"If you want the golden hair, I would sell her to you at a good price. A special deal only for the great Boonta."
The Hutt grunted, and hoomed for a moment. "I already have many with yellow hair. I want red. Do you have what I want, or not?" The slave woman translated after a moment's hesitation, a shove on her back with the blunt end of a pike encouraging her.
The Hutt's entourage shifted around, a few Weequays seeming ready to search the place themselves.
Mirko found himself out on the streets of Et’Un’Wen.
He meandered through the busy thoroughfares, eyes agog, at the sheer overwhelming throng of bodies and beasts of burden cluttering the way.
He was a stranger in a strange land.
Oh sure, Adia and Rick were here somewhere, but finding them would take a bit of doing. And he'd have to do it without that awful Jori finding out. The man was likely to do very bad things to him, if he knew Mirko was plotting to somehow free his companions and escape to Corsucant. Funny how he'd always hated the CoCo district, but now it was all he thought of. Well, all, with the exception of food. Mirko was very hungry.
With the money Jori gave him (what a shocker that had been) clanking in his new pockets, the little Information Broker forgot his plight, the plight of his friends, even forgot Jori momentarily, as he stepped into a dimly lit diner and sat himself at a booth.
In spite of Adia’s advice, Rick still felt the need to struggle against his bonds, if only so he felt as though he was doing something to escape. He didn’t have much faith in Mirko to free them, frankly – he seemed like the resourceful type, but they were all very much out of their league and depths now. So far he had managed to fight back any feelings of hopelessness that might try and sneak up on him, but he knew that it was only a matter of time…
“I don’t know what happened really. It was all a blur. I was trying to keep them back, we seemed to be on top or a while, and then suddenly we’re here and… frell knows what’s happened to the rest of the ship. Probably still out there, totally terrified and lost. Frell, you know we should have been looking out of them and we just jumped into a fight… look where it got us.”
She'd spent some time on Tatooine once, and although she'd never been to Nal Hutta, Serena thought she knew what to expect when it came to Hutts. The vile canal that ran through the most prominent 'palace' smelled bad enough to induce Jomarr to vomiting.
The Admiral tucked her long hair behind her ears as Ensign Jomarr wiped his mouth on his shirttail. She was sitting on an upended barrel, watching the traffic into the squat building. It was larger than any of the others they'd seen in the city, but it only stood two stories high. "It's impressive, but only in this city." She eyed Jomarr. "Can you continue?"
He nodded, still a bit green around the gills. "As long as I don't get too close to that...stream. Gods, it's thick enough to cut with a knife." Jomarr dropped to the dirt beside her, crosslegged on the ground. "I contacted the troopers. TK- ah, Tom and Willy are making their way here. The other two are making sure we have a place to fall back to, staying at the apartment. They say that the planet is called Serna Pur."
He waited, to see if she had any reply. Serena paused in thought, and then turned to him. "Serna Pur? Doesn't that translate to ...something fall. Twi'leki, isn't it?"
Jomarr nodded, exitement bringing a bit of color back to his face. "Yes. Well, sort of. I studied xenological languages in the Academy, sort of as a back up in case the piloting thing didn't work out." He blushed as Serena raised an eyebrow. "Well, you know. Anyway, it's Twi'leki, yes, but serna comes from the word serno in Zabrak. It means ship, or perhaps the plural, ships."
"Ships Fall, then?" Laran shook her head. "This is getting more and more interesting by the moment." She tapped the ensign's shoulder, "Look, that group over there. They look covered in mud. Wai-" She cut herself off. "Tell me that isn't what I think it is."
Jomarr scratched his shoulder and turned slowly to look, being nonchalant and non-obvious about it. "Well, call me stupid, but it looks like two of the fuel cells from our shuttle." He didn't look sick now, he looked angry
"Yeah." Serena studied her fingernails, digging out some dirt from underneath them while the entourage of beings went past. "The new question is, how are we going to get them back, and get our shuttle out of the swamp?"
Jackson didn't flinch from the felinoid's scathing remarks.Originally posted by Nasseeri Haalleerraa
A low growl rumbled softly beneath the covering of the wagon.
"Ssstupjid forrrda! Jif jyou had not been ssso eagerrr and fooljisssh, we would not be trrrussssssed and tjied asss we arrre now! ji had a plan, but now ji doubt Avante wjill go forrr jit due to jyourrr rassshnessssss!"
Nasseeri would have liked to have taken out her frustration and pain on the human before her but the unmistakable, deep toned garblings of a Hutt stilled her sharp tongue and brought a quick swiveling of her ears as she strained to pick up every word.
"I saw an opportunity and I took it. More than I could say about you. I would've had him if you hadn't swatted my stone down."
Attempting to shift into a more comfortable position, Jackson looked at Nass with unfocused defiance.
Chowing down on a "boonta steak" (a 4-inch thick chunk of meat slathered in a couragous conglomeration of cajun spices and exotic herb gravy set atop pepper-fried potatoes) Mirko was beginning to feel back to his old optomistic self again.
Hot food will do that to you.
So will cheap wine.
And after Mirko's fourth glass of the stuff, the diminutive broker was feeling a sunny disposition settling on him.
The doe-eyed waitress was smiling at him. Mirko was convinced she found him charming.
And why not? Mirko felt he oozed charm. And no one could argue that his suit wasn't dapper.
Pushing his now emptied plate away and digging two fingers into his collar, Mirko loosened his shirt and tie hoping to loosen the pretty little vixen's tongue just us much. He had been pumping her for information, in his trademark discreet style, but so far she had helped him little.
"So...you know much about this Sir Avante fellow? I mean...he's rich right?"
"Big rich" came the girl's reply.
"And he buys slaves right?"
"Stock, not slaves" the girl corrected mechanically.
Mirko slurped his wine.
Dabbing at his mouth as if he was a Lord of the Manor, he missed the strange shadow that passed momentarily in the girl's eye as she flicked a communicative look to a brutish man behind Mirko.
"And the stock..what's it for? Like...house servants and things"
"And things" the girl said vaguely.
Mirko didnt like the sound of that much as his thoughts drifted to Adia and Rick.
He continued to fish a bit longer. Where did Avante live? Was he just travelling through? Did the girl know anyone who worked for him?
But though the waitress was happy enough to talk, and for all her disinterested manner in the man Avante himself, she really didn't divulge very much.
Twenty minutes later, Mirko left the diner, having paid for his meal and leaving a 2 cred tip for the friendly waitress (he was feeling generous), and stepped out again into the Et’Un’Wen evening.
As the door closed behind him, banging loudly as a gust of wind caught it and added its touch to closing it, Mirko was unaware of a large shadow that slipped out after him and began to trail along a short distance behind him.
Bastian watched the Weequays fidgit and take a few steps, a few cautious steps. His eyes slightly narrowed and he cut them to the Hutt who was paying him this visit.
"Boonta, I have always dealt well with you. I would hate to see our....Business relationship to be hurt in any way. If a red haired girl is what you want, then I will provide one for you. I have resouces and I will see them. If that is alright with you. I can have one for you as soon as the 'morrow. What do you say?"
He hoped he'd take the offer. They were being observed by his own hired hands. He was being overly generous with this Hutt. For the Weequays ready to search was an insult to the one time pit champion, the now free, rich man that stood before them.
The Hutt hoomed a bit, and the Weequays subsided, glaring at each other as the species always did. The slave woman provided an explaination as the Hutt replied to Bastian's offer. "The glorious Boonta the Hutt agrees that this is an acceptable situation. Tomorrow, then."
She bowed deeply, a bit of grace in the movement. Boonta knew that Avante would send word by way of a runner, or perhaps a personal visit to the Hutt palace, as soon as a red-haired slave woman could be found. They did indeed have a long relationship, although a Hutt's life was much longer than the pathetic humans. Longer than the Imp's, too.
At the thought of the Imp, the Hutt's mood darkened, and he shouted for his people to move out. It was time to go. Plans needed to be made.
Adia stared at Rick for a minute.
"He tried to poison me." She said with a growl.
"They would have taken a lot more of us, but they couldn't because we killed the bastards. We didn't abandon anyone." Adia was frustrated. Rick felt a sense of duty twoards the rest of the ship that she could understand, but didn't fully feel.
"I'm sure there are some frontier folk mixed in. They'll manage." She hoped she was right. Rick seemed unconvinced.
Adia twisted, looking around. Everyone seemed occupied for the moment.
"I guess we're not a priority right now. So..." Adia wasn't good at talking to people.
"...um... question tag?" She sighed, tilting her head into the hay bale. "I don't really know anything about you. I'd guess you're military or a Police Special Tactics member. Single? Ummm... distingushed record. Upstanding citizen, that sort? Age late twenties, early thirties."
They were just going to sit and wait, then. He didn’t really like that idea, but there wasn’t another option at the moment. Not until they were feeling stronger and out of these bonds – and really, Rick didn’t see either of those things being actualized for some time yet. Rick laughed weakly, nodding, at what his counterpat had said. So he was that see-through.
“You’ve all but got me pegged. Ex-special forces, military. Not a blemish on my record.”
He shifted a little against the hay, giving Adia some more room. “Now, I’m usually good with people, but you… you’ve got me confused. You’ve got some pretty extensive weapons proficiency, but I can’t place the style, or wherever you learned it. Home schooled? Maybe… taught yourself it, for protection?” he hazarded.
She smiled.
"No, not exactly. I trained with the Mistryl Shadow Guard, but wasn't allowed in because I wasn't born Mistryl. I grew up, ah, um. In a lab." Her ears drooped as she said the last part.
"Rick, I don't think we're ever leaving this planet. For once in my life, I'd like to be able to be honest with someone." He smelled uncomfortable.
"I'm no good at this kind of thing."
Anger rose, quick and sharp and her nose wrinkled in a soundless snarl. DeWitt's face loomed beyond her reach, smug and defiant.
"Do jyou realljy thjink jyou would have 'had hjim', forrrda?? Once hjisss pajin easssed, the ssslavemasssterrr would have beaten jyou wjithjin an jinch of jyourrr pathetjic ljittle ljife and then turrrned hjisss angerrr on me! ji am not gjoing to sufferrr forrr one asss ssstupjid asss jyou!!"
Heedless of her trussed up position, Nasseeri lunged forward, her clawed toes digging into the wood floor of the wagon. A howling of fury and pain erupted from her striped throat as the metal collar dug into the soft flesh of the Cizerack's neck. The pole wedged between her arms and back instantly snapped upward, threatning to wrench her shoulders from thier sockets.
Forget her intentions to make a pact with Avante, forget the searing pain lancing through her body. Nass wanted to kill.
KRAK! The loud connection of the heavy wooden pole upon Nass' cage had gotten what he demanded...Silence. Bastian had walked in after dealing with the Hutt to explain things to his new fighters. Things they needed to know for thier survival out of the pits. Survival in the pits were on thier own merit and thinking.
"That is enough out of you. As for you two.." Bastian looked to Rick and Adia. "...I am Bastian Avante, stablemaster and your owner. None of you were bought as hired hands, nor as slaves. You were bought to fight in the pits."
Avante walked around the small area between the four pens that held the newly aquired fighters. Looking at each one of them. "All I will say to you is, do as I say....when I say, and everything you need or ask for shall be your's. Defy me, and I will split your heads in two and make up my losses in the ones that are left." The wooden pole he had hit the Ciz's cage with was now resting across his shoulders, with both hands holding the ends.
"Now, you will each be cleaned and taken to the dining hall in my home. You will not be chained, nor hindered in any way. Reason being, I have people here to take care of escapees and I am very skilled to handle any of you." Pacing around, Bastian was very relaxed. "It is a trust thing between us, you trust I keep you in good and happy conditions, I trust you to win....one other note, I trully would be disappointed if any of you were to show ill mannerisms and try to escape. It would very much upset me as I detest ill manners...In a very deadly way I might add." The look he gave spoke of that he was not lying. Far from it. Test him, and they would more then likely lose. Placing the pole against a wall, and turning to them all. " Now, if none of you have anything to ask, or comment to make, I will take my leave of yo so my workers may get to the task of making you all presentable and comfortable."
Rick had been about to answer Adia, to ask about the laboratory, when their benevolence owner had appeared. He squinted through the bars of their holding cell to see the man, as he paced back and forth, speaking to … frell knows how many people. Had he captured others from the crash, or had there been ships before theirs to fall? Rick didn’t want to listen to a word this stuck-up drannit was saying, but somehow he knew that if he did cause trouble, it wouldn’t just be him who would suffer.
“No questions,” he piped up.
She'd never had a dress uniform get this dirty before. Vice Admiral Laran resisted brushing at the stained wool, now a mixture of greens and browns, rather than sparkling white. And even with her boots caked with brown mud, vagrants still eyed them, as though figuring out whether they'd fit their own feet or not.
Jomarr's grey wool uniform jacket, sans insignia of course, was tucked into a pack they'd bought at a roadside stand. The shopkeeper's eyes popped at the Sovereignty credits Laran had produced, but had still accepted them, although at a fraction of their value. Something about "new forms of currency all the time." Change had been given in Republic credits, not New Republic, but the old sort. Serena's eyes had popped at that.
The Ensign's undershirt was travelstained as well, but did nothing to hide his physique. Not overly impressive, but nicely muscled.
Serena mentally slapped herself as she un-buttoned her jacket, choosing to leave it on over her white silk tank top. The humidity was opressive, although the heat of the day seemed to be waning. Making their way towards where the troopers had holed up was taking longer than anticipated.
Jomarr stopped suddenly, and she ran into his back. "Jomarr, what is it?" She edged around his shoulder to try and give him a commanding glare.
"Ah, I think we're lost." He frowned in concentration. "The signs are a horrible conglomeration of languages, but somehow we're in the west quarter, near as I can figure. Not south, like we want to be." Ensign Jomarr looked around them. "Ask for directions, maybe?"
Serena remained silent while she considered the options, allowing him to draw her out of the middle of the road. "It is efficient to ask for directions, but who do we ask?"
He had seen the same hulking figure twice now in the past half hour.
Not an unusual thing really, given that Mirko was basically walking in a large circle around the township core. It was not uncommon to pass the same people who, too, were just milling about in the cool night air.
The unusual thing about it, and that which made Mirko wary, was that the hulking figure, on both occassions, had deliberately tried to go unnoticed. Tried to blend, look like he was window-shopping or something.
Mirko's heart started to race. He could not take another apprehending of his person by violent men in this strange place. Suddenly Mirko wanted desperately to find Jori. Sad that his only hope of survival hung on the generosity and good will of a dangerous slaver.
Crossing the street, Mirko watched via reflection in a butcher-shop window the hulking man do the same.
Changing direction and scuttling back across the street, Mirko left his shadower no choice but to do the same. Now there was no doubt.
Fearing the worst, Mirko ran hard. Hulking man did the same.
For once, fortune was good to Mirko, as a beast-drawn cart barrelled down the street, holding up the progress of his pursuer.
Seizing the opportunity, Mirko ducked down a side street, then doubled around coming across to the same side he had started on. Hulking man, running once more, had not seen the switch-back and was now going in the wrong direction.
Sighing loudly, Mirko spun on his heels and made haste to return to Jori's house.
Astronomer's Watch
"Bugger! Right into the sea!"
"Calm down, old man." Den Connors had been forced back to escort the equipment that had come down with the Balmorra Wind. It had been expensive, but tons of the thing had already been moved hundreds of clicks across mountains and sea. The communications suite had been a goldmine, and Den was currently swimming in superconducting cable.
"Calm down!" The old junior astronomer was awfully uppity today.
"Yes. I can't concentrate with you squawking." Den sighed. Aside from meters upon meters of superconducting cable, not much of the communications array had been salvageable. Bursts of light popped off the atmosphere. The same energy that had pulled the ship down had also destroyed most of the actual equipment. In some cases, it had melted into indistinquishable goo. To make matters worse, the burned bits reeked of an unearthly smell.
With the effort of some senior technicians, the quality of the aircomm network had been improved signifigantly, thanks to intact coils of the wire.
Of course, most of the astronomers were bouncing about the mostly intact engine that was rolled from the crash site to a small settlement outside of Galewarden. The crash survivors had been a surprising amount of help. Some even knew how to farm land, or repair damaged equipment.
One thing worried Den: What were the Imp and Hutts up to?
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