Faction Nar Shaddaa: Scum and Villainy in Vertical City (Spacer Guild)

[Cei Kyros]

(source)
​

RED LIGHT SECTOR, NAR SHADDAA

"Now this is my kind of place," Cei tossed a few extra credits at the aircab, "Don't wait up pal."

Everything a no good scoundrel could ever want was here on Nar Shaddaa...for a price. The duros could see gunsmiths, pawnbrokers, surgical shops, and of course brothels. So very many brothels. This might actually be heaven for a guy like Tobias Katarn. It was his first time back on the smuggler's moon since his long strange journey from Cosm's Well. Kyros always thought it was remarkable how the grime never seemed to change. Hutt Space was more reliable than the Core these days.

"Alright kid," he looked Finley over and grinned, "First visit? We got some time to kill before our cargo is ready for pickup. Try and stay out of trouble, this planet's nothin' but."

(source)​

The Holdout Cantina was a local smuggler's bar and first stop on his reunion tour. Something about the nearly toxic atmosphere made him thirsty. A few half interested glances were thrown his way but this was one of the few worlds where Cei's bushy mustache and wide brimmed hat blended in with a crowd. He barely got a chance to order his drink before a commotion at the bar caught his attention. His eyes widened.

" Jerec Asyr . I thought I told you if I ever saw you again you were a dead man."

Aeshi Tillian Amea Virou Ay Ge Chybo Fenn Ciara Ardellian Cotan Sar'andor Frielle Kinniak Katria Vekarr Maynard Treicolt Porl Berlmat Umedara Zaar Kelsie Sylvan Zef Halo Bok Bwi'kan​

 

[Finley]

Finn was wide eyed and in awe as he looked all over the Red Light Sector ~ This place is great!...~ quickly keeping pace behind Kyros. They came to the entrance of the Holdout Cantina, when naturally Kyros gave him the usual piece of advice.

"Alright kid," he looked Finley Finley over and grinned, "First visit? We got some time to kill before our cargo is ready for pickup. Try and stay out of trouble, this planet's nothin' but.”

He quickly rose his hand, giving him a coy smirk, and while walking in the opposite direction towards the gambling tables, he spoke, in his usual young, and smug tone. “Come-on Cei, this is me we are talking about. Careful is my middle name—....oof!” Finn appearing to have run into a rather drunk Cantina patron. He apologized, giving the man a friendly pat, and helping him along the way. However, to Kyros’ trained eye, he would have seen the young man remove the loose credits from the patron, and with another smug smirk, he shouted back at Cei. “I’ll be at the tables, I’m feeling lucky tonight.” He disappeared into the crowd.

Cei Kyros​

 

[Jerec Asyr]

" Jerec Asyr . I thought I told you if I ever saw you again you were a dead man."

Jerec turned around slowly, hands open in a nonthreatening kind of way. There was a holdout blaster in the small of his back, but the Duros had the hypothetical drop on him. Jerec's
gaze, much like food, snagged on Cei's moustache and stayed there.

"Yeah, thinking back, I must've heard you wrong. I thought you said you wanted to use that lip Jawa to polish my boots. I wasn't wild about the offer at the time. Makes more sense now."

He glanced after Finley .

"Who's the youngling?"

 

[Cei Kyros]

"Careful, hoss. I'd let you spit on my ship before you besmirch this beauty."

Kyros wound up to slug Jerec Asyr , then at the last second a sly grin broke out across his rugged face.

"How's the odds, sleemo?" the duros laughed, "That Colichemarde of yours holding up? Still running with that little guy...what was his name? Chico? Keiko? Quekko!"

He glanced over at Finley missing any feelings Jerec was probably feeling right about now.

"Hey go easy on Finn alright?" Cei shook his head at his partner's antics, "He's fresh up the well but kid's got guts. Tried to pick my pocket on the Ring of Kafrene. Think I might be the first one who ever caught him."

 

[Jerec Asyr]

Cei Kyros

Jerec grimaced and looked away. "Some Jedi killed Quekko, Directorate blew up the Colichemarde - been a rough year. What you been up to, Kyros?" He squinted over at Finley , anxious to change the subject. "Other than getting your pockets picked by kids on Kafrene?"

Truth be told, he could play it grim but he still had a lot of feelings about Quek getting roasted. The little Apokka had been his first mate for years. At least he'd put Quekko's name to use embarrassing Jedi and selling used ships, just like Quekko would have wanted.

"Oh hey, that new smuggling compartment do the job for you?"

 

[Cei Kyros]

"Bummer!" Kyros whistled, "Well I've been stranded on a miserable little rock out by Cosm's Well after my last crew and I had a...disagreement. Some Jedi Knight lady gave me a ride on her science ship."

Maybe it was the year of isolation or maybe Kyros had always been this aloof. Either way he at least had the decency to order Jerec Asyr another drink and one for himself as well.

"To Quekko!" he raised a glass, "Best damn valachord player this side of Glee Anselm!"

He fished out a pack of cigarras and offered one to Jerec before lighting his own and used it to gesture at Finley .

"Matter of fact," the duros exhaled, "We're about to break that compartment in. Got a line on some ur-diamonds, kid and I are just blowing off some steam before our meet."

 

[Finley]

He fished out a pack of cigarras and offered one to Jerec before lighting his own and used it to gesture at Finley

Finn, at this point having aroused more than his share of, well, hateful ~ let me put your head under the water till the bubbles stop kind of looks walked towards Cei Kyros . He had a death stick in his mouth as he sat down, bellowing smoke from his mouth as he grabbed a shot and downed it, casually counting his stack of credits and generously laying quite a few down in front of Cei and pocketing the rest. “Well, I’ve done my damage here... think I might have irritated some people, but hey, I can’t help it if all I do is win.” He chuckled as he looked at Jerec Asyr . “ Hey Cei, who’s this? One of your ‘mustache of the month’ club members?” Yep, leave it to Finn to always make some smart aleck remark... young, and unassuming; but cunning, tactical and two steps ahead when the need arose to be, it was all just a facade, which by this point, he knew Cei knew. Fun was a flavor of life, why not enjoy yourself?
​

 

[Kelsie Sylvan]

N A R
S H A D D A A

Tag: Jerec Asyr Finley Cei Kyros ​

---

"For a businessman, you're awfully focused on your old deals," Kelsie lamented, finally interjecting into this interjected conversation. When Cei had first entered the bar she'd turned away, not particularly wanting to engage with the Duros right then. Her hand had fallen to the slugthrower at her belt when she remembered her first encounter with the smuggler. If that creep had programmed another droid... but it seemed that the only companion he had was the pickpocket kid. When he'd recognized and greeted Jerec, again she thought she might need to use her weapon, but they seemed to get on just fine.

Still, they were interrupting her attempt at a bit of business. Jerec was a pretty solid -- if sketchy -- ship parts dealer. She'd set a meeting with the man. The tip had been right; he had exactly what she needed. But if this all dragged into these two sort-of friends talked about some Quekko, she might just shoot someone anyways. "Cei," she said, more glaring her greeting than saying it.

Her eyes flicked to the kid who'd gravitated back at the Duros' beckoning. Kelsie's gaze lingered for a moment, before returning to Kyros. "I know you're happy to have your little spacer's reunion, but it'll wait until I'm done with mustache of the month here." She shifted to look at Jerec. "Let's talk credits. I'm also open to shipping a bit of cargo for you, if that's better."

 

[Jerec Asyr]

Cei Kyros Finley Kelsie Sylvan

Jerec slugged back the toast to Quekko's memory and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Jerec Asyr, kid. Kyros says you're a thief? Lift anything good tonight?"

His stomach rumbled unpleasantly for no reason he could discern. He refocused past all distractions at the all-important client.

"No, Captain Sylvan, credits will do fine." He waved like a Jedi for kicks. "We said four thousand, right?"

 

[Cei Kyros]

" Finley my friend," Kyros took a long drag of his cigarra, "Meet Captain Jerec Asyr . One of the best mechanics and worst smugglers I've ever had the rotten misfortune to work with."

"Cei."

"Didn't see you down there Kelsie!" he chuckled just like he did every time he made that terrible joke, "This one's Captain Kelsie Sylvan . Don't let her size fool you, she's got a mean right hook on her."

The duros gunslinger ordered another shot of gin and downed it quickly.

"I know you're happy to have your little spacer's reunion, but it'll wait until I'm done with mustache of the month here."

"Mustache of your life, sweetheart."

He twitched his upper lip as if to demonstrate and then leaned over to Finley.

"Business is business," he murmured to the young thief, "You see a couple of freelancers talking credits you wait your turn. Its a sign of respect, don't be like old Cei. Never had no respect for nobody."

 

[Nova Casamyr]

Elsewhere in the spaceport...

...a slightly oversized freighter sets down on a docking pad...​

...and a snarky job description hits the holonet...​

Trashy heap of trash looking for dupes to join crew. Pay low. Hours long. Company miserable. Food bad enough to make a Hutt choke.​

***​

"Was that a ping to the local holonet?" Nova called over her shoulder. Outside the prep room, the trio of astromechs were still performing the last of the docking and set-to-idle procedures as Oasis touched down after a too-lengthy orbital shakedown. A chime had just sounded elsewhere on the command deck but she was far enough away that the source was muffled.

Brrrreeeep.​

That was a flat affirmative from R5-F1. Or "Fifi" as Nova had affectionately named the droid she had picked up and fixed up during her last decade of adventure. Sometimes, that affection felt misplaced. "The job posting?"

Blorrt.​

A sarcastic "of course" in response. "Just checking," she added defensively, not wanting to deal with a testy droid for the next several cycles because of what Fifi considered to be Nova's worst habit: needless questions with obvious answers. Nova just liked to talk. Why look something up when a quick question would get her an answer faster and, with luck, start a conversation? Fifi was not appreciative. "No need to get your circuits in a twist," Nova mumbled to herself as she finished tying her hair back in a ponytail. Grabbing her wristcom, the Captain of Oasis took one look and immediately groaned at the message on the top of the notification listings. If her eyes could have rolled out of her head, they would have.

"Seriously? Blind. Reeve. Didn't I tell you guys to check the posting before we put it out there?" A chorus of warbles from all three droids filled up the command compartment as Nova left the prep room and strode into the cockpit to join the three whom constituted her current crew compliment. It took Nova a second to weed through each of the droid's unique vocal patterns before she got the message. But just a second. "I get it. I get it! Jeez. Nobody's ready to open up the crew to a stranger. Me least of all. But we need some kind of help."

Ooooohhheee blblblblblat!​

"Yes. We do. You guys are family. But at the very least, I need someone more capable of fitting into the crawlspaces that you guys can't reach." More blats. "No. You can't." More blats. "I'm not going to spend all my time in the crawlspaces. My back is killing me as it is." More blats. "No. A 2-1B isn't going to fix our pro-... ugh! Look! We're finding somebody and that's final! We're all just going to have to get used to it." She sighed, wanting badly to agree with the droids, not wanting to let anybody in, not yet. But she couldn't pull another job with their current compliment. She needed somebody, something to help her along. Things just weren't working as things stood. "Well, with this job listing. You'll all get your wish. No one is gonna answer that. Especially on Nar Shaddaa of all places. Really, guys? A Hutt joke? Here?"

Clat clat clat.​

Fifi had started practicing an imitation of a fowl clucking, which it found to be a particularly apt approximation of human laughter. Nova thought the behavior was adorable at first. Now she wished Fifi had come up with a different way to spend its processing resources.

"Yeah, great. Well if anyone asks me while I'm out, I'll say I have no idea who sent the sorry message and no, thank you, I don't want to see your pointy knife." Another sigh. Followed by more awkward silence. She'd never been good with silence. Space had always felt so full to her. When did things gets so empty? Oh, right. When her parents died. "I need a drink. I'll be back in a bit." Nova turned and made for the ramp.

Hooouuu...​

"Thanks," she said, almost under her breath. "Lock 'er tight after I close up." No snarky response to her obvious comment. That told her everything she needed to know. Her droid family was as sad as she was. She'd be strong for them. She'd be strong for herself. She'd be strong for her parents, even then. Especially then. On the stroll from the command deck on the lowest level of Oasis up a flight of stairs to the exit ramp, Nova let the tears flow freely. She wasn't ready. This had to be a bad dream. It couldn't have happened, not like this. Not at all... She should have been able to say goodbye.

As soon as her boot hit duracrete, the tears stopped. The ramp closed behind her. One last look at her parent's legacy, the ship they left her, their final resting place. She turned, eyes a little puffy, and made for port.

BB-4001X​

 

[BB-4001A]

Elsewhere in the space port...

[ mirax ]​

It was pretty much impossible not to look out of place here.

Nar Shaddaa was a crowded planet. It was essentially a Red Light District that covered the face of the entire moon. What younglings were visible were the variety that lived on the streets, subsisting in gangs and roving packs of pickpockets. A small, solitary figure such as the afro haired Archangel product couldn't exactly blend into that kind of environment, even if he had wanted to.

The child-like simulacrum had an refurbished HSB-200 that managed to look imposing against the droid's thigh, even if it truly was an utterly kark weapon. The clothes on his mahogany frame probably needed to be cycled through the refresher, if not replaced entirely. Unfortunately, his access to a refresher had gone out the proverbial airlock. Along with his ship.

The job running deathsticks to Kalist hadn't brought in the money that he needed to pay off the debt to Malicar , and even the legitimate freight he'd moved for Offworld Exports hadn't been enough to make ends meet by the time that the Black Sun had been done counting up the "interest" or the "convenience fees" that had been added to the debt since his last payment. Sorting through the additionals was worse than trying to understand the charges on a Corellia Digital holo-net bill -- and that took effort.

By the time it had been said and done, the droid had sold his ship to one of those title loan joints. A title loan shop conveniently owned by one of the Black Sun underlords, of course. For meager administrative fees.

It had barely covered the amount he needed to pay on the principle. He was told none of the payment had gone toward the interest, which of course continued to accrue.

It was just another reminder that he was never going to get out of debt with the cartel.

Where that left him? He had no idea. Staying on Nar Shaddaa wasn't his idea of a good time.

He'd already been traded and sold on this moon one another time. It wasn't an experience he particularly cared to stick around and see repeat itself. Each passing minute, his power cells continued running down. Even an Archangel Human Replica Droid had its limits and would eventually need to find a droid corral.

And good luck finding one of those that was safe. If it came to that point, BB imagined that he'd reboot out of the power cycle to find another restraining bolt clamped onto him.

Instead, he had converted an old food cart into a meager kiosk where he could try to hock his handy-droid skills for whatever they might be worth. Which, so far today had been two OPA talons and a Sith-Imperial credit.

Talk about opposing currencies. He definitely wasn't going to be spending that in the same place, even if they'd been worth much to begin with.

Nova Casamyr​

 

[Nova Casamyr]

Being responsible with credits was not a trait that Nova inherently demonstrated. Nor was being responsible with her drinking under the worst of circumstances. Though at least that latter bit was understandable given her current circumstance, if not excusable. Sure, Nova had already gone through the liquor cabinets aboard Oasis, but it had taken her a fair bit of time. Maybe a week or so. Or was it a month? She wasn't sure if being a heavy drinker full-time was for her. The hangovers were a serious deterrent, especially in space. Her low tolerance made her an easy drunk but that was starting to change too.

Right then, as she sat in some bar whose name she hadn't even bothered to learn, her sobriety was not thanks to her responsibility. If anything, the opposite was true. Nova had handed her credit chit to the being (man... woman... whatever... why bother?) behind the bar and had been immediately told she could only afford a single drink. After the bogus orbital gatekeepers had dragged her through a proverbial asteroid field, Nova's funds were severely tapped, even after receiving the payout for her cargo delivery. She spared the barkeep her harrumphing, maybe predicting that her sob story would fall on deaf ears, maybe just too exhausted to spill her guts. Nova just asked for whatever the strongest libation she could afford and left it at that. The only thing saving her hide was that the job had covered the full operating costs of the freighter which was being fueled and would be ready to depart soon.

Whenever she was ready. Which would be never. Ugh...

A job was the only thing that could have brought Nova to the Smuggler's Moon and even that, in retrospect, seemed like a terrible idea. Elbows on the counter, head in her hands, she hardly even noticed when a short, misted glass slid in front of her, joined a moment later by her then empty credit chit. A few moments passed before she scooped up the drink and downed it in a single gulp. Pocketing the worthless chit, she stood and left the bar.

Oasis needed a job. Nova needed to get a grip. Neither of those things would be found on Nar Shaddaa. Just walking around the moon was enough to get someone mugged. Walking around alone was just stupid. She needed to get outta there. So why the hell did she find her legs just walking around the port, taking her anywhere but her ship? Inebriation was not to blame. Though the alcohol was starting to work its way through her system as she moved about, Nova still had her wits about her. Maybe I just don't want to go home.

That thought was more terrifying than she could handle so it was pushed aside with all of the other things she just didn't want to deal with in that moment. Maybe, even here in the criminal mecca of the Outer Rim, Nova just needed a walk to clear her head. Hands stuck into the pockets of her brown, synthskin jacket, she wandered the streets, letting the fuzziness from her last drink descend onto her consciousness; not enough to forget, just enough to make it all feel ok; just enough to let her mind slip from with to without.

The people of Nar Shaddaa were a classic mix of haves and have-nots. Mostly have-nots. Everyone had some kind of debt. Those who had skills could slave themselves to a boss in exchange for covering that debt. Even the bosses themselves were in debt to somebody. The Hutts, the Vigos, some shady government underbelly. Stay in someone's employ long enough and it was possible to forget that one's debt would never be truly paid off. A single harsh reminder was all it took to bring these people back to reality. Nova could see the desperation on everyone's faces, no matter how well put-together they seemed. In her youth, Nova had wanted to help them all. But there was no helping the system. She didn't have that kind of influence. Nar Shaddaa was just one of many places that had been like this for millennia.

The only times she had trouble accepting the fate of the downtrodden were when she saw children. Born to the used and abused, into poverty or slavery or worse, they never had a chance.

So it was that Nova nearly passed by a makeshift kiosk with an adolescent boy behind it. When she took a second glance, she saw the desperation. But she also thought she saw determination; the hope to figure something out; to survive. Maybe she was just projecting... But it was enough to get the broke freighter captain to stop.

"Whatcha sellin'?"

BB-4001X​

 

[Kelsie Sylvan]

N A R
S H A D D A A

Tag: Jerec Asyr Cei Kyros Finley ​

---

Kelsie sighed and shook her head, looking at her own glass of whiskey. She'd opened the tab for both of them, but it seemed Jerec wanted to spend all the money he was hoping to earn in this deal on drinks. A thief, like the kid. "Don't encourage him, Asyr. These people are poor enough. Kafrene's not much better." She looked over at Finley. "Get Kyros to take you to Coruscant. Spend a few weeks on the upper levels, then find yourself a cozy apartment. It'll be easy, I promise, and they won't be too hurt if you lift a few credits off 'em." As in, they probably wouldn't come barreling after you with a blaster and vibroknife if they noticed, and they were much less likely to notice than these penny-pinchers.

Her gaze turned to the Duros, her tone icy as ever. There wasn't any other way to deal with this particular breed of spacer. "Bold of you to mention Cosm's well 'round me. Next time that antimatter will melt that stupid mustache off your ugly blue mug."

Back to the deal. "Four thousand? You trying to scam me? Two and a half, and I'll be nice and pay the tab," she said, shaking her head. "Four thousand. I wasn't fecking born yesterday and you damn well know that." Haggling wasn't something she practiced much, but now that she was getting shorter on credits, she understood why the people around here were as greedy as they were. Of course, she was willing to settle on three and a quarter, so it'd work out so long as Jerec budged too.

 

[Jerec Asyr]

Cei Kyros Kelsie Sylvan Finley

"Oo-hoo, look who's got a case of the ethics. But she ain't wrong, kid. You'll sleep better stealing from the rich. And you do it right, half the time they don't even notice."

Jerec met Kelsie's eyes, mock serious. Or maybe he was serious. He couldn't tell. The ethics thing was giving him gas.

"Three and a knot of glitterstim, never seen daylight.

 

[Finley]

“Don't encourage him, Asyr. These people are poor enough. Kafrene's not much better." She looked over at Finley. "Get Kyros to take you to Coruscant. Spend a few weeks on the upper levels, then find yourself a cozy apartment. It'll be easy, I promise, and they won't be too hurt if you lift a few credits off 'em."

Finn looked across the table from Kelsie Sylvan , his eyes narrowing slightly as she spoke. She seemed to have it out for Cei that was for sure, and she was definitely a no holds kinda business gal. However, Finn was conflicted with part of her statement, while agreeing with the rest. “ While I appreciate the advice, I disagree. People who are willing to gamble money are fair game, not poor. The poor don’t gamble with things of value, and I don’t see an innocent person here not worthy of me calling a target.” He spoke as he reached for his shot and downed another. He stood up as he looked Jerec Asyr and Cei Kyros . “Excuse me fellas, ma’am. Seems I lost interest in this conversation. I’ll be outside if you need me Cei.” He moved towards the entrance.​

 

[BB-4001A]

Elsewhere in the space port...

[ books of war ]​

"Whatcha sellin'?"

The droid's head turned up. Amber colored ocular senses swept over the form of a human with tawny colored hair. "Not much," the boy responded neatly. There were various bits and pieces that had been dragged from out of the various and sundry trash piles that could be found all across the moon.

A few he'd been trying to clean up, others he was breaking down for usable spare parts. All was the result of the rather glorious sport known as dumpster diving, a hobby turned vocation that no doubt contributed significantly toward the notion that the youth needed a visit to a refresher.

Picking up a blue band, the boy set it out in front of the components strewn in front of him. "I've got this wrist link rebuilt and functioning, that's about it."

That definitely wasn't going to cover his debts when the Black Sun collection agents came around again. He needed a better plan, but right now nothing better seemed to be in front of him. No ship, no prospects... just the trash he was trying to turn into something salvageable.

It was clear to see that the cycle of debt slavery was designed to bring the droid back into selling himself so that he'd become someone's property all over again. That such was the logical conclusion of his current circumstances didn't make the future very appealing to consider. Of course, as a droid, BB's programming prohibited self-termination. So, all that the boy could do was try to remain open to the possibility -- however improbable -- that something better would come along.

This being Nar Shaddaa, that probability was low indeed.

 

[Nova Casamyr]

Nova looked over the wrist link. The device was lacking the display features that many bulkier units carried; her own, for instance. But the device was far more sleek as a result. A nifty piece of tech for someone who really just needed a comm without all the extra fluff. With the link being so small and without many parts to spare in a place like, well, anywhere on Nar Shaddaa, Nova was impressed by the work and effort a repair would require. She would definitely be more impressed than most who would pass by the kid's makeshift booth. After all, fixing gadgets was one of her favorite past-times.

"Not bad," she said, giving the boy a once over. She could still see the determination in his gaze. But that determination was clouded by something else: a sense of defeat; the feeling that no matter how much effort was spent, nothing would ever solve the problems at hand. Nova knew that feeling. She had that hopelessness right then as she locked eyes with the small-ish boy, and had been feeling that way since the loss of her parents. Here this kid was, trying to make something work. What was she doing? Trying to crawl into a bottle.

She sighed. There was nothing like a bit of a reality check.

"The bad news is I don't need a wrist link." The woman rose her arm where her own wristcomm was strapped. "The good news," she started quickly, not giving the kid a chance to say anything in response to the bad news. "Is that I could really use another set of hands." Nova was just close enough to smell something she didn't really want to smell. She wasn't sure how long the kid had been on the street. But she was guessing it was long enough to make a decent deal for a new crewmate.

Was picking up a new mate right off the street a potentially bad idea? Probably. They'd hardly spared more than two sentences for each other. The kid could be a con artist or worse. But that wasn't the feeling Nova got. She trusted her gut. He was good with gadgets. He looked more determined than desperate. And he needed time in a 'fresher. And she had a soft spot for helping the younger generations among the homeless.

"I'm Captain of a freighter," Nova did her best not to cringe when she said Captain. "She's called Oasis. Set down on pad 83 in the port near here. I can't offer you much in the way of credits, at least not right off. Operational costs always come first. But you'll have your own room, food, water, even your own 'fresher. It's just me and three astromechs right now. And I need more hands if we're going to pull more jobs. If you're interested, swing by the pad. We'll be there awhile yet. Probably lift off tomorrow morning."

The fuzziness was starting wear off and she visibly shook her head, trying to jog free any words she might have left out. Nothing came to mind, so she must have gotten everything.

BB-4001X​

 

[BB-4001A]

Elsewhere in the space port...

[ elevator music ]​

He hadn't figured that she'd need a basic comlink. That was a modern convenience that most people satisfied through one model or another, and most of those lasted for several years. Still, it was what he had on hand that was operable.

So, she wasn't interested in the comlink. But it seemed something had her interest, otherwise why was she still here? Even if she didn't have anywhere better to be -- this was Nar Shaddaa, not Chandrila, after all -- it stood to reason that she had ventured out into the big city for a purpose.

The proposal prompted one eyebrow to cock upward. Looking for crew on the Smuggler's Moon was asking for trouble. People here were mostly destitute and desperate. Those who were well off were usually strung out by one of the crime syndicates, married to one of the cartels, or connected to any of the pirate guilds that ghosted through the shadowport.

It also was concerning that a freighter captain would visit Nar Shaddaa precisely because it was the Smuggler's Moon. The human presented as though respectable, but she could easily be the Spice Queen of the Core Worlds for all he knew.

Simply put, the lack of available data meant that either of them should have presented a number of variables that ought to have been cause for concern. He could be walking into a slaver trap.

Of course, staying in Nar Shaddaa was almost certainly just waiting for the droid salvagers to find him. So that much was a wash. The choice was between taking a chance on a person he didn't know or staying in a city he knew too well.

Stranger danger it was, then.

"I just need a moment to close up shop," the afro headed youth noted succinctly. Then, hooking one foot under the peg that was actually propping up the shoddy cart, knocked the lynch pin from its place. As a result the cart collapsed in on itself, creating a garbage heap there on the sidewalk.

As for the wrist comlink, he looped it around his own wrist as he started to follow after the tawny haired woman.

"The offer of food and water is appreciated, but won't be necessary," the youth noted as they walked. That she'd made such an offer specific to organic needs suggested she hadn't realized that he was a Human Replica Droid.

People reacted all manner of different ways over that revelation. Some weren't bothered, others thought it offended their religion. If he was going to be part of a crew, even one he just met, it seemed prudent to discover which might be the case here.

"I'm a BB-4001X Companion Droid."

Nova Casamyr​

 

[Nova Casamyr]

Nova hadn't really considered that the boy had nothing else to wrap up planetside. So she was a little surprised when he made his decision to follow straightaway after only a moment's hesitation. But then, what would be worth wrapping up here? Debts were debts, waiting for you whenever you return. Maybe she had held on to a the scant hope that the boy had needed to say goodbye to someone, anyone. Throughout Nova's life, there was always a communication waiting to be sent to her family, even then, with her parents and Egg gone, there was still Blub and Jolly and the droids. She told them everything. The absence of that presence wasn't just foreign to her, not having a family was incomprehensible.

She chuckled as the boy dismantled his "shop." Then they turned and the two walked down the street towards the port. She felt good. She felt like she had some direction. And if she could help some kid out of a rut in the meantime? All's the better. She felt like she could go home now, so her path was set directly back to Oasis.

As the boy introduced himself, Nova wondered just how strong that drink had been. How did she not recognize a droid? Sure, a Human Replica Droid was meant to look like, well, a human, but she had spent too much time around droid personalities to not recognize one.

"Oh! Guess I forgot to introduce myself, didn't I?" she chuckled again, feeling lighter than she had in weeks. She shook her head again, hoping to be rid of the last of the fuzziness and get back to full-alert status, silently swearing off the heavy stuff for awhile. "Nova Casamyr, at your service."

Despite how talkative she was, she generally did ask personal questions. She didn't need to know why a companion droid had a maintenance package, why it wasn't with its original family, whether or not it had a restraining bolt. These were things she would learn if BB-4001X trusted her enough to share. Besides, Nova was perfectly capable of talking about everything else.

"Sorry if my offer seemed a little forward, and a little out-of-place considering where we are. Just finished a job that took way longer than expected, mostly because my ship is down in crew right now. Tough to manage, even with three astromechs. I didn't know if we'd find anyone at all here, and my crew is a little, ... touchy, at the moment." Nova stopped and considered for a moment. "Actually, they'll probably like you more than anyone else we would have found. Not that we would have found anyone. The ad they wrote up was not an attractive one.

"I never would have even come here if not for a job. And I'm wary about getting any other jobs here too. I'm not above smuggling, but I do try to keep most of my business above board. Charters, cargo, the occasional retrieval, salvage plus whatever junk I can refurb. The bigger our crew, the more stuff we can manage to take on. That's my hope."

Nova didn't like to think of herself as a rambler. But she did like to talk. After awhile, astromechs were only so entertaining. Thank goodness Reeve was an R3, at least they were designed specifically to be social. All she ever got from Fifi was sass and Blind, though polite, was mostly just fond of numbers. Even if BB wasn't a particularly talkative unit, she wouldn't be able to help herself from just blurting out nearly everything on her mind.

The BB unit didn't have to be too great of a listener, as the port wasn't all that far from where they were. A moving sidewalk carried them swiftly around the pads to number 83.

"And here we are. Oasis. My family's pride and joy for generations. She's old, but she's had a lot of love. As long as I keep up with her, she'll fly for generations more." The Baudo-class ship lay alone on the grey, duracrete pad. A giant 83 had been painted in yellow on the surface of the pad and a few crates that still needed to be loaded were off to the side. Otherwise, all the fueling and electrical cables had been stashed away and the pad was empty. She tapped a metal panel which revealed a sensor. Her wristcomm swept over the sensor and the ramp started to lower.

"Come on in," she said as she started up the ramp. "I'll save the larger tour for later. All you need to know for now is that there are a few cabins on this level. They each have their own 'fresher. Take anyone you like. And, if you need it, the workshop is aft on this level too. The droid charging stations are all back there. Feel free to grab one and throw it in a cabin. The astros will all understand... I'll let them know you're here and all. Uh, right then. Catch you in a bit, alright?"