Private To Steal From A Thief

[Palm-Imer]

Credit.​

Location: Terminus.
Objective: Hire a smuggler.
Equipment: Two blasters (hip holsters), guard-shotos (belt clips in lower back, covered by cloak).
Wearing: Outfit.
Tagging: Wynter Rackham

Things rarely went according to the plan. Stuff happened, the unexpected was always to be expected and Palm knew to be ready for difficulties she couldn't foresee. But there was a difference between a relatively minor inconvenience such as a delay in the agreed upon time of delivery, a more serious setback like an engine in a rental freighter that suddenly decided to stop working when it was most needed and an absolute chit-show like becoming the target of a cartel who had been preparing to ship off cargo from Terminus' spaceports. A cartel who she had stolen from. All three had happened in the short span of two days, and the Ambassador had to keep a tight grip on herself to maintain her composure. ​

​

About a week ago she had been contacted by her superiors. One of her colleagues had trustworthy intel on a shipment that would be in Terminus, and among other things this shipment was said to carry a substance that the top authorities from the Geminian research and development laboratories had been after for a long time: Bloodory's distillation. Palm had a very vague understanding of what the fluid was, but that was not her task. Her mission was to acquire it and take it back home to those who were better prepared to study it. All she knew was it was old, that very few samples were left and that if they could rediscover how it was made, it would prove to be an invaluable step forward for her people. Well, that is if she managed to get the thing off-world in the first place.​

​

Palm had used her time to devise a plan, the cartel shouldn't have noticed the missing shipment until she was already out of orbit and heading back to Manpha on that wretched rental freighter where she would meet again with her apprentice, move the cargo onto her own ship and finally return to Geminidae. But of course none of that had happened. She had barely managed to get the stolen crates into an empty and decaying hangar bay owned by a grumpy old Sullustan who she had to bribe handsomely for her silence before abandoning the ship somewhere else. The rental freighter had been trashed by thugs and now Palm was stranded with a target on her head, running out of time and waiting in a dirty booth at a rundown bar for a smuggler she knew nothing of besides the recommendation of the Sullustan. She was skittish about this situation for it could very well be a trap, but she didn't have a choice and giving up her mission was simply not an option.​

​

The hood of her cloak was up, covering her head. She knew that the thugs had seen her with her facemask on so she removed it along with the makeup that normally covered her eyes. It wasn't much, but at least now she blended a bit more among the other humanoid women and wouldn't match their description so easily. The tight grip of nervousness could be felt deep within her chest, ignored only with effort. All there was left for her to do was hope the smuggler was as competent as the Sullustan claimed or get ready to face the potential consequences if he was not. She supposed this was what others referred to as being between a rock and a hard place, and Palm did not enjoy it.​

​

 

[Wynter Rackham]

Palm-Imer

The streets were absolutely buzzing.

Someone, somewhere, had royally screwed things up and caused a meltdown in the underworld. Someone had stolen from the Kalma Cartel and apparently holed up somewhere on Terminus. The price on their head was increasing by the hour. Wynter would have enjoyed joining this manhunt himself, really. The amount of cash in play could pay for rewiring, freight and having the Kalma Cartel be indebted to you?

Absolutely perfect.

Sadly someone called in a favor. Ol' Sullustan by the name of Darn Poo. Captain extraordinaire and one pain in the arse. He offers you a line of credit once, but after that you are on the hook for continued favors for years to come.

The man naming himself Wynter walked into the bar.

Briefly scanned the crowd, before seeing the booth that had been agreed to. Already someone sitting there. Cloak covered their head, which was pretty standard when someone didn't wanna be properly seen. Then again... nobody really wanted to be noticed on Terminus. Being noticed usually meant being in some kind of trouble, be that in the far or the immediate future.

He settled himself down opposite from ... her.

It was luck, for her, that Wynter had no idea how the Kalma's target looked like. Otherwise he would have left immediately.

Instead?

"Ma'am, you have five minutes to convince me this is worth my time." He drawled, while flagging down a drink for himself. "Cap' Poo is a pain in the arse, but he saved my hide a few times, so that much I can grant ya."

 

[Palm-Imer]

The Ambassador had been subtly watching the dingy bar's entrance, seeing patrons come and go as she waited to set her eyes on either someone that looked like a smuggler, which could very well be anyone in Terminus, or like they were out for blood. She certainly hoped to at least get another chance to accomplish her mission before luck decided to screw her over again, but right know 'hope' and her weren't on very good terms. Every minute wasted doubled her risk of being discovered yet the stakes were too high to stop tempting disaster and accept a defeat. ​

​

What to her felt like eons later, even though it was just a few minutes, a man looking to be in his thirties made his arrival. Palm's usually laid-back and welcoming demeanor was currently replaced by a blank and somewhat cold expression, the effects of stress and determination. She was pleased when the man took his seat across her and immediately cut to the matter at hand.​

​

There was no way for her to put things lightly, her situation was a precarious one and she knew no one in this planet was about to help her out of the goodness of their heart. Luckily she could offer an incentive a lot more substantial than the gratification of selflessness. ​

​

"High risk, high pay for your troubles. Any damages to your ship or person will be covered once its over, we'd need to leave right now." Her description of the job was short, simple and carried on the graveness of the matter through the serious tone of her voice. So as to not leave any room for doubts, the Geminian moved her hand and placed two small objects on the table for him to see: one a broken peace of duraplast with the Kalma cartel's insignia from one of the containers, the other a rectangular piece of well-refined and pure aurodium stamped with the geminian spearhead emblem, a single rainbow gem encrusted in its middle. An item produced only at the order of geminian royalty, and hopefully proof enough for the man that she could back up her offer.​

​

"Its a yes or no matter. As you can imagine I'm also a bit pressed for time." She was ready to receive a negative from the smuggler, it took a bit more than the promise of pay to get someone to go against the cartel. If this man wasn't big on risk-taking, she had just wasted precious minutes and possibly put herself in more danger.​

​

Wynter Rackham ​

 

[Wynter Rackham]

Palm-Imer

"Well, see, I actually like myself and mah ship, so covered won't.... cut..... it."

Those last three words dragged out as his eyes were dragged down to what Palm was putting on the table.

The next three words were unwelcome for the both of them. "Oh, kark me." He muttered, peering at that broken seal, like it was a Wampa with a bomb-vest attached to it. "Yar the idiot everyone is talking about." Slapping his forehead and leaning back. "Of COURSE that fethin' Sullustan would drag me into this."

His eyes closed, sighing deeply, this was the right moment to run.

If Palm didn't however?

He'd open his eyes and stare at her.

"Y'know, I was gonna sign up to hunt yar arse, dig?" Leaning back in, elbows on the table and taking a sip from his drink. "But now that I agreed to see you..." Ah, chit, Poo had done this on purpose. He knew his standards. It would be dirty to hunt this psycho now. And usually Wynter didn't mind rough and dirty, if it meant money coming in, but everyone had to have some sort of code.

Snapping his fingers.

"Double. Imagine a number in your head, a big arse number, then double it. Cus' ya ain't getting out of 'ere alive without my help."

 

[Palm-Imer]

She could very much relate to the man on that sentiment, all this was a mess. Although it was a mess of her own making, sort of, and she had dragged the smuggler down with her. On the other hand, getting caught up in other people's problems was an occupational hazard of his line of work, wasn't it?​

​

It had occurred to her that word of her little misadventure had spread by now, but hearing it said by someone else made a sharp pang of worry run down her spine. She didn't allow it to reach her eyes, or at least tried to. Then he went silent and Palm's breath caught in her throat. She should leave and try what little remained of her luck elsewhere...​

​

Relief flooded over her when he sighed and addressed her again. Not all was lost. At least not yet. "Then I'm lucky to have paid that Sullustan when I did." She mumbled, feeling grateful for what could have probably been the only thing that had gone right since her setting foot on Terminus. He then stated his price. Truth was, she wasn't even sure how much the Kalma were paying for her capture at the moment but she could take a guess. It wasn't good.​

​

A moment of silence and a defeated groan later, she agreed. "Double. But you get me and the cargo to Manpha right away." If they managed to get off-world with Bloodory's distillation, her superiors wouldn't care how many credits were spent. If they didn't...well, she was screwed if she stayed on Terminus anyways. He would become collateral damage, but at this point in time and with so much pressure on her she could live with that idea.​

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"The stuff is in the Sullustan's hangar bay, the dingy one." The description wasn't very kind, but she was sure there would be no confusion as to the one she meant. "If we hurry we might get off relatively easy, I think." ​

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A loud sound coming from outside the bar distracted her, followed by the voice of a droid operator over a loudspeaker.​

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"ATTENTION ALL PILOTS. TAKE OFFS HAVE MOMENTARILY BEEN UNAUTHORIZED. I REPEAT, ALL DEPARTURES ARE HALTED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. THANK YOU FOR YOUR ATTENTION."​

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Palm felt like smashing her head against a wall. Forget I said that last thing.​

​

Wynter Rackham ​

 

[Wynter Rackham]

Palm-Imer

"Dunno about luck, ma'am, luck would be not BEING here at all, eh?"

His head was already beginning to hurt trying to think of the easiest way out. "Manpha, Bastion, fething Typhon for all I care. First we need to get off this rock and that's gonna take some doing. The rest is a blue milk run." The only ones that kept worrying about the destination... were the ones who weren't gonna live to see it in the first place.

Gotta make sure you were out first.

"Yeah, I know the place, he crones about it every chance he gets. Loaded up wit-" Before Wynter could say anything more? That gorram announcement rang through the halls.

He groaned and slumped his head into the palms of his hands.

"Pretty sure ya didn't just steal from 'em, ya must have insulted their manhood at the same time." A barrage of curses escaped his lips, before he pushed himself off the chair. "Well, no time like the present, let's go and get ourselves killed in the pursuit of money." Eyeing her up and down, rubbing his brow there.

"You look too clean. One look at yar face and folks will be asking questions."

Gesturing for her to follow him out back.

The alleyway should be clean enough... and have enough garbage cans for what Wynter was thinking next. "Now- don't assume that I take any pleasure in this. It certainly isn't to punish ya for draggin' me into this, savvy?" A lazy grin there as he leaned against the wall. The wall with the garbage bin already being opened by him.

 

[Palm-Imer]

He did have a point, couldn't deny him that. But what's done is done and there was nothing to be gained but more irritation from allowing herself to keep on questioning the events of the last two days. Right now, 'just getting off this rock' seemed like a wonderful idea and she was going to keep her focus on that.​

​

"You can call me Palm." It wasn't meant to be a polite introduction, but the possibility of her getting killed while in the company of the smuggler was higher than she'd like to admit and Force-forbid the last thing she gets to hear was an old ladies' form of address. ​

​

She wouldn't be surprised if his half-hearted joke held some truth to it. She had almost been caught, managed to escape and did have to sort through some opposition. That seemed like it would be enough to upset a cartel who wasn't used to getting messed with in the first place, ego was a fragile thing. "Not like that is something difficult to do, though." She commented, deciding to keep the rest of the story to herself.​

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One of her eyebrows curved questioningly as he examined her, curious as to why. His next words surprised her and left her quite perplexed, it only took one look around the cantina to understand what he meant. Already dreading what would come next, she stood from her place and followed him without much questioning.​

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Her expression went blank when she finally caught on to his plan.​

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Being too past the limits of her patience to try to get out of this some other way, she took a deep breath, sighed, and waited for him to get a hold of a garbage bag. Once he did, the geminaie met his grin with an accepting stare that held a hint defiance that she would not act upon. "Oh, go ahead and enjoy it. I don't think you'll ever get a chance like this one again." It was not every day one got to cover a stranger in waste, specially if that stranger had just become their employer. Palm could accept the humor of it, even if it was at her expense. ​

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Wynter Rackham ​

 

[Wynter Rackham]

"Sure, miss Palm. S'long as ya coin pays I will call ya whatever ya want."

Still that miss though.

Almost like Wynter wanted to aggravate her and who knew? Maybe that was the case. It certainly would be in character. Nothing about this was to Wynter's liking in all honesty. Oh, he did some charity work here and there. Helped out a fellow spacer in trouble. That was part of the Code. You didn't steal and rob yar own.

That was just bad taste.

This one?

He could smell it off of her. Rich, maybe not quite royalty, but she oozed that certain sense of comfort only the higher classes had. Nothing wrong with that, of course, as long as you could rob them blind.

Darn Poo really caught him over the ringer with this one.

"T'ah, ya would be surprised how many folks I have covered in garbage." Grin morphed into smirk, before he dragged out a garbage bag. That also caused his duster to be lifted slightly. Just enough to catch a glimpse of the weapons attached to his belt. The revolver, and knife, the smaller pistol and the blackjack attached to his inner-coat.

Smugglers didn't often have that array of arsenal on them.

Before Palm could question it however? He already deposited a bag of garbage over her. Bananas, apple clockhouses and the works. "Should do another one, jus' to be sure." Wyn drawled and unless she physically moved to stop him? He'd drop ANOTHER load over her. This one smelled even worse than the previous one.

"Now... take a step back, spin around, show me whatcha got."

Like they were on a fashion show.

If it was made out of garbage.

Palm-Imer

 

[Palm-Imer]

His answer was unexpected, and even though she would have never thought it possible given the sour mood she was in, it put a smile on her face. A smile she would soon have to erase unless she wanted to get trash into her mouth as well, of course. Palm was sure there were more than a few things that would surprise her from the tales of a smuggler, could have been an interesting conversation had the circumstances been different.

"That so? I might consider smuggling as a career then. Can think of some folk I'd like to bury in garbage." Whether the comment was meant as a joke or as a way to distract herself from the horrifying experience she was about to go through, she didn't know. Maybe it was a bit of both.

She had kept her eyes on him, and the weapons he carried did not go unnoticed when they were momentarily revealed. The woman was thinking over her words when she felt the waterfall of waste and grime fall over her. The smell was worse than a punch to the stomach. It made her nose sting and her eyes water, and she would have gagged had she not stubbornly stopped herself only to refuse him that satisfaction.

"Wait, n-" He threw a second bag and her resolve crumbled, forcefully closing her stinging eyes as she covered her mouth and nose with her hands. Probably a bad choice since they now smelled like garbage too.

Once it was all over the geminaie settled her gaze on his. She looked like a kicked puppy, although a somewhat angry one. "Sure you don't wanna add another one in there? For good measure?" Her sarcasm was evident, but she suddenly didn't trust him to not take advantage of her words and so began moving, taking a couple of steps towards him.

She had not forgotten about his arsenal, but decided to save that question for when they were someplace safer. Besides, she didn't think he had seen the lightsabers clipped to her lower back. Its not like she could issue any judgments on him, but she was curious. "I smell just as good as you now, so what's next?"

Then a commotion could be heard somewhere near, and Palm turned until she could see the cantina's backdoor once more. Angry voices came from within, and she had a feeling it wasn't just your average bar fight.

Wynter Rackham

 

[Wynter Rackham]

Palm-Imer

"You, a smuggler?" The thought was infinitely amusing to him. "Perhaps we can switch roles then. You can be the cutthroat smuggler and I will be the emissary of a powerful world, handing out gold like it is candy." At the back of his head was still that temptation. He could do it. Knock her over the head, sling her over his shoulder and deliver her straight to the Cartel.

Wouldn't that be a beauty?

They pay him royally, but more importantly he'd have their thanks and that was its weight worth in Coaxium.

"Oh, well, if you insist I certainly can find a third bag." But then she stepped forward and gave him a glance of his work. "No, honestly, it's perfect, you smell exactly like ship grease left in the scorching sun. Almost like me."

Instead of leaning back however... he leaned in. Closing that distance without any shame.

"Still attractive under the grime however, miss Palm." Drawled low and lazily, before she spun around at the angry noises at her back. He followed her glance and grunted. "Yeah, looks like they followed you or your trace alright. Won't be long before someone points out where the pretty lass with the royal bearing went, so let's take a hike."

Before they could depart however?

He reached out and plucked a banana peel off her head. "A bit overkill, but I appreciate the commitment." Still so close there. Entirely inappropriate, before Wynter dropped the peel in the bin and led the way out of the alley.

"Got two ways from 'ere that aren't gonna be patrolled that much." Behind them more screaming, angry, loud. "Sewers below, or the Thieves' highway above." A glance over his shoulder to her, up and down again. "While I think yar would fit neatly with the sewers right about now, let's take the highway. You any good at climbing?"

 

[Palm-Imer]

Palm wasn't expecting him to get closer, she was thoroughly decorated in garbage after all, but it made her curious. She could have stepped away, instead her head tilted slightly to the side as she looked at him without hiding the intrigue in her eyes. If there was one thing Geminians were known for was their almost complete lack of sense of shame, making one uncomfortable was a feat to be achieved.​

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A slight smirk pulled at the corner of her lips at the "miss", and overall, amusement surfaced in her expression at the comment. "Thank you! It's great to know I can pull off this look," She said, a slight hint of good-humored sarcasm in her tone and a chuckle following after. ​

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The geminaie nodded and followed, even if no one inside the cantina had paid her much attention it wouldn't take long until someone pointed the way to the backdoor through where two people had hurriedly excited moments before. Better they didn't hang around for long, Palm wasn't very eager to keep on trying her luck after the series of unfortunate events that had been this trip.​

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Her attention returned to Wynter when he raised his hand to remove the banana peel. She grimaced at it, and knew she wouldn't feel clean again for a long time. One of the prices to be payed for this little escapade. Once more taking notice of his closeness, she was unbothered by it and still held that glint of curiosity in her eyes. It could have even been considered an entertained look. ​

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"Oh well, good thing you are around for final touches then. I'm sure you are proud of your work." Had their roles been reversed, she would have definitely been happy at the idea of covering the person that had just potentially ruined her day in trash. Couldn't blame him for it.​

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Following him out of the alley, she made sure to keep an ear out for the noise coming from the cantina. "A pity, some good stagnant sewer water would have been a great addition to this whole urban fragrance thing we were going for." Truth was Palm felt relieved when he decided it was better to take the so-called Thieves' Highway but didn't let the opportunity for a small joke slip away. Then his last question reached her ears and her lips broke into a wide smile. "I have some experience." ​

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A loud thud in the distance made her quicken her pace a bit and soon after the noise she had guessed to be the cantina door being thrown open and hitting the wall; the sound of heavy, rapid footsteps and angry hollers followed. "Better we move fast, Mr. Smuggler"​

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Wynter Rackham ​

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[Wynter Rackham]

Palm-Imer

The many layers of witty sarcasm did a lot to amuse Wynter.

Usually he'd have a retort for every one of them. Sadly they were on a schedule. The schedule of not getting executed by the Cartel, so he was mildly distracted.

Just mildly, of course.

Not at all worried. No, sir, definitely not worried.

"Do you? Many mansion walls to climb when bored, miss Rich Emissary?" Wyn drawled casually, while ignoring the commotion behind them. Instead looking around. Trying to find... something... specific. "Ah, there we go. Follow, please." The Thieves' Highway was nothing more than a decades-long side project of all the Honest Men working throughout Terminus City. Hiding away easy accessible footholds to go up the roofs. The roofs themselves modified throughout the years with little hiding nooks, warning signs, the works.

More shouts down the alley, but he reached out and if not stopped by her tugged into the nook of the alley. Shadows covered them there, so at least for the moment they were out of sight.

"Alright, see this wall? Now look again." He tapped one of the bricks. Nothing. Just a plain arse wal- certain sets of them suddenly gave away. Fleeing back into the bricks, until there was a perfectly serviceable way up for them both. If you weren't afraid of climbing for several levels up without any protection anyway.

"Ladies first."

A grin there as he gestured with a flourish.

 

[Palm-Imer]

She smirked at his question. Well, Palm certainly had some good memories of climbing competitions against her brother and the fifty something other kids she had shared her home in the Atheneum with, that is, until the Mentors came around to get them down and give them a proper scolding. She was sure that wasn't what he had in mind though. "Right behind you," She called and followed him closely, still keeping most of her attention on the steps and voices behind them.​

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For that same reason, she wasn't exactly prepared when she was dragged into a dark nook, and a look of surprise only worthy of a scared animal took over her features. She barely managed to keep her balance, placing a hand on one of the man's shoulders to steady herself and avoid crashing into him. Once her mind caught up with her body and she realized it was just him, she sighed and the surprise was replaced with relief. "Could've used a warning there, I've been a bit jumpy lately, you know?" Her voice didn't carry any anger or irritation, just a plain and somewhat funny truth.​

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Palm raised a curious eyebrow as he pointed at the wall. Bricks, there were bricks in the wall.​

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Initially she had thought he had used the expression 'Thieves Highway' as a figure of speech, but it appeared to be an actual, very real thing. As she watched the bricks give way, she turned to him with an amazed look on her face. "This must be a secret only shared with the most honorable, law-abiding citizens, right?" She jested, offering him a smirk.​

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Apparently she was still in for more surprises here in Terminus, and they better be kinder than the ones received so far or she'd made sure to jump off of wherever it was they would be climbing onto.​

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The geminaie gave a short laugh at his flourish before she moved forward to the recently formed way up towards the roofs. "Such a gentleman," She said with amusement and theatrical admiration. Soon after, she began her ascent, her body quickly falling into a well coordinated and quite quick rhythm.​

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Every once in a while her eyes would look down, to see how he was doing. She also knew the lightsabers clipped to the back of her belt would be easy to notice from his point of view, that is if he looked up. Not much she could do to avoid it if it did happen, so she saw no point in worrying about it.​

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Wynter Rackham ​