Public Planetfall

[Raine Strife]

Cold.

That had been the first thing she'd noticed when her cylinder had opened; the chill of the air prickling against her bare skin. Opening her eyes, she'd grimaced; the pale amber right that just barely managed to illuminate the chamber still stung eyes that were accustomed only to the darkness of the artificial womb she'd just been disgorged from. There was no noise, at least - that was probably a blessing, for the sounds of a bustling lab would probably have been overwhelming. Cautiously she'd emerged, feet unsteady at first, but finding her footing as she ventured onto the raised mesh platform connected to the cylinder behind her. Her caution was needless, though; the chamber was empty, and remained so as she moved forward. Shrill alarms didn't split the silence, and Guards didnt suddenly rush in from connecting chambers with blasters raised. There was nothing; nothing and nobody. Not a single soul. Just a room coated in layer of dust thick enough to attest to long years of abandonment. Whatever this place was, it was not merely slumbering, but dead and forgotten.

Realising this, Raine had paused her slow advance into the laboratory, blinking slowly as she cast her gaze about. Her thoughts were a chaotic jumble, fragmentary information that had been imparted to her slumbering mind before she stumbled from her cylinder trickling into place. And yet there were gaps, blanks in her memory far too numerous to be intentional. Why? Why would someone go to all this trouble for a partial job? What possible reason could someone have for doing such a thing? Or was it that there was no reason? Was it just an oversight? Had some quirk of the Force intervened, preventing those responsible from finishing what they had started? Leaving her to be forgotten? It seemed unlikely, and yet no alternative presented itself to the woman's questing thoughts as she considered the scene before.

"Why...?" she muttered, then cough - her throat was dry as the desserts of Tattooine. The cough was followed by another, then another; a whole cluster of choking splutters that set her staggering unsteadily, one hand reaching out for a nearby console to steady herself. And in the moment her bare skin pressed against the cold metal, everything changed -

In an instant, the faint glow of the emergency lighting was replaced by the harsh glare of overhead lum-tubes. There was noise, muffled and distant, but evident; computers chirping, the murmur of conversation. And there were people. Techs, scients. And amidst them all, a man. A man clad in midnight. And in that instant, the man turned, his eyes narrowing as he fixed his attention, impossibly, on her.

~

Raine awoke with a gasp, dark eyes snapping open and darting about as though expecting to the find the lab before her once more. But no; it was gone, left behind countless planets ago. Now, all that greeted her questing gaze was the looming sphere of the planet ahead, and the innumerable speckles in orbit above it that laid testament to the bustling trade that ran through the planet's busy spaceports.

"Just a dream," she sighed. It wasn't the first time that dream had disturbed her slumber over the years. Hells, nights when it hadn't invaded her sleeping mind were probably in the minority. Frowning, Raine grabbed a mug from the side of her chair, dragging a swig of the murky brown liquid contained within. The caf was cold, of course, cold and more than a little stale, but she was glad of it anyway, letting the bitter liquid wash away the lingering remnants of her sleepiness as she cast her gaze at the controls ahead of her. "Got an update for me, Gee-four?" she called, setting the now empty mug aside. A trill of beeps and chirps answered, and Raine smiled softly as she glanced back at the battered astromech droid that was interfacing with the ship's controls behind me. "Good job," she murmured as the droid finished, flicking the controls across to manual for the last approach to the planet. The droid was more than capable of the task, but Raine always liked to handle the arrival. It was just part of their little ritual. Besides, there was something else for the little droid to do. "Start scanning the traffic," she instructed, hands dancing over the controls as she spoke, "Flag up any ships that've been at any of the last dozen 'ports." Paranoia, perhaps, but Raine preferred to think of it as being cautious. The same sort of caution that'd kept her free and flying this last decade.

Confident that the droid would undertake the task with its usual diligence, Raine focused on the task at hand. Beside her, a display stuttered and blinked out, only to flash back to life as she caught it with a practised backhand, barely breaking from her work as she did. Text flickered across the screen, confirming that G4 had already completed the usual pre-landing communications with spaceport control, and Raine's smile brightened a shade as she flicked an overhead control and spoke again; "Spaceport control, this is Equinox. Confirming final approach to landing pad Aurek-seven-six-niner as advised." Another flick silenced the comm, Raine already tuning out control's response as she guided her battered craft toward its destination.

~

Barely an hour later, while clouds of dust still swirled through the air, the Equinox's cargo ramp thudded down against the grimey, oil-slicked docking bay floor. Raine stood alone at the top of it, fingers of her left hand fidgeting with the buckle of the holster that hung at her hip, eyes running across the datapad carried in the other. "Alright, Ten-Bee," she called, turning slightly to peer between the crates neatly stowed in the cargo hold, "Know where you're taking this junk?" In the depths of the hold, a bulky figure turned, photoreceptors flaring as it focused on Raine. "Yes, Miss Raine," was its answer, its gentle, almost melodic, voice and tone sounding utterly icongruous coming from the bulky loader droid. It never failed to bring a smile to Raine's lips, and once more she found herself thanking the quirk of the Force that had let her stumble across the scrapped protocol droid that'd been the source of the voice module, back on... Ord Mantell? Or had that been the motivator unit? Honestly, the specifics didn't matter, and Raine waved the thoughts away as she tucked the datapad into her jacket, calling back, "Alright, have Gee-four comm me when you're done. He's running maintenance the starboard thruster linkages."

With that, Raine stepped down the ramp, well-worn boots thudding lightly against the surface with each step. One hand fished a crumbled pack of deathsticks - a guilty pleasure - out of a pocket, and she slipped it between her lips as she moved toward the exit, though she didn't move to light it until she stepped beyond the docking bay blast doors. Then, pausing, she took a long drag, eyes closing in bliss as the mild narcotic eased the worries that eternally plagued her mind. "Gods, I needed this," she muttered, before casting her eyes about for somewhere she might slake the second of her needs. "Cantina... c'mon, there's always one in the spaceport. Aha!"

Her prayers answer, Raine took another drag on the deathstick, then started toward the nearby cantina.

 

[Xi Jago]

Credchit in the machine, one of his favorites was on.​

Three Pykes were blowing smoke, literally, spice was a three-course meal to these guys. Every brand from Kessel White to Coruscant Grey. Liquid spice by the glass even gave off a smokey residue. If anything Xi was trying to cut down, their booth was becoming a hotbox where he could barely breathe even through his helmet!

Trandoshans, Bothans, Defel, A ragged looking Wookiee, Houk, Bith Band, Rodians. You name it this bar here had forty species mixing and laughing, or arguing with each other over pay. The Syndicate and the Hutts had patched things up, mostly because all the hutt leadership had been removed by the Black Sun. So now they were feuding with the Crymorah syndicate instead over their spice running. Funny little thing life, he found it best to not think too hard about it!

So they'd got their own place again, in the backside of nowhere, plenty of Pykes around and plenty of spice being sold. Everything from huge crates to small handheld containers. Noticing a newcomer coming in, one of the Pykes bid her welcome and probably tried to sell her fifteen different brands. All in all the bar looked busy but run down, the Syndicate wasn't exactly flush anymore, but the liquor or spice was never watered down!

"Newcomer?" Xi got behind the bar, "what are you drinking or smoking?" He polished a glass putting it aside. Then sticking something in his suit's breather to better regulate the mood, a constant spot for new chemicals fitted to the helmet. "Been in long?"

Raine Strife

 

[Raine Strife]

Though the late afternoon sun had been far from bright, the interior of the cantina was darker still, and the billowing clouds of spice-scented smoke only added to the gloom, forcing Raine to hesitate in the doorway whilst her eyes adjusted to the murk. And, this being a spaceport cantina, that moment of pause was enough to invite the attention of someone seeking to sell something. Waving the little alien - a Pyke, Raine thought - away even as he offered a deal on Savareen Brandy that would've been enticing if it'd been a sliver more believable, Raine moved further into the cantina, her eyes flickering across the visible faces within, searching for... something. Some little thing that hinted at trouble, or at least more trouble than what usually lurked in such places.

Seeing nothing to be overly concerned about, she slid onto one of the empty stools set before the bar. The bartender - another Pyke. Did they own the place? From the things she'd heard, Raine wouldn't have been surprised - spoke as she sat, and she answered his question with a pleasant smile. You always smiled at the bartenders, that was one of the universal rules of the galaxy, just as much as it was that you always had to bribe folks when you ventured into Corporate space, or you always avoided unprocessed water when you braved the Fringe. Made things easier that way. Easier and safer.

"Yeah, fresh in," she raising her voice to be heard over the music whilst casting a quick, appraising glance at the bottles arrayed across the back bar, "Just finished a cargo run." A sliver more information than was necessary, perhaps, but nothing that a couple of quiet questions at spaceport control wouldn't have answered anyway if the Pyke had been inclined to pry. No names, though, or any detail on what she'd been carrying, because that was where the danger lay. Besides, some customers appreciated a little discretion when it came to refraining from talking about their goods, and it never hurt to cultivate a reputation for such circumspection. "Is that Corellian Whiskey?" she asked, smoothly changing the topic with a nod toward a bottle that sat toward the front of the bar, looking like it'd been handled more often than most. "I'll take a double, straight up".

Xi Jago

 

[Xi Jago]

"Well don't let the locals put you off, their all heart." An especially scraggly-looking wookiee roared and the pyke gave a lopsided grin under his helmet. Cargo run. The spice runner took some note of that, not uncommon at a spaceport, but if she had a ship….

Corellian Whiskey. Yeah, and it wasn't cheap, "harder to come by every year." Ever since Corellia got cracked in half by the netherworld crisis, apparently they'd been rebuilding but the already rare whiskey still wasn't flowing as he'd like. That might be an opportunity for the right person with the right ship! "Coming up," he'd give a special price for a fresh face, the bar income was honestly secondary to the spice route they had going on here.

Popping the cap, it had that authentic woody, spicy flavor that it was known for. Her glass was placed, and it looked spotless to their credit. He made a long pour to a double. "No Wodenstam dry here." Only the authentic stuff, people had taken to trying to rip off Corellian whiskey because of the supply shortage. Those guys at Wodenstam didn't know when to quit.

The stranger seemed to be playing her cards close to her chest, which was a trait that led to a longer life so he didn't press her for information. Instead, he led. "Yeah moving cargo's difficult." Syndicate wars made that tricky, "you know how it is. More lawless space these days." A lot of the major powers had recently lost control over their sectors, the Imperials, the Mandalorians, the Eternal Empire, the Maw, the Silver Jedi and more. Which meant more opportunities but more risk. "Hard to find good help," or just smugglers, legitimate business people, who lived long enough.

Raine Strife

 

[Raine Strife]

The familiar sound of liquid sloshing into a glass was music to Raine's ears, the statement that the beautiful gold and amber liquid was harder to find by the year was less so; she'd been around the galaxy long enough to know that phrase often turned out to be shorthand for 'double the cost and add a few credits for luck.' Still, even after refuelling the Equinox and maybe even replacing whatever G4 couldn't fix in the thruster linkages, she had a few credits to spare. That was the benefit of a vagrant's lifestyle, she supposed; she was rarely planetside long enough to squander the credits she earned.

"Thanks," she murmured toward the bartender, flashing him another smile as she took the glass. Still, despite her manners and her gratitude, she sniffed the glass cautiously before taking a sip, camoflaguing the action as an affiicionado's apprecation, though in truth it was little but paranoia. It smelt good, though, not a trace of anything untoward, and she immediately took a sip, savouring the bitter tang on her tongue and the burning sensation at the back of her throat. "That's the stuff," she sighed, setting the glass back down. Honestly, she was a touch surprised; a lot of cantinas, especially the downmarket spaceport cantinas she tended to frequent, had responded to the shortages by diluting their whiskies, or mixing them with more common liquors. Not here though, apparently, and Raine found herself mentally re-evaluating her appraisal of the barkeeper. "You want payment now, or at the end?" A simple enough question, but one that could lead to so many problems if left unasked, so she always liked to get it out of the way. Best to be careful, after all.

Yet even as she spoke, she realised that the Pyke had also spoken, offering up some mild, carefully neutral comment on cargo runs. Hardly surprising that he knew of such things, of course; working so very close to the spaceport, he'd probably heard dozens of pilots complaining about the vagaries of the life that month alone. Raine nodded in silent agreement with his words, yet her eyes narrowed just a touch; was it just a trick of her overly vigilant mind, or was the alien probing for information? If he was, he was being subtle about it, but Raine could appreciate that. Hell, she appreciated caution and discretion just as much as those individuals who tended to hire her. "Yeah, there's been a lot of chaos and conflict out there," she answered blandly, aware even as she spoke that it was perhaps the understatement of the year, "Lot of death, lot of destruction." Hesitating a moment, Raine considered the barkeeper, wondering just how much more than what he seemed he truly was. Was it worth taking a little risk? Perhaps it was, she decided, taking another sip of her drink before adding with a coy smile, "Still, means there's more work for those of us still flying, right?"

Xi Jago

 

[R6D3]

In front of the stage, a droid stacked so high with drinks it almost fell over BEEEEPED at a Rodian patron in the way of the back door. The rodian decided not to shoot first this time, and let it carry on its way. Off to the backroom it trundled, much to the consternation of the serving staff. There was some debate about who was going to do the cleaning today, followed by some less-than-satisfied binary beeping at the result.

OOC:

Spoiler

Mis Post. Please Ignore. Threw in some background flavor.

 

[Xi Jago]

While a live Bith band that took creditchit requests was a novelty, they also needed to take breaks too, and off they walked much to a large Houk's grumbling and gruff Wookiee roar. Leaving generic cantina music playing for a time. A new singer soon strode on, and that got everyone's attention! It was a local girl with a lot of talent.

Looking away from the stage, for paying, "how about at the end." Depends on how their conversation developed whether she'd owe for the drink. A counter below the bar registered her tab for him, giving it a glance. Xi put another dirty glass into a cleaning droid, it pulsed and span around for a fresh liquid then sonic double clean.

Lot of death and destruction.

"Exactly. And who looks out for the little guy, getting cargo where it needs to go." Whoever could brave the spacelanes, these days in lawless or self-regulated space, "with a million different worlds, and a million different sets of laws to follow." One jumpy customs agent or local sec patrol, carrying something you didn't know was illegal from the last system, and it was adiós. It was chaos, and she was right, that's how they could earn a good living on a million different self-regulated markets.

Still means there's work for us flying right.

A puff of spice cooking its way somewhere in the suit. He crossed his arms and nodded, "true true." A subtle approach had maybe born some fruit. Never could tell for sure who to trust, especially at the first meeting. That was part of the game and why they left it to bartenders to do the meet and greet.

"We have a lot of goods that need to find their way." He kept it vague. Pyke's reputation proceeded them but spice wasn't all they smuggled. He'd love a case of Correllian whiskey just as an example. Goods these days that people wanted without endless bureaucracy system to system. It was actually a smuggler's dream. "And a lot of red tape."

Raine Strife

 

[Raine Strife]

OOC:
Apologies for the slow delay - moving is rather stressful!

IC:
Half-turning to glance at the new singer belting out a performance that seemed to have caught the attention of everyone present, Raine almost missed the Pyke's reply to her comment. Almost.

"We have a lot of goods that need to find their way. And a lot of red tape."

The words brought a slight smirk to her lips, though she was quick to hide it behind her glass as she took another sip of the fiery liquid within. It was good to know her instincts had been right once again, but there was little benefit in revelling in such thoughts, especially when a deal for the work was still so very far from her grasp. "Seems to be the case all across the galaxy," she agreed sympathetically, still picking her words carefully even as she decided - after a moment's hesitation - to take a chance on flashing a couple more cards from her hand, "And everyone involved in that red tape wants their cut. Taxes and tariffs, permits and licenses - All that bureaucracy really cuts into profit margins? So much simpler when it just... doesn't, right?"

Raine's words were a little bolder than she generally preferred to essay in such circumstances, yet even with paranoia screaming protestations in her brain she got the impression it was as safe a gambit as was possible in the chaotic times of the here and now. After all, Pykes were a lot of things - crimelords, killers, and racketeers just to name a few - but stupid enough to turn on you when there was profit in sticking to an agreement? No, by everything Raine had heard and seen in the last few years, that wasn't them; in their eyes, profit was king, and if you could keep bringing in the credits they'd stick to a deal.

Not that she'd be trusting them anytime soon - no, never that. She wasn't stupid, after all.

"As it happens," she continued, after a moment of thoughtful silence punctuated only by a sip of her whisky, "I'm just offloading from my last run. Gonna be looking for another contract soon enough, something to keep me flying instead of burying my feet in the dirt." The last comment probably sounded like a trite old spacer's cliche, but it wasn't; the demons in her brain hated being planetside. Space was safer, even with all the dangers of the bleak and endless void, and she already longed to be back amongst the stars.

Xi Jago

 

[Xi Jago]

"I like that. " He nodded his helmet a couple of times. "Everyone takes a piece, except when they don't." Sidestepping the bureaucracy. They should get a motto on the bar. Puffing away…. spice was swapped with a more natural mental sharpener. Another might think he was thinking it over, but he was just shifting gears and letting the smoke settle. Cutting down? Pfft. Maybe next month.

So the stranger was just finishing her run and she hated being planetside, not uncommon with spacers. "See. I think we can help each other. Everyone's got to pay the bills right?" Another drink was poured, same texture, a woody spice-like flavor, and smell. "Xago, get the bar for me." Another Pyke almost identical to this one, only more stocky, took up the position. "If you're still interested?"

Assuming Raine followed….

"Step into my office." Her drink could come too of course. If she did the office would be through two doors, with a single Pyke guard between them who looked half asleep. Xi gave him a stub on the toe and he suddenly shaped up. There was a sense that almost nobody but Pykes came down here. A green scanning light flashed over them before the second door would unlock, it looked like a small blast door able to take some punishment.

Unlocking the back… they came to a cluttered large back room full of disorganized crates and packages. A long room lined with half-empty shelves, which seemed to extend sloping downward in the direction of the spaceport. There was a small repulsor craft towing a repulsor trailer on the back. Background music from the bar could be heard on a small device playing for the workers inside.

Xi looked at her, then back to the craft. "Right under the spaceport." Proud of how simple it was. They picked a quiet docking bay, and the goods never even passed inspection or customs. Then they were restamped, or re-documented and sent to the next destination as whatever they wanted to call them.

"We call it limbo." He took a long puff on his suit's intake. A few Pykes were loading the trailer with something that looked far too heavy for them. "Question is, what cargo will you run and what's off the table?" Everyone needed something, and the Syndicate didn't have many rules as to what they'd take. There were no cameras here, no ears, no eyes, just some Syndicate Muscle, him, her, and a bunch of cargo that needed moving. How many limbos existed out there for the Syndicate? Enough.

Raine Strife