So this is half a story, I'm having trouble finishing , but I thought I share. It's not Eve its Star Wars set in the Old Republic Era.
But anyway enjoy. Too big for one post so had to split it up.
The Rogue's Road
More than one head turned as the large twi'lek moved with purpose through the crowded landing bay. Not so much that twi'lek's were unusual, but this one stood out more than most. A lethan his deep red skin held a golden sheen that was rarer still than his breed of twi'lek, and at nearly seven feet tall, topping over three hundred pounds; that was a lot of red. His chiseled features just a bit distorted by the scarring over the right side of his face gave him a sinister appearance as he chewed on the end of his gabaki cigar. Most would have taken him as a spacer much older than his true age, which suited Car'tulak just fine; he'd had more than enough of being called "kid" and was glad to leave that aspect of his life behind.
The landing bay of the asteroid colony was as busy as some space ports, filled with people and cargo moving on to their respective destinations. Outpost 27A was actually only one of six remaining ancient stations built a millennium ago to exploit the resources in the dust disk around the system's white dwarf star. Over time many of the rumored dozens of stations that once orbited the star fell into decay, eventually being pulled in and added to the debris of the dust ring or falling directly into the start itself. Whoever built them, whatever their original purpose, the business here now was salvaging the remains of the other five massive crumbling stations and the debris that was scattered about the dust ring. Well it wasn't the only business; with people earning credits came other pursuits, gambling, prostitution, and the drug trade. Being far off the beaten path and mostly ignored by both the Republic and the Sith Empire Outpost 27A was also a haven for those who just didn't want to be found. It was the last point and the gambling that had drawn the lethan smuggler here.
Leaning on a railing overlooking the far side of the massive shipping bay where the smaller incoming ships were landing, Car'tulak lit another gabaki cigar. Inhaling deeply he exhaled the sweet smelling smoke slowly out through his nose savoring the burning sensation. It was a bad habit, like many other things he always imagined he'd quit some day, but not today. Looking down he glared once more at the crumbled plasti sheet in his left hand, smoothing it out with the ball of his right on the railing.
Outpost 27A – Sabacc Tournament
Grand Prize – Corellian XS Freighter "Gambler's Folly" with Mystery Cargo!!
Tomorrow: Rusty Rivet Cantina Level C
Entry Fee: 5000 credits!
The Gambler's Folly, his father's ship, Car'tulak wasn't sure how it ended up in this backwater hell hole, or what could have cause his father to part with it. His father had been missing for eight years now. Most believed the unreliable and often unscrupulous gambler had simply decided to cut and run. Car'tulak could never believe that. Despite his father's flaws, and frequent absence, he knew his father would have never left without telling him why. They'd had an honest if not close relationship. The man who'd sired him was more interested in being friends than taking the 'father' responsibility. But Car'tulak knew he cared, and refused to accept that he'd disappeared himself.
The lethan suddenly stiffened, cigar tucked in the corner of his mouth he sniffed at the air, moving a step back from the railing. Crumbling up the flier and shoving it in a pocket his hand came to rest on one of his holstered custom blasters, the other taking the cigar from his mouth as he sniff at the air again. With a fluid quickness most would have not expected from a being his side Car'tulak drew with his left hand as he spun around to face the now startled Gamorrean. The porcine humanoid froze in place blinking at the lethan smuggler, the gamorrean's own blaster still firmly holster his chubby hand having barely closed around the grip. For a long moment they stared at one another, a broad grin swept across the lethan's face and the gamorrean chuckled.
"Charvt! You're getting slow old man." Car'tulak teased as he holstered his weapon then moved to embrace his friend.
"It's that damn twi'lek nose of yours, I swear you could smell a nunta from two parsecs over," the familiar gravelly voice rumbled. The portly Gamorrean returned the lethan's embrace grinning broadly. While Car could understand his friend's native tongue, he'd never managed to learn to speak the language.
"Maybe if you didn't reek of cheap brandy and gabaki you'd actually be able to sneak up on someone." They both laughed and Charvt winked.
"Speaking of which, you got a spare one of those for your Uncle Char?" The Gamorrean nodded in the direction of the gabaki cigar.
Car'tulak smirked as he pulled the case of them out of his jacket offering one and lighting it with the heat pad on the case before relaxing back against the railing. Charvt had been one of Car'tulak's father's oldest friends, if men like them ever had real friends. The Gamorrean had much of a hand in his upbringing. A bouncer at the club where Car'tulak's actual Aunt Semria worked Charvt was more of a father figure than his own actual father had ever been, just as Aunt Semria was more his mother than the woman who gave birth to him then dumped him on his unprepared rogue of a father. Charvt took a couple long draws off his cigar smiling, for a while they both simply enjoyed the sweet burning gabaki smoke before speaking again
.
"You can't just storm in there and start demanding answers, you'll just get yourself killed Car," The Gamorrean rumbled. Charvt had never been one to shy from a fight, but he was right this was suicide.
"I know, but what am I suppose to do? I don't think they are going to volunteer what happened, and I really don't have the kind of credits for a bribe. These gamblers work for the Hutt."
The Gamorrean joined him at the railing, Charvt's big heavy green black arms even thicker than his lethan friend's, and spotted with at least half a dozen visible morrts, a furry parasite that were both status consider a status symbol and pets among his people. Stroking one of the little creatures with a fat sausage like finger, he shrugged "You could always enter the tournament and win the ship." Car'tulak laughed giving his friend that 'you can't be serious' look, but in response the Gamorrean just shrugged again, "Couldn't hurt, sure as hell safer than picking a fight when you don't know the score."
"What happened to the fierce Gamorrean my father always had to keep a reign on?" Car'tulak chided, "Since when are you the level headed one?"
"Since I got old" Charvt snorted.
"Enter the tournament huh?" Car'tulak shook his head as he got up to walk away. He was a decent sabbac player, but he didn't figure he was tournament good. "Come on let's get something to eat."
"Now you're talking"
Both of the large men sat back from their table and the carnage of the remains of their meal. Several people nearby glanced over in reactions ranging from awe to disgust at the amount of food and drink the two had packed away. The Gamorrean seemed to enjoy the reactions while Car'tulak mostly ignored them. Car'tulak figured Charvt had learned to use the fact that most people saw his kind only as thugs and brutes. However the lethan loathed being stared at, too often the color of his skin drew unwanted attention. Lethan's were sought out for their attractive appearance and rare red skin, often by slavers who found them to fetch a high price. Absently he ran his fingers along the badly scared side of his face. He didn't have to worry about that as much anymore. The swoop race accident had nearly claimed his life, only reason he even got put back together was somehow his father had come up with an unbelievable amount of credits. Aunt Semia and Charvt figured it was cashing in to cash out. Their opinion was the big pay out for the medical bills was just a way for Car'tulak's father to absolve himself of any further responsibility. Car'tulak didn't buy it. He'd been almost seventeen when the accident happened. By twi'lek standards more than an adult, it just didn't fit.
"So why not?" Char pulled out his pipe and began stuffing it with this moss like substance, Car'tulak couldn't remember what it was call, just that the last time he had tried to smoke it he ended up in the med bay.
"Why not what?" Car responded lighting his own gabaki cigar looking over through the smoke at his companion.
"Enter the tournament of course, you're a damn good Sabacc player, I don't see any reason why not."
Car'tulak chuckled, "Two reasons, first I'm not that good, second and more importantly, I don't have 5000 cash credits for the entry fee."
The Gammorean smirked, as much as his kind could, tossing a credit chit case across the table and into the twi'lek's lap. "Don't ask where I got it, and don't even think of trying to pay it back. I owe your dad from way back so we'll call this me getting square. And for the record, you are that good."
Car'tulak looked from the case to his father's old friend and back several times before letting out a long sigh, "Char, what if I lose? That's a lot of money for either one of us."
The Gamorrean leaned in over the table close his dark eyes glaring at the younger man, his face taking on a grim cast, "Lose? Lose!?" For a long moment it seemed as if Charvt was going to go on a tirade, but then he glanced from side to side slyly; then whispered "Well then we steal the bloody thing."
The both laughed out loud at that. But then Car'tulak sighed sitting back looking through the smoke across the table.
"In all seriousness, getting his ship back is just part of it. Even if I win the tournament, or however we 'acquire' the ship, that isn't really going to tell us what happened to him. Or how these vultures got their hands on the Folly."
"Yea I suppose that's true. But this tournament is going to go on for a few days. A little Corellian Brandy might help. Folks always talk too much when their drunk. Besides maybe there will be a woman in charge. The women always love you." Charvt winked playfully at his younger companion.
"My luck she'd be a Hutt, and have a thing for chains and shackles." Car'tulak remarked as he took a long swig from his ale.
* * * *
Charvt was closer to the mark than Car'tulak had been with assessing his Sabaac skills. Two days into the tournament and he'd survived the elimination round robins twice. Once the numbers dropped to a handful the real playing would begin. The five thousand credits seemed excessive, but it included lodgings, food and even drinks. Though Car'tulak imagined they might have been regretting the last two with how much he and his gamorrean 'bodyguard' were putting away. Though he doubted that was going to draw as much attention as Charvt liked to joke. There were bigger concerns at hand. Three gambers had already been shot. Two more had been killed in fights that broke out over dancing girls. Rumors flooded the clubs, cantinas and carnal dens around the outpost, all of which revolved around the so called 'mystery cargo'. Whatever it was there were some very nasty people who wanted it and were willing to spill blood for it.
"What do you think it is?" Chavrt mused aloud as he idly watched a pair of Zabrak dancers undulate against each other on the stage below.
"How should I know?" Car'tulak was more distracted by the Sabaac deck he was playing with on their table. That and he seldom found dancers particularly entertaining. The fun was in the chase as much as the reward. Dancers were for rent, anyone with credits could have them, and there was just no appeal to the young lethan in that.
"Well he was your father. You must have had some idea what he was up to."
Car'tulak just shrugged, "Why would I? I'd been laid up in the med centre for the better part of six months. And you know what he was like."
"Yea, true enough I suppose." The gamorrean absently rubbed his tusks as he puzzled over the whole situation.
"Besides," Car'tulak added, "he's been missing for more than ten years now, it's possible whoever put the cargo on board wasn't even him."
Charvt made a snorting noise that was the equivalent to a frustrated sigh. Car'tulak knew how he felt. They'd come here to get answers, and all they were really getting was more questions. When not at the Sabaac tables the two of them had liquored up whoever they could that might have a clue about where the ship came from or what the cargo might be. But so far the only one who likely knew was the mysterious host who had yet to make an appearance.
"We need to find out more about this host, at the moment everyone is assuming that it's a Hutt or someone who works for them, but we really don't know if that's true." Car'tulak continued playing Sabaac with himself to keep his head 'in the game' as his father use to say.
"Who else would be running something like this?" Charvt was much brighter than people often gave him credit for but he wasn't a patient being despite his long years. Perhaps because of them, as a bouncer back on Nar Shadda's club scene he was use to being in the know.
Not two tables away in leaning back into the shadows afforded by the corner both in which they sat another party listen intently to the conversation. A blue hand came up to quickly move the listening device to the side and hide it with a napkin as the waitress came up to the table.
"You sure that's all you want hun?" The curvy and scantily clad nautolan smiled leaning in offering an amble view of her overly large breasts struggling to escape her tiny outfit.
"Yes, thank you." While the words were polite the tone and the crimson eyes that looked up from beneath the hood spoke clearly of the being's annoyance. Taking her credits for the drink the server moved away quickly to more hospitable and better tipping customers.
The figure leaned back adjusting the ear piece connected to their device, but as they moved to focus back on Car'tulak and Charvt, they were gone. With smooth graceful movements the being extracted themselves from the booth heading for the door. Out of the shadows a lithe but shapely female form walked with purpose through the crowd. Her skin tight jumpsuit meant to give her clear movement, a heavy disruptor pistol strapped to one shapely thigh. She had to find them again, she too was extremely curious about the mysterious host, and the cargo. She however knew exactly what it was. Her question was whether or not it was actually still there.
After two hours of searching the Chiss returned to her quarters cursing herself for managing to lose a two meter tall red twi'lek. Pulling the hood from her head and should she tossed it on to the bed. It had been blind luck that she happened to listen in at the right time to their conversation, but it had been the first break she had. Over the last six years that cargo had been the bane of her existence. Losing it once had cost her first her rank, then her commission when she failed to recover it, she barely managed to escape with her life. The SIS no longer cared about it one way or the other, but for Jaakra it had become personal. Glaring at herself in the room's dresser mirror she ran her fingers through her jet black hair.
"What the hell are you doing?" She berated herself, not for the first time. "So what if you find it? You think they are going to welcome you back with open arms? Idiot." Stopping just short of punching the mirror to shatter her own reflection the former chiss agent headed for the refresher and a nice hot shower.
* * * *
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Topic: A little fan fiction (Read 2498 times)