Drakkenmoor, Uogo’cor

“Hey Donny, I’ll have an Agamar’s Trolli, on the rocks, with a shot of gin in it too.” ordered the man, “So how have you been. Hear anything unusual lately?”

Dev Trillidor stared across the smile with an earnest grin. It was the same routine, day after day. Every time, the Rolling Bantha’s bartender would slip some tidbit of information for a credit chip or two. Augers was an astute man, hearing more than his fair share of gossip and rumors from patrons, drunk and sober alike. But on Uogo’cor, everything

The cantina had more than its fair share of gossip and rumors

The balding bartender barked a brief laugh. “Ah Dev; it’s the same thing every time, isn’t it? Day in, day out…”

“Should it be any different?” questioned Trillidor, “I wouldn’t want to interrupt our routine. It would be catastrophic.”

“You’re a terrible comedian my good sir, absolutely terrible,” replied the Augers, handing the man a glass cup.

“Well, we can’t all be funny. I mean, some people have to push the superlaser buttons of the Death Stars and what not…I know I want to, before I die.”

“Just stop, you’re trying too hard now. I’ll tell you what I got though, for a few credits.”

“Is it the information I’m looking for?”

“What do you think genius?” murmured Augers, “I think it’s worth something; it was to a few people less reputable to you. Don’t go telling me now that you’re a corporate businessman now. You’re still into the same trade, yes?”

“It’s the same every time, isn’t it?” echoed Dev, pulling out a credit chip from his coat, “Here you go. Let’s here it.”

“What kind of credit is this?”

“One fresh from Lexrol,” smiled Trillidor, “I know it’s been a while since you’ve seen the official stuff. It’s better than the scrip that you’ve been using here.”

“I suppose you got that right,” agreed the bartender, “well, anyways, the word among the spacers from the area is that Fossk is moving a star destroyer to Entrus; he’s gonna try and put the rebellion there down.”

“Actually going to risk it?” considered the man, “Don’t get me wrong, that’s interesting. But not what I’m really interested in. Tell me what you told Powell.”

“I haven’t-”

“I know you have talked to Rishmer too,” interrupted Dev, “A nice little informant ring. And don’t worry about Powell. He’s dead.”

Donny frowned, and began to step away from the counter.

“I wouldn’t go for the blaster carbine, if I were you. Hcak Notroht already took it while you were busy mixing my drink. Do you really think you can hold out for that long?”

“Simmer down,” blurted out Augers, raising up his hands as if to ward Dev away, “Simmer down.”

“No, you simmer down before I lose my patience and simply shoot you.”

“I told Powell about an arms cache that a smuggler found; they were Imperial weapons, mostly blasters. They came from Warlord Fossk, probably as aid to Fundin against the Liberty League. But de Meun is holding them in docking bay 63. He wants 100,000 credits for the whole lot.”

“Now doesn’t it feel good to get that off your chest?” suggested Dev, glancing around the cantina, “now before I have Thorton return your blaster to me, tell me who that girl is over there. I don’t recognize her, and I don’t want to have a vibroblade in back any time soon. Is she one of yours?”

“Not mine. She’s new to me, a Jasra something or the other…”

“You seem to know something about her,” pressed Dev.

“Honest, I don’t. I’ve just heard things about her…”

“What things.” demanded the man.

“I’ve just heard she’s a pilot, she has a ship, that’s all. Honest.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Look Dev, I’m not lying, honest. I don’t want to die any time soon. Go see for yourself.”

Dev arched an eyebrow, “I will. Don’t get any ideas and start moving; I’ll have Hcak Notroht shoot you with your own blaster if you do.”

“All right…all right, I hear you.”

The Inferno Syndicate operator spared a glance at Hcak, who shrugged in turn. Dev nodded and jerked his head at the bartender. Hcak nodded. That'll work out well then; Hcak does need some practice. Teach Augers to be mouthing idiot. Now, where are you Miss Jasra...ah...there. The woman Augers directed him to didn't seem like any of Auger's typical hired help, but one never could be sure.

Appearances were deceptive, especially when one was buzzed by imbibed alcohol.

Dev sauntered over through the crowd of the Rolling Bantha's denizens; a veritable amalgam of species, albeit there were slightly more humans than the so-called aliens. Yet most of them managed to blend homogenously in with the scruffy trappings of spacers and other fringers. It was a crowd in which Dev did not blend in with well. His posture was erect, his russet hair immaculately combed, and his armored flight suit too clean, too standard. He finished wading through the crowd to the woman, and offered her a gloved hand.

"Hi, I'm Brandeis Colingham. I hear you're new around. Jasra is it? Care for a drink?"

Jesra had just shut off and slapped down her datapad in anger. Her next job had been given to someone else. "Fierfek." The curse came with a sigh as she picked up and downed the remaining mouthful of her drink. The empty glass was set down with a clink. She needed that job and the credits that went with it.

As the stranger stopped and spoke, Jesra's blaster, a 434 'Deathhammer' was out of it's holster on her left hip and aimed across her lap at the stranger's nether regions. "I don't suppose you like to tell me how you know my name Mister...Colingham."

Her voice was soft, and calm, but her mysterious eyes studied him carefully. She had seen him approach but hadn't given any indication. After a moment of deciding between just shooting him for interrupting her thoughts, or accepting his offer, she chose the latter as her curiosity got the better of her and gave him a nod. Her passive expression was changed by an amused smile.

"Actually, you can explain yourself after you get me that drink. A Genosian Lava Slide."

Jes figured it was the bartender who mentioned her name. All bartenders made it a point to know who came into their establishment. It was true she'd never been here at the Rolling Bantha. Maybe there was a reason for her not getting that run and ending up here at this joint.

Dev glanced at the pistol in the woman’s lap, feeling the dispassion of the walking dead man. If I have to die now, it’s a good way to go as any. Deathhammer means I won’t need to get more than once, probably. Still, a bit touchy for just a tramp freighter captain. There’s got to be more to her than just that. Perhaps she is part of Auger’s people, or someone else’s group. This calls for more investigation…and back-up. He mimicked shock and surprise at the drawn blaster, and quickly raised his hands as if to ward off the ensuing blaster bolts. A somewhat queasy yet warm smile creased his face, as if taken by honest surprise.

“Hey miss, relax. I don’t mean you any harm, I’ve just be around here for a time, and you’re a new face; I thought I could maybe show you around and what not, maybe get in a dance or two…but before you say anything, take a moment to think. If you shoot me, you won’t come out of here alive, I have a great many friends here. Don’t say anything, just think about it; I’ll go get your drink now.”

Dev slowly edged away from the table, his thoughts partially on his own blaster, a puny Blastech Last Resort pocketed up his sleeve. While it wasn’t remotely powerful or made for real combat, its concealability afforded him a rather fatal surprise for the unwary opponent. A tiny plastic nub embedded in his ear vibrated.

“Didn’t want to dance bro?”

Dev waded into the crowd and whispered, “Has a bit of a trigger finger, and a healthy amount of paranoia too. Keep her under watch, and be prepared to cover me; she could be part of that Murzollo gang that is apparently rising up on Lexrol; rumor has it they were going to try and extend their influence into the free worlds.”

“Gotcha boss.”

The willowy man strode up to the barkeeper, not Augers, but rather an ordinary robobartender: Augers was doubtlessly enjoying an interrogation and lecture on “economics” from Hcak in the Rolling Bantha’s back room. He glanced at the droid and produced a credit voucher.

“One Genosian Lava Slide, droid,” ordered Dev, “and make it snappy; it’s for a certain woman.”

“One Genosian Lava Slide, coming right up,” wheezed the droid.

Several minutes later, the droid handed him a glass of Genosian Lava Slide. Dev glanced at it, and took carefully; half expecting it to blow up or burn his hands like its namesake. Gingerly grasping the drink, he prodded and pushed his way through the crowd, and set it on Jasra’s table. Without asking, he sat down opposite of her.

“Well, old the TY-1 droid at the counter claims that this is a Genosian Lava Slide, but it didn’t seem to burn me. Funny how names can mean so little. But I’m rambling now, what brings you to the Rolling Bantha?”

Figuring Brandeis to be harmless for the time being, Jesra slid her weapon back into the holster, even though the strap wasn't snapped on. She leaned over and took up the glass and savored the first sip before swallowing, her eyes peering at him over the rim.

"Thanks again." She set the drink down and sat back with one hand on the table and the other resting on the butt of her blaster. "Now, to answer your question. I was supposed to have a job waiting for me here. Some backside of a Bantha who had a better ship then I do got the job instead. So here I am."

She didn't say what the job was. Far as she knew, ol' Brandeis here could be working for the Empire or someone else who took too much of an interest to what she did for a living.

"So, do you make it a habit to greet every new face that comes in here?"

Dev shrugged, “Most of the time, when I’m around that is. It’s always good to find out who’s new, especially in my trade; I’m a middleman if you will, the guy who arranges transport for people needing special goods delivered…”

Special. I’ve got to find a better word for that…something more…risqué, perhaps…something better veiled than that…ah well, I’m not a protocol droid. Dev pulled out a minute datapad from his pants, and waded through various files.

“Listen, I’m looking for someone to do some transport for me…moving a bunch of… special equipment to some certain specialists, if you’re looking for a job that is. The specialists are willing to pay for your ship’s fuel and any repairs needed on your ship. They’ll even provide protection for part of the journey, if you’re interested.”

Trillidor guessed that Jasra would figure out the meaning without too much difficulty. If she was some Imperial agent, she might try and get him. Keyword being try. Any move, and Rodriguez sitting at the table a dozen meters away would probably pepper her with his blaster. If she wasn’t that kind of transport captain, there would be no harm done. Who would she report him to? The Uogo’cor government, which itself was a motley crew of outlaw techs and criminals? Warlord Fossk might have nominal control over the planet, but in reality, Uogo’cor was ruled the very rebels and outlaws which the Imperial warlord loathed via the Liberty League and its sponsor, the Inferno organization.

As she took another slow sip of her beverage, Jesra listened to Brandeis, if that's what his name really was. She didn't answer right away after he finished talking so as to ponder the tempting offer presented her. Being an 'all purpose' transport pilot was a gamble and the odds could go with or against you depending on what the job entailed. And how much information was given up front. Most of the time the employer of the moment had a tendency to get spotty amnesia. The trick was to be a couple steps ahead of the game.

He needs a pilot, I need a job. And, it's what I do and do well.

"If I was a true believer, I'd say the Force just dealt me a good hand." She gave him a pleasant smile and nod after setting down her drink. "I'll make the run for you. Only thing I need done on my ship is the top turret needs to be repaired. It took a hit on my last trip and I can only get it to turn 45 degrees each way. Not all the way around. Probably one of the gyros."

To show she was on the up and up, Jesra brought her gun hand up and rested it on the table with the other. Just one thing concerned her. "How good are these...specialists that'll be flying escort? Last thing I need is to have an friendly-fire casualty because your boys got a little overexcited. Or forgot I was the one they were supposed to protect." Her smile and voice had a wryness to it. But, if Brandeis was smart like she knew in his eyes that he was, he'd know she was serious.

Trillidor let a grin creep across his face.

"I wouldn't worry about them if I were you, they're the best in the sector, and they've given Warlord Fossk quite a bruising in the past."

This was arguably a worse veil than "special goods." There was only one group which defied and fought the Supreme General: Inferno Fleet. Trillidor figured that Commodore Dha'tey could probably spare several crimson Hunters at the very least. It was an important enough run. Though the escort couldn't fly with her all the way, it would probably lead to a firefight with Fossk's forces, which while Inferno Fleet could win, it would rather foil the idea of covertly transporting some special goods.

Repairs wouldn't be much of a problem. With the recent attack on Nar Shaddaa, Dha'tey had regulated the Death’s Jaws to support duties until its starfighters could be replaced. The massive mobile hangar would be more than capable of repairing the freighter. Dev leaned forward on the table with a knowing smile plastered on his face.

"Once the repairs get done, and it shouldn't take longer than a day I would think with their mechanic team, they would prefer to move the cargo immediately. You must understand, it is a rather pressing shipment..."

Jesra laughed softly. "Isn't it always?" she downed the last of her drink, licked her lips and shoved the empty glass to the side for the server droid to pick up.

The thought of losing her escort didn't bother her as much as it would some pilots. The weak ones. She'd be able to worry about keeping her own arse from being vaped instead of the others. And, flying with pilots you didn't know well could present problems. Everyone had their own style of flying and fighting. Even Jesra, hers. She glanced around the establishment at the other patrons and bartender minding his bar then returned her gaze back to him and smiled. He was indeed good looking but there wasn't anything special about him that she could notice. Then again, they had only just met.

"I don't suppose you have time to show me around the place, I need to buy a few things." She looked at him askance. "Or do you have to keep playing the host for your friend there?"

Her smile had been called charming if not alarming.

"I don't suppose you have time to show me around the place, I need to buy a few things. Or do you have to keep playing the host for your friend there?"

Dev's face lit up with a smile he didn't actually feel. If you saw me and Augers earlier, you might be entering a dangerous game; or you are dangerous game...I think I'll have to have Rodriguez trail us. At least if I die, she'll be going done with me then. He shook his head.

"Not in particular. The Barkeep and I are old friends; we just had to settle an old misunderstanding about a cargo shipment," maintained Trillidor merrily, "Now then, where can take you to? The Blue Flamigo Hotel? The Uogo'cor Gloshsmiths? No? Perhaps the Grand Imperial Toy Store to get some plastic soldiers?"

A geniune smile rippled over his face. Sometimes it was fun to tease and joke around with comrades in this business. Otherwise, things could get to be too stressful, too emotional, too fatal.

"Well, I won't be needing the hotel. I'll be satisfied staying on my cozy ship. And the toys I like to play with aren't meant for children." She grinned. "They actually shoot back." She swung her legs out from under the table and stood up with her gun hand resting in a non-threatening manner on her holstered weapon.

"I just don't feel like waiting in here, so if you know of a place that sells the big girl toys we could stop there. Then I'd like to check on the progress of the repairs a little later if you don't mind."

Translation. She wanted to make sure his boys and girls weren't going astray of the initial job by adding little surprises. Before she left Jes would make a sweep of the ship from the cockpit. That, and her mediocre but efficient security system would alert her via datapad if certain areas were being messed with that shouldn't be. To anyone nearby, it would come in as a normal off-world subspace message. Nice little trick a bounty hunter had taught her. Fortunately, she wasn't on his list at the time.

If we start heading into an area where the haircuts and boots start looking a little too military, then there's a problem.

"One of my rules is I don't want or need to know who actually wants the cargo shipped. I've learned there's usually an unseen face behind the order." She turned to Brandeis and smiled. "That way, if the authorities want to have a chat I don't have to lie. And, I just as soon not know what the cargo is either. Unless of course it's something like unstable chemicals or explosives or something else that could get myself and my ship blown to microscopic space dust by accident. "

Then her smile disappeared and her eyes became dead serious. "And I don't believe in accidents. So, if I find out later that I was flying with that kind of cargo and wasn't told...well, let's just say the last guy that tried that has to be spoonfed mushmeal by his pet Ewok for the rest of his miserable life."

"But, I'm sure you'd tell me right away wouldn't you?" Jes said lastly smiling again.