[Shia Karn]

Shia wandered throughout the streets, passing speeders kicked up dust and bustling denizens walked about from place to place. All over there were heaps of scrap, and those who claimed them their own. The "Junk Lords," as they were colloquially referred to as, were at the top of the food chain. Whoever owned the most scrap would often be called the "Junk King," by the local folk. The current Junk King resented this title, however.

Mindlessly wandering at this point with only a vague destination to guide her along, Shia kept her eyes down towards the ground. Thankfully dusk meant there was no sun beating down on her. She hated the heat. No matter how long you lived here, you never got used to the heat and the sand. One could simply tolerate it; and barely so at that.

"Shia, is that you?" An older woman approached her from just outside the local cantina.

Turning her head, Shia raised a brow. "Nola?" She hadn't seen her since she was a young teenager. The elder was perhaps one of the oldest people here; life expectancy was quite short due to the dust-filled air. "It's good to see you again," Shia smiled genuinely in response. "How've you been?"

Nola nodded slowly, she was in good shape for her age. You had to be to live this long. "Same as always, although I can't say the same about you. I heard you came back a few months ago, but I can't believe how much you've grown! The Shia I remember was always more of a loner." The banter happened in the middle of the street.

"I still am, although occasionally I have to interact with others..." She jested, although it was mostly true; Shia is a loner.

Still, despite small talk it was always good to see an old friend. For Shia that was something she appreciated greatly, it gave her some sense of belonging to a world that had very little to offer as far as emotional attachment went. Certainly there was someone who absolutely loved junk, but that simply wasn't her. Junk just meant food on the table.

 

[Sinistra]

He seemed rather excited by the find, and now it remained to be seen how much they would pay to get the old A-wing from the junkman. She trudged back through the sand trails to the office building to find him sitting behind the counter sipping a mug of something that smelled more foul than his breath. Had she not been able to filter the stench of it out through her mask, she might have vomited inside her armor. That was not an option at the moment.

"How much for the old A-wing? The one with operational systems." Her voice rasped out of the vocoder at the purveyor.

"10,000 credits", came the reply as he finished the cup of filth and grabbed something that was supposed to be food, popping it in his mouth and chewing, zeal in his eyes. Apparently her earlier grip on his feeble senses had worn off and now she was dealing with him back at square one.

"There's no way I'm paying you 10,000. You'll take 2,000 credits." Her voice was steel and pain through the speakers as she glared at him through the mask, her seething frustration with the disgusting creatures carving out a pathetic existence on this hot sandy rock reaching a boiling point.

"I'll take 2,000 credits."

She pulled a credit chit out and dropped it on the counter before she reached for her comlink. A connection established to the fleet above, she sent the orders to the Stark.

"Demarus, send the crew down. We've got one. Inoperable so bring a maglift."

The order was an affirmative, and she turned to Catalys, content that her crew could see to completing the task of getting the ancient bird back to the OS engineers.

"Are we done here?"

[member="Catalys Maijora"]