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E X O C R O N
The Worlds of the Outer Rim Coalition
Exocron.

If there was a bright center to the universe, it was the point in the galaxy that was furthest from it.

He should know. He'd been the one to re-discover the world, with [member="Bryce Bantam"] and friends along for the ride. Back when they'd been the Underground. Back when they'd run the Kathol Outback. Before the judges and the Coalition. Back when Three had still been with them. Before the dark times.

Before a damned fool had gone to Mandalore...

In truth, Sor-Jan had lost touch with his former compatriots in the Underground. Perhaps not unexpected. Sor-Jan had a business to run and that business wasn't merely out here in the Outer Rim. Travel across the vast expanse of space whose HoloNet was serviced by Corellia Digital consumed months, even years. Years spent in hyperspace.

But Sor-Jan was an Anzat. If there was one thing in this universe he had in excess, it was years.

The YT-2400 skimmed across the lower atmosphere, shooting between the clouds as it panned over the sprawl below. The loading ramp was open. The likeness of a young boy standing at the end of the short plank, holding onto a strut as he held himself out over the planet below. The feel of the wind through his hair, across his face.

He could close his eyes and imagine himself in a different time. A different place.

Before the Clone Wars.

Before the Empire.

Before the New Jedi Order or Silver Jedi Order or Jedi Academy Network or Deneba Enclave.

To be young. He'd buried his master. Buried his padawan. It seemed the singular constant in this universe, to bury all his friends.

It was no wonder Anzat became monsters.

A blue-accented BB unit came rolling to the top of the ramp. The droid giving a whirling chirp that was punctuated by a series of flat beeps. The signal that heralded that this brief respite had come to an end as well.

All good things...

Pulling himself back from the edge, the small, wind-blown figure made his way back inside of the light freighter.

sj_green_divide.png

The sign over the place read The Hutt's Head Tavern.

The door flung open to reveal a rather severe looking security droid, who was ejecting a drunken Trandoshan into the street.

The alleyway smelled of stale ale and urine. The bloodied Trandoshan only adding to the already charming ambiance, as the small boy stepped over the drunken form there in the street. This was the kind of place you'd find on a number of worlds. Usually right outside the star ports, shipyards, and freight ports.

The core worlds just did a better job of masking these sorts of places. Or, they thought they did anyway.

Jast Shipwright Co.

A rather interesting place to find a company that was developing support frigates dedicated to electronic warfare. Less so, armed freighters.

In either case for which, the boy had something to discuss with these folks.

[member="Hala Jast"]​
 
[member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]

Jast Shipwright Co.
Office

There was nothing so special about Hala's office, nor her building. she'd designed it that way, to fend off folks who came with an ill will. Just about the best feature was the blast door and the shotgun she had strapped under her desk. Other than that it was a plain grey steel building with a few couches along the walls. Her office was the ground level and it looked more like cluttered library/study of sorts.

"Miss Jast, one Sor.... something to see you?" Her protocol droid asked.

Hala nodded, brushing back a lock of flaming red hair, and peering at the scribble she was making on a piece of flimsi. A rough sketch of a battle station type space fortress.

"Ya ya. He's expected. Send em in."

She scribbled a few more lines and then leaned back, smearing her face with charcoal as she wiped off some sweat.

"Get some of those nice cocktails too CP-8. Please."

"At once Miss Jast."
 
"Get some of those nice cocktails too CP-8. Please."

It seemed he was expected.

"Shirley Temple," the small Anzat noted. Then he held out one hand to motion for the droid to wait a moment.

"Three measures of ginger ale, one of fruit punch, half a measure of fizzyglug. Shake it until it's very ice cold, then add a large thin slice of lemon peel."

He had neither the body weight nor the metabolism to drink while discussing business. Or at the Sabaac table. It was the rule. Well, the second rule after you never count your credits when you're sitting at the table. But, as a second best rule, drinking during a Sabaac game was also frowned upon. It showed that you weren't taking the cheating seriously.

Besides, a shot of alcohol and he'd be silly for a short time and then off on a nap for the rest. But, if he was going to be left with non-alcoholic fare, he was going to order something he liked.

"Miss Jast," he intoned, picking up on the comment from the droid as he'd come in. Though he no longer wore the robes, the young Corellian still gave a slight bow toward the woman to demonstrate his respect in their meeting. As he straightened up, the tow-headed youth tacked on the obligatory, "My name is Xantha. Sor-Jan Xantha."

Of course, she likely already knew that.

"I was hoping that we might be able to negotiate a small purchase," the boy noted, in a somewhat off-handed manner. He was mostly interested in the Blackout model, but no need to bring that up at the start. Particularly since a corporation owning such a vessel could raise some... questions.

Of course, electronic warfare was also part of his business. But he tended to leave that out on the Tingel Arm.

"Some armed freighters to help support delivery of Corellia Digital's products and services to the Outer Rim," the boy remarked aloud, to get the conversation going.

[member="Hala Jast"]​
 
[member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]

"A pleasure to meet you Mr. Xantha."

Hala smiled, shaking the young boys hand. Or was he a boy? She didn't know. Most of her time had been consumed with expense reports and drafting up new ship designs, she hadn't done an actual background check on him.

Oh ship designs, they were a pain in the rear. And his choice of drinks was very odd, but the droid complied, moving off into the galley.

"Certainly, I'd love to."

She pulled out a soft plush chair, shoving a stack of books and random data cubes off of it. And wheeling it towards the desk.

"Here have a seat. I have plenty of choices for that. Looking for fast? That's the Jast 1 and 2 Freighter series. Got a couple of heavy hitters too. Jast 1st Rate and 2cnd Rate. Then let's see...."

She paused, flipping through a random datapad, eyeing her selection.

"Got a Blackout, and a Reclaimer. One's E-War and the other is Ship Repair/General construction purposes. Here have a look at the specs and see what ya think."

She handed him the data pad...

"I can make custom designs too, if you're looking to get a bit more....specific."
 
Of course, adults always wanted to sit down to chat.

...nevermind that his feet didn't reach the floor.

"Your freighters did catch my eye," the boy said, as he tried to get settled in the chair that was made for a substantially larger individual than he. "About how many of the Jast Two could you field?" the boy inquired, glancing up from the datapad. The production of the Jast Two seemed to be limited. And no surprise. The speed rating was what appealed to him.

If he could buy them all, he'd be prepared to cut the check right now.

"Twelve of the Jast Three, I expect," the boy said, continuing. That would give them a heavier freighter that wasn't as substantial a lift as their Liorre-class superfreighters. Those could continue running the super hyperlanes. Corellia to The Wheel or Sullust primarily. "And about a half dozen of the Jast One's to get started, I think," the boy added, lowering the datapad finally.

Once the freight provision was out of the way, they could move into the more interesting discussion.

[member="Hala Jast"]​
 
[member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]

Hala ran a quick series of calculations on her data pad as the drink arrived. Then she set it down, takings hers. The Protocol droid delivered Sor's drink next. Part of her wanted to scowl. She hated droids and found herself questioning whether she should scrap hers. But then he did prove useful for the small things.

She brushed aside the distractions.

"Jast 2's are tricky. Expensive. Probably about five, ten max if you got the creds. The rest of them won't be an issue. The Star Yards are working overtime right now to full fill a few local defence fleet's orders. Some of the others cancelled so I got some overstock. Give em to you at a discount."

She had a small contract going already, scribbling it as she went.

"Do you wish to buy refit and repair insurance with us? Will save your behind in the long run if they get damaged. Plus we made em, so we got the best chance of repairing them."
Even if they are a bit rickety.
 
If you've got the creds.

The boy gave a smile at that statement. For a moment, it felt like he was trying to enter a high-stakes Sabaac tournament. Tatooine Hold'em perhaps.

In any event, he hadn't salvaged the wreck of a Clone Wars era Venator as a corporate flagship because he skimped in the financial department. Besides, if he needed to make up the profit margin, he'd just raise the prices of [member="Bryce Bantam"]'s high-speed HoloNet service.

They hadn't raised prices in the Kathol Outback since 849 ABY, when the Corellia Digital network in this part of space came on-line. A twelve credit increase across the board in the Outback should recoup this purchase in only a few years. Especially if they did a twenty-five credit increase in the more centrally located worlds.

"So, that's a half dozen Jast Ones, ten Jast Twos, and twelve Jast Threes," the tow-headed vampire noted aloud. It seemed they'd arrived at an agreement there.

"Our shipyards are located in Laekia, out in the Tingel Arm Region," the boy noted, as the conversation turned to repair insurance. "Perhaps, in addition to the repair insurance, we could work out an arrangement to have Jast provide maintenance to our corporate ships operating in this sector."

After all, contracting out the maintenance was going to be cheaper than flying the Intervention out to the Kathol Outback every time one of their freighters had a major systems failure.

[member="Hala Jast"]​
 
[member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]

"That is totally doable my man. Let me plug in the deets."

Hala scribbled away on her datapad, compiling his order and then passed it to him. the contract stated exactly what he wanted, as well as maintenance insurance for a lifetime, with just a small surcharge.

"Will the you be needing anything else Mr. Xantha?"
 
"I think that should suffice for our public-facing operations," the young Anzat opined in response.

He took a sip of the Shirley Temple. Not bad for a droid bartender. What were they stocking back there? Gordon's ginger ale? Something in there had a sweet finisher. A little more sweet when a little more bitter might have worked better.

The problems of being the oldest kid in the galaxy. He was on a crusade to find a good Shirley Temple.

"I wonder if we might do a bit of a deal on the side as well," the boy inquired casually. Not that people didn't know that their Corellia Defense subsidiary, but he did try to keep their military contracts out in the Tingel Arm region out of the media as much as possible. A telecommunications company was absolutely harmless, after all.

They just did electronic warfare in addition to HoloNet service. "I'm sure some of your clients like a certain amount of... discretion with these things. I was thinking maybe two Jast First Rates, two of your Blackouts, and three Reclaimers."

The Blackout seemed like the ideal platform for testing some of their new remote slicing technologies. As well as field testing the Self-Propelled Multi-Vector Battle Droids for jamming resistance.

[member="Hala Jast"]
 
[member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]

Hala grinned. That was heavy hardware. Fleet type stuff. There was more to this kid than met the eye and she was intrigued. Glancing up at him she nodded and then swiped right on the data pad, entering a block key to encrypt the data. She jotted down a few words and passed the flimsi to Sor.

"This'll be your block key for this transaction. Encrypted, level 4. Military grade."

She jotted down a few more notes, drawing up another small fleet of craft in the inbox of the contract.

"That's heavy stuff Mr. Xantha. May I inquire as to what kind of work a Digital company needs the heavy hitters for?"
 
Once, not very long ago, he'd been servicing a telecommunications satellite for the Galactic Alliance. He had an old MC42 Ruisto salvaged from the Levantine Sanctum which was not intended to be a ship-of-the-line. Redundant shields, good engines, and not a lot of weapons.

A One Sith gunboat had decided to try and interdict him. It turned into quite the ordeal. After which, the boy had started developing Corellia Defense and consolidating a more battle-hardened capability organic to his company's assets.

But, no need to get into all of that. "Corellia Digital operates in parts of the galactic map where no stable political faction exists," the boy offered simply.

Pirates were a problem even in politically stable space. "From time to time, we run into... local trouble," the boy explained. She could fill in the rest. Pirates. Smugglers. Con artists. If you were on a hyperlane in these parts of the stars, chances of getting grabbed by an interdiction field and a gaggle of half-drunk arseholes in some Z-95 chop-jobs was higher than people might imagine.

"Sometimes before we can launch a telecommunicates satellite, it's necessary to remove some problematic elements."

But, enough about that.

"How would like payment?" the young Anzat asked. "I can arrange for aurodium ingots if you want to avoid any... traceable transactions."

What either of them listed on their taxes was their own business.

And need not be disclosed.
[member="Hala Jast"]​
 
[member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]

"Pirates eh. Figures. Run into quite a few myself. 1st Rate will make quick work of em. Just be sure to get a fighter compliment. No point defense's if I recall."

She finished the scribbling and slid the pad to him.

Taxes were not an issue for Hala, but she did love untraceable currency. That stuff could be invested anywhere and she had a lot of devious ideas as to where that cash could go.

"That sounds legit to me. Sign here if you will. It'll be forwarded to you within a day and the vessels should be underway in a fleet formation within the week. Wan't them delivered to a nuetral location? Avoid prying eyes?"
 
"This is about the only place in the galaxy I'd say is away from prying eyes."

...and then, only because Sor-Jan owned almost all the functional ComSat satellites that were in orbit.

"We'll pick them up here when they're ready," the boy said, rising up from his chair. This had been an easy bargain to make.

"If there's nothing else, Miss Jast?"

[member="Hala Jast"]​
 
"Excellent," the boy answered, with a nod.

"I look forward to doing business with you," he added, as he turned to make his way back out of the establishment.

New business contracts were always opportunities for future growth on both sides. Perhaps if Jast ever made an initial public offering, he might even go in on stock options.

[member="Hala Jast"]​
 

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