Star Wars: The Station - Character RP - ALWAYS OPEN (IC)

[Cheye]

STAR WARS
THE STATION

A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away…

The Galaxy is engulfed in conflict. From the orange stalagmites of Geonosis, to the azure oceans of Mon Calamari, the violence of the Clone Wars reins supreme. Slowly but surely the Republic inches its way closer to victory in the Outer Rim sieges, but no outcome is certain. Criminals profit from the chaos.

For the Hutts, who have not only played both sides in this ongoing war, but who have also become entwined with the Shadow Collective; a secret alliance of criminal gangs and terrorists, business is booming. Within Hutt space one can find many of their illicit assets from casinos and fighting pits to slave markets and spice rackets. However, it is the smaller and more legitimate enterprises that are often forgotten. The cantinas, fuel stations and shops where galactic citizens go about their everyday business.

On Orondia; an unremarkable rocky world, stuck in constant twilight, there is a small refuelling station. Numerous beings pass through, whether coming from or going towards the Hutt capital worlds. Some are hiding, whether from the law or the past it is difficult to say, others seek answers and a future among the stars, while for a small few it is the station itself that provides a place of refuge, opportunity and even a chance at a new life...

These are their stories…



To join this RP please sign up in the OOC thread by following this link.

Confirmed Characters:

- Natalya 'Nat' Sadaar & the station staff in her employ - Cheye
- Immils 'Doc' Sudinia & her 'protection racket' - Ormata
- Alba Joostal & her Galaxica Tour Droid, LEP-GT17 - Charlemagna
- Drenniax 'Dren' Gorbiv & his B1 Battle Droid 'Twitch' - The New Louisiana Republic
- Super Tactical Battle Droid 'Gehena' & her droid forces - Puertollano
- Dak Stone & his family freighter crew - Pax Nerdvana
- Yibilaez & his clone and medical droid entourage - Acerbez
- Urchuln Vas & his R4 astromech droid - Greater Persian State
- Nivea Atrix & her mercenaries and droid - Nuxipal
- Jokir Vro & his pet Kowakian Monkey-Lizard - Sarrin
- Sintilha Joxia - Rylothi
- Dhek Zyymias - Akordania
- Liehiry Moroda- Derika

[Cheye]

Natalya Sadaar - Day 01

Click. Click, click. Beep.

The large metal doors opened with a rumbling hiss that reverberated around the dreary station.

A Pantoran woman stood outside, one hand on her hip, the other clutching a large datapad close to her chest. Her ice blue skin was illuminated by the neon glow of the station’s advertisement holo-boards. She had wavy, shoulder length black hair that shimmered with cobalt highlights, and yellow-green eyes below the right of which sat a skin tattoo; the gold outline of a single teardrop. She wore a red leather travellers jacket over a smart black top that matched her pencil skirt and tights. The outfit was sealed off with a pair of smart red boots and a black choker necklace that wrapped snugly around her neck.

As the overhead lights flashed on inside the station, she stepped forward. A bronze plated C1 series astromech followed in her wake. beeping emphatically.

“Yeah, that makes two of us buddy.” The Pantoran sighed. “This place is a real pit.”

The droid beeped again faster.

“I know! That’s the last time I’m gambling outside a proper casino on Nar Shaddaa, let me tell you…” She scoffed, as the pair made their way down a long wide hall along the sides of which sat several disused street stalls and boarded up shops. “If that damn Bith had tried to wager this scrap-heap of a station anywhere else, they’d have found some Corelian Hounds to slowly feed him to! But not me eh? I’m the girl who thinks; ‘Ooh a station in the heart of Hutt space, that’ll be an earner! Let’s go all in for it.’ More fool me.

The droid let out a short series of whistles.

“Yeah I did still win.” The Pantoran said slowly. “Yippee for me…”

As they walk, she noticed that a few of the storefronts had not been completely shut down suggesting that some beings might have stayed put, but for now the concourse remained devoid of life, she reasoned that whoever was left on the station must have been asleep at this hour.

Ahead of her, at the end of the hallway a now flickering neon sign lit the entrance of the station’s cantina. The sign was simple, just the word ‘Cantina’ in aurebesh, and flashing in an array of different colours.

The door hissed open upon their approach.

As the Pantoran glanced around the room, she nodded slowly to herself. The cantina was a reasonable size. In one corner sat the bar, a long smooth counter that ran in an L shape from the wall opposite the doorway. Booths adorned the other walls, while a circular podium or stage of some kind stood in the centre, with tables and cushioned chairs arranged around it, filling the unoccupied space.

Then she spotted the Lasat. The hulking alien was hunched over one of the tables near the stage, snoring quietly. She was right about everyone being asleep then...

As she moved in closer to inspect, she noticed the small pool of drool on the table by his hairy chin. The Pantoran reached to her hip for her blaster, ready for trouble. One of the Lasat’s large eyes opened suddenly as she drew nearer. They gazed at each other for a moment, and then the creature screamed.

In shock, the Pantoran let out a frightened yell of her own, staggering backwards while her astromech garbled something spliced with static as it too was taken aback by the sudden loud noises. The C1 raised two of its pincered grasping-arms defensively towards the Lasat, who drew himself up out of the chair so quickly he ended up knocking it over and tripping on the leg, thudding to the floor in a pile of muscle and fur.

“Who are you?” The Pantoran asked, having now drawn and fixed her blaster on the Lasat.

“Name’s Oleg!” The Lasat replied, raising his purple and grey speckled arms defensively. “Varagas Oleganortus to be precise... And… who are you?”

“I’m Natalya Sadaar... I own this place now.” There was a long silence before she nodded to the droid; “That’s C1-45C, or as I call him; ‘Static’.”

Static beeped his approval, slowly lowering and stowing away his pincers.

“Well… It is a pleasure, really… But I had a contract with the previous owner. Bith fellow? He hired me to tend bar… and to… err.. deal... with any trouble makers.” The Lasat grinned.

“How’s that been going?” Natalya asked, reholstering her blaster as she looked around the empty cantina.

“Poorly.” Oleg shrugged as he lowered his arms, without rising from the floor; “Bith’s brother got into some trouble on Nal Hutta and the Hutts cut this place off from the fuel pipeline for revenge. No fuel means no ships. No ships means hardly no customers. Hardly no customers means hardly no trouble. So I’ve been shut up here for weeks with kriff all to do.” The Lasat shook his head and sighed wearily. “Bith took off to Hutta to try and clear the whole thing up…”

“He ended up gambling the station away in a sabacc game. You’re looking at the lucky winner.” Natalya smirked, glancing down at her datapad, which she still clung on to, before tapping at the screen; “But, the good news for you is that the Hutts owe me a favour. You fancy working for me now?”

“Pantoran, right?” The Lasat stroked his chin thoughtfully.

She nodded, still flicking through the datapad. Sure enough, the holonet ownership records had been updated into her name, and she could see that the Hutts had already reactivated the pipeline that would bring fuel to the station.

“Pantoran pay better than Bith?”

Natalya flicked a few buttons on her screen, sure enough the employee contracts were there, right beside store tenancies, and Varagas Oleganortus was the only name still listed under the cantina's entry. The other staff must have run off when business dried up. She decided she could worry about that later, as she keyed the pad again and eyed his details curiously before replying; “Pantoran will… match Bith… but with a new monthly bonus scheme based on Lasat’s drinks sales?”

“Deal.” Oleg replied, extending a hand up to Natalya.

“Deal.” She shook it, helping him back to his feet as she did so.

Static beeped cheerfully.

"Wait..." Nat let out thoughtfully, as Oleg pulled the chair up and righted it. "You said there were 'hardly no customers'? That means there are still some folks around?"

"Yeah.. I'm sure you'll meet them soon enough." Oleg chuckled knowingly.

Nat's brow furrowed, somewhat unsure of his meaning. She sighed and then turned to Static; "Tell our courier to bring my stuff in here for now. And then the two of you can help me to get this place back up and running and open for business again. With any luck we can get freighters passing through again before morning... When is morning on this planet anyway?"

Oleg chuckled knowingly again, but as he was already moving off to turn the lights on in the cantina and get things operational again, it seems he decided to ignore that question.

Static let out a string of beeps and whistles. Broadly translated to; 'There is no morning on Orondia.' Then the droid beeped in a manner that sounded almost like laughter and turned to roll back out of the cantina to carry out her prior instruction, leaving her standing there alone wondering when the nightmare would end.

Sadly, her gut told her that this was just the beginning...

[Charlemagna]

And then; there was light.

The sudden explosion of brightness cascaded into Alba's ill-defined dreams.

Blearily, she blinked, rubbed at her eyes, trying to pry apart her stuck-together eyelids. Her head felt like someone was drilling an escape tunnel out of her temple. Her back was only slightly less painful.

As her eyes adjusted to the unexpected change in lighting, Alba struggled to orientate herself; she appeared to be in a square tent, a metre high at most. It wasn’t big enough to sleep in, and she’d been forced to curl up into a ball, which explained the aching back. Alba blinked again, and tried to sit up a little, staring up at the wooden ceiling. The canvas sides draped down.

Ah, Alba realised. I'm underneath my stall.

Why on earth had she slept here, and not her relatively comfortable private room?

She tried to think back to the previous night, but the details were blurry... she remembered having one drink... her eyes focused on her feet, and spied two empty bottles. Not just one drink then. She suspected she must have had a few more than two, too.

It had happened a few too many times since the fuel supply had been cut off, the station withered and decayed, and Alba had decided she had nothing better to do.

At least she’d had the common sense, in her drunken stupor, to hide under the counter of her stall to sleep. Since all but the barest bones of a civilisation remained, Alba had felt a lot more free, but there were still some unsavoury types around. Thugs and criminals. Not those that Alba especially wanted to run into. Especially not whilst drunk and potentially vulnerable.

As she grasped back at her haphazard memories, Alba became aware that she could hear voices and clipped footsteps that echoed around the concourse. She seized up with fear. Regardless of who it was (she shuddered at the thought of lowlife criminal scum) she didn't want anyone to find her hungover underneath her own stall. It wasn’t exactly the kind of professional behaviour the Galaxica Travel Agency expected of its representatives. Thank goodness LEP-GT17 was nowhere to be seen.

Even so, if anyone at all found her, at the very least it could get back to her bosses. Who, no matter how far away, were still the ones who paid her salary. Even if she’d not heard from anyone in weeks.

Alba sat very still as the footsteps drew closer. Against her better judgement, she lifted the canvas with a solitary finger and peered out.

A striking woman with icy blue skin was walking purposefully towards the cantina, a droid rolling along next to her.

Alba retreated, and held her breath.

Yes, better to stay put. For the moment, anyway.

[Ormata]

Immils “Doc” Sudinia

“Where is she from?”

A thin line of smoke rose up into the air, figures scattered about the room. Some metal crates stood to one side, a shipment that was waiting on the freighter, while a makeshift table played host to a Sabacc game. The noises of Trandoshan hisses and a Duros, high-pitched enough, were kept quiet. The two Weequay had decided to play things safe, keeping off to one side with the large cargo bay door, one fiddling with his force pike, hydrospanner in hand. The Doc sat beside one such crate, a heat-lamp before her. She held the bacta cigar low in one hand, an ashtray in another. The droid before her cast a long shadow, most of the lights being off, and his eyes cast an eerie scene. Just two glowing photoreceptors in the dark. The brief flashes of the hydrospanner at work gave off an instant sun in the room, though the Weequay’s body kept most of it hidden. Just jagged blades out between him. They were both as quiet as the grave, though of course that was simply an expression. As far as Doc understood it, hormones and the like. Reminded her almost of home. Almost. The other Weequay stood guard, one hand in his jacket, nodding to a beat as nearly twenty seclusion braids noiselessly danced about his head.

“Pantora. Won the station in a casino game on Nar Shaddaa in a backstreet game. She arrived today. Might be trouble.”

Despite the toneless voice, somehow Pritys gave some form of hidden meaning to the word trouble. He’d been redone as far as personality and that happy-go-lucky, optimistic twit of a voice had been replaced by something more akin to a wary dog. Pritys didn’t like new parts to the well-known formula. He didn’t like new people. He liked the people he knew, the predictable one. Gamblers were hardly predictable and hardly likely to follow logical steps and actions. Then again, he’d been designed as a detective along with the rest of the model line. Gamblers were a lot like pirates. They were stupid.

An eyebrow raised. The card game seemed to grow a little more heated, one of the lizards exclaiming more than enough disappointment before slapping his cards down. The hydrospanner stopped, Ur-De-Na looking over his handiwork. Immils found it odd that it would be specified that the game had been a backstreet one. It implied some form of needing to keep it not in house. It implied either a cheat, in which case such untrustworthiness would make her dead if she set one foot in any casino worth it’s salt, or something along the lines of another ban for another reason. If she was a cheat, however, the Hutts would never allow ownership. They would simply have had her killed and the body dumped in the nearest alleyway...or acid bath. Nar Shaddaa is a strange place. Doc’s voice was something curious, a brief tone with the words spoke harsh.

Another drag. The hydrospanner started up again.

“A backstreet game? For what reason. Her prior employment?”

“Hutts. First a dancer, then as a player. Gave up 75 percent of her earnings to be allowed to play. Several bribes were involved.”

She took a drag on the bacta, wispy little strands of smoke rising up from the tip, before nodding in understanding. That made some sort of sense...though if bribes were involved, that would mean her funds were likely short. There were several things one might do to incur damages of the sort that payments would be required, that loans would have to be taken out. Doc could easily think of a few, such things like air filters for the cantina, like the drinks machine, things that could easily be sabotaged without incident or reason for suspicion. Of course, that should come after some sort of understanding might be reached. Breathing the smoke out, a minty smell lingering in the air with the dregs, Immils frowned. The Duros set her cards down on the table, smile on her face. Idiot’s Array.

“Seventy five percent. Unlikely she has money, especially after the trip. That Lasat, Oleg, is still working at the cantina?”

“Yes.”

She considered it. The first step towards ensuring the new station owner would be vulnerable and likely to cave in would be the removal of all support. Oleg was one such support. He was hulking and generally annoying.The low intelligence was probably the cause on that last point. At least, that’s how Oleg portrayed himself. If he was smart enough, it’d be a cover. If he wasn’t, it didn’t matter. His intelligence shouldn’t be a cause for concern or factor, especially if Doc really wanted him dead. The facts of the matter was that he would die, if such a thing should occur, in his sleep. Gas would be a preferable manner, though for obvious reasons she didn’t have any on hand and disposing of Oleg would be better done sooner rather than later. She also lacked those sources needed to get nerve agents. The other option would be to, in more simple ways, kill Oleg. The door to his room would be easily able to be breached by Nrekse’s conc rifle and, even if the Lasat was strong, she doubted he was bulletproof. At least, she doubted he was bulletproof against LS-150s.

Fechuni’s face turned into a caricature as the hydrospanner stopped, one side of her face lit in the room. One hand tapped a fast beat against her leg, almost jittery, though that smile continued. A Trandoshan muttered something to her, eyes fixed to the credit chits that were, by most rights, hers. Luck seemed to be on the Duros’s side and in most ways the lizard didn’t like the idea of losing out on most of his profit. He earned a shrug and motion, one that said luck’s a cruel mistress. There wasn’t much sympathy to be had. The Weequay nodded in satisfaction.

“When he finally sleeps, have Nrekse and Sorsk ensure that he doesn’t wake back up. Killing a Lasat should appease the Scorekeeper.”

“Of course. He keeps track over all.”

There seemed to be humor in the retort. Immils ignored it, mouth wry as she observed the situation before her. Likely could cause some issues if, say, transports contracted by the cantina were delayed sufficiently, say by a fuel pump becoming extremely damaged. Likely could cause some issues if the drinks served by that cantina became tainted, undrinkable. That was easily enough done. There were more than a dozen chemical cleaners and solvents available in the hangars and docking bays on the station, if not in the cleaning locker of the cantina itself. It might even be framed as her cutting the drinks to get more out of each bottle, to stretch her profits. Maybe. That said, making too many people unspeakably sick wouldn’t do well for future endeavors. It might give the station a bad reputation, might hamper the growth of businesses, and that would limit her options. It would limit the scope and scale of what she could influence and eventually gain control over. That wouldn’t be any good. With that, Pritys departed. Another drag, the smoke rising up as the freighter finally arrived. She checked her chrono.

Five minutes late.

[Cheye]

Natalya Sadaar

The Pantoran slumped her head into her hands, already bored with the minutiae of running a station. Only a few hours had passed since her arrival, but it already felt like days, not that she could tell the difference on a planet caked in constant darkness.

“Go over it again, but this time treat me like I’m a simpleton.” She hissed through the arch between her wrists. This time she was determined not to get distracted by the minimalistic furnishings and decor that the previous owner had chosen to decorate his office with.

“Very well.” The yellow-skinned Nautolan stated in a stoic and supposedly neutral tone that bothered Nat with it’s insincerity.

“I am Chief Security Officer Muur Udamos.” He drew himself up a bit, placing his hands behind his uniformed body proudly. “This is Aveff.” He nodded over his shoulder to the largest being in the room, the towering white-furred Gigoran who leant against the wall by the door to the office. “And this is Silas Axin.” He nodded over the other shoulder to the darker skinned human male. “Between us, we run the security operation for Orondia Station.”

“Yes, I got that part.” Nat sighed, averting her gaze from the oddly shaped durasteel lamp that sat in the corner. “It was the bit about what you’ve been doing while the fuel was out that I didn’t quite catch?” She couldn’t help it, the Nautolan’s tone just made everything sound so dull.

“When the Hutts cut the fuel supply, your predecessor took the initiative and chose to pay us in advance, anticipating that it might be some time before commerce returned to the system. When he disappeared off to Nar Shaddaa, I took the liberty of investing some of this payment in upgrading the security systems. I figured that if the station were to remain inoperable for a long time, we would start to attract the attention of pirates and other reprobates.”

“You could have just cut and run?” Nat frowned, it's what she was already tempted to do, and the fact the office was so grey played only a small part in her reasoning for it.

“There would be no honour in abandoning our posts mid-contract, regardless of the desperation of the situation.” The Nautolan stated flatly, still standing rigidly across the metallic desk in front of her.

“I see. And these upgrades, you were saying they were pretty thorough?”

That actually produced the slightest hint of a smile from the stiff Nautolan; “Indeed. My cousin is a corporate officer at BlasTech Industries. She was able to source us twenty anti-personnel Ax-108b blaster turrets at a steeply discounted rate. We have installed ten of these outside, guarding the landing platforms, and ten more throughout the station, in case trouble found its way inside.”

“And you control these turrets?”

Udamos nodded somberly, flashing his wrist-mounted control pad. “I have access to the security mainframe. You can also access it through the terminal here, and you can integrate it with your datapad should you see fit.” The Nautolan paused before adding; “Ax-108b turrets are also advantageous as they have built in generators, meaning that if the power goes down for whatever reason, each individual turret will remain capable of operations. Useful in the event of a pirate raid.”

Nat nodded and sat up straight again, now understanding better; “That is good. We can certainly sleep safely then, thank you Chief Udamos!”

“Indeed.” The Nautolan nodded respectfully. “Now, in addition to that we have a dozen IG-RM security droids connected to the security mainframe, but most of those units have been here since before we were.”

“I saw them listed in the station files.” Nat said, pointing down to her datapad that rested on the desk in front of her. “I assume we have a technician capable of keeping them in good shape?”

“Kidern Karak, the Besalisk in charge of ship repairs also has a small droid workshop on the basement level. Or had anyway. He disappeared shortly after the fuel supplies were cut.”

“That’s unfortunate.” Nat let out, making a mental note. On a station like this, having a decent mechanic around would be essential.

“He only took a speeder and a few things from his room with him, his ship is still locked up in Hanger four.” The human security officer, Silas Axin, chimed in from behind the Chief.

“Indeed. We suspect that he remains on the planet, somewhere.”

“There are other mechanics on the station who can assist with refueling though, right? I saw a couple of Ugnaughts and a few droids out on the pads when my courier touched down.”

Udamos nodded; “A few have remained, yes. You should consider hiring others once the station is back at capacity.”

“Thank you Chief. The station files also mentioned two other members of staff on your team?” Nat asked, flicking to the relevant page on the pad; “Grish and Grak?”

Chief Udamos turned to look at Axin, both uniformed men exchanging a knowing, troubled glance.

Eventually Axin turned; “Grish and Grak are only muscle, they just patrol the landing pads and look tough to keep the spacers in line.”

“Well, I’d like to meet them as well.” Nat stated innocently enough.

Udamos frowned; “They are Gamoreans. I wouldn’t expect they would have anything interesting to tell you.”

“I see.” Nat smirked, she’d met a fair few Gamoreans on Nar Shaddaa and the Nautolan was quite right, they were as dumb and unobservant a species as it was possible to find. “Very well, I thank you for coming to see me, Chief Udamos. Officer Axin. Officer Aveff.” She rose to her feet, nodding to each of her visitors in turn to dismiss the security team.

Chief Udamos stayed motionless; “If I may be so bold, Miss Sadaar. As I mentioned, the cost of the security turrets came from our advanced pay, and we would very much appreciate reimbursement for these upgrades now that you have taken possession of the station.”

“I see…” Nat folded her arms, thinking.

She could tell from the yellow alien’s demeanour that this wasn’t a shakedown, and although she had yet to investigate the security mainframe, if the upgrades hadn’t been installed as described she would easily be able to call him out on it.

“We wouldn’t want to start our new relationship on a sour note.” Udamos said flatly.

Nat picked up the threat hidden behind the neutral tone. So much for his honour, she thought.

“Very well… I have a business partner who will be covering such expenses from here on out. Send me the details and I will ensure he reimburses you.” Nat smiled sincerely.

“Very good.” Udamos just about managed a smile as well, before turning to leave, the Gigoran and the human already on their way out the door.

Nat picked up her datapad and walked over to the panoramic viewport that looked out over the rocky surface of Orondia. Turning her back on the departing Chief, she spotted a far-of ship in the night sky and her mind trailed off, wondering what Oleg and Static were up to downstairs as she idly watched it steadily grow larger.

“Miss Sadaar.” Udamos said stoically from the doorway. “Keep an eye on the weapons dealer.”

“Huh?” She asked, turning back. She had been so busy settling in and dealing with the station’s supply and security situation she hadn’t got onto the remaining tenants yet. There were a few on the list that she’d skimmed over, though she hadn’t read the details of their respective businesses. From the Chief’s tone, Nat could certainly tell he wasn’t talking about the young Galaxica Tour Rep though...

“The Codru-Ji.” The Chief let out. “They call her ‘Doc’. She runs an arms procurement operation with some lackeys here on the station.” He pointed out the viewport, to the ship Nat had spotted, which had now grown into the shape of a freighter that was slowly coming in to descend on one of the station’s landing pads. “That’s one of her ships now.”

“I see.” Nat said, watching as the freighter’s hydraulics kicked in and its landing gears emerged from the underside before touchdown.

“We keep a distance from one another.” Udamos allowed; “But be under no illusions, Miss Sadaar. She has her own designs upon this place and she is… dangerous.”

Nat turned back to him with a respectful nod. One more thing to worry about, she thought, ranking it as a higher priority than the missing mechanic, and perhaps even above the awful office decor; “Thank you, Chief…” Then she frowned; “Wait… would you have tipped me off about her if I hadn’t agreed to pay you for the turrets?!”

The Nautolan had already turned and left through the office doorway, pretending he hadn’t head the question; “Good day, Miss Sadaar.”

[Derika]

The ship had already landed. Liehiry started to walk into the station. He had heard that the station had recently come under new management. As of late, he had not been in a good place. His already old ship was damaged, and he barley made it into open space. As this was the only station within the nearest parsec, he knew he had to stay here, at least for a good while. When he made it inside into the station, the only thing he needed was a good drink.

"Drink now, please. Strongest thing you have." He says to the bartender.

[Cheye]

The Cantina

The bronze-plated C1 astromech droid beeped a loud exclamation as the customer, their first, entered the cantina.

“What are you beeping at, you stupid droid?!” The Lasat bartender exclaimed angrily from where he knelt behind the bar, dusting down the various cabinets and alien drinks machines.

The droid beeped and whistled excitedly, its ‘voice’ laden with a static undercurrent.

“A customer?!” Oleg coughed to himself, jumping to his feet in alarm. “Business back already, then?”

The Lasat looked the human male up and down and shot him a welcoming smile.

"Drink now, please. Strongest thing you have." He says to the bartender.

“One Hull Stripper, coming right up sir… For the human with no love for his liver.” The Lasat laughed. “That’ll be 14 credits, unless you wanna’ set up a tab?”

The C1 droid beeped. Oleg eyed it suspiciously, before saying to it; “Yeah… you’re right Static, you should go tell the new boss we got our first customer. But then come back down and cover the bar, cos’ it won’t be long before I have to go and have a lie down.”

The droid beeped his mechanical approval before wheeling out past the lone customer, bee-lining for one of the nearby turbolifts to the upper office levels...

Natalya Sadaar

Nat was sitting in the previous-owner's chair behind the desk, facing the office viewport as she watched another starship approaching the station. News that the fuel was back was clearly spreading fast, behind that one she made out two more dots in the distant sky slowly descending towards the planet and the fuel station. That was on top of the others that had landed following her conversation with Chief Udamos.

Business was already returning to Orondia, she thought, though she stopped herself from smiling. There was still a lot of work to do around here… She still hadn't even met the staff responsible for servicing the ships or what was left of the crew in station control.

Suddenly the door to the ill-decorated office hissed open and the familiar sound of her astromech motoring along reached her blue ears.

She spun the chair around slightly as he rounded the desk, approaching with an excited stream of beeps and whistles.

“The cantina has a customer!” She smirked; “Let’s hope they don’t expect high quality entertainment… Hmm, that’s a point, we probably should look at hiring a band soon...” She played with a strand of her blue-black hair idly.

The droid let out a single low static-laced beep in response.

“Yeah… It can wait for now, but if I’m redecorating up here. Which I most certainly am. I’d also like to liven the place up downstairs as well.”

Static beeped in agreement, before adding on another garbled stream of whistles.

“He asked you to tend bar later?” Nat chuckled. “I’m guessing Lasat must sleep a lot." She thought to herself for a moment, and then added; "That’s fine for now, but sure... We could look at hiring some extra bar staff at some point as well.

She turned back to the viewscreen, thinking about the myriad of tasks she needed to deal with, in her mind there were as many as there were stars in the sky. So she set about doing none of them, simply watching the approaching starships and letting her mind wander off into the space above.

[Akordania]

DHEK ZYYMIAS

I am so beyond screwed. Dhek muttered to himself, a shaky hand drifting over the Stalker's throttle levers. He pulled the first row of levers downward, easing off the thrust from the ion engines as he entered Orondia's orbit. The craft let out a whir as the sublight engines took charge of propulsion and eased into the atmosphere, while he fumbled with a comms handset. Through his helmet microphone, he spoke in broken Basic:

"Orondia Station, this is the Stalker. Requesting docking privileges as a private civilian craft. I repeat, requesting docking privileges as a private craft. How do you copy?"

Almost immediately, the Station controller issued a response.

"That's affirm Stalker. Welcome."

Memories of the earlier violence barraged Dhek in his descent toward the station. The worst, however, was the voice of the captain playing over incessantly in his head. He hated when they begged. That's why he always tried to kill from afar. A half-second image flashed across his mind; the heated exchange, the drawing of his pistol, and the wailing of a desperate man at death's door. Then a blinding red flash. He grimaced at the image of his corpse...most of all, the lack of a face. He was pulled from his trance as the platform lighting of Orondia Station came into view. Letting out a sigh, he grabbed hold of the sublight throttles and gently pushed them upward, bringing the Stalker to a crawl just above the docks. With his left hand he pushed down hard on a battered rod to deploy the landing gear.

--

The deck was completely deserted, save for a few other parked ships. In any other situation, Dhek would have walked right back up into the Stalker and left. Place looked like the perfect setup for some kind of pirate operation, he thought. He navigated his way through the haze and into the station proper, where he was drenched in neon. First on his priority list was lodging, though it didn't look as though he was going to find any help with such arrangements. The Ubese strode wordlessly down the hallway, his slugthrower tucked beneath his arm. At the very end he spotted a flickering sign. Cantina. It was always the same across the Rim. Wherever the booze, women, and music were-- that's where civilization held out. Dhek advanced toward it, drawing his cloak close to him as the door flew open to reveal a similarly quiet atmosphere. The bar was occupied by a Lasat, droid, and the typical ruffian. Damn shame.

He drew up a stool at the end of the bar, attempting Ubese with the bartender.

"Sizable place you've got Lasat. Was disappointed to see you don't have any Twi'lek girls on stage. In the meantime, where can I find some decent lodging? I've got the credits."

[Derika]

Liehiry gave the bartender the credits. He started drinking the Hull Stripper. After around two sips a small cough erupted.

"That's good," He said in response. "Strong, but not bad." He looked around the small, empty bar area. He noticed the other man walk in and nodded towards him.

[Cheye]

The Cantina

Liehiry gave the bartender the credits. He started drinking the Hull Stripper. After around two sips a small cough erupted.

"That's good," He said in response. "Strong, but not bad." He looked around the small, empty bar area. He noticed the other man walk in and nodded towards him.

Oleg processed the sale of the drink on the bar’s in-built terminal and nodded to the human, stifling a chuckle as the man coughed.

The Lasat glanced over to the second customer, as the Ubese entered and approached.

He drew up a stool at the end of the bar, attempting Ubese with the bartender.

"Sizable place you've got Lasat. Was disappointed to see you don't have any Twi'lek girls on stage. In the meantime, where can I find some decent lodging? I've got the credits."

Oleg drummed his furry fingers on the bartop, eyeing the empty stage for a moment as he mentally checked to make sure he had mentally translated the Ubese correctly before turning to the now seated customer and replying in basic. “Yeah, we used to have a proper band and dancers to boot, but well… times have been hard of late. If you know anyone good who might be available for hire, let me or the new boss know.” The Lasat smiled, before adding; “As for accommodation, we have bunks available on level three, or private rooms up on four? Bunks are 10 creds a night, rooms 100. But we can work out reductions for either if you’re planning a longer stay?”

[Derika]

Liehiry over hears the fact that they're hiring. He perks his head up.

"Hmm. You looking for a security guard or such? I could be of hire for the right price." He says loud enough for the bartender to hear. He was in desperate need for credits. Although he liked to get more... up close in his jobs, a security guard job would be best for know.

[Akordania]

DHEK ZYYMIAS

Dhek sized the massive bartender up as he spoke, propping himself up on the bar with his elbows. Surprisingly, he knew Ubese.

“Yeah, we used to have a proper band and dancers to boot, but well… times have been hard of late. If you know anyone good who might be available for hire, let me or the new boss know.”

The Ubese nodded slowly and peered off in the background, taking in the entirety of the hazy cantina before speaking.

"Mm. Sure seems like it. I can't say I know anyone personally for hire, but I'm sure things'll pick up on their own, yeah?"

The Lasat flashed a wide grin packed with sharp, stained teeth.

What hideous beasts these things are in person, Dhek thought.

“As for accommodation, we have bunks available on level three, or private rooms up on four? Bunks are 10 creds a night, rooms 100. But we can work out reductions for either if you’re planning a longer stay?”

Fragments of the recent gore flashed across Dhek's mind. He saw the faces of his former employers...psychopaths of all species covered head to toe in tattoos. There was no doubt they were well aware of the incident by now. The familiar wave of anxiety washed over him, and with a slight tremble in his voice, he responded.

"Think I'll be here for the long term. A private room, with a pre-arranged plan would be ideal."

[Pax Nerdvana]

Dak Stone
Location: Near the station, on board his ship
Dak Stone was somewhat annoyed. He had a cargo of ore to deliver to this station, but no one had told him the station had been cut off from fuel service. He hoped that his client, a Grensha Drak, would still be there. He had a family to feed. He looked up from his console, towards his wife, and said,"Jes, request permission to dock with the station." Jes nodded, and reached for the mike. They got permission to dock. Dak began easing the Falling Rock towards the station. As he closed, he braked, and lowered the landing gear, as he descended towards the pad. The ship settled to the ground with a jolt. He turned to face his two sons, and said,"Boys, I want you to stay 'board ship. Keep her engines warm, and ready to blast. I don't want to be here any longer then I have to. This place can be rough." With practiced ease, he and Jes unstrapped, and stood up. Dak drew his DH-17 blaster pistol, checked the charge, and returned it to it's holster. It was almost full. Jes did the same. They walked down to the airlock, and exited the ship. Dak looked at his wife, and said,"We are supposed to meet this Drak character in the cantina, right?" Jes said,"Yeah, that sounds right." They continued walking down to the cantina. Dak walked inside the cantina first. To his surprise, it was nearly empty.

[Cheye]

The Cantina

"Think I'll be here for the long term. A private room, with a pre-arranged plan would be ideal."

The Lasat nodded and then replied in basic again; “In that case, we can lower the rate to fifteen-hundred creds for the month; and there’s a lot of rooms available to choose from, on account of our recent… economic downturn. You gonna’ be paying upfront?”

"Hmm. You looking for a security guard or such? I could be of hire for the right price." He says loud enough for the bartender to hear. He was in desperate need for credits. Although he liked to get more... up close in his jobs, a security guard job would be best for know.

The Lasat turned away for a second as the human interrupted, but then another voice from the doorway interrupted; “I can answer that. I am in charge of security on the station.” A tall nautolan stood in the doorway, he wore a crisp uniform and stood proudly with his hands clasped behind his back.

When he eventually moved, his many yellow head-tails bobbed as he entered and approached the growing number of customers at the bar; “I am Chief Security Officer Muur Udamos. My team is in charge of station security, but we are always on the lookout for people with the right skills.” He stopped as he reached the Corellian, eyeing him up and down sceptically. “Do you possess any?”

Behind the Nautolan, two more human figures came into view from the doorway, a man and a woman, although the man walked ahead, casting a judgemental look around the cantina as he entered.

Dak looked at his wife, and said,"We are supposed to meet this Drak character in the cantina, right?" Jes said,"Yeah, that sounds right." They continued walking down to the cantina. Dak walked inside the cantina first. To his surprise, it was nearly empty.

A bronze-plated C1 astromech droid appeared from an alcove that led to a turbolift up to the upper floors and bleeped at the couple in greeting.

The droid’s mechanical ‘eye’ glanced over to where the Lasat was engaged in conversation with the Ubese and let out a static grunt of disapproval as he realised it would fall to him to serve as backup bartender for the time being. The C1 swivelled back to face them, ready to take any orders or try to answer any questions...

[Derika]

When he eventually moved, his many yellow head-tails bobbed as he entered and approached the growing number of customers at the bar; “I am Chief Security Officer Muur Udamos. My team is in charge of station security, but we are always on the lookout for people with the right skills.” He stopped as he reached the Corellian, eyeing him up and down sceptically. “Do you possess any?”

"If I could protect senators from assassinations, slip past the blockade on Ryloth, and gather intelligence for the Republic for their assault on Geonosis, I'm pretty sure I have the right stuff. I'm willing to show you if you need." He finishes the drink he bought earlier and leaned in towards the man.

[Akordania]

DHEK ZYYMIAS

"Fifteen hundred you say?" Dhek glanced over his shoulder, scanning the room. More and more people were streaming into the station, clearly. Fifteen hundred seemed a steep price, but with the choice of rooms, the Lasat's offer became more attractive. Dhek certainly had enough credits.

He nodded slowly to himself before speaking.

"Okay, deal. With my choice of room," Dhek stood up and drew his cloak close, "I'll get you your credits within the day."

[Cheye]

The Cantina

"If I could protect senators from assassinations, slip past the blockade on Ryloth, and gather intelligence for the Republic for their assault on Geonosis, I'm pretty sure I have the right stuff. I'm willing to show you if you need." He finishes the drink he bought earlier and leaned in towards the man.

“Confidence is good....” Chief Udamos flashed a smile before taking a cautious step back as the man tried to lean in; “Provided it is accompanied by the truth. How does someone with such an impressive resume come to be scrounging for a job on a planet like Orondia? If you’ll pardon my curiosity?”

The Nautolan’s large eyes locked onto Liehiry’s for a moment. Silently trying to evaluate him, still trying to gauge whether he would be a threat or an asset.

"Fifteen hundred you say?" He nodded slowly to himself before speaking. "Okay, deal. With my choice of room," Dhek stood up and drew his cloak close, "I'll get you your credits within the day."

The Lasat nodded in agreement; “It’s pricey I know, but it's not like you’ll find many other options for accommodation on this rock.” Oleg sighed. “I think there’s only a few rooms still occupied so yeah, you can pick any of the free ones. Couple have viewports that look out over the landing pads, if you like that sort of thing.”

Oleg grumbled to himself; “We used to have a valet droid who kept track of all the reservations, but… I ain’t seen that thing since the fuel went dry and half the station took off…” The Lasat scratched his head thoughtfully; “So… yeah. I guess, just let me know when you’ve got the creds and then I’ll take you up to look at the rooms.”

Across the bar, another group of patrons from a freshly landed ship appeared, among them a Quarren, a Kubaz, a pair of Ithorians and three humans.

“Oh boy…” Oleg said as the Ubese turned away. “We really are back in business.” He glanced at Static, who had approached the two humans by the doorway. “That droid had better make itself useful.” He muttered, before letting out a yawn, which he stifled before smiling to the first of the new patrons to approach.

Natalya Sadaar

Upstairs, Nat sprawled out on her new bed, her blue-black hair cascading over the soft synthsilk pillows, as her datapad lay discarded between her feet.

She had diligently checked over the station computer terminals and security mainframe as Udamos had recommended. Now it was time to try and relax.

Taking on a new business was a tiring exercise. Made even more so by the fact that she was only really just beginning to feel comfortable with the spartan, metallic flavour of decor favoured by the previous owner. It reminded her too much of Coruscant, and her memories of her childhood there were not exactly pleasant ones. Still, the Security Chief’s warning about the Codru-Ji arms dealer also played in her mind, and for the time being at least, Nat just wanted to stay in bed, where it was comfortable and seemingly safe.

The open-plan penthouse that adjourned her new office was roomy and sleek, if decorated just as poorly as the other room.

She had a foyer for entertaining guests, complete with a fireplace built into the wall itself and tucked neatly behind a sheet of transparisteel. At the end of the foyer a set of doors linked up with the station’s upper concourse. A long meeting/dining room connected the foyer of the apartment to the owner’s office, while at the end, beneath the panoramic viewports that looked out over Orondia, she had a personal kitchen and dining area. Across from the meeting room, another doorway led into an empty room that it appeared the previous owner had been using for storage, but Nat had already been thinking about converting into a personal games room. Up a small durasteel staircase, sat the bedroom area, which was separated from the rest of the suite by just a small railed walkway that overlooked the rest of the apartment and also led to an en suite bathroom.

Nat had been surprised at first, at just how luxurious the owner’s quarters seemed to be. In a station like this, where space was a premium, she had expected little more than a single room, but it seemed the Bith she had won the place off of had a taste for the comfier things after all, even if he had been too stingy to actually decorate properly. She would change that though. Fantasising about changing that was keeping her from turning tail and ditching this endeavour.

Suddenly her datapad beeped, drawing her attention. Nat glanced down at it without moving, and it beeped again, informing her of an incoming holocall.

She sighed and tapped the edge of it with her blue foot. A small hologram of a human male appeared. He had long dark hair and wore an impressive, if slightly ostentatious coat and cape combo.

“Well that’s a view.” His shimmering blue face smirked up at Natalya from between her legs.

“Oh, shut up...” She scoffed. Bringing her legs together and passing her foot through his image with a slight kick as she did so.

“I assume you’re settling in well?” The hologram asked.

“Yeah… It’s kinda creepy here without too many people around, though. And the Bith who owned the place before had no idea how to decorate!”

“Sounds lovely.” He replied, still smirking. “I see you’ve sent me a bill already?”

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna’ welch on your debt, Sianni?” Nat replied, raising herself up slightly with her elbows and frowning down at him. “I told you, you can either owe me or the Hutts, and you, being so very predictable, chose to owe the pretty Pantoran girl. Well, now you’re good for it, I’m collecting.”

“I wasn’t going to welch.” The man said defensively. “I just wanted to know if there’d be any more expenses coming my way? Thought I could transfer them all in one go and try and keep what’s left of my dignity.”

She smiled, amused at that; “Well, you have the invoice for the security upgrades, but I’m gonna’ be hiring staff to get this place back to capacity, so there will be more to come. I’m lucky that the Lasat who runs the cantina here has been around since forever, so I think I can rely on him to keep that side of the business running smoothly. He’ll probably need stock at some point though. And I'll have to pay him. And I want to get some game tables and a band to liven the place up, maybe dancers too.”

She bit back a giggle as she watched Sianni visibly struggle to digest one exorbitant cost after the other. She knew he was probably still good for it though. He had come into a lot of credits thanks and, crucially, lived to tell about it thanks to her.

She flashed him a mischievous smile; “Oh, and I’m also gonna’ be redecorating… extensively...”

[Derika]

“Confidence is good....” Chief Udamos flashed a smile before taking a cautious step back as the man tried to lean in; “Provided it is accompanied by the truth. How does someone with such an impressive resume come to be scrounging for a job on a planet like Orondia? If you’ll pardon my curiosity?”

"Business has been... bad right now. With the war drawing to a close, there aren't many contracts around. Only jobs left are smuggling, which my ship can't handle. It's Old Republic, age, D-5 Mantis." Liehiry says.

[Ormata]

Immils “Doc” Sudinia

She didn’t like moving weapons. Physically, that is.

It wasn’t exactly in her contract. It wasn’t in her employee’s contracts. They hadn’t signed on for moving crates, explosives, things of that sort. Doc was certain a thermal detonator shipment was included with the rest of them, something that gave just a little bit of concern. If she went by what her contacts said was in the shipment, of what quality they said, well then it would ideally be fine. But then if she went by what her contacts said she’d be dead. They were old friends, but that didn’t mean that people stayed exactly the same, didn’t mean that people were static little objects in a static little galaxy. They moved on. They changed. They adapted to their surroundings and, in all honesties, their surroundings were trash as far as Doc was concerned, trash as far as any moral compass was concerned. There was a reason why Arakyd made blasters for Trandoshan slugthrower fetishists.

Besides that fact, she didn’t like moving them based on the simple fact that it wasn’t the plan. If Doc had felt the great need to move weapons, she’d probably have set up on Nar Shaddaa itself or Taris or Kessel or any number of worlds. Heck, she could’ve maybe moved to a Republic Ord world, worked as a contractor under them, and that would’ve made pretty good money. Separatists might have paid pretty well, too. But moving guns wasn’t her job. Getting them was. She was a purchasing agent, in a way, and it was immensely annoying that she had to do something other than the precise, specific job itself. The conditions weren’t ideal for it, the reasons were as reasonable as could be expected, but still. It was annoying, too, that the freighter had been forced to drop the weapons off at Orondia due to faulty repairs.

Watching the beast set itself back off and away, cargo loaded quickly, she checked her chrono again. Fifteen minutes. It was good time, all things considered, and good enough time for a quiet meal before settling down. The stationed lacked most things like a day/night cycle, it seemed, though in any case the people who were there had made their own, imposed their own, and travel and trade concentrated to only a few periods of time. The tapcafe, as per its usual nature, did not abide by that rule in any way, but it helped that the hired help there were too few and far between to operate it around the clock. That would make things intolerable.Walking away from landing pad and back inside the warehouse, Doc caught some movement in the corner of her eye, something just a little out of place. Darbai strode up from his corner of the building, from the entrance. The droid’s tone was incongruous, a dull tone that belied a far more active nature.

“Mr Axin is on his way, ma’am.”

Silas Axin. The human had been in one form of debt, Doc could recall, something that was unbecoming for a security officer. Like many who were in such a position, he made moves to secure a loan in order to pay off such debts. A smile came to the Codru-Ji’s lips; she had been happy to help the man. After all, like she said, it was unbecoming. Since then, favors had been called on an irregular basis. When they took custody of the IG droids, it was Mr Axin who secured for her the encryption data and passcodes for their recharging stations. When the turrets came in and were installed, Mr Axin gave his leave for Pritys to install a backdoor into their control systems and IFF software. With each update in the security mainframe, in one way or another it was Mr Axin who gave a little bit of information Doc’s way.

She suspected he had some form of disliking towards Udamos, the Security Chief for the station. The Nautolan was so righteous and upright that it made Immils wonder what stupidity had sent him off to Orondia, though such things were not entirely of importance. What was far more important was the fact that he, more than likely, now held fear of both his own coworkers and Doc. After all, she could get him killed easily enough but of course there were little things stopping that. If she just started killing anyone who posed a problem, Immils had reasoned before to herself, then rather quickly no one would want to deal with her, approach her, save for having the intent of dealing with their own problem in the same manner. Getting killed was neither helpful towards building a reputation nor helpful towards getting rich and Immils had intent to do both.

“Let him in.”

“Very good, ma’am.”

[Pax Nerdvana]

The Cantina

"Think I'll be here for the long term. A private room, with a pre-arranged plan would be ideal."

The Lasat nodded and then replied in basic again; “In that case, we can lower the rate to fifteen-hundred creds for the month; and there’s a lot of rooms available to choose from, on account of our recent… economic downturn. You gonna’ be paying upfront?”

"Hmm. You looking for a security guard or such? I could be of hire for the right price." He says loud enough for the bartender to hear. He was in desperate need for credits. Although he liked to get more... up close in his jobs, a security guard job would be best for know.

The Lasat turned away for a second as the human interrupted, but then another voice from the doorway interrupted; “I can answer that. I am in charge of security on the station.” A tall nautolan stood in the doorway, he wore a crisp uniform and stood proudly with his hands clasped behind his back.

When he eventually moved, his many yellow head-tails bobbed as he entered and approached the growing number of customers at the bar; “I am Chief Security Officer Muur Udamos. My team is in charge of station security, but we are always on the lookout for people with the right skills.” He stopped as he reached the Corellian, eyeing him up and down sceptically. “Do you possess any?”

Behind the Nautolan, two more human figures came into view from the doorway, a man and a woman, although the man walked ahead, casting a judgemental look around the cantina as he entered.

Dak looked at his wife, and said,"We are supposed to meet this Drak character in the cantina, right?" Jes said,"Yeah, that sounds right." They continued walking down to the cantina. Dak walked inside the cantina first. To his surprise, it was nearly empty.

A bronze-plated C1 astromech droid appeared from an alcove that led to a turbolift up to the upper floors and bleeped at the couple in greeting.

The droid’s mechanical ‘eye’ glanced over to where the Lasat was engaged in conversation with the Ubese and let out a static grunt of disapproval as he realised it would fall to him to serve as backup bartender for the time being. The C1 swivelled back to face them, ready to take any orders or try to answer any questions...

Dak Stone
Dak looked at the trash can shaped droid, and said,"I'm looking for my contact, a Graneesh Drak. He's supposed to pick up a load of ore from us. Have you seen him around here?" Dak glanced around the bar, noticing small groups of patrons scattered around it. He looked at his wife, and said,"Jes, what say we order drinks, and have a seat, in case we have to wait?" Dak didn't really need to ask, but he did anyway, despite this being their usual procedure. Jes looked at the droid, and said,"We'd like a booth and two cheap glasses of Coreillian whisky while we wait."

[Charlemagna]

Alba Joostal

Business was returning to Orondia - from her small bedroom window Alba could see the ships as they approached, and then dipped out of sight to dock. Only a trickle, less than a few, but it was surely a sign of things to come.

Alba's chest constricted with anxiety.

There was probably no excuse for her to not get back to work now - she had made some very limited progress on her written report, but actually selling products and making a profit was an integral aspect of her job description. And, if she was honest, she'd not even tried to speak to anyone else since all but the bare-bones of civilisation had fled. She'd certainly not been manning her little stall (unless you included getting blind drunk and sleeping under it as manning). And yeah, she had tried to convince herself that her safety was at risk when her only company seemed to be to her criminals and mercenaries, but perhaps she was unfairly discriminating.

Part of her training had been on selling anything to anyone.

In point of fact, surely even criminals and mercenaries and other degenerates needed a holiday once in a while. Not that Orondia offered much in the way of relaxation, but she could probably dress it up well enough.

Anyway - hopefully the new arrivals would be more legally-inclined individuals...

Alba couldn't stay holed up in her room forever.

She took a deep breath, and readied herself: put on some make-up and her favourite jacket. Tied up her dark, curly hair and fancied that she looked professional. She decided to leave the Galaxica branded stuff. Just in case she needed to make a quick exit and disappear.

As Alba moved past, she patted LEP-GT17 on the head – useless little droid, but she had almost forgiven it for being incorrectly programmed. Still, the last thing she needed was a companion that spouted random facts about an entirely different planet (or that judged excessive intoxicant intake). Best to keep him powered down for now.

She stepped towards her door; opened it. And then scurried back across the room to grab a handful of Galaxica information pucks which she hastily shoved into her pocket.

As she hurried down the stairs towards her stall, Alba started to rethink. How many people would be around now? And would they be walking past her stall? Maybe actually it would better to scout our the situation before getting back to business as normal (not that there was ever much business before).

Alba hesitated in front of her lonely, neglected Galaxica Travel Agency Stall - to her right, the Cantina lights flickered alluringly. The Cantina - that's where anyone and everyone would be.

And maybe Alba would need a drink to see her through this.

Before she had a chance to overthink it, she approached the door and it hissed open, allowing her to step inside.

A few people were milling about - more than she'd seen in a long time, but not many. All new faces though, except for the Lasat bartender Oleg, from whom Alba had brought a drink or two, or several, when the bar was empty to take up to her room.

An assorted group loitered by the bar, while the Station Security Chief stood conversing with an unfamiliar human. Alba wasn't sure whether anyone was actually paying her any attention but it certainly felt like it. A young human female? She stuck out like a sore thumb.

This is a bad idea, Alba thought. Abort!

Except she could hardly back out without looking like more of a fool. Still, she definitely wouldn't try handing out any Galaxica info pucks.

She headed to the bar, her cheeks flaming as she crossed the room. She tried to act casual but she felt so out of place all her movements were wrong.

She was almost at the bar when it happened. She somehow managed to trip and go over on her ankle. She wobbled, flailed and just about managed to keep her balance. But the info pucks that she'd shoved into her pockets spilled out, flew through the air and cascaded to the floor around her.

As the info pucks landed, the holograms built into them sprang to life. Showering the room with little blue lights as the lively and trademarked theme tune of the Galaxica Travel Agency played out loud from half a dozen different sources.

“TRAVEL THE COSMOS!” Several robotic voices chimed over the music from the pucks, just slightly out of sync with one another “SEE THE STARS! EXPERIENCE THE GALAXY! WITH GALAXICA!”

As the music looped and the pucks continued with their pre-programmed sales pitch, Alba froze. Then she dropped to her knees, quickly scooping them up and silencing them, before taking the three remaining steps to the bar and dropping the pile of pucks onto the counter, crossing her arms over the top as if there was nothing to see.

She tried to sound casual rather than mortified as she addressed the expressionless bartender; "Don't suppose I could trouble you for a drink could I, Oleg?"

[Cheye]

The Cantina

"Business has been... bad right now. With the war drawing to a close, there aren't many contracts around. Only jobs left are smuggling, which my ship can't handle. It's Old Republic, age, D-5 Mantis." Liehiry says.

The Nautolan nodded thoughtfully.

“Ah yes, that is a familiar story... Lots of people forced into this end of the galaxy because of the war, now all competing for a dwindling number of mercenary roles as the Outer Rim Sieges reach their conclusions.” He sighed, and his large eyes conveyed a sense of personal understanding for Liehiry’s predicament

“I would be happy to consider taking someone with your skillset onto our team once you have demonstrated your abilities. However, I am very interested in the fact that you own a ship as well... We have a decent team here on the Station itself, but no craft capable of defending freighters as they come into land or depart. It has never really been an issue, but with business returning the threat of piracy will come with it. I would be interested to know if your ship would be sufficiently equipped and your piloting skills sharp enough for you to fill a role like that?” He added; “It does not matter if the ship is old and in need of some maintenance, as once we get our station mechanic back, he will be more than able to ensure adjustments are made if you have taken on a contract with us. In the meantime, I would expect the ship to serve more as a… deterrent… than an actual combat fighter. But I only ask out of curiosity?”

Dak looked at the trash can shaped droid, and said,"I'm looking for my contact, a Graneesh Drak. He's supposed to pick up a load of ore from us. Have you seen him around here?" Dak glanced around the bar, noticing small groups of patrons scattered around it.

“Brap-breep-brap?” The droid echoed in response to Dak’s question, spinning his ‘head’ in an arc around the room before beeping a reply in the negative with a small shrug of his mechanical pincers. The droid clearly didn’t seem to know who anyone here was, save the bartender.

He looked at his wife, and said,"Jes, what say we order drinks, and have a seat, in case we have to wait?" Dak didn't really need to ask, but he did anyway, despite this being their usual procedure. Jes looked at the droid, and said,"We'd like a booth and two cheap glasses of Coreillian whisky while we wait."

At that, the astromech accelerated sharply away, beeping to confirm their order and gesturing back with a pincer for them to follow as it wheeled them over towards a corner booth that commanded a view of both the central empty stage and the doorway into the cantina behind it, so that they could watch and wait for their contact.

She was almost at the bar when it happened. She somehow managed to trip and go over on her ankle. She wobbled, flailed and just about managed to keep her balance. But the info pucks that she'd shoved into her pockets spilled out, flew through the air and cascaded to the floor around her.

As the info pucks landed, the holograms built into them sprang to life. Showering the room with little blue lights as the lively and trademarked theme tune of the Galaxica Travel Agency played out loud from half a dozen different sources.

“TRAVEL THE COSMOS!” Several robotic voices chimed over the music from the pucks, just slightly out of sync with one another “SEE THE STARS! EXPERIENCE THE GALAXY! WITH GALAXICA!”

As the music looped and the pucks continued with their pre-programmed sales pitch, Alba froze.

The eyes of the freighter crew patrons turned in surprise at the loud and clumsy entrance of the young saleswoman. Even Static turned from the couple he was leading to the booth and flashed his pincers and stun-gun defensively at the sudden loud noises. Things only returned to normal as the pucks were collected and muted, the jaunty Galaxica trademarked theme-tune finally dying away.

For his part, Oleg knew Alba well enough by now to know how anxious that display would have made her, especially while sober, so he kept his expression neutral, even though it was something of a struggle for him to do so…

She tried to sound casual rather than mortified as she addressed the expressionless bartender; "Don't suppose I could trouble you for a drink could I, Oleg?"

“I think you probably need one...” The Lasat said flatly, though he now failed to hide his smile. “Or three!” He added. “Usual stuff or you feeling adventurous today, Alba?”

The Hangars

Immils “Doc” Sudinia “Mr Axin is on his way, ma’am.”

Silas Axin. The human had been in one form of debt, Doc could recall, something that was unbecoming for a security officer. Like many who were in such a position, he made moves to secure a loan in order to pay off such debts. A smile came to the Codru-Ji’s lips; she had been happy to help the man. After all, like she said, it was unbecoming. Since then, favors had been called on an irregular basis. When they took custody of the IG droids, it was Mr Axin who secured for her the encryption data and passcodes for their recharging stations. When the turrets came in and were installed, Mr Axin gave his leave for Pritys to install a backdoor into their control systems and IFF software. With each update in the security mainframe, in one way or another it was Mr Axin who gave a little bit of information Doc’s way.

She suspected he had some form of disliking towards Udamos, the Security Chief for the station. The Nautolan was so righteous and upright that it made Immils wonder what stupidity had sent him off to Orondia, though such things were not entirely of importance. What was far more important was the fact that he, more than likely, now held fear of both his own coworkers and Doc. After all, she could get him killed easily enough but of course there were little things stopping that. If she just started killing anyone who posed a problem, Immils had reasoned before to herself, then rather quickly no one would want to deal with her, approach her, save for having the intent of dealing with their own problem in the same manner. Getting killed was neither helpful towards building a reputation nor helpful towards getting rich and Immils had intent to do both.

“Let him in.”

“Very good, ma’am.”

Silas Axin was used to being a number two. Once upon a time, he had been a deputy sheriff at the shipyards of Ringo Vinda. Then, when the war came and he had to get as far away from there as possible, he signed onto a freighter crew and through a series of events, some tragic, others sheer luck, he became first mate. When the ship and crew were seized by the Hutts, Axin got himself into debt trying to get the survivors out of their predicament, before leaving after a disagreement and then once again becoming a back-up man in a not-entirely-legal security racket. Eventually he broke away from that group with several others, including Muur Udamos and his fancy corporate backers who helped them to form a more legitimate security organisation; Station Security. One of their first contracts... With the Bith who owned Orondia Station.

He was now, for all intents and purposes, Udamos’s number two. Even if that damned giant carpet, Aveff, had his name listed higher than his on the security office’s staff roster. But Axin wasn’t content being a number two forever. If he was stuck on Orondia, which between his debts and his uncertainty about finding work elsewhere, he was - then he was going to try and actually become number one here. Or so he told himself.

It wasn’t that Axin held a grudge against Udamos personally. He just wanted a chance at the Chief’s job, and after the Doc had helped him get a loan to pay off a serious portion of his debt to the Hutts, he knew that she could make a powerful ally if the time ever came for a change in Station Security leadership. He had no desire to be her number two either. But if he could give her just enough information, just enough power, to pose a threat to Station Security without Udamos realising, then one day she might use it to his advantage.

As Silas swaggered into the hangar confidently, he glanced around. Looking for the Codru-Ji. He had a lot to tell her about the station’s new owner. She might be an ally too, she had certainly seemed sceptical of Udamos enough, if a little young and perhaps naive for someone in this part of Hutt Space, but only time would tell on that. For him to know for sure, he would have to share his observations with Doc and see how things landed.

“Doc.” He wore his usual charming, though entirely fake, grin. “How would you like to know a bit more about our new, blue, station-owning issue?...”

[Ormata]

Immils “Doc” Sudinia

As Silas swaggered into the hangar confidently, he glanced around. Looking for the Codru-Ji. He had a lot to tell her about the station’s new owner. She might be an ally too, she had certainly seemed sceptical of Udamos enough, if a little young and perhaps naive for someone in this part of Hutt Space, but only time would tell on that. For him to know for sure, he would have to share his observations with Doc and see how things landed.

She set herself down in her little makeshift seat, smoothing out the wrinkles on her coveralls with one set of arms whilst the other set to work lighting yet another cigarette. Silas was one of those individuals who was tricky by virtue that you had to keep them close enough to be useful and yet too close and the damn thing would bite you. She could liken him to an Akk-Akk if the dog wasn’t a far deal more dangerous with the biting. At the very least though Silas had the fact that he knew a bit too much going for him. It helped Doc quite a bit, though she’d been biding her time with the information given.

It was no surprise, however, that his approach was not too welcome. Sorsk for his part sat next to a wall, began to set his LS-150 up on his knee, a rag in one hand, though some little grin played about on the lizard’s face. It was harder to tell than most humanoids, but you could by the very corners of the mouth, pulled up and curving just slightly. He’d made some bet or another with the other Trandoshans quite some time prior that everything would devolve into violence and that he’d get a chance to blow away the meat as he called it, that creature that called itself Aveff. If Doc was willing, she’d swear up and down that she could hear a throaty, laughing little chuckle from the lizard. Sorsk was one to enjoy his prey’s discomfort, though of course he wouldn’t kill Silas. At least he wouldn’t kill him in that way, with his Heavy Repeater. As the lizard himself had said, it’d be too quick, too messy for not enough fun.

Darbai followed the man as he strode up, keeping his distance at around thirty feet and carrying his Valken-38x in both hands. It was lowered, though as far as Doc was aware he would be able to raise and fire the rifle accurately before one could draw their pistol. His head kept still, the droid ready to perform what was effectively a full security blackout along with the elimination of this single security officer. As the man swaggered, the only sound in the hangar was a door opening, the nearly invisible squeaks of droid joints at work. Click, click went the lighter in one hand, the cigarette held up to it.

The others dispersed in various other ways, though the two Weequay brothers kept by the door, silent as the grave, watching. Immils could tell that they were talking. They were always talking. It was simply how they were. They were talkative people without having to give any sort of demonstration of their talk to others, without having to move their lips or give a single sound. Hormones, as she understood it. It was useful. It was also something of an annoyance. Immils made it a small point to know her employees and the Weequay were hard enough to crack as far as their personalities, their personhoods. They kept to themselves. At least she could respect that.

“Doc.” He wore his usual charming, though entirely fake, grin. “How would you like to know a bit more about our new, blue, station-owning issue?...”

“Silas,” came her response. Click, click, fire on the end of the tobacco, a minty little smell slowly enveloping her like the arms of an old friend. She took a little drag, looking up to the man. “I would. Continue.”

[Derika]

The Nautolan nodded thoughtfully.

“Ah yes, that is a familiar story... Lots of people forced into this end of the galaxy because of the war, now all competing for a dwindling number of mercenary roles as the Outer Rim Sieges reach their conclusions.” He sighed, and his large eyes conveyed a sense of personal understanding for Liehiry’s predicament

“I would be happy to consider taking someone with your skillset onto our team once you have demonstrated your abilities. However, I am very interested in the fact that you own a ship as well... We have a decent team here on the Station itself, but no craft capable of defending freighters as they come into land or depart. It has never really been an issue, but with business returning the threat of piracy will come with it. I would be interested to know if your ship would be sufficiently equipped and your piloting skills sharp enough for you to fill a role like that?” He added; “It does not matter if the ship is old and in need of some maintenance, as once we get our station mechanic back, he will be more than able to ensure adjustments are made if you have taken on a contract with us. In the meantime, I would expect the ship to serve more as a… deterrent… than an actual combat fighter. But I only ask out of curiosity?”

"Of course. Once the ship is fixed up, probably a new engine and such." He says. "The ship currently has three blaster cannons and concussion missiles. Is that enough for a deterrent?"

[Pax Nerdvana]

The Cantina

"Business has been... bad right now. With the war drawing to a close, there aren't many contracts around. Only jobs left are smuggling, which my ship can't handle. It's Old Republic, age, D-5 Mantis." Liehiry says.

The Nautolan nodded thoughtfully.

“Ah yes, that is a familiar story... Lots of people forced into this end of the galaxy because of the war, now all competing for a dwindling number of mercenary roles as the Outer Rim Sieges reach their conclusions.” He sighed, and his large eyes conveyed a sense of personal understanding for Liehiry’s predicament

“I would be happy to consider taking someone with your skillset onto our team once you have demonstrated your abilities. However, I am very interested in the fact that you own a ship as well... We have a decent team here on the Station itself, but no craft capable of defending freighters as they come into land or depart. It has never really been an issue, but with business returning the threat of piracy will come with it. I would be interested to know if your ship would be sufficiently equipped and your piloting skills sharp enough for you to fill a role like that?” He added; “It does not matter if the ship is old and in need of some maintenance, as once we get our station mechanic back, he will be more than able to ensure adjustments are made if you have taken on a contract with us. In the meantime, I would expect the ship to serve more as a… deterrent… than an actual combat fighter. But I only ask out of curiosity?”

Dak looked at the trash can shaped droid, and said,"I'm looking for my contact, a Graneesh Drak. He's supposed to pick up a load of ore from us. Have you seen him around here?" Dak glanced around the bar, noticing small groups of patrons scattered around it.

“Brap-breep-brap?” The droid echoed in response to Dak’s question, spinning his ‘head’ in an arc around the room before beeping a reply in the negative with a small shrug of his mechanical pincers. The droid clearly didn’t seem to know who anyone here was, save the bartender.

He looked at his wife, and said,"Jes, what say we order drinks, and have a seat, in case we have to wait?" Dak didn't really need to ask, but he did anyway, despite this being their usual procedure. Jes looked at the droid, and said,"We'd like a booth and two cheap glasses of Coreillian whisky while we wait."

At that, the astromech accelerated sharply away, beeping to confirm their order and gesturing back with a pincer for them to follow as it wheeled them over towards a corner booth that commanded a view of both the central empty stage and the doorway into the cantina behind it, so that they could watch and wait for their contact.

Snipt

The eyes of the freighter crew patrons turned in surprise at the loud and clumsy entrance of the young saleswoman. Even Static turned from the couple he was leading to the booth and flashed his pincers and stun-gun defensively at the sudden loud noises. Things only returned to normal as the pucks were collected and muted, the jaunty Galaxica trademarked theme-tune finally dying away.

For his part, Oleg knew Alba well enough by now to know how anxious that display would have made her, especially while sober, so he kept his expression neutral, even though it was something of a struggle for him to do so…

She tried to sound casual rather than mortified as she addressed the expressionless bartender; "Don't suppose I could trouble you for a drink could I, Oleg?"

“I think you probably need one...” The Lasat said flatly, though he now failed to hide his smile. “Or three!” He added. “Usual stuff or you feeling adventurous today, Alba?”

The Hangars

Immils “Doc” Sudinia “Mr Axin is on his way, ma’am.”

Silas Axin. The human had been in one form of debt, Doc could recall, something that was unbecoming for a security officer. Like many who were in such a position, he made moves to secure a loan in order to pay off such debts. A smile came to the Codru-Ji’s lips; she had been happy to help the man. After all, like she said, it was unbecoming. Since then, favors had been called on an irregular basis. When they took custody of the IG droids, it was Mr Axin who secured for her the encryption data and passcodes for their recharging stations. When the turrets came in and were installed, Mr Axin gave his leave for Pritys to install a backdoor into their control systems and IFF software. With each update in the security mainframe, in one way or another it was Mr Axin who gave a little bit of information Doc’s way.

She suspected he had some form of disliking towards Udamos, the Security Chief for the station. The Nautolan was so righteous and upright that it made Immils wonder what stupidity had sent him off to Orondia, though such things were not entirely of importance. What was far more important was the fact that he, more than likely, now held fear of both his own coworkers and Doc. After all, she could get him killed easily enough but of course there were little things stopping that. If she just started killing anyone who posed a problem, Immils had reasoned before to herself, then rather quickly no one would want to deal with her, approach her, save for having the intent of dealing with their own problem in the same manner. Getting killed was neither helpful towards building a reputation nor helpful towards getting rich and Immils had intent to do both.

“Let him in.”

“Very good, ma’am.”

Silas Axin was used to being a number two. Once upon a time, he had been a deputy sheriff at the shipyards of Ringo Vinda. Then, when the war came and he had to get as far away from there as possible, he signed onto a freighter crew and through a series of events, some tragic, others sheer luck, he became first mate. When the ship and crew were seized by the Hutts, Axin got himself into debt trying to get the survivors out of their predicament, before leaving after a disagreement and then once again becoming a back-up man in a not-entirely-legal security racket. Eventually he broke away from that group with several others, including Muur Udamos and his fancy corporate backers who helped them to form a more legitimate security organisation; Station Security. One of their first contracts... With the Bith who owned Orondia Station.

He was now, for all intents and purposes, Udamos’s number two. Even if that damned giant carpet, Aveff, had his name listed higher than his on the security office’s staff roster. But Axin wasn’t content being a number two forever. If he was stuck on Orondia, which between his debts and his uncertainty about finding work elsewhere, he was - then he was going to try and actually become number one here. Or so he told himself.

It wasn’t that Axin held a grudge against Udamos personally. He just wanted a chance at the Chief’s job, and after the Doc had helped him get a loan to pay off a serious portion of his debt to the Hutts, he knew that she could make a powerful ally if the time ever came for a change in Station Security leadership. He had no desire to be her number two either. But if he could give her just enough information, just enough power, to pose a threat to Station Security without Udamos realising, then one day she might use it to his advantage.

As Silas swaggered into the hangar confidently, he glanced around. Looking for the Codru-Ji. He had a lot to tell her about the station’s new owner. She might be an ally too, she had certainly seemed sceptical of Udamos enough, if a little young and perhaps naive for someone in this part of Hutt Space, but only time would tell on that. For him to know for sure, he would have to share his observations with Doc and see how things landed.

“Doc.” He wore his usual charming, though entirely fake, grin. “How would you like to know a bit more about our new, blue, station-owning issue?...”

Dak Stone
Dak and Jes took their seats, and thanked the droid. The two of them were quite fond of droids, to be honest. Their astromech, Echo, was practically a member of the family. Just as they were settling in, a female tripped, scattering data disks across the floor. Music and sound effects began blaring. Jes said quietly to Dak,"I feel bad for anyone who goes on those tours. We can do it for free, as long as we have fuel." Dak nodded in response, and glanced at his wrist chrono. He said,"Blast, our contact should be here by now. I wonder if someone sold us out." Jes placed her hand on Dak's shoulder, and said,"Our contact probably had ship trouble or something. He's only ten minutes late." Dak nodded, and said,"I suppose that's a possibility. I hope he shows up soon."