Private Life Produced by Industry (Ala, ft Alala)

[Amelia Amadis]

Mid Rim | The Silce
Mytaranor
Night Road's End: Port and Dockyard.
Ala Quin

Night road's end was named after one of the main trade routes to Mytaranor. A common hyperspace route to the Terr'skiar sector. Walking from one stall to the next, the port certainly fit the name. A bleak industrial planet, filled with people down on their luck. Buildings were made out of whatever people could get their hands on, clay, metal, scrap, they were a mishmash. You could see the cleaning up and silver Jedi influences here and there. Certain areas were more modernized, orphanages common, and homeless shelters where people could get free food. Even then, these areas were falling back to how they used to be. New Petty gangs and small triads would fight over territory, scrawling their graffiti gang signs. Thin winding streets, with residential areas placed right next to factories, were covered in a low level of smog that had started to fill the air again. Life was tough.

Mytaranor was close enough to her home on Kashyyyk that she could get here easily. It was also a well-known Shadow Port and an even more well-known hub for slavery. The silvers had throttled most of the slave traffic down to almost nothing, but planets returning to their old governments meant people were trying to start trade back up, or return to their status quo. Sharks were beginning to swim among the fish.

Completely going against every warning her mother and father gave her, young Amelia was now dressed in the disguise of a bounty hunter looking for work. It was an aging durasteel suit of armor, and a helmet that looked too big for her, but it worked, because this place was full of people wearing whatever they could. She was here for the story, to tell the galaxy where the slaves to the rich coreworlds came from! Coruscant's underclass were not just born, they were imported!

Spotting a Wookiee in chains, her canine teeth almost came out of their helmet, her skin lightening to gold, for her sake she was masked and disguised. Amelia had to stop herself not to impulsively run over. Where there was hopelessness, there was crime, she felt angry.

Following along behind the small chain of slaves. The young padawan kept hiding next to the edges of buildings, trying not to be seen. At the end of their solemn journey they reached a central metal structure, old and run down, like most of this port. It did however have a thick locked door, bars on the windows, and big burly Trandoshan outside on guard. Run down but built like a fortress. Amelia skirted around the outside of the building, climbed up an old metal crate in an alleyway, peaked over the side of the window, and saw….

 

[Ala Quin]

The room was plunged into darkness. There was a heartbeat before the lights flicked on at the hand of a nearby Nikto enforcer. He looked over at the woman standing before the still-warm holo projecting table. It had just gone out and all about stood in stunned silence. All accept the woman immediately before the table. She scowled. The etched markings that followed her jawline seemed to ripple with her clenched muscles.

"Seventy? It's too much..."

Her gaze shut him down immediately with barely a twitch of her eyes to focus on him. Her head remained still, directed towards where the image of her master used to be.

The room fell silent again for a moment, before she adjusted her collar, and pulled her long hair over it to fall across her shoulder. She needed to cut it back again, but having it swept to the right was working for now. For now.

"The hunters have arrived," came a whispered word into her ear.

With that news, she turned and walked towards the door. Her small stature left the men in the room appearing almost as giants. Granted, they were taller than the average human. But she was shorter than average.

The door hissed open. The slaves were being ushered toward their containers. She was displeased with them. A motley, mangey assortment of half feed, poorly breed Wookies. As her eyes fell on the Bounty Hunters that had assembled, she felt somewhat the same. The sooner she got off this gods-forsaken world the better.

"I have received word that Mas Crix has tried to weasel his way in for another job," she said to the Bounty Hunters. Her voice was monotone. Face cold, callous to the point of disinterest.

Arms behind her back, she walked down the line of assembled would-be bounty hunters. She stopped to peruse those with helmets and face coverings. She watched them without a squint or a flicker of emotion. Despite not seeing the eyes of those she stared at, she still glared at the visor, or darkened goggles...whatever it was that obscured their eyes.

"We do not take kindly to substandard returns. Mas knows this," she said, in a dry tone while staring down a woman of slightly taller stature in an oversized helmet.

Spinning about on her heels, she stalked firm footedly over to the Trandoshan, before snagging the blaster out of his hand. Again, a spin on the heels. She aimed and fired. The person behind the oversized-helmet wearing slumped to the ground, dead.

"Don't be Mas. If you bring back inferior stock. You don't get a second paycheck."

Amelia Amadis

 

[Amelia Amadis]

Enveloped in a smoggy dust cloud. Young Amelia managed not to cough in surprise when the lights came back on inside, glad this helmet's breather even worked. Taking out a small holo recorder to try and film what was happening, it sent a video feed to her datapad. Amelia still had her story to get and tried to focus on the one in charge. Leaving the holocam on the window while the smog passed.

Difficult to watch this feed. Wanting to break in and whack all this slaving bantha-poo. Little did she know that her mother and father had met doing exactly that! Elara Amadis . Wait, she could, why didn't she just go with the rest!? Rubbing some rusty garbage on herself to get in character.

The hunters have arrived.

Smoggy cloud at her back, Amelia zipped back to the door to slip in behind them. This was either brilliant or stupid. Looking like another bounty hunter in a room full of helmeted wannabes. Oversized gear on, which had started to stink of this world's pungent industrial aroma. The Trandoshan stepped in behind her and the door closed. Nobody said anything because either they were meeting newbies for the first time, didn't want to be noticed, or didn't care anyway.

I have received word that Mas Crix has tried to weasel his way in for another job.

Keep cool, and calm. Jedi it. She tried to remember the times on Kashyyyk sat at practice. Wait why was their leader walking her way?

We do not take kindly to substandard returns. Mas knows this

As the slightly smaller, intimidating woman leaned in, her own canine teeth wanted to burst out of her fat helmet. She suppressed a half-Firrerreo growl. Amelia didn't flinch to her credit, training and being part Epicanthix saw to that.

Heart racing, the shot came as a force-warning first. Her reflexes moved her sideways, but she wasn't the target. Down the big guy went. Wow. That was cold. She gave Mas's body a half-hearted kick, hoping that would answer any possible suspicion. Feeling pretty bad she'd just kicked a dead guy, even if he was a Wookiee slaving, mynock eating…. "Hated that guy," her helmet made her sound older than she was, good thing the lady was small too.

Don't be Mas. If you bring back inferior stock. You don't get a second paycheck.

Wow, ruthless. So So cold. But she was ready for this. Okay. What would a ruthless, down-on-their-luck bounty hunter say? "Yeah... who gets his gear?" She was crushing it, in her idealistic young teenage mind anyway. If she pulled this off she could travel with them. Hopefully, someone else went for Mas's gear, she really didn't want to go through a dead guy's stuff.

After that show, she fearlessly or recklessly walked toward the Wookiees to look over them, likely blocked before she got there. "Deadhead probs didn't even do the restraints right." If she got a chance she was going to go to tighten a few up for show first. She knew wookiees as well as anyone, and she knew three dialects pretty well, even Xaczik. She could insult them outwardly and still speak in a way they'd understand.

Inevitably when one helmeted hunter asked her who she was, "yeah Mas recruited me, glad he's way outta here," was her cover story. Felt guilty about using the dead guy, but not so guilty she wouldn't save the Wookiees. Wait. Frell, she was going to be on her news holofilm saying all this, and frell would they shoot her too!? #Padawan Plans

Ala Quin

 

[Ala Quin]

The blaster was promptly tossed back towards the guard at the door. The noise created by the action meant that the leader of the group did not hear exactly what the oversized helmet wearer said. But she was aware that something was said. Steal eyes turned back to the mystery individual and glared.

Stepping out of line, and setting off on a perusal of other bounty hunter's work, the wannabe was all of a sudden very vocal. Talking themselves up in a way that was uncommon. With the poor work on the restraints highlighted, a quick nod was all that was needed to get some of the roughs around her to go and recheck the work that had been done.

Slow, methodical steps took the dark haired woman over to the oversized helmet. Her eyes narrowed further, a feat that had seemed impossible. "Come."

The commandment was expected to be obeyed. The shorter woman was already turned about and marching back towards the door. The door slid open for both Miss Oversize and the leader of the group. "Continue the orientation. Get them on task promptly. I wish to speak with this one alone," she said with a head flick towards the outspoken one.

 

[Amelia Amadis]

Glaring wasn't good. She was in way over her head. Well, she'd get her story, that's what a Jedi or a reporter would do? Keep cool. It's all alright. Not flinching a muscle, as tough as any of these metalheads as long as they couldn't see her face. Just Jedi it, grab the story, save the Wookiees, and get out.

Come

Wait come? Come where? That wasn't the plan. Amelia fell in time behind the leader, adjusting her helmet so it stayed on properly. Ignoring the holocam filming from the window, it was meant to be stealthy, like her. Hmm. This plan was terrible. Old Zacka always said in for a credchit, in for a Wookiee, and way too late to back out now. Those steps behind her took forever in the young girl's mind, everything takes longer when you are younger. These moments were excruciating, like walking on sharp pricks of glass that you put down yourself.

Continue the orientation. Get them on task promptly. I wish to speak with this one alone

That door meant there was no way out now, trapped between a ruthless killer and a cold sheet of metal. Remaining quiet, it wasn't easy for a thirteen-year-old who was more prone to jumping through a problem than sitting down with it. She did well for herself, only shifting her feet once. Intending to not look away, having equal parts of her parent's stubbornness or tenacity.

"Mas was a loser," she said to break any silence, having to swallow in her throat to do this part, "I can get Wookiees twice as…. bulky… alive, at half his price." Making deals with devils and hopefully not getting roasted herself. Good plan. This was fine. Fine. Now she was wookiee-selling !?!?

Ala Quin

 

[Ala Quin]

Silence. There was no response for the longest time as the seriously serious woman looked over a datapad that she had pulled to hand. She would let the talkative one sweat for a time.

She scanned over various consignment ledgers, seeking abnormalities. Someone was skimming. She knew it was one of the guards, but being sure she knew which one was critical. Decent protection was hard to find. A false accusation would lead to the disheartening of the crew, and perhaps the abandonment of several posts. Either that or should would have to increase their salaries to compensate for the extra risk. That was unacceptable.

The words of the talkative thing went unanswered. Pieren stepped over to her console and began to respond to messages from various hunters. Imperial entanglements on a run to old Imp space? The fructuous nature of the old Empire made for a high risk, high reward slave pool. It seemed the risk was increasing.

She tapped away, answering queries and resolving complaints. Despite what some may have thought about her job, she was largely a middle-manager. And that fact she hated. One day she would sit atop the stack, and others would do this tedious managerial work.

Amelia Amadis

 

[Amelia Amadis]

Silent treatment huh. This was like her mum catching her stealing her dad's lightsaber that one time, well two but who was counting! Keep cool, Jedi-ing, Jedi-ing. Adjusting her helmet. This was her big break. She'd got this, confidence returning to her. Her mum would be so mad right now! Please don't let her ever find out.

Amelia was going to say something else but tugging force sense made her stop trying to explain herself. No pockets to hide her hands, she ended up doing what dad did and putting them behind her back. Don't tell the galaxy but she reckoned he did that for the same reason!

Boss lady was looking serious, definitely, someone or something was in big trouble, and she still thought she was going to be next on her menu. Keeping her feet firmly placed on the ground so she didn't fidget. Maybe she could find an answer for her, she was pretty good at that. Did she really want to go there? Canine teeth chewing on her tongue.

Listening…. her reporter-side kicking in. Watching and learning what Pieren was doing.

She was spending a lot of time on accounts? Who could Pieren trust, maybe an expendable newbie with no ties? In Amelia's mind would saving a criminal in trouble from Pieren be crossing a Jedi code? Jedi-ing was tough.

Things were different from what she expected, she was thinking of dramatic scenes out of holovids, cards, credits and criminals cackling away in the background. This looked like hard office work, boring too. Boss Lady was inundated with calls and information going back and forth. She should have someone do that for her. Wait a sec why did she care!?!

Amelia actually let a bit of information go, "new girl, no ties," which might have actually helped her or condemned her admitting she was a newbie, "one with a clean slate." Determination in her voice, but green enough that she was very unlikely to be attached to any person skimming or stealing from the Boss Lady. "If you're not gonna shoot me." Why did she say that, how was this helping? Her helmet came off to show she was telling the truth, the thing was bugging her anyway. "Then let me shuffle those papers so you don't have to." Somewhere deep down her sense were telling her, that Pieren hated this busy office work. If she got even a glance at her accounts.... she could see her headlines now.

Ala Quin

 

[Ala Quin]

[/right]

Peiren listened as she worked, showing no signs of interest or intent to act on what was being said. She finished the menial tasks she had lined up before putting her datapad. Minutes had elapsed since the last words from the 'new girl'. Finally, her attention towards the newcomer.

Peiren cleared her throat. Head tilted to the side, examining the 'new girl'.

A calm, measured pace was maintained in the short distance between them. Control of every muscle was maintained, except for a noticeable twitch in her left eye.

"Take off the helmet."