A Wretched Hive

The Blackfish's ramp lowers slowly with the groaning hiss of aging hydraulics. With Jaina leading the way, the vessel's rag tag crew step out onto the dilapidated pier of what is to be their mooring for the duration of their stay. A series of power lines, refuelling tubes and the durasteel-hung maglocks of the moorings themselves have lowered to receive the ship, and, for the moment, she is secure.

The Cove is a massive cavern encompassing much of the asteroid's rear quarter. Though gifted with a thin atmosphere (thanks to the port's life support systems), no gravitational pull of any consequence is maintained within the cavern. Ships, sloops, ferries and skiffs fly about in every direction, none oriented towards any horizon in particular.

Mynocks infest the Cove, and large flocks of the vermin are a constant concern of pilots and technicians alike. When they are not chewing on starship cables and conduits, the creatures seek sustenance from Skip 1's power grid. Seventy-percent of power disruptions in Smuggler's Run are attributed directly to the mynock infestation.

Skip 1's council has recently enacted an initiative that awards hunters 10 credits for every mynock they kill. With thousands of mynocks living throughout the asteroid, the city's poor see the potential for an easy pay-off. To make matters worse, groups have used mynock hunting as an excuse to target enemies. Random shots have been discharged throughout the Cove, leading to several firefights between residents and visiting smugglers.

Already a skiff is visible, heading directly for them from across the Cove. It's piloted by Gringo, Jaina and K's usual 'greeter' on Smuggler's Run, a slimy looking Dud with a long thin prehensile tail who works for the local Hutt Kajidic, who control the Tethers. It pulls up alongside their mooring.

"Evenin' Jaina," he begins slurping back an over abundance of saliva, "or is it mornin' for you? Can nevva tell." He slurps again. "Back so soon? What can I be doin' f'yeh now hmm?"

Jaina beams widely. "I'm here on business again unfortunately. Back to see Nadar again, on the same tab as last time if you would?"

Carlos walks with Jaina ''Come here often then? How long do you expect this to take?''

Gringo eyes Jaina cannily, fingering a stringy group of hairs beneath his chin.

"I wosn't told t'expect yeh. Sure y'know wot y'doin'?"

Jaina laughs "Do I ever know what I'm doing Gringo? You know I'm good for it if Nadar decides otherwise, but I'm confident I have something of interest to him or I wouldn't have bothered coming back."

As an aside Jaina turns to Carlos. "I come here when I need to, its a sure place to find work, and a safe haven if you need something less than legal and don't know who is safe to ask on another world. I normally just stay a couple of days, find a job and head off on it. If I can't get a job on the planet I'm on I head back here to start again. This time could be a little longer though, we need to find a capable doctor." She nods at Psycho.

Gringo nods with a broad toothy grin full of rotten, triangular lizard's teeth.

"Then hop on."

Once all four are aboard the skiff's deck, Gringo revs up the engine and they shoot off across the Cove through the chaos of the milling space traffic. Mynocks flutter to and fro amongst the vessels and the occasional bullet flies. Gringo makes a clicking sound with his cheek.

"Tha's been worse lately. Best keep yer heads down or you won't be needin' tha doc no more."

The Slips abut the Cove and extend inward for two hundred yards before they give way to the other districts of the Souk, the Trade District and the Utility Ward. The most luxurious starship moorings and docking facilities are located within the Slips; they feature actual landing platforms furnished with inertial generators, rather than umbilical links and extended boarding corridors. A few small cantinas are sprinkled throughout the Slips, with easy access for pilots and crew who do not with to venture too far from their ships. Visitors who rarely, if ever, venture away from the Slips are referred to disparagingly as 'tourists' by the rest of the local population.

The Slips are under the undisputed control of the Black Sun. As long as the Black Sun continues to keep the shadowport's facilities running at full capacity, the Hutts are content to let the high-tech syndicate do as it pleases within the Slips.

The Skiff pulls up alongside the space-front to let the group off. Across from them a merchant is marching up and down outside his vessel. A neon sign blinks on its prow.

"Labour Sought"

Gringo coughs and waits for his tip.

"Nasty cough you got there," comments Psycho. "Any idea where we could find a chop-shop that deals in cyberware?"

Gringo clucks his tongue and winks.

"93D's is th'best chop shop on Skip 1, but they specialise in starship 'reconfiguration'. Y'might be better off with Finnigan. Man's a butcher in the Trade District."

Jaina hands Gringo his standard tip. "Thanks, what we really need though is to hire an old medical droid, if any can still be found."

Gringo winces.

"Tough one. I'd hit the cantinas if yer hirin'. Droids as property are rare even here, droid docs as mercs too, but maybe less so."

He clinks the chips in his hand and deftly pockets them.

"Be sein' yeh Jaina."

Carlos waits till he leaves. "in the cantina... Seems so obvious" he says with a hint of sarcasm before continuing. "although can't turn your nose up at work. Want us to split up around the various cantinas?"

Gringo's skiff pulls off, vanishing into the busy traffic to his next job.

Like any other port, Skip 1 has dozens, perhaps scores, of cantinas. All of the drinking spots are too numerous to list, but three have gained particular notoriety.

The Cruellest Cut is arguably the most notorious drinking house in Skip 1. Located within the Nest, it caters to the shadowport's more violent clientele and is an especially good place to hire assassins, muscle, or thugs. Live blood sports and gladiatorial events are the cantina's big draws. The owner, a Hutt known only as Yuelo, is a frequent customer at Skip 1's daily slave auctions. Especially strong slaves are used as fodder in his cantina's events, while the weakest are put to work in menial roles.

Anyone can compete in the Cruellest Cut's events, and one night a week the Floor (as the arena is known) is opened up to amateur gladiators from across the galaxy.

The unassuming Dud Pub in the Slips is a den for pirates and their ilk, but it is also frequented by smugglers and black marketers. Anyone looking for a good spacer's tale can find one in the Dud Pub; several of the regulars are old hands with chequered pasts. Information about any subject can be had, if the correct individuals are questioned. Many of the sector's most notorious pirates make it a point to visit the Dud Pub when they're in port, including criminals such as Zan Dane.

Live music is one of the Pub's most well-known attractions and several popular bands are scheduled to play on any given night. Though the music gives the Dud Pub a lighter atmosphere than most of the shadowport's other cantinas, it is no less dangerous.

Though hardly as infamous as the Cruellest Cut, Under the Table is just as dangerous. The cantina's name can be construed as a triple entendre of sorts. For one, it can be taken to heart as a description of drinking oneself (or one's comrades) under the table. Secondly, most of the shady deals that take place in the dark recesses of the bar are paid for 'under the table' (that is to say, illicitly). Finally, it is a common tactic for smugglers and their benefactors to secretly pull a weapon during negotiations, training it on their target beneath the thick duraplast of the cantina's tables, just in case their parley turns sour.

Under the Table is frequented by smugglers, shipjackers, and shady merchants. It is located near the border of the Slips and the Trade District. Individuals who need a quick way out of Skip 1 can sometimes find passage on a vessel by searching for a pilot at Under the Table, but such overtures are made at considerable risk. Most of the time, smugglers come to the cantina in an attempt to locate cargo for their next haul while their vessels are being maintained in one of the port's docking bays.

Carlos begins looking around for directions to the cruellest cut and the dud pub. "I'll go to a drinking whole and wait if you don't need me Jaina." he begins h asking off assuming jaina doesn't stop him.

"Wait, you won't last 2 minutes in the cruellest cut alone. I need to go see the Hutts, otherwise we'll end up having an accident, Then we'll hit the cantinas, The Dud is probably our best bet, even Pirates need doctors. If not then we'll have to find one under the table." Jaina grimaces at the prospect.

Carlos thinks for a moment. Then skips lightly back towards jaina. "I can avoid trouble. But you know these parts better than I."

Smuggler's Run is controlled by a loose triumvirate of criminal factions. Though ostensibly allied, these three groups are constantly vying with one another for greater control of Skip 1. Publically, they enforce the shadowport's laws, collect tariffs and associated fees, and keep the economy running smoothly. Behind the scenes, they compete with one another for business and influence.
The most powerful of these syndicates is a group of spice-dealers and flesh merchants led by Zietta the Hutt. Zietta the Hutt's organisation, which is affiliated with the Besadii kajidic, specialises in the spread of vice throughout Smuggler's Run and beyond. The clan's primary sources of illicit income are slaves, spice, extortion and gambling.

Nadar himself does most of his business in the Trade District, an area distinct from the sprawling interstellar open-air market of the Souk in that businesses here are mostly permanent. The streets in the Trade District are straight and wide, easily accessible to speeder traffic and cargo transports coming in from the Slips. The buildings in the Trade District that aren't used for commercial endeavours have been converted into warehouses, and a large amount of the bulk shipping that enters and leaves Skip 1 is typically stored here. Though security here is not as lax as neighbouring areas, such as the Nest or the Arcade, it is hardly all encompassing. Most warehouses have at least one guard, depending on their contents, and particularly important storehouses have as many as half a dozen thugs or mercenaries acting as security.

Jaina strides up to Nadar's office and announces herself to the guard outside, requesting an audience with the great Nadar in the customary way.

The door man is a Houk thug, a typical example of Nadar's muscle. He knows her face, but also glances at his datapad.

"Yer on the list t'day Jaina. Somethin' up?"

Jaina smiles, "Nothing's up as such, I just found something interesting and thought Nadar should know first. A professional courtesy. Could you let him know I'm here?"

He grunts, taps a few things into his pad and presses an intercom.

"Got J and her crew coming in Zed."

He turns back to her.

"Could be an hour or so, busy day. Just head through security. You know the drill."

Jaina smiles and nods politely before stepping through into the waiting room.

The group walks through a revolving door of dull turquoise tinted duraglass into what is much like the entrance hall of a large office building. Ahead is an airport style security checkpoint, complete with arch scanner and conveyor belt. A droid on the other side beckons them forwards. Besides the conveyor belt is a sign with a series of black symbols in red circles. Each depicts forbidden items - mostly weapons of various kinds.

Carlos walks towards the check point his hands raised ready for a search. He empties his thoughts as he begins walking through the security scanner a voice speaks in his head. "I'll conceal ourselves from the scanners. Don't worry."
He heads on through confidently.

Psycho puts her broken arm on the conveyor belt and attempts to walk through the scanner.

Carlos' confident stride is broken by a loud, blaring siren. He's shoved roughly against a wall by security and frisked efficiently. They relieve him of all weapons, before releasing him unceremoniously. The weapons are bagged and lockered.

"Where'd you pick this green horn up J? You have be kidding me," the droid says derisively. "You get it all back on your way out."

Psycho naturally also triggers the scanner, but with a more measured response. A couple of weapons are carefully trained on her.

"Please slowly empty your arm's magazine."

"Spoilsports..."

With a clicking, her arm deploys enough to give access to the loaded magazine, which she skillfully ejects and hands to the droid along with the SMG and spare clips.

"And you better not get so much as a scratch on Lila whilst I'm gone," she says gesturing to the (already heavily scratched) weapon.

Well that was crap. Thinks Carlos. He looks to the droids. "you wouldn't deprive and oldish man of his walking mop-cane?"

"I think we can allow the inferior human its walking aid," the droid drawls, and Carlos is shown to Psycho, while they wait on Jaina and K.

Carlos smiles and walks away to Psycho, limping occasionally on his right leg

"Sorry guys" Jaina shakes her head apologetically. "He's new to the imdustry, begged for a trial. Its not going well" Jaina glares at Carlos. Then raises an eyebrow suspiciously when he demands to keep his mop. Jaina and K go through their well rehersed routine, removing their weapons, unloading them, checking the chambers and applying the safety. "All done." They step through the security field and nod to the guards as they head to Nadar's meeting room.

Jaina is handed a key-card for the group's weapons locker and they are waived through down a long metal corridor. A blast-door whisks shut behind them with a bang as they pass through. All the doors along the corridor are locked, except for one at the back on the left.

They enter into a beige room full of sofas, decorated with a few potted palms. 1980s elevator style music is tinkling in the background through some tinny speakers in the ceiling, and a number of droids, humans and aliens sit around, many reading magazines. On the wall a red digital display reads '42', and a pile of magazines lie on a table in the middle of the room. By the door where they entered is a dispenser giving out numbered tickets.

Jaina grabs a ticket, sighs and sits down with a magazine. Time to get comfortable.

"efficient this Nadar apparently" Carlos sits down after polishing a spot on his chair picking up a copy of the Stimes and flicks straight to the crossword. He mulls for a moment and then begins filling out the answers quickly, he then moves to the Spudoku and solves the hardest In record time. He smiles at Jaina as he sets down the magazine "I had a lot of free time when I was union."

Psycho slumps across a sofa, an expression of intense boredom on her face.

"If we're here for long I swear this music is gonna drive me insane..." she mutters to herself quietly. After a couple of minutes she gets up and paces around the room looking for something interesting to do. Eventually she settles on pulling out tickets from the dispenser, screwing them up and flicking them into a plant pot. Her cybernetic hand gives her impressive range, accuracy and power.

Occasionally she directs one towards Carlos' head, for variety.

As Carlos puzzles, his sharp senses pick up snippets of a conversation from Barabel whispering into a comlink. The alien is glancing about suspiciously, so he can't be too obvious and only hears fragments. The man seems to be discussing the possible location of a lost shipment of high-tech blaster rifles.

Jaina spots a familiar face across the room, a duros she's shared a drink with a few times who goes by the name of Spacer Jack.

Meanwhile, as Psycho flicks paper balls across the room one is abruptly hit by a ball of chewing gum and sticks to the wall behind it. Looking across the room for the source she sees a humanoid droid looking at her.

Jain takes her magazine and sits down next to the Duros, smirking as the chewing gum takes Psycho's ball mid flight She needs a bit of perspective on her abilities. "Jack, long time since I saw you. How's business?"

Carlos leans back closing his eyes focusing on the conversation and the thoughts of the alien barbel, trying to focus his mind on the location and burns it to his memory. Once done his concentration is interrupted by Jainas voice. He opens his eyes and looks intently at this Jack.

Carlos can't be too overt, but the topic is hot on the Barabel's mind. He skims a few details from the surface - a warehouse on Barab I, a foreman named Tolkar looking to offload the merchandise. There's a deal to be had here if a buyer can be found.

Jack grins broadly at Jaina.

"Busy. Things are tense out there J, some say a war is coming. For now there's jobs to be had and good cash up for grabs. Yourself?"

"Had a few set backs, last couple of jobs have thrown up complications." She shakes her head. "But I make the most of it, much as I ever have. Something big is on the way, I can feel it." She can feel something and she glances around. So many people here, she still can't be sure its him. She turns back to Jack. "You working on anything now? I'm trying to offload some ore and pick up a medical droid. Heard anything along those lines?" She smiles, knowing he always knows something.

Psycho narrows her eyes and flicks a ticket directly towards the droid.

"Gotta see a Hutt about a ship," Jack replies with a wink. "Perhaps I'll call on you depending on how this works out. We may find ourselves in
need of someone with your skills..." he trails off, deliberately vague.

"Haven't heard of any medics about unfortunately. If you want to find one and offload that cargo at the same time then I could recommend some systems. Depends what your poison is. They all lie in different J territories. Geonosis is the closest - J1. The others are all coreward."

Across the room the droid catches Psycho's paper ball in mid air in front of its own face, returning a cold emotionless stare.

Carlos laughs loudly at Psychos action. Then fixes his attention on the man he overheard the conversation. He focuses his mind and enters the man's thoughts to try and get a better location on the blasters.

Jaina sighs. "I was hoping to pick one up here, then move on. I did always wonder what it would be like to work with you though." She gives a wink.

The impressions Carlos senses are indirect, but the connections the Barabel draws to the shipment are strongly related to his datapad.

Jack shrugs.

"Beggars can't be choosers, you know that. You want something specific you gotta find a job that takes you to it."

Psycho repeats the experiment with increasing numbers of simultaneous projectiles.

A hidden umbrella activates and pops out of the droid's shoulder. It tilts to face the barrage of flicked scrunched-up tickets.

"You got a doctor in your crew now Jack? Need someone to patch up my girl in the meantime and until I offload that ore my credits are a little thin." A thought suddenly occurs to Jaina hmm wonder if that comatose man has a credit chip. The interest after all these years will be phenominal. We need to get his bank details.

Jack winces.

"My mechanic could probably reattach the thing, get it moving, but you need a cybernetics specialist... There's a butcher set up shop in the Souk lately. You get some cash together and he can likely finish the job."

The display flashes. 48.

"That's me," Jack states, standing and stretching. "Come by the Vienna later. We're moored four hooks up in the Tethers. Be seein'y J."

Carlos gets up and heads over to the alien barbel.
''Excuse me sir, I notice you have a pretty modern datapad there. I was just wondering if I could borrow it for a sec, need to space-time the missus and let her know where I am''. He shrugs with his hands in his pocket ''Women ey'' He smiles and outstretches his hand ''Come on, help a poor married man out?''

Jaina nods and casually mock salutes Jack. "Happy hunting Jack."
She turns to watch the trouble her crew are causing for themselves. She considers ordering them to stand down, but decides to let them be, instead she opens the magazine back up and engrossing herself in an article on customised ships. She grabs a pen and fills out the application form for the advertised holo-show: pimp my spride.