Juvex City

The shop might look nice, but its wares were less so. About the only thing this pharmacy was good for was finally explaining why her nerves were on edge. VJ was busy lamenting her ill luck when she heard the proprietor mention her home world. The Togruta blinked and looked at the woman strangely. That she was oblivious to what was happening on her planet was plain, but the fallout of that ignorance meant that VJ was left to hurriedly contain the heartache and terror that she normally kept so well-hidden. After a silence that seemed to stretch the expanse of a small eternity, she swallowed thickly and tried to answer in as normal a voice as she could muster, "Yanno... I don't think you have what I'm looking for. I think we're all set to get back to the ship, Asena."

It wasn't a very good cover for her emotions, but she couldn't care less. The only thing on her mind at the moment was getting as far away from the suddenly claustrophobic pharmacy. Without even waiting to see if her shipmate followed, she pivoted and left, striding briskly back to the sanctuary of the Starweird.

VJ had made it to the ship, but she didn't have quite enough time to collect herself before Asena caught up to her. The red head's concern was not unwelcome, but the last thing she wanted to do was talk about... it. Everything. The whole, awful reason why she couldn't have anything to do with her home world for the next foreseeable future. With a shaky breath, the Togruta reached up to fiddle with one of her lekku while she tried to come up with some kind of answer that would make the well-intentioned engineer back off. The task was easier said than done, as her mind was still reeling, but she spoke up anyway, "I just needed to get away from... that woman, yanno." Her voice was still too strained, so she cleared her throat only to realize that she was suddenly parched.

She exhaled and managed a half-hearted smile as she continued, "D'you mind if we--yanno--head to the galley so I can get sommat to drink? Maybe it'll help calm my nerves. I gotta be back to normal before the Captain gets back. I refuse to let the rest of the crew see me in this state." The last bit was more for her own benefit rather than Asena's, but she was still too agitated to care.

She started walking again, more slowly this time, into the ship. She found that as she moved, a gradual sense of normalcy began to return to her. She was safe in this place--well, safer than she would be anywhere else--she trusted the people she worked with. And, most importantly, she was no where near home. That thought, more than anything else, finally calmed her enough for her to regain some semblance of control over herself. Again, she exhaled.

It only took a couple of minutes to reach the galley of the Starweird, and VJ made a bee-line for anything that resembled a beverage. She ended up getting herself a glass of water. Glass in hand, she moved to sit down in the nearest chair and began gulping the liquid down slowly. She used the mindless act to clear her thoughts and was finally able to put the nasty shock from the store behind her.

Six thousand credits. That's enough for a few weeks of food, ammo, and repairs. If there was enough Credits left, after this mission, Ceaser would gef an update.Ceal pocketed and paper and stood up. He remembered Ha'ana.

Handshakes. Many people from the most powerful rulers, or the poorest slave have fallen victim to a knife in the side because of them. Because of this little fun fact, all interactions that limited a hand or allowed an unknown to enter within arm's reach made Ceal anxious. This was no different. But, again. Like the iced treat T the beginning, why would there be decoration? Maybe it was all to get to this moment? He just couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Thank you, Me.Bateman," he said, straightening his coat, "I must apologize, however. I'm very uncomfortable with handshakes."

Ceal looked at Vateman's hand. The fingers were... Long. Was Batenan a near-human? It was possible. As the thoughts and speculation were analyzed with hi's head, Ceal made damn sure to keep a straight face.

-Bateman-
"I always believed the chiss had a clear sense of... well, logic. Yes, what you want, you can always keep. Gentlemen and lady, please take some of that chiss logic and use it yourselves. Ylesia. Slave trade, lots of valuables going back and forth. Slaves mostly, but also the means to buy slaves or the products of slaves. Kamino? Do you know how rich people go to a place known for its cloning?
Nar shadaa... no law, and it is called the smugglers moon. Lots of ships that think they are safe just because the slugs have strenght there.

Well, my friends, if this alone does not move your fantasy, then, I would like to wish you best of luck.

Rishi... well, could always be fun to have a place to relax on..."

He leaned back, and just nearly let them react.

-Bateman-
"Unless... You dont see the bigger picture. You are not patrolling, you are gathering networth. Its a difference. You would also be providing very important scouting information witch would be payed for handsomely. Because... well, there is one more planet left to discuss.

See, if the hutts get struck on many fronts, their greed will force them to spread out their patrolls and escorts further, to defend every one last credit chip in their pocket... leaving one planet weakened. One planet that is irresistibly rich. Where the Hutts actually have their pockets.

Nal Hutta.

You have to udnerstand, the Hutts have lost power, they are weak. They will fall, and their wealth will be owned by those that break them. You are given a chance to be a part of that. This is... how is the phrasing... 'as much as you can carry'-kind of a situation."

Of course, he took a risk by telling them all this, but surely they can guess what kind of firepower he might have if he has a base like this filled with imperial types.



Bateman looked down on his hand and then back at Ceal, then smiled, pulling it back.

-Bateman-
"Culture is as culture dose, and yours is not mine, But I can respect it. A drink maybe?"



-1-
"I will go with you yes."

Even as she had shown the usefullness of the "rag", she still did not stop taking it off. She had freed her left arm thus far.


-1-
"This place? It is the Headquarters of the Juvex Import Export company. Many things are operated from here, inlcuding pirate, slaving and nercotics operations. A fleet known as the Glass Eye fleet is commanded from this building. There are also suits just like this one where VIP and high end eployees can rest. There is a bath with a swimming pool and slaves that can satisfy your every need.

One could say, that this is a happy place."

Now, one would think, that if the ex jedi medic of the pirate crew could feel something unsettling about the planet, Why didnt Nysste feel it? Well, one reason would be the forgetfullnes of the man typing these words, and the other would be that she allready is rather well attuned to dark disturbances in the Force. But, about now she would feel something horrid very far away, like a Justin Bieber song being played down the street.
Something filled with pain, sorrow and anger.

-1-
"Its simple Nysste. You missunderstand. You believe I am a slave, and thus I do as I am told by some entity I am scared off. That is not true. On juvex, We are the lords, and the entity you are hinting at I am not affraid of."

The cloth was comminig off her layer after layer, row after row, and to our great and PG-13 joy, she was totally wearing undergarments for just this occasion.

-1-
"You should be."

She took off her belt, and threw it beside the bed, and continued unwrapping herself.

-1-
"When meeting new people, new factions, new groups and civilisations, you should try and find the meaning in their titles and names. Try to understand what is behind the title. Like my name. One. Think about it. Why a number?"

She was redirecting the conversation.

Mak took another swig of his drink, savoring the burn. He took extra care to speak privately to his captain, Bateman listening in on their huddle before rubbed him the wrong way.
It still seems too much like merc work. We should be getting at least sixty percent of a haul. If it's privateerin' we're doin', they should be gettin' a slice of our pie, not takin' the pie and leavin' a slice for us, if you follow me cap'n.

Rorran turned and curled his lip again and growled softly at the man proposing this so-called job. If he stuck his nose into their business again, Rorran would be ripping heads.

"Is right," he said, lowering his voice further. "We should be the getting of sixty percent. More than. Is no profit here."

-1-
"Would never dream of it Nysste."

One got into a back room kitchen and half a hour later she showed up with a stew of nerf, vegies and spices, followed up by a creamy dessert of vanilla and chockolate set up in the suit study. While Nysste ate, 1 would check the bed for security, same for the bathroom, showering and changing into something more sleepware. Hanging her blaster and lightsaber beside the bed, she was allready under the covers when Nysste came back to the bedroom. There was a small sensor module beside the bed, explained before to be a kind of alarm that makes it easier for them to sleep, and still wake up if something was up.

The next day, there would be an Ardent class waiting for them, fully crewed and filled with nasty fighters.