Little Coruscant Has A Big Secret

[Seraphina Shel'tah]

​

Nar Shaddaa
Early Evening

This place held no happy memories for her. Not only was it known for being the filthiest, most unsafe planet this side of the galaxy, but it was also the death of her former master. Returning to this place was something she never looked forward too. She wondered if the scum and low lives that frequently found themselves on this dump of a world actually enjoyed it, or if it were simply a place they could blend in with the rest of the degenerate crowd.

She had heard whispers that a shipment of cargo that had been lifted from medical supply ships destined for war torn worlds would be making its' way to one of the docks on the lower west side of the city. Unfortunately, her contacts could only gather that much intel on the drop. She was on her own from there. So there she sat, in the same dingy cantina she had many, many years ago, the same booth even, watching the crowd with hawk like eyes. Listening to the whispers of conversation through the Force.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

As with all cantinas on Nar Shaddaa, there really wasn't too much 'fun' going on outside the fact that everyone here had probably committed a murder or sixteen. But one easily stood out among the rest - his back was a cliffside of olive drab armor, his shoulders hunched forward and almost obscuring the Selkath he was talking to. It was a rather animated conversation from the droopy jowled fish alien.

The man in the armor though, well, he was stone still, though judging by the way the tangle of his brown hair shifted about, he was assuredly talking too. It was hard to hear given the din of the cantina, but anyone listening exceptionally hard could pick up words like 'relic' and 'lost.'

Someone was on a hunt, or someone was being filled in on something. But regardless, Sarge didn't hide his presence in the Force, and despite the energy that so easily radiated from his soldier's physique, his mind was cut off completely. A black hole sat where his brain was, and any attempts at reading his mind or communicating through telepathy would be met with the silence of the void.

 

[Seraphina Shel'tah]

Dark green eyes jumped from patron to patron. She'd been here for hours. The night was still young though, and she was willing to sit in wait for as long as it took. A pair of togruta bickered back and forth with one another over who screwed up their chances with some contract. A rodian sat staring at a datapad containing hyperspace lane routes. The barback was running drinks to and from the bar. The cantina was full, and he was the only staffer on it seemed. At least he'd get quite the workout.

Her eyes then fell on a rather stout looking man clad in full armor. He was certainly geared for a rough time, but more than that, more than his appearance, was his distinct presence. Sera focused her attention on the man and his companion. Should it be unrelated to her current objective it may still be worth the time to understand what one with such a strong, similar Force aura was doing here. Her ears caught a series of curious words that the lips formed. Perhaps this was what she was after, after all.

Sera leaned forward, focusing her attention on that conversation.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"I'm sorry, the what? The Star of Carkoon?"

"Yes!"

"Like the Sarlacc...?"

The Selkath stopped, then shrugged. "No idea! Is very important relic though, yes? From Ryloth, given to museum. Stolen several times, always retrieved when it finds its way into the right hands." Sarge furrowed his brow. Artifact hunts weren't his thing, but the Protectorate had seen itself a bastion of cultural preservation, so if anyone was going to be contacted about this... unsurprising.

Not Cira, too hard to find her.

Nope, just had to be him. Sarge. The Portal to Cira, finder of artifacts and lost cultures. "So why are you telling me this?"

"Is of utmost urgency. Shipment stolen from medical supply convoy. Several crate loads. Star believed to be in one of crates. Crate in hands of notorious Dolan the Hutt."

[member="Seraphina Shel'tah"]

 

[Seraphina Shel'tah]

Sera was astounded by the blatant disregard for secrecy in the slightest. Sure, it was a planet full of thieves, but that also meant the most likely place for people like Sera to be looking for said thieves. There was no mistaking what was being discussed when the words "medical supply convoy" passed her ears. Interestingly enough however, was the addition of something she was vaguely familiar with.

The Twi'lek was born on Cambria, not Ryloth, but her family had migrated from Ryloth in hopes of a better life.They had told her about a number of important Twi'lek artifacts that had been lifted from prominent museum displays. Without a moment's pause the woman stood and wandered to the table with the two gentleman and slid a chair from the booth directly across to their table, dropping herself into it, her chest against the backrest of the chair with her hands on the table.

"Did someone here mention the Republic convoy & the Star of Kala'unn? I could swear I overheard those words."

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Nar Shaddaa, the planet where anyone will say anything for credits. The only people you didn't openly discuss was the Hutts, unless, of course, you were proclaiming gratitude for their 'copious generosity' or some such. Sarge was leaned forward, one arm resting across the top of a helmet with an opaque visor of vibrant orange. Every bit of his thirty some odd years of lay in the lines upon his face, the veins bundled beneath his skin blackened by corruption like the sediment left behind in a dry riverbed.

His eyes, void black, glistened like the water's surface at midnight and easily settled upon the pink Jedi with only the faintest furrow of his brow to indicate his concern. Thin lips set within an undergrowth of a beard parted faintly as he spoke in a smooth, authoritative baritone. "You did, though..." he rounded his attention to the Selkath. "'Star of Kala'unn sounds far more reasonable than the Star of Carkoon."

There was a sneer thrown into those words, the aged ronin clearly used to being at least somewhat let down by the alien.

[member="Seraphina Shel'tah"]

 

[Seraphina Shel'tah]

Sera spoke quietly, a faint but stern whisper. "Just how exactly did you come into possession of this information? Both the Republic's missing cargo and a relic?"

There was a subtle hint of force and callous undertones in her voice as she spoke. The latter bit of information was unexpected, yet served only to increase her desire and need to locate said cargo. If it was on Nar Shaddaa, the artifact was already in grave danger. Such an item, though held no Force significance or any other magical property, was still a very expensive piece of history. Those who knew its' worth would find the black market a suitable place for such a trade, while those who knew less about it would find themselves in grave danger. After all, it wasn't called the Smuggler's Moon for nothing. Even now, the very mention of the artifact in open air risked prying ears, much like Sera's own, to overhear the conversation.

She turned her attention from the Selkath to the man wearing a bit too much armor to explain what exactly the Selkath was trying to speak of. "The Star of Kala'unn is nothing magical. It holds no special properties, and would have no significant relevance to anyone. What it is, though, is an ancient artifact belonging to the Twi'lek's who inhabited Ryloth thousands of years ago. It has been stolen and returned countless times, each time fetching a higher price on the black market."

She shook her head with a clear look of discontent. "There are so few left who have any respect for culture."

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge turned his attention to the obvious Jedi, voice nearly stately with how little it changed timbre. "Same way he does all his information - he listens." He gives a slow smile to the Twi then turns back to the Selkath. "So, Dolan. Likely not his real name. What you got on him?" Before the alien can talk, however, the Star was explained to him by the Twi'lek with an obvious interest in its acquisition.

"Mm," the armored, scarred, bearded man says, "sounds like we got culture to hunt." Turning his tired eyes back to the information broker, he raised his brow. "Party nearby at Club Belfur, relic likely to be presented to him there. Is likely stowed in vault." Hutts kept everything under lock and key, so that information wasn't worth much of a damn. But the location was, so... it would have to do.

Looking down to his armor that assuredly weighed more than the Twi'lek, he sighed. "'fraid I'm a bit too conspicuous for such an event."

[member="Seraphina Shel'tah"]

 

[Seraphina Shel'tah]

It's always a Hutt. Why did it have to always be a Hutt?

Those fat shell-less snails had their grubby hands in just about everything, and no surprise it was true here on Nar Shaddaa. Just who threw parties for these fatties, anyway? People actually liked Hutts? Something she never understood about the galaxy was just how the feth these things came into power, when they could barely wiggle their way around their daily life. When movement is a strenuous activity, power should not be within your grasp. She turned her thoughts back to the conversation at hand.

"This party, any idea of the kind of security?" She turned to the man with the armor, "You don't have a change of clothes?"

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

The man gave a shrug, "I could buy some." He wasn't prepared for a karking party. He never went to parties. Last party he had been to was the Protectorate Ball and he'd gone with [member="Cira"] on his arm. And, as with everything they'd ever done, it had been atrociously awkward. "But I'm just on planet to talk to a few folk, not go to a party a Hutt was throwing for himself." Both bushy brows rose at that, clarifying that he sincerely did not want to spend time near a Hutt.

As for security, the Selkath went to open its jowls and Sarge held up an armored palm. "Don't. It's a Hutt party, I know the kind of security that'll be there. I'm not paying you to tell me what I already know you rat."

"Then again, Pink," he looked to Seraphina, "I get the feeling I'm gonna be dragged along."

[member="Seraphina Shel'tah"]

 

[Seraphina Shel'tah]

That was precisely when the Twi'lek got an idea. "No, on second thought, don't buy some. Keep your armor." A smug smile came across her face. "What's the thing Hutts enjoy the most, besides self-indulgence?" She held up a pink finger, the question was rhetorical. "Gifts. More precisely, slaves." She raised an eye to [member="Sarge Potteiger"], "And it just so happens that you've got an ace in the hole there. Me." Twi'lek females were well known throughout the galaxy as being the most sought after in the slave trade. And to add to that, her coloration was an odd rarity.

"Take me as a gift to the Hutt. It will explain your armor, a slave trader. That will get us both into the party, and close enough to the relic to confirm if it is or isn't real."

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

[member="Seraphina Shel'tah"]

Sarge didn't know how to respond to 'I'm a slave for you,' but apparently this relic was important enough to the Twi'lek to warrant such a degradation, if only for an hour or two. He knew that when the time came, he'd feel weird pretending he was a slave trader, but hey, that's what you had to do sometimes. "Well, guess that works." He narrowed his gaze onto the Selkath, slapping some credits onto the table. "If I find out you breathed a word of this before the party is over, and I will come back here and slit your throat."

It wasn't a threat, nor was it a promise. It was a statement of fact. Sarge could handle just about anything. Betrayal? Never.

Hefting his helmet into place with a twist that sealed him inside his suit of armor, he extended a hand to the Twi'lek to shake. "Sarge." That was his introduction. A firm shake, and he was pushing himself to stand, clearly intent on getting the kark out of here.

 

[Seraphina Shel'tah]

Seraphina looked on in silence as the Selkath reeled back in his seat a bit, clearly disturbed by the threat of the large man. That was the trouble with dealing with an information broker. They held no allegiances, and even threats had their worth in credits to the dirtiest of them. Even if he did leak the information to someone else, it was unlikely that the two would find him anytime soon; Certainly not before they had to deal with the consequences of that situation first.

"Sera." She said with a smile, shaking the man's hand as she stood in unison with him. While the two headed for the door she subtly pulled back the side of the long coat dress to reveal a pair of lightsabers hanging from the belt around her waist. "Can I trust you to hang on to these for the time being?" She rarely ever relinquished her weapons to anyone, let alone someone she'd known for less than 20 minutes, but there was little she could do to hide them given the plan at hand.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

[member="Seraphina Shel'tah"]

Stepping out onto the concourse, panning his head left than right to scan the few bystanders milling about, he took her sabers and mag-locked them into the small of his back, one above the other. Reaching to his right hip, he pulled out one of his own, wrapped tightly in a black cloth in a pattern more commonly seen on Atrisia. Apparently, judging by the barely visible Krayt Pearl set into the hilt, he'd been a Jedi once as well.

Then again, she'd likely figured that one out. "You need a slave outfit?" He was going to ask that before they went anywhere.

 

[Seraphina Shel'tah]

Her eye caught wind of the hidden saber the man carried with him, though she made no mention of it. Having quit the Jedi Order herself it was no longer any of her business what others did or did not do with their time. What she did hope though, was that he could be trusted, as she just handed her two most prized items to the man, and was about to degrade herself in ways she never imagined. The question caught her off guard slightly, Sera had never been one of the unfortunate souls entrenched within the slave trade, so she wasn't entirely sure what the appropriate attire was to be wearing to such an event.

"What kind of outfit? I have underclothes on beneath the outer layers, should I just remove everything other than that?" She wasn't exactly shy, she just wasn't sure what was proper to be delivered to a giant, stinking slug.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

[member="Seraphina Shel'tah"]

"That, Sera, depends on how demeaning your underclothes are. The skimpier the better - you want to look like a whore, basically. The Hutts are all eyes, despite their copious bulk."

 

[Seraphina Shel'tah]

The Twi'lek looked down at herself, contemplating just how whorish she could look with what she had on hand. "Hmm.." She reached over and grabbed the large man by the hand and pulled him down the alley beside the building they had just left. "Stand here." She eyed him, though couldn't see his pupils hidden behind the darkened visor of his helmet. "Face forward. Make sure nobody sees." She quickly tossed off her dress coat, removing her armor, gauntlets, and leg guards, before slipping out of her form fitted top and shorts.

"Okay. What do you think?" When he turned back to face her, he would see her chest, rather constricted with the minimal fabric covering the necessities, while the lower half left far less to imagination with regard to the rear side. The clothing had but a single string of fabric connecting at the top and bottom. She took a deep breath, spinning in a slow circle for his critique. "Believable enough?"

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

[member="Seraphina Shel'tah"]

If anyone had ever told him that one day he'd be dragged into an alley by a Twi'lek, told to watch for onlookers, and then be asked to give an opinion on her undergarments, well... he'd probably cockily have told them that it was bound to happen sooner or later. But regardless, he still wouldn't have believed it. But here he was, turning to look at an almost entirely naked pink Twi'lek - assets on near display and everything. Blinking inside the helmet, he gives a curt nod of his head.

"Should be fine. Not exactly the opulence they'd expect, but given the coloration I'm sure he'd make an exception on the basis of wanting to show it off. I'd suggest leaving your gear on my ship. Party won't be until later, and we can get everything stored away before heading over. That way I don't walk in carrying all your gear."

 

[Seraphina Shel'tah]

Her hands were brought to her waist, just above her hips, one side raised slightly higher than the other with a look on her face that would speak volumes to what she was thinking.

"Not the opulence they'd expect?!" She gave a Hmph, then reached forward and snatched her clothing out of his hands, pulling her top and shorts back on rather quickly. "I'd be worth a small fortune, Sarge."

Throwing back on the dress coat she motioned for him to get out of the alley. "Let's just get to your ship and get this over with."

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

[member="Seraphina Shel'tah"]

Well, at least she knew how to pout. Letting her get dressed with his massive back shielding her from view, he gave a slow nod. "I'm sure you would be, Sera." He sounded absolutely riveted by her evaluation of her worth. "But that doesn't change the assessment. I was referring to your undergarments anyway." For a former Jedi she was all up in that 'hello, I'm sexy enough to be a porn star' business.

Sniffing, he lead her back to his ship - a CR-90 blockade runner with white washed halls, immaculately maintained by what appeared to be a veritable swarm of droids; cleaning droids, protocol droids, maintenance droids and combat droids. No human crew save himself. With her things safely stowed and her no doubt stripped down, they made their way to the Promenade where the party was being hosted at a Pleasure Barge landing.

That perplexed him, as the Broker had told him 'it was being held in the vault.' But even as they approached, Sera drawing as much attention as the giant in olive drab, he couldn't help but realized he'd made a stupid mistake.

He hadn't asked which vault.

Tonight might be longer than expected. Good thing he had all three sabers on his person, and once you got beyond 'two' most people just assumed they were trophies. He expected to be stopped by someone, but security was so tight around here that they didn't seem too concerned with shaking everyone down on arrival. The pleasure barge itself was about what was expected - a large ship, covered in finery and luxurious items, teeming with a writhing mass of bodies enjoying the pounding rhythm of whatever the kark they thought this music was.

It was set on the edge of a pier though, setting it a few hundred feet out from the edge of the floating city that was the Promenade. That meant getting out was going to be an arduous task. Ah well, she wanted it. He'd be fine.

He had armor.