It didn't seem like it had any importance. According to the barkeep on Telos, though, this was the place. Reportedly, he'd been hiding out here for a while, laying low while he enjoyed the station's pleasantries, based on the barkeep's commentary. She hadn't questioned him about the word's meaning, the concept wasn't strange to her. Not after growing up in the place she had, with her primary caretakers being the women of Jabrukka's palace. Had she been anywhere else, the girl would have made an awful face and accompanied it with "yuck," or another similar exclamation. But her face had remained still, her voice silent; the girl had simply nodded and appeared to digest the information the barkeep relayed.

She was on a mission, and the most important part was that she not betray the fact. The girl had asked about him in reference to being a friend of her father's whom the pair was looking for. When the barkeep had asked where he was, she simply motioned across the dimly-lit room to the far side, where, shrouded in darkness, she hoped some patrons were conversing. The barkeep nodded, and the girl took it as a sign of understanding and pressed on. After she left the counter, she mad a point of walking in the direction she had gestured to pretend as if she was conferring with her "father." It only took a few seconds of talking with a complete stranger, but it was enough, and she had skipped out of the dusty tavern gleefully as if freed to run and play. Once outside, however, she had made her way to the spaceport to retrieve her ship and be on her way.

That had brought her here, to the Astral Astoria. At least that's what the barkeep called it, but on first sight of it, she thought of it as 'the big hunk of metal in space.' It was a giant space station the had simply appeared from hyperspace in the middle of the Hrydian lane some time ago. What it was doing there, no one knew, and the girl didn't particularly care. All she cared was that he was on it, and she would find him there. That was how it worked. She performed the mission, got the goods or killed/captured the person, and Shim was happy. And in return, she was rewarded by his kindness, and sometimes, gifts.

The best one she had gotten was her ship, the Procella Pennae, a Starlight-class freighter. The design was old, but the ship had been built recently, but as there were no records for it, it was impossible to determine that exactly. It was shaped like a long cylinder with a quarter-circle attached to one side almost like a wing, hence it's name. It had few weapons, but the object of the ship was not to fight. It had an average engine, but the object of the ship was not to fly fast. It was small, but the ship only needed to house one person. It's interior was designed half for comfort, and half for functionality and training. To the onlooker it was just another ship, nothing less, albeit of an uncommon design, but simply another ship nonetheless. From it's exterior, one would not expect that it was inhabited by someone who had been trained to be so dangerous.

Inside the ship was a different manner. The living, bed and bath rooms had been redecorated to her liking, complete with hues of pinks, purples and greens. The cargo bay the ship once possessed had been converted into a training room with a small section for weapons storage. The cockpit was largely unaltered, simply cleaned from the look and smell of its previous, but the small walkway just outside the cockpit was fitted with a computer system that included a dock for an astrometric droid. One had been provided by Shim, named R2-P4, to fly and fix the ship when needed; the girl was a terrible pilot and wouldn't be safe in fixing the ship either.

Approaching the Astoral, the girl found herself sitting in the cockpit seat, just staring at the sight before her, while P4 piloted the ship. A screen on her right blinked, and she spun her head to look as the screen lit up with the image of the station while a voice came over the speakers, "Identify yourself and your intention." The voice was toneless and neutral, like a computer would be, and with no image on the screen, it was difficult to determine if that was the case. P4 issued a string of beeps and whistles until the girl finally responded to him, indicating that he should answer. She was content to look at the station and marvel at its size, which despite her earlier thoughts on the structure, was impressive.

The same screen on her right split in half to accommodate P4's part of the conversation in textual form, if she had cared to read it. She didn't, but at times when she heard the conversation between the droid and the station's voice, the girl, confused, looked to the screen as if it could explain it just by her gaze alone.

[font=courier new]This is the freighter Procella Pennae, requesting permission to dock.[/font]

"A droid? Are you flying the ship alone?

[font=courier new]Negative. This ship contains one living passenger.[/font]

"Head to dock 27-B, port 7. Coordinates are being sent within this message."

[font=courier new]Affirmative, this ship will proceed to dock. Thank you for your assistance.[/font]

The screen clicked off, and the view outside the windows began to change. She watched for a while, but after five minutes of trying to adjust the approach correctly, the girl became bored and went back into the living area. It wasn't until the ship rocked slightly, which, accompanied by a soft thud, indicated their arrival on the station. The girl stood to pick up her things, a bag that contained enough clothes to live out of for a while, among other things needed for her mission. They were safely tucked away, however, where they would not be obvious to spot or bulge out and betray their concealment. Ready, she stepped into the small hallway that doubled as an airlock and hit the control on a panel placed next to the airlock door. The floor beneath it began to lower slowly as it formed a boarding ramp, shuddering slightly when it touched the deck below.

Stepping down onto the ramp, the girl proceeded to check herself in and procure a room for the night. She didn't expect to stay, really, but she had to make her time appear legitimate. As she headed down the halls, there was just one thought on her mind. She, Allyseria Evnairis, Allie, would find her prey. And that was all that mattered.

The Astra Astoria.

A space station that had appeared out of nowhere, that had now become the largest haven for gamblers and pleasure seekers in the galaxy, perhaps surpassing even the Wheel. Of course, it was also the greatest haven for criminals in the galaxy, for wherever some rich, drunken gambler is, there also will be the thief willing to fill his pockets. And the criminal boss to control the thief.

But such was not new to Jaeriel. Having spent her childhood years on Telos, which was previously a haven for criminals, she knew the worst aspects of society. She and her family had lived in such society for years. Her father had been murdered. Several years later her mother was raped and murdered. When Jaeriel had gone for revenge she had been raped. Of course, when those same crimnals wound up dead, naked in a gutter, mutilated beyond that which could be spoken of in polite society, the others decided to leave Jaeriel alone.

Not that it mattered much; less than two years later, she had left. Since that time, she had put as much distance between herself and any similar environments as possible. And now her new line of work was forcing her to return to that same sort of society. To be sure, it was for a good cause. There was a man there who reportededly had information that could help to blackmail several high-ranking Imperial officials. And Jaeriel hated the Empire. So did her superiors, whose names Jaeriel did not even know. All she knew was that they were affiliated with a larger organization dedicated to ending the oppression of the Empire and restoring freedom to the galaxy, an ideal that Jaeriel heartily espoused. She would go even to the Astoria to accomplish that goal.

For this journey, Jaeriel and her team had chosen private rather than public transportation. To be sure, there was a certain amount of security in public transportation - anonymity for one - but for this work private was better. There were areas in the Astoria that were hidden from prying eyes, areas large enough to land a ship. And the benefits were many: they could leave, when they wanted, how they wanted, and with anyone they wanted. They would not be subject to the whims of Astoria security or of the tranportation companies. They would be masters of their own fates.

The ship was an excellent one, the private property of Mika Lau, one of Jaeriel's team members and a master of K'tara. It was a modified XS-800 light freighter, but the only thing that remained stock on it was the shell. The hyperdrive had been upgraded from a Class 3 to a Class 1, and the sublight speed had been raised to 1100 kph in atmosphere. The cargo capacity had been cut in half to make room for two concussion missile tubes, and two dorsal turrets had been added, each containing a twin laser cannon. A ventral turret had been added as well, with a quad cannon, as well as a remote-operated single blaster cannon for defense on the ground. The shields had been upgraded as well by simple power reroutings. The sensor and communications systems had even been replaced with military-grade systems.

While such modifications had their advantages, they also had their disadvantages. Such as the fact that any sane station operator would never let them land in a normal civilian docking bay. So they were forced to land in such bays as the one to which they were headed, Bay 573A. According to their contact on the station, it was unmonitered (relatively) by Astoria security. One caretaker named Cas operated the station four days out of a standard week, and today was one of his days. He was a drunk, and a bit obnoxious, but he would never remember the craft coming through. And there was apparently a gang of Ugnaughts that called themselves Typhoid 7, led by one called Scratch. Apparently they extorted a hanger tax from those who landed there. But the extra cost and hassle was worth it to Jaeriel, considering the military-grade equipment they had on the ship and the sensitive operation equipment they were carrying.

Mika, who was piloting the ship, maneuvered into position and silently slipped around the massive station, heading for docking bay 573A. Keying the comm, she set it to a specific frequency as supplied by their contact and said, "Astoria Control, this is Freighter XS-800 DSF-4 requestion permission to dock in Bay 573A."

After a short time, an automated reply came back, "XS-800 DSF-4, you are cleared to land. Enjoy your stay at the Astral Astoria." Mika smiled. They were in.

The ship landed flawlessly. Cas, as expected, was there, half-drunk, ready to collect the docking fee, which Jaeriel paid. It was a bit more expensive than she expected - 125 credits instead of the standard 100 - but the extra cost was worth the berth. The Ugnaughts she had been warned about were nowhere to be seen. Jaeriel, Cynthia Dmitrius, Jaqueline Stone, and Amanda Bates headed for the nearby shifter to book a suite, or more than one, while Mika and Alana Vlupteur stayed behind to guard the ship.

It wasn't hard to book three suites, and surprisingly they were not too expensive. Jaeriel received the access cards, and the four operatives went back to the bay, expecting to find the ship in perfect condition. They were wrong.


Five minutes previous
Hangar Bay 573A


"Behold!" rang out the voice of Preacher, the runt-Ugnaught who purported to be the prophet and keeper of the law for Typhoid 7. "Another ship hath landed. It is time for the implementation of the Golden Rule! Those that have the gold..."

Scratch, the leader of the mini-Ugnaughts, finished, "Pay a hangar tax!" Ritchie, another of the gang, grunted with pleasure while Snitchy finished cleaning his blaster.

The gang moved through the garbage heaps and behind the walls, getting into position. One of them managed to sneak up next to the ship and loop a few chains around the landing struts. Usually they used a maglock to keep ships in place, but the last time they'd done that security had arrested them, so they had been avoiding it. Preacher himself boldly approached the ship and started rapping on the side.

Inside the craft, Mika activated the external cams. She sighed. "Typhoid 7," she said.

Opening the hatch, she was greeted with the high-pitched yet loud voice of Preacher. "This ground belongeth to the chosen people of god, to do with as they will. You violaters of the law must pay the tax required by god!"

Mika raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? You're telling me that your god says that I must pay a tax...to you? For landing my ship? How much does this god demand I pay?"

Preacher replied, "The number of the payment shall be fifty, and fifty shall be the number of the payment. Thou shalt pay fifty credits; thou shalt not pay any more or any less. So it is written."

Mika smirked. "How about I pay you twenty-five and let you escape with your life?"

Preacher once again proclaimed, "The number of the payment..."

Alana cut him off. "We'll pay you twenty-five, take it or leave it."

Preacher got a beady look in his eye as he said, "Forty-five."

Mika came back, "Thirty."

"Forty."

"Thirty-five."

They finally agreed on a price of thirty-eight credits. Then, as he was walking away, Preacher slipped and fell. It was his own fault; he had misjudged a step, but Ritchie and Snitchy, watching from a garbage pile, thought that Mika had pushed him. Their blasters, already in nervous hands, fired once each. And the two martial arts masters moved.

Preacher, who was just getting up, found himself smashed to the ground by a rolling body as Mika moved to cover. Alana leaped back into the cockpit and dropped the ventral blaster cannon, ready to fire at the next thing that shot at them.

And that's when Jaeriel and company exited the nearby shifter. Preacher once again rose to his feet and cried out, "Brothers, thou shalt cease fire! They have paid the required tax!" Ritchie and Snitchy, embarassed, stopped shooting and disappeared into the walls. Preacher bowed and nodded to Mika as he passed, disappearing himself into a garbage pile.

Jaeriel shook her head as Mika recounted the situation. "Idiot Ugnaughts," she muttered under her breath. "Anyway, I have three suites, all adjacent. We can work from there. This shouldn't take too long." The six gathered their gear and, after locking down the ship (who knew what those Ugnaughts might try), headed for the rooms. They had a lot of work to do.

The loud music and chatter invaded her ears as the change in illumination made her nearly blind. Closing her eyes tight, a mental twitch activated a switch embedded somewhere in her optic nerves. When she opened them again, she could see again, but in an entirely different way. Instead of the normal perception that she'd had before, the world was now presented in varying hues ranging from blues to reds, depending on the temperature that emanated from objects and people around her. It wasn't a pleasant way to see, and Allie both physically and mentally cringed at the sight; it was everything she could do to keep from triggering the switch again to turn it back. A sigh. She would have to deal with it for now.

The Lonely Preaky Tavern was moderately populated at the time when Allie entered it. Smoke wafted through her nostrils as the smell of alcohol quickly moved to join it. The afternoon's occupants took no notice of her, as they usually did for most newcomers who wandered in. Even the entrance of someone so young didn't seem to shake the concentration of the bar's patrons. The twi'lek barkeep, however, seemed to at least give her a glance before returning to his work. When he turned around again, he found himself face to face with the girl, who had made her way to the counter and hopped onto one of the mis-matched stools that had been carelessly positioned in front of the bar. The bartender's reaction was a little more callous than she'd hoped, as he leaned across the counter to ask, "Aren't you a little young to be in a bar, little miss?"

The girl exhaled a long breath, perturbed by the twi'lek's choice of words. As usual, Allie thought. I always seem to be too young, a little girl, small, or a child. When will they stop learning to judge me by my size or age? Her dejected thoughts were kept to herself for now, however, and her face and body gave no outward reaction to the barkeep's words. Only the question that he had posed, to which she simply shrugged. "Don't get many 'little miss'es in your tavern these days?" The response was a direct jab at the twi'lek's instant prejudice of her, but it wouldn't do any harm. It didn't usually.

"What do you want? he barked, agitated by the girl's interwoven sarcasm.

She only smiled and tilted her head, "You wouldn't happen to know of a Gavon Cabaril, would you? I've heard he's known to drop by these parts often, close to every day."

The twi'lek jerked his head in response, his lekku's flying out at odd angles as he did so. His head indicated a position back further into the bar, towards the sea of bodies in between the bar and the far wall. "He's usually over there. Haven't seen him today, though. You can check with his buddies, they're always in here, but be warned, they aren't a friendly bunch."

The girl grinned at him, "Don't worry, I can take care of myself." Flashing him another smile, she added a thanks and turned back to where the bartender had indicated. It was farther back, through the masses of people, but once she reached the table near the back, the crowd had thinned, giving her a clear indication of who she had been directed to. The table was circled by five large beings of differing race and size, and attired in all manners of clothing. Three humans, a Rodian and a Wookiee. Casually walking around the table, Allie passed a trained eye over them. All five carried at least one weapon, minus the Wookiee, which Allie supposed was because he could as easily use his own brute strength and claws as a weapon. They were all drinking, sharing stories and laughing to each other, taking little notice of the patrons around them.

One of the humans took notice of Allie, however. Grunting he turned to her and made a sweeping motion with his hand, saying, "Shoo, little girl."

The Rodian took hold of his arm and brought it down. Saying something in his native tongue, the human nodded, "You're right." Turning back to her, he asked, "Well? Come on, out with it girl, we haven't got all day." Turning to his friends, he added, "Well, actually we do, but we're too busy getting drunk and laughing at Fodo's hair."

He burst out laughing at this remark, and the other humans and the wookiee joined him, as the already-blue Rodian turned a deep sapphire color. Sure enough, the Rodian's head was topped with a dark tuff of hair that grew in an odd pattern, almost similar to the rigid mane that topped the blue-robed Chancellor's Guards of the Old Republic. It was amusing, but not something that the girl would outwardly laugh at. Then again, she wasn't drunk.

"You fellas wouldn't happen to know Gavon Cabaril, would you?"

"Know Gavon?" The same human answered her, turning to his compatriots, who all accompanied him in laughing this time. Facing Allie again, he said, "Of course we know Gavon, little girl." He said nothing more than this, to which the girl was forced to pose another question.

"Well, where is he?" She thought she'd try a direct route, who would suspect her of anything? Cabaril's friends seemed to regard her as harmless, anyways.

The wookiee rose from his seat and growled at her, a deep, yet high pitched growl that made the tavern's other occupants turn and look in his direction. The human also rose and explained, "He's right. Gavon's busy, and that's all you need to know. Now shoo, little girl."

The girl thought for a moment before replying. This wasn't going very well. Hoping to salvage the situation, she said, "Just tell me where he is and I'll go bother him. I don't want to bother you."

A second human stood up. Now three of the five were up, the arms at their sides, presumably within reach of their blasters. The second human, obviously more drunk than the first, spoke, "Now listen, keed. We tol you he was busy. He's not here, so busy ees where he ees. Got eet? Good. Now scran!"

Yep, definitely not going very well, she thought. She backed up and found herself against the wall. Oh, just beautiful, she chided herself, Get your back up against the wall facing three humans, a rodian and a wookiee, not to mention a whole tavern. Just beautiful, Allie. It sounded like a bad joke, like 'What do you get when you cross three humans, a rodian and a wookiee?' But the situation was truly serious, and it was looking like the girl was going to be on the receiving end of that situation. And it wouldn't be pretty. The nearest entry was too far away for her to get out the normal way, the only thing left was to try to talk them down. Either that, or start running now.

Allie tried, but her legs wouldn't move. Perfect! she thought. All of that training and my legs freeze up. It looked like she was either going to have to talk them down, or fight them. She had her blaster inside the bag that she wore on her back, but she wouldn't be fast enough to get to it. No, it would have to be the twin vibroknives she had strapped to her ankles. The girl frowned and nodded to herself on an earlier thought. This wasn't going to be pretty.

"You know, boys," rang out a voice, "It isn't nice to pick on girls, especially when they're only half your size." Spinning around quickly, the humans' eyes were immediately drawn to what they saw as beauty incarnate. A woman in a skin-tight red jumpsuit, tall, nice curves, long blonde hair - it was too good to be true in a place like this. The angelic voice continued, "I was thinking you looked like a bunch I might want to...have some fun with, but if your idea of a good time is picking on little girls..."

Alana Vluptuer took a step forward, the jumpsuit stretching even tighter as she did (if that were even possible). The humans were understandably speechless, oogling this woman that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. In truth, she'd been listening to the conversation, and the name of Gavon Cabaril had caught her ear. That's the target, she had thought. I wonder why this girl wants to find him; perhaps she could be our way in. Then the others started to get rough, and Alana figured it was time to step in.

Of course, stepping in to aid another was easier when she knew there was help nearby. Mika was sitting three tables away, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. Jaeriel was on the other side of the cantina and probably already had a hand on her blaster. Not to mention the fact that Alana herself was a skilled martial artist. And she suspected that this girl had a few tricks up her sleeves as well. The drunks didn't stand a chance.

Still, avoiding a fight was always preferrable to sending Gavon's men back to him in pieces. Especially considering the sensitive nature of their operation. So, Alana worked her other talents, moving towards the men slowly, one step at a time. They were positively drooling by now; her only problem was the aliens with them. Rodians found human women attractive, so that wasn't a problem, but the Wookiee was.

A series of growls emitted from the hairy giant, snapping the humans back into reality. "That's far enough," one of them said. "What do you want?"

Alana sighed inwardly. Men, she thought. Always so difficult. She began to slowly unzip her jumpsuit, allowing a bit more to show. That always worked. "Just to have some fun with you," she repeated. "But to get me you have to let the girl go."

The Wookiee moved then, and drunk as it was it still had the strength of ten men. And it was fast. Still, even it's speed didn't match Alana's. Quick as lightning, she moved, grabbing the alien in a wrist-lock and flipping it to the ground. A quick kick to a certain area of the alien's body and it went out like a light. The Rodian was moving by this point too, but he was quickly intercepted by a spinning kick that sent him flying back against the wall. Mika moved in and took down one of the humans with a flying frontkick, while a stunbolt crossed the room and slammed into a second human. The third was down by the time they were done; Alana assumed the girl had done that.

No time for that now, though. Jaeriel, risen from her seat, said, "Grab the girl and one of the humans and let's get the kriff out of here, before more of their friends show up." Reaching into her pocket, she tossed a few credits on the bar as Alana hefted one of the men and Mika motioned for the girl to follow them. "Sorry about the mess," Jaeriel said to the barkeep. With that, the four walked quickly out of the bar and to the nearest shifter. It was time to figure out just where Gavon was, and why this girl was chasing him. Perhaps they could work together. At the least, they could torture whatever information she had out of her.