A Short Time Ago in the Same Galaxy

The blackfish lands heavily, half of its brake flaps are destroyed and most of its computer systems are not responding, and Leslie was characteristically refusing to respond after Jaina had inadvertently mentioned how much she missed her old ship. Landing on the dark side of Cadinth had been part through necessity and part thought out. The best bet for us right now is to be somewhere where Humans are not free to do as they please. Here K could move freely, get some repairs organised on the ship and arrange some interviews. Their pursuers would not dare chance coming for them here, not if it came down to their word against K with the authorities. "Statement: I will be back shortly, you are to remain on the ship, meatbag." Jaina grinned at him as he turned to leave. She found what she needed and began some patchy repairs on the main engine. The more she behaved like a slave, the better for her.

3 hours later K returns with a large sack of supplies, and several workers accompanied him. The workers immediately begin work on the ship. Damn this ones going to be expensive. At least they were safe here, after the deal with the Gath family had gone sour things really weren't safe up there. Jaina knew she would have to confront Karem and make things right one way or another, but if she stepped back in alone she would be shot, she couldn't hope to match them up close, and there was no way he would come into the open to meet with her. She needed some protection on planet, or someone unconnected to her who could flush him out. "Did you find any likely candidates?" "Frustrated statement: Your insistence on using another meatbag makes that rather difficult here. It may take some time." "You know Karem will never open his door to a droid, maybe the authorities have a Gammorrean they've finished playing with. Keep looking."

Kara missed Nar Shaddaa. She missed the eternal night of the undercity, the hissing and groaning of centuries old HVAC that moved the polluted air around the dark buildings, the bright neon of the commercial strips, the smoky atmosphere of the bars and clubs. She'd known where she was - Her crew had watched her back, she'd watched theirs. And when you got told to smoke some suckers from a rival gang, you did it. Maybe you'd get shot up, maybe you'd get put back together, or maybe you'd die. Shit happened, and you dealt with it, moved on, and tried to learn something from the experience. 'cause that was life. And yeah, maybe someone would smoke a few too many death sticks, lose it and try and kill or rape you, but hey, that was what augs were for. It was amazing how enemies would melt back into the woodwork when you had a knife built into your arm. She grins savagely at the thought, and clenches her fist, causing a deadly looking blade to slide out from above her prosthetic wrist. The grin fades as she looks up. No danger from this crowd though. Her surroundings are a dark, smoke-filled room in the back of a seedy bar, if you could call it that. Most of the other guys in the room are out of their minds on various cocktails of drugs. What a fucking shithole, she thinks. And this was the friendliest place she'd found in her three weeks on the planet. Whereas Nar Shaddaa had been violent and dangerous but alive, this place felt cold. Sterile. You couldn't take a shit on this planet without one of those damn droids watching you. She'd come to Cadinth because the ride was cheap, she'd needed to get offworld in a hurry, and this sounded like one of the few places she wouldn't get arrested on sight. Well, she hadn't been arrested, but she hadn't exactly been treated with open arms either. She'd been trying to find work since her first day on the planet, but it seemed half-breeds like her weren't exactly in high demand. And given that her skills mainly involved a degree of violence and chaos, something the primes seemed to frown on, things weren't looking hopeful. Well, maybe something would turn up tomorrow. She sighs, sits back, and injects another hit of pryodene into her derm jack, bored out of her skull. Jeez, even the drugs here are sterile...

K wanders the city, he'd been turned away from every slave dealer in the city except one, who had not offered anything close to reasonable product, the stock was inferior even for meatbags. He had turned to the undercity and shady cantina's, looking for a mercenary who was desperate enough to look for employment on a J-world. He considered that Jaina was completely illogical in thinking she could find someone here, any half competent unemployed merc would be somewhere where they could actually get competitive employment rates. The best chance would be to find someone who needed to get off world fast; willing to die would fulfill their purpose as long as they were able to hold their nerve under pressure. He entered yet another bar, his optical processors scanning for likely targets. Someone looking jumpy and tight on their feet. Someone trying to look inconspicuous at the back of the room. A concealed blaster.

K walks through the bar, looking for someone only partially off their mind on chemicals. Yet another meatbag flaw, addiction. He half pitied them, half hated them and at the same time felt an old part of his programming trying to leap to the fore to unleash death upon them. Maybe later. For now he sits next to a large human towards the back of the bar, "Query: Are you currently seeking employment?" The man doesn't even look up, just brushes him away with a flick of the wrist. K weighs up the pros and cons of shooting him on the spot.

"Perhaps he's wondering," calls a weary sounding female voice from behind him, "why a droid, on a planet full of droids, would come to a place like this to find an... employee ." The stress on the last word makes quite clear the speaker's thoughts on the sort of jobs a droid might need a human for. K turns, and his optical sensors immediately pick out the speaker in a darkened booth nearby. Human, female, early 20s. Multiple cybernetic prosthetics. Biolumiescent markings in the hair and beneath the skin. The woman lifts a cigarra up to her lips, and the end glows briefly in the darkness as she inhales. A quick atmospheric analysis suggests the cigarra contains something more potent than tabac. "Rumour has it," she continues in a dry tone, "the rulers of this shithole find us organics interesting . All those organs and fluids and such floating around inside us. Such fun to poke around in." She takes another drag from the cigarra, then stubs it out on the table. The end flares briefly then crumbles to ash. "Nobody here's that desperate yet, drone . Why not buzz off and work your charms on some other suckers?"

K reholsters the half drawn blaster at his side. "Observation: You distrust my motives, yet you draw attention to yourself despite acknowledging that on this planet my position is considered above yours. Conclusion: You have little regard for your own safety. Reluctant admission: You would be perfect for our purposes. 'Request': You will accompany me to my ship to discuss the terms of your employment."

She takes a swig of a murky looking drink in front of her, then turns to face the droid for the first time. The silvered lens over her right eye is now visible - this too is obviously a prosthetic. A scar that cleaves through her right eyebrow and down her cheek suggests the cause. When she talks, it is in a mocking parody of K's robotic tones. "Observation: You seem to think I'm gonna be your little pet, despite all I just said. Conclusion: There's a short circuit somewhere in that metal head of yours. Request: You'll fuck off back to your 'ship' on your own." Laughing at her own wit, she turns back to her drink.

K waits for the woman to take her sip. "Very humerous for a meatbag, meatbag. Unfortunately despite your attempt at emulating a superior casing, you are still stuffed with flawed organic organs. You require food and shelter and other ghastly things, which rely on credits. He places a data stick on the table. Forceful Statement: You will present yourself at the dock in 3 hours. Concealed threat: Else I fear for the safety of your chasis." He turns and leaves the bar, confident his work is done.

Kara finishes her drink slowly, giving her head a chance to clear slightly from the 'tabac' fumes, then heads to the bar. She enquires as to whether he's seen a droid like K before, and whether he has a terminal she can use to inspect the contents of the datastick.

4N DY looks up from the dull glass he's polishing. Why he bothers, he's no idea. Underlying subroutines probably. The young woman standing across from him is what humans call 'eastern', though he hasn't the foggiest why. Only thing you'll find in the far east are Hutts and J1s. Then again that was exactly where they were, so what did he know? She's obviously heavily augmented, hardly uncommon in these parts either. "That's an old HK model," he answers electronically. "Used to see them everywhere, but they've grown quite rare. Protocol droids - or assassins - depending on who you ask. There's a small unit over there in the corner," he gestures to dark and neglected dust-covered box. "Takes credit chits. Feed the old girl something and she'll fire up."

With a curt nod of thanks, she manages to get the old machine to boot up into a whirring semblance of life. She inserts the data stick, and gasps as the contents are revealed to be...

...the simple location of a docking bay and an entry code to a private dockyard

Kara twists her lip in thought. Looking around at her dismal surroundings, she makes a decision. Half an hour later, she shows up at the designated bay. The entry code seems to work, and she strides in.

The HK droid is there waiting, alongside a human woman, who grins. "Good work K." The woman steps forwards and extends a hand. "My name is Jaina, you already met K. Glad you could make it, what should I call you?"

Eyeing the hand suspiciously with crossed arms, she replies, "Psycho. Now is this legit work or some sort of organ harvesting scam? 'Cause if it's the latter, the sooner I find out, the sooner I can kill the pair of you and get back to that bar."

Jaina turns to k. "I like this one, nice job" She eyes psycho up and down. "Nobody here wants your drug addled organs, dont worry they are safe. What I need to know is whether you can hold your nerve when the bullets start flying. Or whether you just talk hard."

"Yeah, you caught me, I just piss myself and start crying whenever someone aims a piece at me," she replies with a smirk. "I didn't lose this arm hiding in the can - I've wasted a few unfortunates in my time, and most of 'em were trying to waste me back. You want some proof, I'd be more than happy to show that droid what happens to people that make threats 'gainst me. Otherwise, you can cut to the chase and tell me what the job is, and how much it pays."

Jaina smiles. "Lets see how you hold your nerve. You get on this ship and take my coin, the moment we take off we are going to be intercepted by at least 3 ships, possibly more by now, under the pay of a rather rich Lorrdian. If we make it past those, the money he is paying his men to hunt us will outlast us even if we live to be three hundred. If you still haven't been put off, I'm going to ask you to walk into his home and lure him out into the open where I will kill him where he stands in front of you, at which point you will have to attempt to extract yourself without being killed by his guards. If you live through that, you can earn a permanent position on my ship. A legitimate job, taking legal bounties with licenses to operate within the majority of space with no fear of legal repercussions. You will be paid in shares of our takings, a set 5% of the business, as well as a third of whatever we recover from the Gath mansion, as a one off payment for a particularly tricky job helping me escape a personal mess not of your making. Pissing yourself yet?"

She shrugs disinterestedly. "Gotta be more interesting than this dump, right? I'll need more than 5% though. I got expenses too, what if my arm gets shot off or something? 20 sounds fair to me."

Jaina scoffs. "We are providing the ship, the license and the job offers. You are providing yourself. You think you are worth 20% of this operation? I'll give you 10 and you can count it as a generous deal."

"What operation? All I see is a woman, a rusty old droid and an even rustier old ship. All of which are being hunted by a bunch of mercs. 15."

Jaina raises an eyebrow. "You know how much a ship and bounty hunter licenses cost right? You can have your 15%, but never question the quality and proffessionalism of this operation again." She turns and enters the ship.

"You're the boss, boss," replies Psycho. She'd been expecting to settle on 12%, so that suited her fine. Apparently this woman had something of a thin skin where her business was concerned. She follows Jaina onto the ship and looks around, eyeing the ancient interior with a critical eye. "I guess I've seen worse. So when're we outta here? I've not got much in the way of possessions 'cept what I'm wearing, so I'm good to go whenever."

As psycho finishes speaking the ship stutters to a start. "We leave now. The gun's up there. I'd get on it if I were you."

"Sweet. After weeks of solid boredom, finally some fuckin' action! Just lemme know when to open up." She hauls herself up the ladder and inspects the turret. Before her lies a simple control board and a hardened transparisteel dome window. Outside, connected to the turret base... Psycho whistles in appreciation. "I gotta get me one of these..." An RBS30-Terminator rotary cannon (not to be confused with a revolver cannon, which is apparently something quite different) sits outside the glass. Pleased with her find, she settles into the gunnery seat and grabs the controls.