Wanderlust Wares. Near or far, we're where you are.
A stage-in-a-box was set up on one of the lower levels in what might pass as a town square of some kind -- large enough open area for a large group to congregate anyway. Stairs led up to the elevated platform one either side, and a tall backing helped people in the back see whoever was on stage. In this case, it was a slender, silver figure made of metal whose arms were in the air as peoples' attention were drawn by the announced company slogan.
"Goood afternoon, Kaddakis. I'm so glad you all could make it," the synth voice called out over the speakers suspended overhead. Flyers had been passed out for the last week announcing some sort of traveling merchant was coming to, er, Sliver.
"I promise you won't be disappointed. But before we get to the free goods there's just one, small detail we have to cover. Won't take long."
"You've set up homes out here on the rim. Found gainful employment -- whether people agree with it or not -- and have a stable community. Friends. Family. People you've come to rely upon because you know out here surviving all on your own is hard. We all want it, but monsters and criminals lurk around every corner. Governments bent on galactic domination pass through now and then. Leaves good, solid people like yourselves wondering who you can trust." Alora slowly moved from one side of the stage to the other as she spoke.
"You there, sir," a gloved hand shot out over the crowd to a a pair about to slink away.
"Yes, I mean you in particular, kind sir. You've heard this before? Maybe you don't believe you need what I'm selling because you have 'family' that provide food, drink, shelter, and stability. Probably at the expense of others, but it's a hard life, am I right? Well you haven't heard my pitch yet, and I think you'll find it pressing."
Alora's visor swung back out to the rest of the crowd.
"You see, fair folk, crime pays. You know this because you've lived it. Whether you were stolen from or did the stealing, credits were exchanged. It's worked. It's familiar. But that's all it's done -- worked, because it doesn't pay well. It's allowed you to survive, but ask yourselves is surviving all you desire? Is toiling every day just to have a roof over your head all you dream of because it's all that can ever be out here? And what if that changed overnight? What if you had a chance to be showered in credits for less work? To build a home, raise a family, heal the infirm, set off to see wonders that sound like children's stories... That is what I am peddling to you all today. Not a product, but a dream."
The HUD in her helmet fed data back to the
Gambit loitering on the other side of the Sliver. Faces and dispositions of those in the crowd. Body language that shifted and changed as the young Mandalorian woman spoke.
"It will take time to make that dream a reality, but it starts today -- with you. To those eager to take hold of their new future, and claim their stake in a brighter tomorrow, come forward. Come! I must leave to aid in bringing about that dream, but I leave two terminals here," Alora's hand swept toward the base of the stage,
"for you to make known your desires. And for the criminals among you most know you have the most to gain; seize a chance to make credits without being pursued by the Authorities, because they are closer than you know." Everyone was so fixated on ending crime that the logistics hadn't quite fit to the plans. So, they cleaned up the streets and convinced the mucky mucks to join up, and then...? Well they needed people for what happened next. People that knew Kaddak and the Sliver. Knew who to speak to, where the supplies were, what the terrain was like. Enclave resources with local knowledge and they'd get the engine of progress revving in no time -- or at least a lot sooner than flailing their arms around would.
"And to those that register, three meal packs a piece!" That was the carrot alluded to in the flyer; and they covered more than merely three meals. There'd be plenty of stick by the end of the day. Alora hoped enough of the criminals had been lured here for 'free handouts' to make the stick less bloody. Even if only a few accepted the offer.
Alora stepped over to the side where a rape dangled from the
Gambit now overhead. She gave the crowd a wave before the line drew her up into the air. The stage would stay behind, at least for now.
As the airlock on the bottom of the ship sealed with Alora inside, the Mandalorian asked aloud,
"So?"
"What?" A synthetic, masculine voice rung out in the machine bay.
Alora rolled her eyes as the prickly response.
"Is everyone else in position yet?"
"I detect multiple pockets of beskar moving in the surrounding region," the
Gambt replied.
"And one M.I. Mandalorian Assault Walker."
"We have one of those?" Alora tipped her head a bit to the side.
"Well let's get a move on then. Sounds like they're going to be getting into a trouble."
"I am not a combat vessel."
One hand waved in the air to acknowledge the obvious. Alora had built it after all. Well, severely modified it; practically built it. Just hadn't welded the actual frame together.
"I don't need you to assault whatever base they're going after directly. Just get me over to them before the fireworks start, if you're so concerned."
The sensation of the deck shifting ever so slightly under Alora's feet told her they were in motion.
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