Public Zydrate Comes in a Little Glass Vial

[Kinley Pryse]

You've been hit by... you've been struck by...

Just hand the woman money, and if someone's gotta die, Kinley Pryse won't even blink an eye

​

The bass hit hard enough to rattle teeth. Colored lights strobed across the packed dance floor, washing the club in waves of violet, crimson, and electric blue. Bodies pressed together beneath the pulsing glow, laughter and music blending into a single intoxicating rhythm. The air itself seemed alive on Zeltros. Sweet perfumes mixed with sweat and expensive liquor while the planet's infamous pheromones worked their subtle magic, lowering inhibitions and turning every glance into an invitation.

Kinley Pryse loved every second of it.

She lounged in a curved booth overlooking the chaos below, one boot propped casually on the table. A half-empty glass rested in her hand while a small mountain of credit chips sat hidden beneath her jacket beside her. The payroll job had gone smoother than she'd dared hope. No blaster wounds. No frantic chase through back alleys. No bounty hunters breathing down her neck.

Just credits. A lot of credits and some poor dope as the fall guy ( Corin Vale ). The job had been enough that she could afford to celebrate for once instead of immediately planning the next score. The music surged and the crowd erupted with cheers as a new song rolled through the speakers. Kinley grinned and tossed back the rest of her non alcoholic drink.

Of course, she wasn't entirely off the clock.

A steady stream of customers found their way to her booth throughout the evening. Some came looking nervous. Others came looking desperate. A few came looking to impress someone they probably shouldn't have been trying to impress. Kinley didn't particularly care about their reasons.

Spice, glitterstim, dreamdust, and a handful of more exotic substances sourced from worlds most people couldn't find on a star chart. She had what they wanted, and they had credits.

Simple business.

A young nobleman's son practically tripped over himself trying to look cool as he made a purchase. Kinley pocketed his credits and watched him disappear into the crowd before shaking her head.

"Poor kid won't remember half tonight."

A Smooth Criminal

 

[Tarin Kosh]

"They were more addicted to self destruction then to the spices themselves ... there is something romantic in the tragedy of it" - Old Friend | Tags - Kinley Pryse

His networks always worked fast.

Zeltros was a world where money could buy just about anything a person desired. Exotic luxuries. Dazzling sights. Experiences that would leave many sentients ashamed they had ever indulged in them. It also happened to be one of the best places in the galaxy for those operating on the wrong side of the law to earn a great deal of credits.

Some, perhaps, was an understatement.

One of Tarin Kosh's informants—a human who made a comfortable living as eyes and ears on the ground—had passed along word that several lucrative substance deals were being handed out as though the world were about to end. Usually, narcotics trafficking didn't sit right with Kosh. He had watched families destroyed by spice. Seen lives hollowed out by glitterstim. Entire communities consumed by addictions that enriched only a handful of criminals.

Perhaps today was the day he finally took a closer look, not at the substances themselves, but at the people moving them.

Quintus had demonstrated just how much damage the spice trade could inflict upon Imperial interests. Ignoring an opportunity like this felt less like caution and more like negligence. If he wanted to understand the networks responsible, he needed to start somewhere.

The meeting place was a gambling club where many of the transactions supposedly occurred. Convenient, a few rounds of sabacc or pazaak could get a man accepted almost anywhere. It was an easy excuse to linger, observe security, identify faces, and determine exactly what kind of operation was being run from the shadows.

He entered with deliberate imperfection.

His boots carried traces of mud. His jacket showed signs of wear. A faint layer of dust sat across his shoulders. It was the look of a spacer who had spent more time chasing work than comfort. On Zeltros, appearances mattered, but so did authenticity. Looking too clean could be just as suspicious as looking too poor.

The music was loud. The drinks were expensive. The air was thick with vice. Perfect.

Scanning the room, he quickly located the contact he had arranged to meet. An aging gambler who greeted him with the enthusiasm of an old friend. Tarin returned the favor, settling into his chair and allowing the games to unfold naturally.

Cards were played, credits changed hands, stories were exchanged. All the while, he watched casually, neither completely unaware nor overcommitted and greedy.

Eventually, he found what he was looking for. A woman, not because she stood out, but because everyone around her did.

Her corner of the establishment moved to a rhythm she controlled. Eyes drifted toward her constantly. Visitors came and went with suspicious frequency. More importantly, they weren't the usual collection of gamblers, drunks, and petty criminals that filled establishments like this. Nobles, government officials, corporate figures, the sort of people who spent most of their lives pretending to be respectable.

Kosh almost smiled. Those were always the easiest ones to exploit.

The woman herself lounged comfortably beneath an antique hat from some bygone era, carrying herself with the supreme confidence of someone who knew she was the most important person in the room and had no reason to hide it. A major player.

Exactly what he had come to find.

So he waited. Patience was often the difference between gathering information and becoming information, the opportunity would arrive soon enough.

A young man—far too young to be spending his evening in a place like this—hovered near her table. The poor fool looked utterly captivated. Whatever she was selling, he was buying. Kosh could practically see the disaster unfolding already. A ruined inheritance. A devastated family. Another life fed into a machine that existed solely to consume people.

Perhaps tonight he could prevent a few more from following the same path.

He stacked the deck in his favor, finished the game, and cashed out almost perfectly even. The old gambler seemed delighted simply to have survived the evening without losing everything. One charming smile later and Kosh was on his feet.

He crossed the room casually, stopped beside a nearby pillar, and leaned against it as though he belonged there. The shadows seemed to favor him.

When he finally spoke, his voice carried the smooth edge of someone intimately familiar with the galaxy's darker businesses.

"Damn shame."

His gaze followed the departing young man.

"He's going to miss a fine deal."

A faint smile touched his lips.

"Friend of mine struck it big recently. Looking to cash in."

His eyes settled upon the woman beneath the antique hat.

"Thought you might be the sort of person worth talking to."

 

[Xyoz Maji]

​

Once upon a time, where Xyoz looked, spice flowed. He was the driving force, his spice lanes were endless as the stars, his credit count among the few richest in the galaxy. Or so he'd tell people as he poured another drink. Downed it just as quick with gusto. Not that it affected him. It'd make all that lost money and love at least bearable.

No such luck for the former crime lord.

Though, he did as ever fumble onto something. He perked an ear, glancing briefly towards a conversation close by as he poured another drink to down. Perhaps he wasn't completely out of the game yet.

Tarin Kosh | Kinley Pryse

 

[Kinley Pryse]

You've been hit by... you've been struck by...

Kinley Pryse fought the law but the law didn’t win ​

She had noticed him the moment he walked through the door. That was her job.

The club was full of people trying to be something they weren't. Merchants pretending to be criminals. Criminals pretending to be businessmen. Rich fools pretending they weren't rich fools. Most of them announced themselves within seconds.

This one had tried not to.

The worn jacket was a nice touch. The dust too.

The posture ruined it.

Nobody who spent their life hauling cargo, loading freighters, or sleeping in cheap docking bays stood that straight. They slouched. They favored old injuries. They moved like people who had spent years being knocked around by a galaxy that didn't care about them. This man carried himself like he expected the galaxy to move around him.

Interesting.

Her attention drifted elsewhere. Customers came and went. Credits changed hands. Drinks appeared and disappeared. A senator's son nervously purchased enough spice to disappoint several generations of ancestors. A shipping executive purchased enough to forget he had a wife.

Business as usual.

Her eyes drifted to a near table where a hyena looking thing sat. She forgot the name of the species but she was pretty sure she knew who that was. Spice dealers liked to keep tabs on each other. Game respected game.

Still, every so often, her gaze found its way back to the stranger. She watched the neat haircut, the clean shave, the white teeth.

Whatever story he was selling, it wasn't the truth, but tonight nobody was telling the truth. Maybe he was looking to put his perfectly straight toes over a line and dabble in some danger like some of the kids who bought her stuff.

When he finally approached, Kinley didn't acknowledge him immediately.

Instead, she lifted a glass to her lips and took a slow drink.

Her eyes remained fixed on the dancers moving beneath the pulsing lights. Music thundered through the club. Laughter echoed from a nearby table. Somewhere behind them, someone had just won enough credits to start shouting about it.

The stranger spoke.

Kinley listened.

The comment about the young man earned no reaction. Neither did the mention of a friend striking it rich. She'd heard better lies before breakfast.

Only when he finished did she finally turn her head. The brim of the antique hat cast a shadow across her eyes.

For a long moment she simply studied him. A faint smile tugged at one corner of her mouth.

"That depends."

Her voice was smooth and easy, almost bored. She swirled the amber liquid in her glass.

"On what you've got to say."


Tarin Kosh Xyoz Maji

A Smooth Criminal

 

[Tarin Kosh]

"They were more addicted to self destruction then to the spices themselves ... there is something romantic in the tragedy of it" - Old Friend | Tags - Kinley Pryse Xyoz Maji

He already knew this was going to be an uphill battle.

Some people climbed the ladder of the underworld through violence. Others through fear. The truly dangerous ones climbed through patience. They sat back, observed, and let others reveal themselves first. Kosh would not have been surprised if she had already picked up on some subtle inconsistency—a gesture held too long, a glance made too quickly, the countless tiny tells that separated professionals from amateurs.

Interest had to be cultivated.

It had to be shaped, teased, and given form until the other party could see the opportunity for themselves. Good criminals saw opportunity where everyone else saw risk. Great criminals saw both and moved anyway. So it came as absolutely no surprise when the woman in the antique hat offered him little more than a passing acknowledgment.

He had extended a hand. She had chosen to dance. The only question now was whose tune they were dancing to.

A small part of him found the uncertainty exciting. Every worthwhile operation carried that edge to it. One day, if fate decided to be particularly cruel, it might very well get him killed. Whether this encounter marked the beginning of something profitable or the first step toward disaster remained to be seen.

The feigned disinterest wasn't lost on him.

It was a classic maneuver. Give nothing. Reveal less. Force the other person to continue investing in the conversation while maintaining control of its direction. For now, she held the better cards. He was the one seeking something, which meant he was expected to provide. Nor was the extra ear lost into the conversation, across the room from some very interesting alien. Likely an enforcer or another criminal looking for the jackpot.

Most negotiations began this way.

Kosh adjusted his posture slightly. Just enough to reinforce the image he had already established. Normally this would be the moment to mirror her disinterest tactic, to imply he had other buyers, other contacts, other places to spend his evening. Let scarcity do the work for him, instead, he decided to try something different. The best lies often worked because they contained an element of truth.

His voice rolled toward her, smooth and conversational.

"Too much to say, too little time."

His shoulders lifted slightly in a casual shrug.

"Always a problem, ain't that the truth?"

A quiet sigh escaped him. Then his eyes settled on her beneath the brim of that stylish old hat.

"I got big game."

The corner of his mouth twitched upward.

"Courtesy of that friend of mine."

His gaze lingered for just a moment longer before continuing.

"If you've got the grit to tackle it."

 

[Xyoz Maji]

​

Big. Game.

It might as well have been a trigger word for the would be drunkard. He pushed himself up suddenly, his bottle floundering about before rolling off the table to crash into the ground. He fumbled a bit at that, staring at the broken bottle with quite the longing before he'd let out a heavy sigh. What a waste. He stood straight again, turning his eyes to the pair in their tense, subtle negotiations.

He stumbled over to them, snatching up a glass with a grin. A wide, joyful, probably drunk grin. Pretending to be drunk at least helped him disassociate better.

"Game? I heard game. I know this game. This the game game." He nodded once, throwing his arms over both their shoulders with a barking laugh.

"Let's go. Grit. Tackling! I'm always down for a good game."

Kinley Pryse | Tarin Kosh

 

[Kinley Pryse]

You've been hit by... you've been struck by...

Kinley Pryse broke a thousand hearts before she met you, and she'll break a thousand more before she is through ​

"Well, so much for a quiet evening."

Kinley wasn't exactly hunting for work. Her last score had paid well enough to keep her comfortable for a while, but comfort was a luxury her employer rarely tolerated. If this straight-backed stranger had something worthwhile to offer, it would be foolish not to hear him out.

Xyoz, on the other hand, seemed ready to sign a contract before a single detail had been shared. The Hyenax practically bounced over, grinning ear to ear at the prospect of a lucrative job. Kinley arched a brow, amusement flickering across her features as she watched the spice dealer nearly trip over his own enthusiasm.

"Easy, Xyoz," she said dryly. "Let's hear what the man's selling before we decide if we're buying."

She gestured toward the empty seats across from her booth, inviting them both to sit. The music still pulsed through the club, vibrations humming through the table beneath her elbows as she leaned back and studied their visitor.


Xyoz Maji Tarin Kosh

A Smooth Criminal

 

[Tarin Kosh]

"They were more addicted to self destruction then to the spices themselves ... there is something romantic in the tragedy of it" - Old Friend | Tags - Kinley Pryse Xyoz Maji

The interruption was... interesting.

The eavesdropper from earlier had clearly been drinking a little too much, his enthusiasm crashing headlong into the delicate tension that had been building between Kosh and the woman in the hat. Annoying, perhaps, but far from unwelcome. In fact, it revealed something useful.

There was desperation here. Maybe not in his target specifically, but certainly somewhere within the room. A restlessness. An itch beneath the skin of the criminal underworld.

The Core was fractured. The old order had collapsed. The Sith ruled large portions of the galaxy through fear and ambition. By all accounts, criminal organizations should have been thriving. Smugglers, dealers, enforcers, fences—every parasite that fed upon instability should have found fertile ground in the chaos.

Yet they hadn't, or perhaps they had, only to discover that the new masters of the galaxy had little interest in sharing.

An intriguing thought. With Black Sun shattered and centralized criminal authority reduced to memory, perhaps the underworld had once again entered one of its periodic dark ages. A time where only opportunists, dreamers, and fools remained. If so, that created possibilities.

The Empire had always sought to impose order upon chaos. Why should crime be any different?

The thought amused him. Of course, such ambitions belonged to another day. Another operation. Another future among the countless futures stretching out before him. Every word spoken here could alter which of them eventually became reality. For now, he focused on the present, the alien's hand found his shoulder briefly before he smoothly slipped free of the gesture. Across from him, the woman maneuvered through the interruption with equal grace.

Interesting. Very interesting.

Xyoz. A name, importantly, a connection. Kosh filed the information away immediately, these two knew one another. The familiarity was subtle, but unmistakable. Whether they were partners, associates, rivals, or something in between remained to be seen.

However, he pretended not to notice. One of the fastest ways to earn suspicion in his profession was demonstrating just how much one noticed. So he smiled, played dumb. The possibility of a two-person con wasn't lost on him, but acknowledging it gained him nothing. The woman, meanwhile, had offered him a seat and expressed interest in his proposal. Things were progressing nicely, perhaps forcing proximity had accelerated matters. His handlers would likely have disapproved. Manuals generally frowned upon improvisation.

Fortunately, manuals rarely attended meetings like this. A wider smile spread across his face.

"The enthusiasm is noted, my friend."

His eyes flicked toward the alien.

"But buy me a drink before we start holding hands."

The joke landed lightly, easing some of the tension lingering in the air. Always move with the current, never against it. The seat had been offered and there was no reason to refuse.

"The gesture's appreciated."

He settled comfortably into the chair.

"Call me Kosh."

His posture reflected exactly what he wanted it to: a young man carrying himself with the confidence of someone who had seen more than his years should reasonably allow. Ambitious. Capable. Slightly too smooth for his own good.

"Yeah, big game."

He leaned back slightly.

"Got a contact looking to pay well above market value for bulk product. No questions asked."

His fingers drummed once against the armrest.

"As long as the quality's there."

A small laugh escaped him.

"And the packaging."

For a brief moment he acted as though a thought had only just occurred to him. Whether it was genuine or deliberate was impossible to tell.

"Forgive me."

His gaze settled comfortably on the woman.

"It's rude not to ask."

A polite smile followed.

"What name would you like me to use?"

The offer was intentional, he wasn't asking for the truth, he instead was giving her the opportunity to lie, and any smart criminal knew exactly what that meant.

 

[Xyoz Maji]

​

"If he's sellin' anything as good as Giggledust it'll be worth it, trust me. I got a nose for this kinda business."

Confident as ever. He flashed a wider grin towards Kinley. He once was the galaxy renowned Giggledust seller, back when he still owned the plantation world Gordo the Hutt had given him. Back when the Black Suns once knew who he was verbatim. Now he was just a washed up dealer looking for the thrill of a score.

Supposedly, anyway.

He paused though as Tarin explained more. Not a seller, but an in between for a buyer? He released his grasp, holding up his hands for a moment before he'd step away to gather up a drink. Another bottle, one he set down a suspiciously large amount of credits. Finest booze, here. He set down the bottle as he himself took a seat, sprawled out. Grinning as ever.

"If they're looking for spice though, Giggledust'll be the mark."

Tarin Kosh | Kinley Pryse

 

[Kinley Pryse]

You've been hit by... you've been struck by...

Someday the Force might get Kinley Pryse but the law never will ​

The smile never quite left her face, though it shifted subtly as the pieces settled into place.

A buyer.

A seller.

And an old spice peddler who'd attached himself to the conversation like a mynock to a power cable.

Convenient.

Too convenient.

Kinley lifted her glass and took a slow sip, brown eyes moving between the two men beneath the shadow of her hat. The newcomer called himself Kosh. Maybe that was his name. Maybe it wasn't. In places like this, names were usually just another outfit people wore.

"Well, Kosh," she said pleasantly, setting the glass down. "Anyone offering above market value either has more credits than sense, or they're buying something a little more valuable than they're admitting."

Her gaze lingered on him a moment longer. "Funny thing is, both kinds tend to be dangerous." The comment was delivered with a grin that made it impossible to tell whether she was joking.

Then she glanced toward Xyoz and the bottle he'd just purchased. Clearly Kosh had caught the hyena's attention, but she wasn't sure if he had hers yet.

Returning her attention to Kosh, she leaned back in her chair.

"The name is Kinley Pryse but most people who ask for real names around here end up disappointed."

Her fingers tapped once against the table.

"So you've got a buyer. That's nice." A pause. "But buyers are easy to find." Her eyes narrowed slightly, studying him. "The trick is figuring out why someone you've never met is sitting in a room full of criminals offering premium rates for mystery merchandise."

The grin returned.

"Because from where I'm sitting, that sounds either very profitable..."

She tilted her head.

"...or very Imperial."

The last word hung between them like smoke.

Then she laughed lightly, as though she'd merely made a joke.

Maybe she had.

Maybe she hadn't.

The truth was Kinley had a bounty on her head and three active Imperial warrants. Those facts didn't bother her, and she never would have even considered them in this part of the galaxy if he hadn't been so damn straight-backed. The Imperials liked to beat the slouch out of their recruits. Still, it was just a hunch, and honestly, if it proved correct pissing off the Empire again would break up the monotony around this place.

"Xyoz can get you Giggledust. I can haul it." Kinley knew enough to know that there was no way Xoyz had lost all his connections. Her was a business man and a smart one. No way he didn't have something stored somewhere.

"What be the terms?"

She took a toothpick out of her jacket and unwrapped it slowly, before putting it in her mouth.




Tarin Kosh Xyoz Maji

A Smooth Criminal

 

[Tarin Kosh]

"They were more addicted to self destruction then to the spices themselves ... there is something romantic in the tragedy of it" - Old Friend | Tags - Kinley Pryse Xyoz Maji

The tragedy of the modern galaxy was that Imperial and profitable had become two very different things.

The more energetic of the pair—the hyena—seemed particularly enthusiastic about moving Giggledust. A start, certainly. But if Kosh intended to build something sustainable, they would need access to larger quantities, more varied products, and a network capable of surviving beyond a handful of transactions. Still, enthusiasm had value. Sometimes more value than competence.

His attention returned to his original target.

Kinley Pryse. An interesting choice of name.

Whether it was genuine or fabricated hardly mattered in the moment. Either way, it was useful. Names always were. A lie could tell you just as much about a person as the truth if you knew where to look.

Kosh listened carefully as she dissected his proposition. She wasn't wrong, a man arriving alone, offering lucrative contracts with little apparent security, should have raised alarm bells. Most people in her position would have either walked away or tried to rob him already. Instead, she chose to investigate. That alone spoke well of her.

Then came the observation.

Very profitable, or very Imperial.

The word didn't even register on his face.

Years ago, it might have. Back when every frightened smuggler, spice runner, and petty criminal imagined Imperial Intelligence lurking behind every shadow. Empire had always inspired paranoia. That was one of the reasons it had been so effective.

Still, of all the possibilities she could have suggested, she chose Imperial. Interesting.

A corrupt senator could have been behind an operation like this. A corporation. A cartel. Any number of interested parties. Yet that wasn't where her mind went.

Perhaps the criminal underworld needed something it wasn't currently receiving, perhaps there was a vacuum forming, perhaps somewhere deep beneath the cynicism, people were beginning to wonder whether the return of organized authority might actually be preferable to the endless chaos consuming the galaxy. Or perhaps she was simply fishing.

Either way, the thought was worth remembering.

Eventually the terms emerged. Xyoz would handle acquisition, Pryse would oversee transportation, a sensible arrangement.

Though he noted neither seemed particularly interested in discussing production. Most criminals thought in terms of moving product. Very few thought about controlling its creation. That could come later. For now, all he needed was the hook.

Silence settled over the table, Kosh allowed it to linger before finally looking up. Then down again, then back to the pair seated across from him.

"I'll be honest, the product itself isn't the difficult part."

His voice dropped slightly.

"I can find suppliers, I can find buyers."

His eyes moved between the two.

"What I can't find is long term reliability."

The word hung there for a moment.

"The galaxy's become crowded with idiots."

A faint smile appeared.

"Pirates pretending to be businessmen. Gangsters pretending to be kings. Every two-bit smuggler with a freighter suddenly thinks they're running an empire."

His shoulders rose in a casual shrug.

"I'm looking for people who can actually deliver."

He leaned forward slightly.

"The arrangement's simple."

A finger tapped against the table.

"You source what I ask for."

A second tap.

"You move it where it needs to go."

A third.

"I provide the contracts."

The smile widened.

"And I make sure everyone gets rich, 10% premium minimum within the contracts."

 

[Xyoz Maji]

"I forgot how serious you guys cannget when it comes to crime. Relax. This ain't a place where cops get in, unless they're looking for their cut." Xyoz barked out a laugh. He leaned heavily back into his seat, grin ever widening. There was a thrill here he seemed to be enjoying, much like a tourist almost. A love for the game, not for the money. He never did do crime for money, after all.

Pirates pretending to be businessmen was a very apt description for the Shistavanen. He idly glanced to Kinley, nodding once at her idea. His plantations still ran, even if he wasn't the crime lord of old any more.

He plucked a jar from under his jacket, casually tossing it right for the man sitting across from him. A bit mors oomph than necessary, but it was a reflex test.

"Never underestimate the product. Anyone can cut spice, and more often than not you'll find it spliced with whatever cheap shit someone thinks'll save them a buck. Good product sells. Better product sells for more. The best, sells for the most. You won't find anything better than my Giggledust. Give it a try, have a laugh. You'll see what I mean."

Kinley Pryse Tarin Kosh