Private Shadows of Tol Amn

[Zak Dymo]

[ ghost ]​

| The Oktos Nebula
| Hutt Space

The Pantoran winced.

This ship handled about as well as a Hutt on a diet. Reaching across, the blue-skinned youth tried for a third time to adjust the lateral controls in order to smooth out their flight profile. As he stretched the arm over the console, his face contorted in visible lines of pain.

The boy had his shirt off. A loose pad was taped over shoulder, around which the skin was bruised and reddened.

There were any number of remedies available that would have alleviated the boy's discomfort. Even something a rudimentary as a kolto patch would have gone a long way, but they wouldn't afford for the branding to heal too clean.

Slaves didn't have bacta or kolto. Or health care in general. And Boo needed to look the part.

He didn't know the Master running the operation. The two had only met at the rendezvous at Ganath. From the briefing that he'd received back at Kashyyyk, Boo had been chosen for this assignment specifically because he understood slavery.

More than understood it. He'd lived it. Unlike those who had been born under the auspices of the Jedi, Boo had been born on a world under the control of the Sith. When he'd become old enough as to have been somewhat useful, he'd been taken as the slave and turned into a household servant. It was a harsh existence that had led to the deaths of many other urchins. It probably would have ended with his death as well, except that the Galactic Alliance -- no, not the current one -- had liberated him when the bombs brought the building down around the boy.

Doctor I Irajah Ven had found him in the rubble. When she'd taken him in, one of the first things that she'd done was to surgically remove the slave mark from the Pantoran. All slaves had them.

Even if he'd still had his, it wouldn't have been useful to them. Boo had been branded by the One Sith. A crumbled empire of a long forgotten reign of terror. Out here, there was a collective of Hutts operating a cartel. It had taken a bit of work, but the SIlvers had finally gotten good intel on what the slave mark looked like. It had enabled them to replicate the mark in order to infiltrate the group.

Which, was where the rest of the story came in...

The SIlver Jedi Concord had expanded to Nar Shaddaa and Nal Hutta, with a trade agreement that forbid, among other things, the Hutts from engaging in the practice of slavery within Concord territory. Except, no one was ignorant enough to believe that the slaving would stop there. The Hutt's business dealings extended outside the influence of the Concord.

That was where Tol Amn came in to the picture. An agriplanet, the Hutts had long exploited the world for food production, which was then transported up two piplines -- the Trax Tube and the Oktos Hyperlane. It made Tol Amn a point point of debarkation for money laundering prior to any goods or shipments making their way from neutral Hutt territory into Concord space. The food and produce came in, and any aurodium or financial assets included were tacked onto the cargo manifests as receipt of sales along the cargo ship's journey on the hyperlane.

A plausible explanation, except that unless someone was paying twelve aurodium ingots for a meiloorun, then the math wasn't adding up. The problem was, in order for the Concord to have any actual proof of that, they'd need to get their hands on the actual accounting records and cargo manifests. And that meant looking into what was happening on Tol Amn.

Except Tol Amn was outside Concord space. And, thus, outside the Antarian Rangers' jurisdiction. Or that of the SIlver Jedi. At least, in any official action. Even unofficially, any direct involvement by the Concord would be a scandal that could break the agreement with Nal Hutta.

So this was a mission that didn't exist. And, if anything happened to either of them, the Concord would claim to have no record of either. False identicards. False histories. Lives that couldn't be traced. Total fictions.

Shadows. All they were was shadow and shadowplay.

Of course, arriving in a ship from Concord space was going to be out of the question. And no one was going to get false ship records past a Hutt. They wrote the book on falsifying those records. No, if this mission was going to be a success, they needed their cover story to be real.

So they'd rendezvoused at Ganash and stolen this ship.

With apologies to the owner. But they were working for Jedi Council and Country, here. And, besides, this G9 light freighter was a flying deathtrap. Boo felt as though they might have just done the owner a favor.

Of course, a stolen ship required a false transponder and phony registration documents to be able to travel anywhere legitimate. But, they'd made contact with an underling for a minor Hutt underlord who seemed to be willing to bargain.

It was a foot in the door. From there, they could look around and try to feel out just what was happening on Tol Amn. What connection did the planet have to the money flowing into the Hutts? If the Silver Shadows were right, then evidence of a slave market would be found there. If they returned with just that, it could provide information on future ops to break up the slave trade that was still taking place on the Concord's doorstep.

In the best case scenario, they may actually be able to liberate some people and still bring information, all while keeping the Concord's name out of it.

Or maybe they'd find nothing, and Tol Amn was really just another stop on the way to Nar Shaddaa -- with the actual deals taking place on a planet that the Jedi hadn't gotten any intel on as of yet. That was a frightening possibility to consider, since it suggested a high level of subterfuge on the part of the Hutts.

"Assuming the stabilizer doesn't kill us, we should be exiting hyperspace in a few hours," the boy commented, checking the board before he turned to look over at human. Shagar? Something. With the beard, he reminded Boo of Théodred Heavenshield , except the man's face shape was closer to that of Makai Dashiell .

Maybe that was it. An older Makai.

Now that was a terrifying thought.

Their cover was simple. Maxer Shagar was posing as a fringer. An independent trader sort. Bounty hunter sometimes. Slaves when they weren't too much trouble. As for Boo, by posing as Maxer's slave, it helped to further remove suspicion of them being Jedi operatives. And, if there was a slave market, then selling Boo might give them some first-hand intelligence on the size or scope of the operations. Not to mention its supply chain.

Options and possibilities.

In a few more hours, they'd start to get more of an idea just what they'd gotten themselves into. And hopefully the rest of the mission would handle better than this ship.

 

[Maxer Shagar]

Current Alias: Martro Madhann
Location: Oktos Sector
Mission Objective: Investigate Tol Amn, find evidence of Slave Trade - obtain accounting records and cargo manifests

--

Maxer thought this might be one of the most unconventional missions that he had ever been sent on. It was definitely the first time he would be working with someone so young, which was the most unconventional part in itself.

He didn’t quite know what to make of his partner for this mission. He cast a quick glance at the blue skinned boy currently bent over the ship’s controls. Apparently the kid wasn’t nearly as young as he seemed, but he still looked to be barely a teenager to Maxer. And what sort of padawan was familiar with slavery enough to be sent on a shadow mission? The Jedi may ask a lot of their students, but being specifically chosen for a shadow mission, and a slave infiltration mission of all things, was...

His eyes roamed over the kid’s new slave branding and he internally winced. He wanted to offer Boo something to help relieve the pain but knew he couldn’t. It was more than having to look the part, the blue skinned boy needed to sell the pain of a new slave brand. And so he wouldn’t be allowed any pain relievers or healing items.

See? This was exactly what he was talking about. The kid was already experiencing conditions that would give even a full grown man pause, and the mission hadn’t even truly begun yet. If his moral backbone hadn’t been so thoroughly bent from the years he had spent working as a shadow, he might have vocally protested against putting a kid in this situation. A true Jedi knight would have, but Maxer wouldn’t. He knew that the mission was the mission, no matter what he might privately think of it.

The kid’s quip had Maxer looking up from where he was reviewing the information they had on Tol Amn. “Well lets hope it holds then.” He said running a hand through his greasy dark hair. He wondered briefly if his tone of voice was too dry. He wasn’t great with children. Mostly because he had hardly ever interacted with any. Should he try and be nicer? It’s not like it would really matter considering their cover... but maybe that actually meant he should say something nice now. Ugh he didn’t know. The mission, he should just focus on the mission.

Martro Madhann was his cover. It was one of his oldest aliases, and one that he had lightly used around Hutt space before. Martro was a slimy, money driven man and he lived by the mantra that no job worth a profit was beneath him. His appearance said as much. Maxer was currently sporting common smugglers attire paired with a relatively expensive grey coat. His visible weapons were limited to a single blaster, and for accessories his coat had a couple blaster burns and was torn at the edges, as if he had to have stolen a ship to get off a planet fast. Maxer’s long hair was down from its usual bun and slicked back, accompanied by a barely trimmed and ragged beard. Both of which had been left unwashed for the last few days.

“Let’s review our plan for when we arrive.” He spoke up and then paused to grip the pilot’s chair he was sitting in as the freighter had a particularly violent shutter. “If we arrive.” He amended under his breath when the ship stopped shaking. Piece of junk.

“Martro Madhann.” He said while gesturing at himself. “Will be meeting with an old acquaintance, and our contact, Girfiti.”

Girfiti was a Male Twi’lek, and an acquaintance of Martro’s from an old mission on Tatooine. He had met Girfiti while smuggling counterfeit weapons and the two had “bonded” over the profit that could be made from smuggling goods of the living variety. Long story short, Maxer had really been there to investigate a blaster black market, and he had later come by and busted the place in his official capacity as a Jedi. However, things had played out well enough that his Twi’lek friend had managed to escape long before the bust and therefore had remained none the wiser to Maxer’s true involvement.

Now the fickle Martro was back with a proposition for Girfiti. “I’ll start out by selling the story of our stolen ship and trying to get us the proper papers for this piece of junk. Girfiti cannot keep his mouth shut when money’s involved so I’ll try to work up some interest in the slave trade. Meanwhile you…” He said, spinning his chair around and looking at Boo to prompt him to continue.

Zak Dymo​

 

[Zak Dymo]

The Pantoran was watching the man like a hawk.

Well, like a terantatek would actually be more apt. The man was meticulous. Detail oriented. He wanted everyone to rehearse their lines before they went out on stage for Act One.

It was what Boo had come to expect from career operatives. It was all the traits that enabled them to survive an operation. Let alone multiple operations.

“Meanwhile you…”

"...get a few scans to see what we can find out about Girfiti's set-up," the Pantoran answered. Reaching down into a satchel by his leg, the boy produced a pair of slave manacles. The forearm cuffs were crude looking, save that one was actually an XJ9 disguised to look like a slave manacle. Cocking his head to one side, the boy casually pinged a Force sensitive switch on the manacle, prompting the wrist computer to fold out.

"Layouts. Security. Comm frequencies. Encryption protocols..." the boy continued, using his free hand to count off the laundry list on his fingers as he spoke.

Was there anything else? No, that was probably about it.

Dropping the false manacles back into the satchel, the youth continued. "It'll take them at least a day to generate the false records. More likely two or three, if they're doing the job right." Which, they were dealing with the Hutts. Quality assurance wasn't exactly a thing out here. "Even if they rush it, should be simple to convince them a mechanical difficulty requires a longer stay in the docking bay."

Yanking an old fashioned coin purse from out of the satchel, the Pantoran tossed the weighted pouch over at the man. Inside, the pouch had a loose assortment of wupiupi, trugats, and peggats. "At the daily rate, of course," the boy amended.

Hopefully, Maxer had studied up on his Hutt economy. For himself, Boo had only a vague notion of which coins were more valuable than the other. He was accustomed to Imperial credits. And then the economy on Midvinter was practically a barter system.

"Lightsabers are going to be conspicuous," the youth commented, reaching back into the satchel. This time, he tossed a HSB-200 in a drop leg holster over at the man. "Looks tough, but it's absolute chit," Boo added, supplying the commentary as he explained, "Poor accuracy, even worse effective range, and not enough stopping power to stop a rampaging Jawa."

It was perfect for a Fringer. It was all about the intimidation and the show.

This time, instead of reaching into the satchel, the boy reached around to where he had a subcompact pistol soft holstered. "Briletto PPK," he offered, holding it up briefly before he flipped it over to the man. "Standard issue for First Order Security Bureau..."

The boy paused then.

"...well, they used to be," he amended dryly. After all, how long had it been since he'd been a Knight of Ren? He'd heard that the government of Dosuun had re-established itself, but he'd imagine that by now they were using different tech.

Continuing on with the explanation of the weapon, the boy concluded, "Small, like a hold out weapon, but it's got the power of a full-sized blaster," the boy went on to explain. "Twelve round power cell. The switch on the side adjusts lethal and stun settings."

With that, the Pantoran sat back and folded his arms, waiting to see if there was anything else that Marto might have wanted to know.

 

[Maxer Shagar]

Current Alias: Martro Madhann
Location: Oktos Sector
Mission Objective: Investigate Tol Amn, find evidence of Slave Trade - obtain accounting records and cargo manifests

--

Maxer had the feeling that the Pantoran was watching him closely. It was a bit strange. Shouldn’t their roles be reversed? He should be the one watching and evaluating the kid to make sure he was ready for this mission. Wasn’t that what he was doing? However he still couldn’t shake the feeling that he was the one under more scrutiny at the moment.

Whatever. Maybe that’s just what kids do. How would he know?

Ignoring the prickling feeling at the back of his neck he nodded along as he listened to the kid walk through his role, and reacted quickly to catch the bag of coins that was suddenly thrown at him. He skimmed through the contents and smiled appreciatively. These would certainly help. While the Hutt economy was more or less made up of whims, deals, and favors, having some solid credits wouldn’t hurt. Especially not when Girfiti was involved.

He didn’t know what to expect with Girfiti’s setup on Tol Amn. The only knowledge he had to go off of was from their previous encounter on Tatooine. And back then Girfiti’s setup had been surprisingly sophisticated. The Twi’lek may be a money hungry, slaving bastard, but he wasn’t a slouch. Boo could expect at least a security detail or two, encrypted data, multiple frequencies, and more, depending on how deep Girfiti was involved with the Hutts this time around.

Well, at least he’ll be busy.

Next the boy began unpacking some blasters. Maxer pushed himself out of the seat he had been lounging in and came to peer over the Pantoran’s shoulder as the boy methodically began explaining the functions of each blaster. He accepted the HSB-200 with an internal groan. He had used that model of blaster many times before, and it really was as chit as the boy said.

However, on a job, appearances really were everything. So Maxer tucked the HSB into his leg holster, (only a little reluctantly) and took the next pistol that was offered.

This one he hadn’t heard about, and he slowly turned it over in his hands to examine the switches as Boo explained their functions. Something about Boo’s comment seemed off, but Maxer skimmed over it for now. There was no reason for him to pick apart everything the boy said like he would a fugitive. First Order Security? That was interesting. But damn, this thing was small.

A singular eyebrow raised in disbelief as Boo went on to say that it still had the firing power of a full size blaster. Well if that was true, this little thing would be quite handy indeed. He tucked the Briletto away against the small of his back. Hidden enough that no one should notice unless he was thoroughly searched, but not so hidden that it would seem suspicious for a fringer to have.

At least with Martro as his cover, Maxer could have a little leeway weapon wise. It was a shame that it wasn’t enough to bring his lightsabers along as well though. He would have to leave the pair of silver hilts behind. At least for the first act of their plan. It wasn’t anything for him to stress about, he had survived many times without them before and this time would be no different.

When the boy finished explaining he mirrored the Pantoran’s position, crossing his arms and leaning back against the seat that he had previously been sitting in. “I can see that this isn’t your first rodeo.” He said in a tone of approval. “Where did you learn about all this stuff?” He gestured in general to the weapons and tech. His only expression on his face was genuine curiosity. Boo was a bit of a mystery to him, he seemed unusually capable for someone who looked so young.

Zak Dymo​

 

[Zak Dymo]

Where did you learn all this stuff?

A good question. With many complicated responses. "I was born a slave," the Pantoran offered stoically, as his amber eyes moved to meet the man's own gaze. "You probably figured that out."

That explained why he was chosen for the assignment. It didn't answer the question. "The Knights of Ren found me. Convinced me that my mother was dead and they were the only friends I had," the boy supplied. It was ripe with omissions. Vast swaths of information glossed over so the simplicity of boiling complexity into something easily distilled into a single sentence.

If the dossier that the Shadows had supplied Maxer Shagar had not included mention of Assak Tey, then the boy would hardly be surprised. Save for if (or when) Boo became a target of the Silver Shadows, then connecting her death with him didn't serve any purpose for them. They'd save that fact in their back pocket. For whenever they needed to discredit or disown him. It was the whole spy game. You were a valuable member of the team, and then you were a liability.

"My initiation was an execution," Boo admitted, choosing to leave it at that. Instead, he focused on the method of grooming. "Do what they said, when they said. And be able to look someone in the eye as you did it." It had the benefit of being effective. Those who obeyed, lived. Those who didn't obey were of no use to the Supreme Leader.

It inspired loyalty, of a type. At least for a time. "I was ten. Field ops at eleven. Counter-espionage, assassination, infiltration," Boo recalled aloud, counting off on his fingers again as the memories of Bespin, Lorrd, and Sernpidal came to mind. He'd omit a few. Insurgency. Topple a government here or there. Torture a rebel spy to death.

None of it had been personal. It had been business.

With a shrug, the boy casually concluded, "Received a deep cover assignment within the Silver Jedi at twelve. Met the Heavenshields." Standing up, the boy casually added, "My last name should fill in the rest."

With that, the boy gestured toward the navi-computer. "Only a couple of hours before we arrive," the boy noted, before walking over to where the bunks were located.

"I'm going to get some rest."

 

[Maxer Shagar]

Current Alias: Martro Madhann
Location: Oktos Sector
Mission Objective: Investigate Tol Amn, find evidence of Slave Trade - obtain accounting records and cargo manifests

--

He had figured that Boo had been a slave, it was pretty much the only reason that he could think of for why he would be on this mission in the first place. But besides what little the Shadow’s had provided him, the rest of the kid’s story was pretty much a complete mystery to him.

The Knights of Ren, his initiation, his training, though Boo seemed to be opening up, the kid’s response was ripe with deliberate omission. He spoke in a way that Maxer felt was deliberately casual and weighed. As if the kid was considering how much, or how little, each word would tell him.

But could Maxer blame him? No, not really.

He was pretty familiar with how to act like you were saying a lot while simultaneously giving nothing away. On missions and off of them. It was easier that way.

Unfortunately, Maxer’s own limited experience with the groups Boo spoke about kept him from really chipping away at the mystery. But he got the gist. Though his expression was purposefully neutral, he looked at the boy with a new weight behind his eyes. Appreciation maybe, a touch of understanding, but also assessment. His initial judgment of the boy had been very wrong in terms of his strength and capability. Maxer would be sure to factor in what he knew now going forward.

He had questions he wanted to ask as well, but got the hint that the kid wasn’t interested in hearing what Maxer had to say. So instead he let Boo pass with only a nod in response.

“Good idea. We may have a rough couple days ahead, so get in some sleep while you can.”

When the boy moved over to the bunks Maxer turned around and retook his spot in the pilot’s seat. Despite what he had said, he would not be resting now. With only a couple hours to go before he would have to become Matro, he wanted to enjoy his last couple hours as himself awake.

And besides, out of the two of them, it wasn't Maxer who might be losing out on the most sleep in the coming days.

His mind chewed over what Boo had said as he waited. He was not very familiar with the Heavenshields. Too much time spent away from the temple and other Jedi in general meant that Maxer was always behind on news or politics. But it seemed the boy had been adopted and fully converted to the Jedi way, otherwise he wouldn’t be here. He briefly wondered if the Heavenshields knew what Boo was doing at the moment, and what he was being asked to do in the next couple of days. What did they think?

Maxer had no family to speak of so in a way he envied the boy. Having somewhere to go home to after a mission, or someone who cared; he probably didn’t suffer from the same loss of self that Maxer did. Then he immediately felt kinda guilty. What a depressing thought. Being envious of a boy who had obviously suffered through most of his life too. He mentally chided himself. Shame on him.

He should keep his mind occupied. He flipped through the notes he had on the mission, double checked their covers, and tripled checked to make sure there was nothing on the ship that would compromise them. When everything looked to be in place, he sent a message to Girfiti with their ETA. He ideally wondered if the Twi’lek would be there to greet them as they landed. He leaned back in the chair and propped his feet up on the dash. It was hard to tell. Guess in a couple hours he would find out.

Zak Dymo​

 

[Zak Dymo]

He'd managed about four hours of sleep.

It was enough, or would have to be. He got up and made his way to the autochef to see what their options were. The answer was, not a lot. In the end, the boy settled for a cup of caf and some dehydrated fruit pellets.

The caf was basically brown water. He was glad that his grandmother, Coci Heavenshield , wasn't tasting this. The woman more or less had caf running in her veins. This sad semblance of the beverage would likely have offended her religion.

The fruit pellets were interesting to say the least. The flavor was an almost inedible combination of banana, cilantro, and lime. The consistency was almost a jelly in the mouth, but then the aftertaste seemed to transform the palette into the Tatooine desert. Were these even safe for Pantorans to consume?

The boy simply gave a shrug and ate another one. It was calories. And nutrients, or maybe some soluble fiber anyway. And they had no way of knowing when they'd eat again, so this was better than nothing, even if it was worse than anything else he could imagine.

Making his way back to the forward portion of the cockpit, the boy dropped into the chair opposite Maxer Shagar as he re-familiarized himself with the navigation plot. "Reverting to normal space in one minute," the youth noted in a matter of fact tone. He'd defer to Maxer at the pilot control, opting instead to handle the co-pilot responsibilities.

"Ten seconds," the boy uttered, as the countdown approached. The sub-light checks were all normal. That port stabilizer was borderline red on the console board, but it was operable and there wasn't really anything to be done for it in-flight.

"Mark," the boy noted, signaling for Maxer to take them out of hyperspace. When the man had, the boy remarked, "Transferring power from hyperdrive to sub-light engines."

Making a series of adjustments on the console, the boy paused a moment to verify the power transfer before he added, "Reuplsors on standby." They were now ready for intra-system flight and re-entry. "Landing coordinates loaded. Southern planetary hemisphere. The landing zone is currently on the night side of the planet."

Was it a city? Shadowport? That remained to be seen.

"Well, now you'll get to see just what your contact has been up to," the boy noted wryly.

 

[Maxer Shagar]

Current Alias: Martro Madhann
Location: Tol Amn
Mission Objective: Investigate Tol Amn, find evidence of Slave Trade - obtain accounting records and cargo manifests

​

--

He had been lounging with his feet still propped up in front of him and his eyes closed when Boo woke up. He opened one eye just in time to see Boo approaching the autochef to try the caf and fruit pellets. The Pantoran’s expression was fun to watch as he tried the latter. Yeah, those were pretty bad. Kid handled it much better than Maxer had the first time, he had been nowhere near as composed and had spit his right out. The cilantro flavoring in particular was its own brand of nasty.

But now, years later, his sense of taste was so desensitized to them he could down handful after handful no problem. He popped a couple more in his mouth as if to prove his point. There was a trick to them, it was best to let them touch your tongue as little as possible. Swallow them whole if needed.

When the kid dropped into the co-pilot seat Maxer finally swung his feet down and got ready to take them out of hyperspace on Boo’s command. The ship rattled like it had been struck by lightning but held together as they entered normal space.

Maxer nodded at Boo’s statement and approached the night side of the looming grey planet. They entered the planet’s atmosphere and he steered the ship towards the spaceport coordinates that Girfiti had given him earlier. Tol Amn’s clouds were vast, dark and ominous but there was no actual storm happening as they descended. Maxer thought that was a blessing as the janky ship continued to shutter and shake as they descended lower and lower. He was a decent pilot, but he didn’t relish the thought of piloting a beat up G9 light freighter through a lightning storm.

They flew over what Maxer knew to be the city of Cando and then flew further, passing over the public landing docks. As they closed in on the coordinates, they were hailed by an incoming transmission. Making brief eye contact with Boo, he nodded and allowed it through.

“You’re approaching a private spaceport, state your business. Over.” A static covered voice greeted them gruffly.

Maxer cleared his throat before responding. “This is Martro Madhann. I’m here to see Girfiti. The landing code is, er...” He pulled up the message he had received from their contact and repeated the landing code. There was a pause. “Roger that. You’re free to land Mr. Madhann. Master Girfiti is expecting you at the docks. Over.”

Oh great. It seemed they were going to have a welcoming party. He rolled his eyes and shot a look to Boo as if to say be ready for anything.

“Guess we might be finding out sooner rather than later.” He responded dryly in response to Boo’s earlier comment.

He took them down through the grey sky until a landing dock came in view. He noted with interest that it was right on the edge of Cando city, bordering a scattering of city buildings and an industrial area. As they dropped lower, he caught sight of a small collection of buildings sitting innocently behind a tall fence and gate; which effectively closed a part of the industrial area off from the rest of the city. Yeah, he could practically smell the illegal operation fumes emanating from that place.

He landed the freighter with as much grace as he could, which was not much. The ship came down with all the grace of a flying bantha, and it made as much noise as one too. “Janky thing.” He cursed under his breath. Once they were on the ground, he glanced up and gestured towards the gated buildings. “Looks like we’re in luck. There’s definitely plenty to see here.” He remarked as they powered the ship down. He peered out the windows of the ship to try and get a better bearing on what they were walking into but instead he caught sight of an approaching green figure. He grimaced. Guess it was go time already.

He stood up and gave himself a brief once over, patting himself down to make sure everything was in place. He pinched the bridge of his nose to mentally prepare himself and glanced at Boo.

“Well whenever you’re ready, kid.”

He slicked his hair back and made his way towards the back of the ship. He punched in the controls for the ramp and watched it descend, slowly revealing a well put together green-grey Twi'lek accompanied by what looked to be a small security detail standing in the background.

“Martro!” Girfiti greeted his arms extended wide.

Maxer mirrored his posture as he walked down the boarding ramp. His face split into an ugly grin as he approached, Martro was the type of man whose smile was all teeth.

“Girfiti! How good to see you.”

Zak Dymo​

 

[Zak Dymo]

“Martro!”

Maxer Shagar 's contact was a greenish tinged Twi'lek. The Pantoran had to look the part, so he kelp his eyes downcast as he made himself a meek shadow trailing in arm's reach of the man that they'd need to believe was a convincing master. Hunching his shoulders, the blue skinned youth managed to make his already slight figure seem even smaller.

He kept his eyes down, on the ground, though his peripheral vision and a few subtle uses of Force Sense helped to frame the docking bay they were in. Three guards. Two flanking Girfiti, a show of muscle, while the third hung back with a blaster rifle that was the real threat.

“Girfiti! How good to see you.”

Tol Amn was an agriplanet. The space ports were filled with freighters coming and going to pick up more produce. The workers were a mixed bag. The usual races exploited by the Hutts -- Weequay, Klatoonians, Gammorreans -- mingled in with the odd assortment. The latter probably courtesy of the slave trade.

Who was who was largely indistinguishable. Boo just assumed the answer was that the guy holding the gun or the whip was in change.

Part of him wished that'd brought Azi from Midvinter. With so many farms, pests were likely to be plentiful, which might have allowed a creature that looked like a black rat snake to get by without much notice. Which, could have given him a second pair of eyes with his Vongsense.

Except how would he have explained that to Maxer? Oh, hi, this is my Yuuzhan Vong biot that the Sith Lord I used to serve kept in his gorram garden of various man-eating plants? Plus, Azi made a terrible spy. The moment she saw a squirrel, she was going for it.

"Martro, you said you needed papers for a ship."

The Twi'lek stepped past the man, nearly colliding with Boo as the Pantoran backpeddled out of the way. "But this," Grafiti uttered, gesturing toward the magnificent flying toaster as he turned and uttered, "I thought you had better taste than this."

Dropping his voice slightly, the Twi'lek mused, "Must have needed to leave a planet... quickly, eh?"

 

[Maxer Shagar]

Current Alias: Martro Madhann
Location: Tol Amn
Mission Objective: Investigate Tol Amn, find evidence of Slave Trade - obtain accounting records and cargo manifests

--

Maxer let out a peel of fake laughter. “You know me.” He responded jovially. “Can’t help but get into trouble.” His tone abruptly sobered as he glanced back at the flying rust bucket of a ship. “Though this wasn’t a deliberate choice I assure you. More of a spur of the moment thing. Can’t be picky when you’re trying to save your neck, right?” And he was back to smiling, nudging Girfiti’s shoulder with his own as if he had told a great joke.

“But before we discuss business, tell me what you’ve been up to! I mean look at this place, it seems like you’ve gotten yourself quite the upgrade since we’ve last crossed paths.” He gestured around vaguely but took careful note of the guards and other inhabitants of the space port. “I’d love a tour.”

Girfiti hadn’t skimped with the show of muscle. Not completely unexpected, an increase in profit had made his Twi’lek friend a little more cautious, but Maxer would have to be more careful. Which meant in Martro’s case, act even more dumb and incompetent. Martro was a pretty brain dead cover, mostly known for being good for sniffing out credits, saving his own skin, and little else. His general lack of competence only worked cause everyone figured he was too stupid or lazy to try anything.

He locked eyes with Girfiti with a sly expression. “Most of cost you a lot of credits to get an upgrade like this…”

He suddenly closed the distance and slung an arm over Girfiti’s shoulder. Ignoring the Twi’lek's mild look of discomfort, he leaned over with a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ve been hearing some rumors about this place, about where all these credits might be coming from.” Girfiti suddenly shot him a look and Maxer held up his palms in mock surrender. He grinned even wider. Bingo. “Easy now. I’m only talking cause I think I’ve got something you might be interested in.”

He nodded his head towards Boo and then grabbed the boy's shoulder, shoving him forward. "Get over here.” He snapped, acting impatient.

He turned back to Girfiti with a wide smile. “Eh? What do you think?” He kept up his obvious scheming expression, acting like a man without an ounce of subtlety. “Got somewhere I could unload this cargo? For a price, of course. Might even be willing to trade, if you got something of, lets say, similar value.”

Zak Dymo

 

[Zak Dymo]

"Unload him?"

The Twi'lek gave a derisive snort at the suggestion. "Where? My dinner table?" the man asked. Then, taking a step closer, reached up a hand to examine the Pantoran's face. Squeezed his shoulder, then down his arm. And finally shook his head.

"Farms require a lot of work, I doubt this one could even lift even ten kilos," Grafiti uttered flatly, making a dismissive gesture as he offered, "Toss this one back where you found it. Or bring me a Devaronian, hmmm?"

A toothy smile was bared. "We would both be rich men then," the Twi'lek murmured. Then, the man gave a faint nod of his head. "If you are looking to sell him, Kanjiklub sometimes happen by."

Boo's eyes flickered momentarily over toward the Twi'lek. Kanjiklub. There was a connection he hadn't anticipated. But, now that it had been said, that explained some of the hardware these thugs were boasting. The blaster rifle on the muscle that was hanging by the door to the docking bay, for example.

Now that he thought about it, the guard at the door wasn't like the others. They were clearly just for show. Entirely disinterested in the conversation or what was taking place. When Maxer Shagar had put his arm around the Twi'lek, neither had so much as flinched.

But the guy at the door? He had good posture. He was being attentive. Imperial Academy training? It wouldn't surprise him if the muscle was Kanjiklub. That one, at least.

"...perhaps they might be interested in the boy." Grafiti was saying, as the Pantoran returned his gaze back to the floor.

The Twi'lek's hand came up the grab the side of the boy's face for a moment. "I hope that this isn't your idea of payment," the Twi'lek warned, letting go of Boo as the green-skinned alien stepped closer to Maxer. "How are you going to pay for my help, good friend?"

 

[Maxer Shagar]

Current Alias: Martro Madhann
Location: Tol Amn
Mission Objective: Investigate Tol Amn, find evidence of Slave Trade - obtain accounting records and cargo manifests

--

His dumb, friendly expression remained plastered on his face even as he internally chewed over the information that had just been revealed. Kanjiklub. That was… unexpected, to say the least. And definitely a connection that needed investigating. Up front it was also a pretty big clue that there was definite criminal activity happening on the planet. If they failed their main mission for whatever reason, finding and bringing back a piece of evidence involving Kanjiklub dealings might be enough for the Silver Jedi to get started. He took a second to mentally up the stakes, and note that he might need to proceed more carefully. If any of the guards were Kanjiklub fighters, they might prove to be somewhat challenging. Unlike the rest.

His eyes flicked to the guards proving his point, before briefly glancing at the Pantoran to see how he reacted to the news. Didn’t even show the slightest interest, he was playing his role impeccably. Great.

“Well, let me know if they stop by sometime. I’m down to do business.” He responded cheerfully. Giving no outer indication of the thoughts that had just run through his head. At Girfiti’s next statement he was quick to fake a laugh. “Easy there, my friend. I’ve got the credits.” He dug around in his coat pocket until he found the bag of credits Boo had tossed him earlier. He shook some out and placed them in Girfiti’s open palm.

Then he leaned in, his tone abruptly serious. “You’ll get half upfront for the repairs, and the rest after the job is done.”

He didn’t actually give a crap about the money, the sudden seriousness was more out of principle than anything else. His cover was known to be stingy and money oriented. Just like Girfiti. If the Twi’lek decided to make a fuss and demanded everything upfront, or wanted something else entirely, he would give in easily. It was better to keep things quiet then make a fuss over something so petty, no matter how in character it was.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, but you can never be too careful.” He said, as if in apology. He didn’t wait for the Twi’lek to respond before continuing. “Also, I got more to spend.” He jingled the bag in emphasis. “Show me around, I’d love a drink. And I hope you’re not expecting me to sleep on the ship, I’ve had enough of those shitty bunks to last a lifetime.”

Zak Dymo