Aarkr Rajam hated bars.
He'd always hated bars. Especially the ones on Nar Shaddaa. They were, however, one of the best sources when one was looking for...employment.
The Nautolan smuggler was currently out of work--a fairly normal state of being for him. The Empire was concerned about smugglers. Not as concerned as it was about the Jedi, but nevertheless concerned. Hopefully somebody here needs somebody to run some cargo, thought Aarkr. After all..this is the Smuggler's Moon.
Aarkr stepped up to the bar. "Hey, Sliv," he called.
The burly Aqualish bartender gave him a tired look, wiping a dusty glass with a dustier rag. "What do you want, Rajam?"
"Hydro-beer?"
Sliv glared. "You got cash?"
Aarkr tried not to squirm. "Credit."
Sliv threw his rag down onto the bartop. "You know your credit ain't good here no more, Rajam."
Aarkr sighed, pulled out a credit chip, and waved it in Sliv's face.
The bartender immediately pulled out the bottle and started filling the dusty glass. He pushed it over to Aarkr, who took it and put the credit chip back into his pocket. Aarkr ignored Sliv's protest and started heading over to an empty table.
A blonde young man barrelled past Aarkr and grabbed a seat at the table, carrying a glass of what looked like water.
Aarkr immediately stalked over to the table. "Hey! Hey, kid! That's my table!"
Kale Sendra hated bars.
He'd always hated bars. Of course, he'd never been off Nar Shaddaa in his life, so his experiences were limited. They were, however, one of the best sources when one was looking for somebody who needed help with a ship.
That was what Kale wanted the most. A ship. Some way to get off-planet and into the wider galaxy. He didn't care how dangerous it was; in fact, that was one of the biggest draws for him. He just needed to get off-world, to do something more than fix rustbuckets for the rest of his life. Maybe somebody'll take me on as a crewman, thought Kale. It's worth a shot.
Kale stepped up to the bar. "Yo, Sliv!"
The Aqualish looked over at him. "You know you're not supposed to be here, Kale."
Kale shrugged. "Hey, it's my fault if the Big Man doesn't get customers. I gotta start somewhere, right?"
Sliv shook his head. "You want your water?"
Kale grinned. "You know me too well, Sliv."
Sliv filled a glass with water and slid it over to Kale. Kale turned to find somewhere to sit, but the bartender grabbed his shoulder. "You know, Kale," he said, "I think there's better things for you to be doing than rounding up suckers for the Big Man. I think," he continued, leaning forward, "that you could go far in just about anything you want to. You find a way out of here, you could go far. You know that? I just wish...well, I wish your parents were here to see you now."
Kale didn't answer for a few seconds. Simply put, talking wasn't his favorite pastime. Especially not about that. Kale looked back at the Aqualish's humorously earnest face and chuckled. "Stop drinking your own brew, Sliv. It won't take you far." He turned his back on Sliv, knowing that he sounded callous.
It wasn't that he didn't miss his parents. It was because he missed them. He did miss them--even though he had never known them. From everything he'd been told, they--or at least his father--hadn't been worth knowing anyway. He'd essentially left his son to a con man, a two-bit thief who'd somehow picked up a business--and a failing one, at that.
Kale stopped brooding when he saw a young Nautolan step through the doorway. "Enter the sucker," he muttered, watching the Nautolan order--steal--his drink. Kale grinned when he saw the Nautolan gyp Sliv. "My turn." He hurried past the Nautolan, bumping into him on the way to the only open table.
The kid looked up at Aarkr. "What? I don't see your name on it."
Aarkr bared his teeth. "Not funny, squirt. Scram."
The kid just sipped his water and looked up at Aarkr with big blue eyes. He's too old to have eyes like that, thought Aarkr. He's almost as old as me, for the Force's sake!
"Look, kid...can't you run along, find some friends? I've got bigger things to worry about than you."
The kid grinned. Aarkr realized he could have gone far in the holo industry. "I think I'm your biggest problem right about now. Really." An ID card magically appeared in his hand. "Trau Toornt, Nautolan Tour Service. Four years with the company. Oh, and what an original ship name, too: Glee Anselm TourBoat A. Wow. Impressive. Did anybody actually check this out?"
"Give me that!" Aarkr growled, snatching at the ID card.
"Uh, uh, uh," the kid scolded, wagging a finger. "Next time, pay the 'tender." A credit chip--Mine, Aarkr realized--appeared in his other hand. He flipped the chip over the heads of several Trandoshans and onto the bartop. "That should take care of all those drinks you had on credit, Nautolan."
Aarkr grudgingly sat down in the chair opposite the kid. "Who are you, kid?"
"Sendra. Kale Sendra."
Aarkr grinned. "Sandra? Sandra! Haha! I knew a girl named Sandra once...she nearly shot off my head."
The kid rolled his eyes. "Sendra. With an 'e'. Sendra."
"Sandra. San...Saaaaaaandra."
The kid sighed. "Just call me Kale." He leaned forward. "And who are you? You're obviously not Trau Toornt, Nautolan Tour Guide. At least, I wouldn't gladly take a tour to Nar Shaddaa."
Aarkr conceded. "I suppose not." He looked around, eyes on the seedier characters in the establishment. "Aarkr Rajam. Smuggler. And what do you do?"
Kale lowered his voice to a more conspiratorial tone. "I work for a guy who sabotages ships and then gets paid to fix them. I'm the one who gets sent out to find the suckers."
Aarkr whistled.
"Truth is, though," Kale continued, "I don't want to stay here. I want to get out and...do something." Then he said, almost to himself, "I don't know what."
Kale couldn't figure out why he was talking to this Rajam about his ambitions. He wasn't a talkative person, to say the least. In fact, he'd never actually expressed his dreams to anyone.
That could possibly have been because he himself wasn't quite sure what they were.
Maybe he'd gravitated to Aarkr Rajam because he was a sucker, a great target for the big man's operation...or maybe it was something else. Maybe it was...hope.
Jaxel Fang hated bars.
He'd always hated bars. They could offer nothing like the bloodlust that came with a hunt, the feeling of power, the feeling of achievement. Nothing could rival that.
Led Shesh, however, loved bars. He was perfectly willing to hang out in one for a day or two...as long as they served Treldanian Blood-fizz and had an open place at the bar.
Unfortunately for Jaxel--and the mission the two were on--Sliv's had both.
"We can't be here for very long, Shesh," Jaxel growled as the two entered the dimly-lit room. The air reeked of alcohol, blood, and gunsmoke. Not unlike the rest of Nar Shaddaa.
"Don't worry, Jaxel. Establishments like this one are the places to go for good pilots. And besides..." He put his arm around Jaxel's shoulders. "They're great fun."
"Well, Shesh...this isn't the place to find a designated pilot."
Shesh barked a laugh.
Jaxel wasn't sure whether or not that was true. He was sure that their mission was not to get drunk. Unfortunately, Shesh was already well on his way. Jaxel scanned the bar for likely candidates. Most of them just kept their heads down. Good plan, thought Jaxel. Informants are everywhere these days.
"Want anything?" Shesh asked, motioning for the bartender to wait.
"A pilot."
Kale's eyes were darting. He was up to something. Aarkr could tell. "What do you think of those two?" the kid asked, pointing with his chin.
Aarkr slowly and carefully cast a glance over his shoulder at the newcomers. "Shistavanens. Wolfmen. Usually don't see them off of Uvena Prime."
"I wonder what they're doing here," Kale said, wiping a drop of water off his lips.
Aarkr nodded. "So do I. Let's find out," he said, rising.
Kale half-rose, grabbing Aarkr's arm. "Wait...what?"
The Nautolan shook him off. "Hey, don' werrrry aboudit, mon," he said, slurring his speech and showing more teeth than a rancor. He stumbled slightly, weaving between--and into--tables as he made his way to the bar.
"Anudder one, Sliv," he said. "My credit should be good now."
Sliv shook his head. "That chip only covered the regular fees. You forgot all the tips you owe me, Rajam."
Aarkr laughed good-naturedly. "Tell me you're jokin', mon."
Sliv just stared.
Aarkr sighed. "Fine." He slid a credit chip over to Sliv and leaned closer. "Who are the wolfmen, Sliv?"
The Aqualish shrugged. "Beats me, Rajam. I heard they were looking for a pilot, though."
Aarkr grinned. "Thanks, Sliv."
Sliv leaned back. "Enjoy the drink."
Aarkr sauntered over to where the wolfmen were standing. The one farthest from him, obviously the leader, stared over the shoulder of the one in the middle.
"What do you want?" he growled, baring his teeth.
Aarkr smiled back. "I heard you two were looking for a pilot."
"We still are," the talkative one said, and pointedly turned his back on Aarkr.
"Shouldn't we at least hear him out?" said the other. He turned to Aarkr. "What's your name and occupation? The real ones," he added, "not some fake ID."
"Aarkr. Aarkr Rajam. Smuggler." He gestured with a thumb to Kale. "That's my partner. Kale Sandra."
The one in the middle looked at the talkative one. "This might be our best shot."
The talkative one growled. "Fine. Let's talk business."
Kale couldn't help but feel apprehensive as the two wolfmen followed Aarkr to the table.
The Nautolan took his seat and the others followed suit. "This is Kale Sandra."
"Sendra," Kale corrected.
"That's what I said," Aarkr said, throwing a quick glare in Kale's direction. “Kale here’s my new co-pilot.”
Kale barely managed to keep himself from spitting out his mouthful of water. One of the wolfmen noticed his surprise, bearing his teeth in a grin.
“So…what’s your cargo, boys?”
The unsmiling Shistavanen said, “The two of us…and a few others.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” said Aarkr. “You’re not talking…” He lowered his voice. “You’re not talking slavery, are you?”
Smiley barked a laugh. “No. Not at all.”
The other wolfman said, “We need to get to a little planet called Kragnos. There’s an important…meeting there.
Kale caught Aarkr’s eye. Had he noticed the wolfman’s slight hesitation?
Aarkr leaned forward. “What kind of ‘meeting’?”
The talkative wolfman matched Aarkr’s posture. “That’s our business. Your business,” he said, pulling out a stack of credit chips, “is to get us there. Can you do it?”
Aarkr eyed the credits greedily. “Certainly. And you’ll never find a better ship than the Cobalt Arrow. She’s the envy of the Emperor himself, and—”
“Cut the sales pitch, Rajam,” said Smiley. “Where can we meet you?”
“Got any flimsi?” Aarkr asked, pulling out a pen.
“I’ve got a pad,” Kale said, handing it to him.
“Thanks, kid.” Aarkr scribbled down a few words and handed it to Smiley. “Meet me there and then tomorrow. Got it?”
“‘The envy of the Emperor himself’, eh? I didn’t know the Emperor collected buckets of bolts.”
“Watch it, kid,” Aarkr said. “The Arrow’s gotten me through a lot of tough scrapes. Made a lot of special modifications to her myself.”
Kale continued to inspect the ship’s exterior. “Yeah, I noticed that. What did you do, weld a pair of park benches onto a trash can and call it a ship?”
“Look,” Aarkr replied, angered now. “She may not look like much—”
“Got that right.”
“—but she’s got it where it counts.”
“Oh, good. I was worried that I’d have to manually calculate hyperspace routes.”
“I could arrange that. You just watch yourself, kid.”
“Rajam,” said a gravelly voice from behind them.
“Ah!” said Aarkr, turning on all his charm. “Good to see you, gentlebeings. Where are your friends?”
Smiley, who’d been introduced as Led Shesh, growled softly. The other, Jaxel Fang, snapped, “They’re not here yet?”
Kale spun around. “What do you mean?”
The wolfmen drew their blasters. “We sent them ahead of us,” Jaxel said. “We figured it would be too dangerous for everyone to be together in one group.”
Aarkr pulled out his own blaster. Shesh was approaching the passageway by which they’d entered. “Shesh, get back to the ship!”
“What?” the wolfman growled, turning towards Aarkr.
“Now!” the Nautolan screamed, pushing Kale up the ramp. A blaster bolt nearly seared Shesh’s ear and he started running to the Arrow. Several screamed past Jaxel and Aarkr as they hastily retreated, shooting over their shoulders. Several bolts hit the decaying wall, shattering it and filling the passageway with dust. “Kale! Let’s get out of here!” yelled Aarkr as he and Jaxel charged up the ramp.
“I’d love to,” came the reply, “but she’s not responding.”
“What? You’re joking, right?”
Kale glared at the wide-eyed Nautolan. “Do I look like I’m joking?”
“Try it again.”
Kale powered the ship up while blaster bolts rebounded off her hull, but the power immediately flickered and went out. Aarkr reached up and banged his fist on the ceiling. The power came back online. Kale just gaped at him.
“Careful, kid. You’ll catch a mynock.”
“Don’t say that, please,” Shesh muttered, head in hands.
“How do you keep this thing together?” Kale asked, still incredulous. “Spit and prayers?”
“Not quite,” Aarkr said, grinning. “I’m not a praying man.”
“Can you two cut the chatter and just get us out of here?” Shesh roared.
“Yessir, Mr. Passenger, sir,” Kale muttered.
In the next docking bay over, a figure listened to the commotion and grinned. Perfect. He climbed into his own ship and powered it up. Fastening himself into his chair and strapping on his headset, he said, “Initiate cloaking device.” His own voice, slightly modified by the computer, confirmed the order. He raised the landing gear and lifted the ship above the rim of the docking bay. He watched the crate next to him shakily lift off and blast its way out of the spaceport. “Computer, track them and try to determine their course.” This is where the fun begins.
