Noah Corek Jr.
More Than My Name
Outer Rim Asteroid Field
Shadowport
Junior’s eyes darted back and forth as he walked down the hallway of the Shadowport. This wasn’t the first time that he had visited such a place and it was this he knew to watch where he stepped and who he interacted with because besides being a home for smugglers they were also a hotbed for mercenaries, pirates and gangs of all sorts.
However it was the smugglers who inhabited the shadowport who were his current target. Well target mwas the wrong word, a more apt descriptor was more like goal as he was looking to hire one for a job. He was given a recommendation by an unlikely source, his aunt Stardust. She knew of a Zeltron smuggler who frequented this shadowport who she thought might be willing to help.
The help he needed was of course smuggling but it wasn’t technically authorized by the Alliance High Command or the SIA, whom he had been more recently assigned to. No, this was a personal task that had been handed down to him from his namesake, his father. With his homeworld having fallen, Coruscant, the older Corek had decided to get back into the arms smuggling racket, in particular smuggling them to anti-Imperial and anti-Sith guerilla groups.
The current haul his father had given him? A dozen crates of blaster rifles, a half dozen crates of varied grenades and about two hundred kilos of detonite. In all? The building blocks any rebellion needed to take the fight to an occupier.
It took a few minutes but he finally made it to the cantina that had been set as a meeting point, little more than a hole in the hall carved from the rock of the asteroid with some stools and a bar top. It didn’t take him too long, mostly owing to the small interior of the cantina, to spot his intended. Stepping up to the bar he leaned against it and next to
Jahzra Rocvard
and ordered. “I’ll take a Whyren’s Reserve, neat.” The drink was both something someone might order anywhere else but also was a pre-determined code phrase to prove he was the client.