Port of Call

“Did you reset those Transponder codes?” Kerrin Thorn leaned back in the captain’s chair with an audible creak as she heard the booted steps of one of her crew. As long as her crew had been together, she could identify the gait of many of her veterans. Ninda had a lighter step, but oft times wore heavier boots that suggested a larger stature individual than she was. “They’d probably be shooting at us already if I hadn’t.” Ninda remarked to her captain with no small amount of snark, raising both arms above her head to post her hands on the door frame that led into the cockpit of the Dusk Harrier, an HWK-290 that had been retrofit with armaments the ship model had not been known for.


Two Storm IV Twin-Pod Cloud Car’s descended to either flank of the ship, relaying their orders over the comm. “Stay your course Luminous Osprey.” The Cloud Cars were no doubt running the active Transponder, and waiting for approval and a designated landing pad following the barked order. “You know how I hate that one. Luminous Osprey, what in the void was Jitters thinking on that one.” Jitters, the teenager that had brought on some years ago, a technological marvel, but not exactly the mostly socially adept individual. “Hey, it was your call Cap, rewarding him for that job in the Lorelli Reach.”


Ninda leaned forward, poking her head into view of the side viewport, tossing a wave and smile at one of the pilots of the starboard flanking Cloud Car. “Even if we had left our old transponder on, we could just burn skyward and leave them intra atmosphere.” Ninda spoke through her smile, words not as easily understood through those closed teeth and fixed lips. “Clear to land Luminous Osprey, we’ll bring you in.” Kerrin sent her acknowledgement, and accepted the flight plan provided as they steered through the once Mining and Resort City.


The sleek and angular ship swept in like a descending bird of prey, landing struts emerging as it swept in sideways and set down atop them. The hydraulics hissed as they absorbed the weight of the ship, and gave a bit of push back to stabilize the craft. By this time, Ninda had ventured back into the crews quarters and slipped into the crawl space dead center in the floor. The captain paused overtop, peering down at the black haired Hapan woman within. “Coming?” She called down, Ninda raising her forearm up to brush her bangs out of her face without using her dirty hands. “Yeah, just checking out what parts need replacing. I’ll check in later.” The Captain shrugged at that and depart with the rest of the crew.


Ninda spent the next fifteen taking stock of the parts she needed on a data pad, before hoisting herself up out of the crawlspace. She moved for the ramp, snatching her olive colored jacket off a hook before slapping a hand against the control panel at the side. It slid down slowly until the decking, where she gave another hit to the panel and quickly slid off the edge of the now raising ramp. Her hands brushed against her black pants, wiping them ‘clean’ while using the color of her garments as a disguise for the dirt she rubbed off her palms.


By now the ship had been appropriately checked in, and Ninda even assumed the appropriate palms had been greased for any that might recognize the Corsair ship of the Hapes Cluster. Not her problem presently. She moved to the primary turbo lift and squeezed in beside a Human and Houk. Lights flashed by as the lift descended lower and lower, leaving the finely robed Human to disembark on the upper levels and freeing up more space for Ninda to slip away from the Houk for the rest of the descent. The doors chimed as they opened when she reached her level, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her jacket and shuffling through the moderately busy walkways.

As her hands slipped into her pockets, her left hand encountered an obstacle. Something that was not there before. Extracting the item she discovered a black gilded card, no bigger than a playing card. The texture was exquisite and glossy, the gild embossed and raised. It was quite a thing in itself, but there was more to it. Equally glossy white lettering spelled out an address. Galindas Exports - Cloud City Level 110. Underneath the lettering someone had hand written in a single sentence. Looking for work?

---

Down on Level 110 Svenskeren flipped a coin between his fingers. It was an old thing, from an time when currency was physical instead of electronic. How primitive, but shiny. His office was full of such trinkets. Bits of ancient machinery, old weapons, and other nonsense, all from a bygone age, taken directly from junk yards and dumps and polished until they gleamed. They sat in their display boxes, shelves, and all over his desk. The plaque that bore his name and the title of Regional Administrator was almost lost in the carefully organized clutter.

It was a numbers game, he reminded himself after glancing back up at the chrono on the wall. The seeds were planted. Many this time. It was just a matter of time before someone accepted his invitation and came looking for work. Maybe. Hopefully. If he was lucky. Otherwise he would have to call Grov to take care of the matter, and Svenskeren would rather not admit to having an issue in the first place. Galindas Exports Cloud City branch was only beginning to post a profit for a change and he would hate to tarnish the reputation he had spent so much blood, sweat, and tears polishing back up to the golden shine. Besides, Grov had a reputation for damage and he doubted the Falleen would manage to recover the cargo without damaging it.

Or destroying it all together. A total loss would not be acceptable.

Her fingers passed over the smooth surface of the card within her pocket, curiosity prompting her to slip it out between her index and middle finger. Her first assumption on contact but before visual confirmation was something of little consequence, like a receipt or stub for a holo the last time she had worn the jacket. She turned it over, plucking it out of her left hand right her right and rotating it over once again. It was no business card she had ever seen, and thoughts of it being something she’d procured in a drunken evening were squashed when she noticed the directions given were for Cloud City.


Her head turned back towards the long departed lift, and her mind kicked back through all the people she had been in close proximity to. A deck hand. A mechanic. The posh human. The houk. It could have been anyone, and she instinctively passed her hands across the rest of her pockets to ensure nothing was missing, or nothing else added to her ensemble.


Only when she was satisfied nothing was missing did she give further consideration to the card, moving to a holo terminal to attempt to find where she was in regards to the address. Her middle finger passed over the display, resolving she was only a few levels beneath 110, and from there it would only be a short weave through the halls to find Galindas Exports. Ninda’s right hand dropped into her pocket, fishing out her comm unit and attempting to page Captain Thorn. No answer, twice. Damn it was frustrating.


She blew out a heavy breath, raking her hands straight back through her black hair. It wasn’t exactly well kept, feeling a touch greasy between her fingers. Her hair fell off in random unkept directions, revealing the shaved undercut on the right side. “The Captain trusts me…” She started to reassure herself, turning the card over in succession as she considered. “It couldn’t hurt to hear what the job is.” A woman shot her a sideways wary glance at her self mutterings, prompting a cheesy half cocked smile.


She turned about and head back for the turbo lift and before she knew it she was stepping out onto Level 110. She glanced down at the card like it would give her some indication of where to go, and turned left immediately from the lifts. When she reached Galindas Exports she sucked in a timid breath, pushed out all her youthful doubts, and stepped inside. She was directed with ease on flashing the business card to an office, where she was left in rather than having to awkwardly knock and wait outside until she was acknowledged.


“Got your invite.” She stated aloud, lifting the card up and flashing the fancy card his way, perhaps the fanciest card she’d ever seen. Smooth. She thought to herself, lowering her hands to her pockets and tucking the card back away. “Ninda.” She chose not to speak the name of her ship yet, since it was operating under a false transponder presently. How did the Captain handle these sorts of situations?


Her eyes passed up and down the form of the creature before her, not a race she was familiar with. His furry frame might have suggested a gentle disposition, were it not for a more intense stare. She could gather his eyes had seen much, though had no grasp of just how old he was. It was in that moment she realized she wasn’t sure if it was a he or a she. It’s features were masculine, but not knowing the race she wasn’t sure if she should make that assumption at all.


Instead she swept her eyes around the chamber, one of the largest collections of items she had seen contained in a single room. Some were familiar, because of the nature of her profession. Her eyes most curiously sought if he held anything of Hapan origin, like a rainbow gem, or Gun of Command. “Something of a collector?”

The door slid open, causing his whiskers to twitch with curiosity. Beady eyes tried to look over the top of his desk, but he was too small and his clutter too dense. Standing up on the seat of the chair, he finally had the necessary vantage point to see his visitor. Female. Human. He had to guess. Most races did not enjoy having a small furry creature rub it's face on them, as was normal among his species. Scent and texture could change everything, but he would have to settle for visual information lest he land in Person Resources again.

He did his best to stand straight and strike a good image, even while standing awkwardly in his office chair that wanted nothing more than to spin underneath him. "'ello. Welcome. I'm Svenskeren. I'm 'e Reg-ional Di-rector of Galindas Exports. It's a pleasah t' make your acquaintance human Ninda."

At the mention of his collection, his demeanor completely changed and he became noticeably excited. His hands trembled a bit, his whiskers twitched, and his black noise sniffed excitedly. "Yes, yes!" He jumped from the chair to the floor, revealing his short frame and choice of clothing. Where a human, or less furry sentient, might have worn a tailored suit, he instead wore more loose fitting clothing. It was made of exquisite fabric, expensive, but it left room for scurrying about. The dark purples and rich blacks clashed against his white fur with it's distinctive red markings.

"'is one is a Je-di Holocron. Broken. No data. Dead religion. Still valuable. Koovy. Over 'ere is a Gamorrean Stinkstick. Hard t' find outside of Gamorr. That one 'ere is a classic L-Unit. Necessary for all space travel. And 'ere. 'is one is a motivator for a Tumble Hyperdrive. Twenty-seven thousand years old. It's amazing what is just frown away." He made a sucking sound behind his teeth, a Squib sign of disgust.

"Oh, right. You're 'ere for 'e job. Let's forgo 'e masq'rade. I don't like... hiding things. Y'know what I mean? Deals, should be made in daylight, as me people say. I work for the Tenloss Crime Syn'cate, and you are a pirate o' sorts. I have goods that have been taken and I want 'em back. Koovy?"

Some considered being Hapan to be a species on it’s own, but Ninda never concerned herself with the small trivialities of such things, which was why she didn’t take offense when referred to as Human Ninda. Instead she was conscious of what she might say or do that could offend her small, furry host. Was eye contact okay? Should she be bowing? In the end she decided the best thing she could do to not offend him, was to act within her own culture, and not attempt to make any special allowances.


Excitedly her host leapt from his chair. He vanished from sight, the gentle pitter patter of his steps as he rounded out in front of her the only indication of his position. Her head swept left then right, to see him come into view around his desk. Her hand swept up through her hair, pulling it back out of her eyes from where it had fallen when her head tipped downward. She followed Svenskeren as he hastened about, showing his collection off proudly.


She wasn’t just humoring him as he went about showing her all his wares, but was genuinely interested. Not a one she had seen before, and Ninda had seen many rare and valuable things in her line of work, some she understood and others she didn’t. She filed away the pride he held for his collection, and wondered if it had any relation to the job he called her in for. Something personal, perhaps? “One person’s trash…” She remarked on a saying she’d heard the Captain share before, only half completing the thought.


Svenskeren was quick to put all the cards on the table, including her own. A sculpted brow inched upwards, but a smile was soon to follow that rising gesture. “Of sorts.” She remarked in echo to his statement regarding her profession. Piracy was their most lucrative business, but the Captain wasn’t afraid to take simple courier jobs, or smuggling jobs as well. A ship served many purposes, and Ninda echoed the sentiment regarding not limiting their potential out of pride and titles. “We prefer the term Corsairs, far more cvilized.”


Her fingers idly toyed with a stray thread within the pocket of her olive colored jacket once they returned to her pockets, putting her game face back on the way she’d seen the Captain do. “What are we after? What kind of information do you have for us?”

"Cor-sair?" He repeated, turning the word around in his mind and in his mouth. Musing over it's taste. Such a strange sounding word. He would have to look it up later, to add to his ever increasing basic vocabulary. No doubt there were others that called themselves this thing; corsair. To him it seemed little more than branding. A Squib is a Squib, and a Pirate is a Pirate; even if it calls itself some other thing. An intelligent choice, for some, to disguise one's true meaning behind a more attractive word. Sven had no interest in such things. Misdirection, backstabbing, and secrets were not cards he played in his Pazaak deck.

"Galindas shipment was seized by pirates. Mad Black Billy Beepbeepboop, I fink. 'e's a devious prot'col droid wiff a bloodfirsty crew. He nicked me stuff right off me front door. No respect. I'm not no bloody fool. Got trackin' devices in 'e crates. 'e'll be lookin' for a safe 'arbor to unload their stolen goods. That takes time. I bet me dosh e're headed for Terminus. I'll pay a fousand credits for each recovered crate. Bout'a dozen of 'em. I'll even buy anyfing else of value 'e have. Weapons, drugs, slaves. Stuff like that. Don't care how you get it. Koovy?" He finished, holding up his hand for the strange custom that was popular among sentients in the civilized galaxy.

Ninda nodded to his pronunciation, even if he needed no confirmation of the title. She watched in silence as she assumed he considered her question, rather than the word. Eventually he spoke, going into enough detail to get the job done, but she curiously kept note of the lack of specifics on the cargo itself. One detail of the job threw her for a loop. At first Ninda assumed it was his strange way of speaking that she had confused, but the confirmation came with declaring him a protocol droid. A pirate protocol droid!?


She’d never known them to be anything but…protocol droids, usually all about etiquette and that nonsense. It’s computerized mind could likely account for intelligence, but she had to wander what kind of crew would throw in with a droid. Must be money in it. That was the only rationale she could formulate. She tried to recollect the rest of the information after her brief hiccup, which undoubtedly showed in some fashion by her facial expression. Payment, Location, Number of cargo. “Nothing in the crates we’re gonna have to worry about blowing up our ship, is there?” Incendiaries, explosives. If either were a part of the cargo, they would need to know before they entered into a firefight.


She awaited at least partial clarification, though they didn’t need to know the exact details more what it wasn’t. Only when she received such did she offer a hand down to Svenskeren. Her small feminine hand was likely just a tad bit larger than his, given his more diminutive stature, so she did her best to accommodate whatever was necessary. “We’ll keep you informed.” She assured.

"Na, nothin' 'splosive. Still, don't shoot it. It's valuable."

More so than she could imagine. Nestled in those crates was the first shipment of Bliss; Black Sun Vigo Kandle's new drug. He had seen fit to give distribution rights to Galindas, buried underneath subtle threats of harm if he did not agree to it, and Svenskeren was determined to not have his first shipment go astray. It would get recovered one way or another, but what was more important was getting it back before anybody decided to shoot up with it. You cannot advertise it as the new drug on the block if people have already been using it and talking about it with their neighbors.

"One mo' fing, Human Ninda. You ain't the only pirate I reached out to. You might run into... competition."

The Acula now safely tucked away in the large hangar complex, it's decks cleaned after the mess that her last contract had left, Alanie strolled through the busy avenues of the lower city. Determined to get paid after this last hunt, the slender bounty hunter avoided street urchins selling drugs or companionship for the evening, heading toward the office of the Squib that hired her for this run. Blue eyes scanned the crowd for any trouble, knowing this part of the large floating city had that in abundance which was one of the reasons that Cloud City had attracted so much of it - avians of a feather. Many contacts had been made here as well, which was a great benefit to a hunter looking to get their feet wet in the business and as Alanie exited the turbolift with many others on level 110, she had one more to appease to improve that list. Meandering through a trio of Wookiees, the large hairy beasts exuding a natural musty odor, Alanie soon saw the blaring sign that denoted the Squib's office and apartment.

Boots beat upon the metal plating toward the door as she pulled it open, then stepped inside. Another dark haired female now facing the small furry owner amid the clutter of his collection, Alanie slowed her pace scanning the raven haired guest. Build, hiding places for weapons as well as her demeanor all told the trained assassin a great deal as Alanie moved toward the left quietly, avoiding the stack of trinkets crowding a small table in the center of the room. Arms crossed, Alanie glanced to Svenskeren with heat in her eyes, like a vornskr about to pounce. Firing him a pressed grin before speaking, Alanie glanced back to the slender female once more.

Pirate, huh?

More worried about having to use it for cover. Her new employer, which was an interesting title to give him since she hadn’t run the job by her Captain, made one last revelation. Competition. She had to confess she preferred the easy jobs that paid well, but those didn’t really exist. “Right, gotta cover all of your basis.” She understood his motives, and also the potential this job could have as a try out for future ones, even if the Dusk Harrier tended to keep it’s options open to keep from getting locked beneath a single entity.


She didn’t need specialized skills to hear a door open and close, and the footsteps to follow. She had kept her focus on Svenskeren the entire time, because their business had those small details to be shared back and forth, but it seemed that was finally al wrapping up. She glanced back at the other figure, a woman with a darker complexion than her own. She stood with a sort of confidence that Ninda expected more out of Hapan women than the rest of the galaxy, but understood that likely came from her ties with people like the Squib of Galindas Exports.


“Looks like our meetings run into your next.” Her words came out as her head slowly turned back towards Svenskeren. “See you soon then.” Her attention turned back towards the newest entry before she could even turn her body back the direction of the exit, though it followed suit quick enough. She briefly wondered if the other woman would be a rival on the job she’d been given. While she abhorred losing, she wouldn’t mind as long as it was to another woman, given her cultural outlook. “All yours.” She remarked to Alanie, not presuming to stay and linger for whatever business they had to wrap up, excusing herself back out the way she came.


Outside, Ninda took the first deep breath following the meeting, like she had been holding one in the entire time. It was certainly an experience to take the wheel on a task, but now she had to break the news to the Captain. Her fingers fumbled with the card in her pocket, particularly a creased edge that had begun to separate. The ridges of her fingers plucked at it rhythmically, further ruining it as she nervously stood just outside Galindas Exports, considering how to approach the conversation with the Captain. Would she be proud? Angry? Only one way to find out. She pinged the comm line to her own boss, waiting to be pinged back.

He bowed his furry white head to her. "Good luck."

Svenskeren's golden eyes switched to the new comer. It wasn't until her scent made it's way to his twitching nose that he recognized who she was. The bounty hunter. He was less than happy that she barged into his meeting like this. He would have a word with the desk staff about restricting people from just walking in off the street. Still, seeing her face most likely meant her mission was a success. Why else would she show her face back here if that was not the case? That was good news in itself. Another loose end taken care of.

Borgin "Slimo" Jasskar had fled the sector when Svenskeren had taken over control of the district office here on Bespin. He knew he was the problem, the cancer, and Svenskeren was the cure. He took his embezzled credits and dirty secrets and ran out of Tenloss' influence as fast as he could. Smart man, but he made the mistake of thinking that he would be save outside of Greater Javin. The paper trail was too easy to follow, and all it took was a hired gun to remove the problem. Sven would have loved to have been there for it, to either witness or be the one to plant the laser beam in his head, but it was hard to get around the galaxy when your figuratively chained to a desk.

"Slimo?" He asked as he made his way back to his desk, taking a seat in the overly plush chair with it's extra cushion; for height. Punching a combination into the drawer lock with a clawed fingertip popped it open, and from it's contents a credit chit was produced. Already loaded with the agreed upon price for the job. His other hand stayed underneath the desk, close to the tensor pistol that was hidden underneath. He was not overly afraid, but bounty hunters were a type he was never comfortable with. Someone would be a fool indeed to attack Tenloss on their own turf, but you could never anticipate the potential stupidity inherent in all beings.

Svens was keeping busy it seemed, Alanie noted as she listened to the tail end of the conversation with the other female who then turned to her before leaving. Nodding to the stranger, "Thanks," the hunter replied, keeping the exiting smuggler in her peripheral before turning her full attention back to the owner of the cluttered office and building. Hearing the drawer open, she also noticed where the other hand went and obviously her temporary employer didn't trust her for some reason. Her hands dropping to her sides, now closer to her own pistol beneath the dark blue jacket. "Yeah," she began, rounding the small table between her and the desk with a casual familiarity. "He sent his regards before retiring permanently. Though you should know that his stolen funds ended up back where they should've been, so." Shrugging, she neared the desk's edge, now able to see the open drawer as well as the other arm being beneath the desk on the holstered weapon.

"What's the matter, Svens. Not trust me?"

"No 'fence luv, but I don't trust anyone. Not even a fit dish like you."

Trust was something reserved for those within the Tenloss family. Did he have coworkers, superiors, and underlings that would love the chance to kill him? Without a doubt, but the threat of the whole family coming crashing down on your head kept most of them in line. At least until the perfect opportunity arises. Sven was very good at keeping away from those situations, and otherwise befriending all those who came into contact with him. Even Tenloss' greatest rival, Black Sun, was a partner of Sven's. Vigo Kandle's new drug, Bliss, was only getting deployed through Sven's contacts and routes. He tried his best to be a like-able businessman. However, sometimes business required you to be less than cuddly.

Pulling up the cred chit, he tapped it's corner on the desk twice and then slid to across to the edge. "Full payment, as 'greed upon. Not'a credit less."

“Copy that, I’ll be back to the ship within eight hours. See ya then.” Or sooner, but she didn’t need to specify that. She’d just gotten done recounting the job to her Captain, who surprisingly didn’t seem angry that Ninda had gotten them contracted for a task. She assumed it was because their employer specified they would not be the only crew after the job, and so it alleviated a touch of the pressure to get it done with the potential for others to beat them to it strictly because they had been informed first.


Ninda stowed the comm unit into the pocket of her jacket and started to backtrack towards a holo terminal near the turbo lift. Like the one she had accessed before, she punched up a city map and continued to filter it down. She wasn’t a heavy drinker but she could use some R&R before jumping back out into the galaxy on a job. She did her best to narrow down not only the closest locations, but the ones her crew might visit. While she was fine going it alone, she wouldn’t object to being in familiar company.


She stopped at the turbo lift, leaning forward from her place before the doors to press her index for a long moment into the terminal. She straightened back up, bringing her arms before her chest. Her gaze impatiently swept around, searching for something to draw her attention for the short moments that felt like long ones. She let the small crowd leave the lift before slipping in, reciting the deck level and location of the bar she’d looked up over and over in her mind, keeping it fresh so she wouldn’t get lost.

Flashing the white furred alien a grin, blue-green eyes glanced to the chit on the desk and leaned in, then took it. Palming the slender object, she slipped the newly acquired money into her jacket pocket, keeping her other hand on her belt buckle, knowing if he had in mind to double-cross her and try to take the money back, she would be ready. Backing out, she angled her exit toward the door, smiling. "You have any more trash that needs taking out, you know how to get ahold of me." Winking, she opened the door and stepped out, turning as she pulled the door closed. Amusement melting with each passing moment, Alanie hurried toward the turbolift cluster knowing she had several other stops to make before leaving again.

Soon, the bounty hunter noticed through the parting crowd the dark haired pirate again, waiting on the lift as well. Unsure of her affiliations, the Black Sun hunter knew if she stuck around long enough that information would emerge. Nearing the gathering group, the ding that announced the arrival of the lift prompted her to then watch those exiting the lift and stepped aside as a pair of heavily clothed Weequay emerged, their muscled bodies and braided hair down their backs a signature look for their race, it seemed. Meandering into the lift, she neared the center and behind a trio of young human males, all eyeing the pirate with interest.

Grinning, Alanie couldn't help herself. "Think you have an instant fan base here already," she motioned to the trio, now glancing to her as well.

She carefully skirt by the Weequay, only a passing glance given to the leathery skinned features of the much larger than her humanoids. Inside the lift, she cradled her left elbow in her right palm, and reached her left hand across to curl fingers around her bicep and tricep. Her eyes briefly met the woman’s, not instantly recognizing her only because she was encouraged to look elsewhere at the trio of male’s she referenced. She flashed a placating smile their direction, then turned her gaze over towards the woman that had addressed her. “Didn’t really even notice. Where I am from, most are considered attractive against the galactic standard, so sometimes I forget I can be considered such.” She wasn’t being vain, it was what she had been told about Hapans, and falling into that crowd it just felt normal to be who she was and look as she did.


She gave another quick glance back, then let her gaze settle just ahead as she conversed with the woman just to her side. “Sure it isn’t you they’re looking at?” Alanie had been the one to spot them looking at Ninda first, but Ninda only saw them looking at Alanie now, so it provoked that question right back. It suddenly dawned on her why she looked familiar, and though it had been mere minutes since they had passed in the office of Svenskeren, she hadn’t expected to see the woman again and so didn’t keep her locked so firmly in her mind except as a familiar face she couldn’t at first place.


“You’re the….” She fell quiet, considering whether Alanie would want her profession spoken aloud. She decided it wasn’t her place to make that call, and found a different way to convey her familiarity. “You were there, in Galindas. Quick meeting?” She was making small talk now, even if only because it would keep her from being bothered. Her culture held a very distinctive matriarchal view, and so by her upbringing she instantly had more respect for a strong woman than a gathering of ogling young men. Did she dismiss them entirely? No, but they wouldn’t get anywhere whispering to each other, and then attempting to corner and outnumber her in a vain effort to make her surrender her time out of intimidation.

A wry grin arced upon Alanie's smooth, cinnamon toned face as she wondered now how conceited this woman was, then realized that given the nature of certain parts of the galaxy that attitude may be normal. Gazing back at the three thugs, she knew their mind was active already and began waiting for the come-on lines. Let the games begin, she mused until Ninda nearly slipped about her profession, gaining her attention once more. Nodding, "Yeah, he's such a cheeky little fella, isn't he? You been working with them long?"

"You ladies doing anything this afternoon," one of the trio finally spoke up, smiling at Ninda. "How about dinner?"

Smiling, Alanie was now curious to see how this woman from a naturally "beautiful" system would react.

"You would do best to keep your gray tongues in your uncouth mouths."

The three turned around to face him. Weequays were not to be messed with. They were warrior culture and were known for their lack of manners and violent temperaments. Blacktung stood his ground, his blue eyes locked on the obvious leader of the three. The biggest of the lot. A real thug with boxed ears from fighting and body language that expressed that he was used to winning and getting his way. He was smaller, but more muscularly built. The body was a real warrior was his, and theirs was that of thugs. Those whom target only the weak.

They began walking over, one spreading to each side. Predictable. They think they fight like wolves; flanking from the sides, but even wolves know when to concede to a superior foe and retreat. Raising his arms, Blacktung crossed his large arms across his chest, revealing the large vibro knife that was sheathed at his side. They stopped dead in their tracks. Weapons were not allowed in most areas of Cloud City, and only Imperial personnel had the permits to carry in this district. They immediately backed away from the bearded man, only now noticing the scars on his face and arms, the width of his shoulders, and the look in his eyes; like he wanted a fight. The biggest thug spit on the ground and walked away, taking his two goons with him.

"A pity," He said as they disappeared around the corner, "I very much wanted to fight them. Their braids would have made excellent trophies." Turning away from where the trio disappeared, he brought his attention back to the two ladies. One stood out from the other. The slope of her forehead and the round of her cheeks, the shape her eyes even and the way she stood; like she was a superior being. "You are far from the Cluster, my lady. You may find better company in the higher levels."

A quick glance at the other lady told him she was a mercenary, or perhaps a bounty hunter like himself. It was all in the way she stood, edgy and aware. A keen, youthful warrior. The most dangerous kind.