Commander Seki takes a breath, holds it, then nods, "Mid-Rim should be secure in a few weeks. We can skirt the Outer Rim for.. a while. If we're careful."
Panaka adds, "But the bounty in the Outer Rim will be pitiful."
I grin. "So, we've got a few weeks. I can ask Hontu to keep quiet for a few months, I'd guess. We're not preserving this ruse forever. And I'll make sure he gets fair creds for this 'cargo,' if I have to pay it out of Captain's share of that last haul, so that won't be an issue." I hate being broke. Really hate it, but it seems like my lot in life to always return there, eventually.
I signal to Leex to reinitiate comm contact, after saying, "Audio only, but stand by for holo. Everyone else out of range of the pickup."
"Captain, I'll show you my face, but if you tell anyone that this vessel isn't actually Imperial before three standard months from this moment, I will make it a personal mission to make sure that you are ended in the most humiliating way possible. Understood?"
He looks you over, scans the wall behind you, then laughs long and loud, "Take your prize, Ladro Vos. Hontu will know you stole from me today. Do not let me catch you on even footing... or alone. We will have words. Harsh words." With a flourish, he signals for the holovid to cut off.
In moments, the trip of pirate ships power up and fly away. There's an audible sigh from Leex. Panaka snickers at the ensign's relief.
I shrug back into my jacket, just in case. Off comms. "Anyone with an answer, what's the closest port in realspace for us to deal with our haul?" Damaged freighter, check. Cargo of slaves... I just don't know. We can't drop them off out here in the end of nowhere and say, "You're free!" and expect anything good to happen.
Seki squints, trying to think of this part of the Outer Rim. You're in the Maw cluster.
"Charon's Wall is closer than anywhere else," Panaka offers, quickly snatching up the moment Seki was at a loss. "Not sure what shape we- the Imperials left them in after some retaliatory strikes a few months ago."
I chuckle to myself. With everything going on, I actually forgot where we were. Charon's Wall... the very place where I discovered that I'd made up a Hutt that already existed. I have Leex establish comms with Hera's Arms."Captain of Hera's Arms, this is Captain Ladro Vos of the Far Orbit. Stand by to establish tow connections and an umbilical. I will join you shortly."
"Oh, thank you!" a female voice responds in a raspy tone. "Captain Vos, this is First Mate T'Raq of Hera's Arms. We thought we were doomed! It was a prayer we threw up asking for Imperial assistance. I'm so thankful. If there is anything you need to secure connections, please let me know, sir."
"Just cooperate with my technicians and prepare a full manifest and list of repairs that you require. Thank you." Any cargo besides spice or slaves, and I might even feel sorry for them, but as it stands, not so much.
After I disconnect, I set things in motion to get the tow and umbilical rigged, have Astrogation lay in the most efficient realspace course for Charon's Wall, and then have a quick meeting with Darkal and Cemma to get them on their way. I make certain that they have my personal requests (klava supplies, dress for Ahji, and tiara for Squall), take a quick look over Cemma's ideas, then dismiss them with my blessings.
Once the towlines are secure and we're on our way, I'll ask for a squad of troopers in Imperial mufti to accompany me through the umbilical, ready to subdue and detain the freighter's crew.
Darkal gives you the details on his crew, which does not include Jojee, of course. He gives you a hug, takes the list and assures you he'll find the best of the best for you and yours. They take off before your troopers are assembled.
They are all ex-Imperials, looking sharp and dressed in Imperial unis. They snap to with remarkable attention, to you. These men and women are yours, Ladro. They're well-trained, honorable in their own way, and loyal to you.
I return their salutes, earnestly. "The objective is to secure the ship and detain the crew, with the least damage to beings and property possible. None, if we can." I assume their understanding and acknowledgement, and lead the way into the umbilical with my own non-standard blaster holstered.
What... Kiffu could possibly be walking off an Imperial frigate, backed by a squad of impeccably disciplined Imperial troopers in Imperial gear? Clearly these aren't qukuuf... they're an ironic tattoo.
In other words, pure space cojones. I only really have to make them hesitate.
When the airlock to Hera's Arms opens, you're greeted by a slightly clumsy-looking female Gran. Her three eyes are downcast as you look on her. Her clothes are functional, a gappy pair of coveralls, not sloppy, but worn. "Captain Vos. I'm First Mate T'Raq. Welcome aboard, sir." She bows lower. You don't see any other crew members down the corridor behind her.
Had still bowed, "Captain Horus died during the attack, Captain Vos. He was trying to flip the systems back on after an ion hit, and ended up electrocuting himself. He was... he inherited the ship, sir. He was a decent person, but not the best spacer. He died trying to save his ship." Her words are tinged with some dismay, perhaps feigned, perhaps not. "The rest of the crew is keeping an eye on the cargo." She hands you a datapad, "This is our manifest. Complete with our authorizations for the cargo."
Eighty-four slaves. Looks like five died during the flight, or perhaps during this attack. They must be packed in tight in the hold.
That gets the Gran's attention. She looks up, all three eyes shocked, "Captain? What did I do wrong, sir?" You see it, she sees the tattoo, blinks as two troopers come up and take her by the arms, lead her away.
I shrug. "You won't be harmed, T'raq, or held for long. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time, with the wrong cargo." I start toward the hold, bracing myself.
T'raq offers no more resistance and is led away. You head down the main corridor and unfortunately, you're able to follow your nose. the smell of sweat and waste is strong here, and it's coming from the hold. Down a set of ladders to the hold, you see this:
There is a near-human middle-aged man and a stout older human woman there, both in riot gear-type armor with stun sticks at their belts. They look at you, and all the troopers. The woman speaks first, "Allo, sir. We've got cargo secured. Best to stay back, some of 'em don't take visitors kindly. They've destroyed two droids we sent in, and that was just to feed 'em." She's got a military bearing, but worn down from years of merc work.
In a cold tone, I say, "Remove your stun sticks, put them on the floor and kick them over. My men are going to detain you. You won't be hurt if you don't resist."
Both of the guards look confused for a moment, but the woman reaches for her stick, nice and slow, and lowers it to the floor. The man follows, and they both kick the sticks over. Your men move up to secure them.
The woman says, "Best be careful, Kiffar. We're carrying Talz. Very nasty brutes."
"Four of you to take them back to the brig, as well. Another four, move out in pairs to search the rest of the ship." In the meantime, I comm back to the Far Orbit, hoping that there is a protocol droid aboard that speaks Talz. I've seen two or three, but never tried a conversation on.
Your troopers move quickly, breaking off as instructed. You do have a protocol droid, a C4-PO droid with a female persona encoded. She is attractively built and very pleasant.
"I am C4-PO, human-cyborg relations. How may I assist you, Captain Vos?"
"Can you communicate in Talz, C4-PO? There are 84 rightfully angry, maltreated slaves on the other side of this bulkhead that I need to convince that we're the good guys, despite the fact that I'm wearing an Imperial uniform at the moment." I remove the jacket and hat, fold them and put them on the deck. "Troopers, please move back out of sightlines. If it sounds like I need rescuing, use stun only. These are not the enemy." Rolling up the cuffs of my shirt, I give C4-PO a look. "Are you feeling lucky?"
The troopers pull back after switching weapons to stun.
C4-PO replies brightly, Why, of course, sir. I'm fluent in over eight billion different languages and dialects. Talz are a fascinating species, very misunderstood. I will need to ask for your forebearance in my pronunciation, the language does sound rather... brusque." She pauses, her eyes flashing a low pulse, "I am ready, sir."
I brace myself and open the personnel door into the cargo hold. The stench that has been leaking out even into the corridor is intense, but I do my best not to make a face. My hands are out to the side, palms open, my blaster already removed and placed with the jacket and hat out of sight.
I dredge the little I know about Talz up. "Greetings to you and your clan. I am here as a friend." I wait for C4-PO to translate that opening salvo. No need for long speeches.
As you greet them, C4-PO translates, a string of buzzes and chirps. You see that this container has a dozen Talz, a few appear smaller than the others, and huddle in the rear of the cell. One larger one, more aggressive, steps forward, claws gleaming. He's not listening, and he's not happy.
The largest of the Talz, who has very bright fur, seems to be younger, just larger, pushes forward. He doesn't see weapons and you aren't hurting anyone, but the captivity has set him on edge. He whirs and clicks, followed by a whistle while using his body to dominate your space and keep you from looking on the rest of the Talz in here.
C4-PO quickly translates, "This is Krrro-ahn, he speaks for this clutch. He wants free, they all want free. If you are a friend, he demands you let them out now."
This is going to be difficult, but doable. "Krrro-ahn, you may have free run of this freighter, with a few conditions. First, any beings you encounter will be of my crew, and must not be harmed. Second, I need your guarantee that you will do no further damage to the ship or its contents. Third, I would like your help speaking with the other clutches. Lastly, you need to stay only on this ship for the time being."
I wish I knew. I was not planning on slaves, and certainly not planning on Talz. We have space aboard the Far Orbit—we can open one of the closed areas of the ship if need be—but carting seven dozen non-combatants along to the Ringali Shell doesn't seem like an ideal situation. And just dropping them off somewhere en route would leave them vulnerable to being taken again, and with no way to make a living.
"I will need your help to figure that out. As of this moment, there are no slaves on this ship, but I don't know what would be best for you and yours. We will find a way, together."
The Talz leans his head down and slowly opens his larger eyes, all four of them peering at you. He whirs, then a delightful whistle comes out of his proboscis.
C4-PO translates, "Krrro-ahn is happy to hear these words. He says Trii was right, a painted-face man would save them. She is a seer, but none dared hope." The Talz glances towards one of the walls, as if he's telling you Trii isn't in here.
That prophecy line sends a quick shiver up my spine, but I'm glad for the tension to be defused. "We're agreed, then? And you'll help deliver my words to the rest of your people?"
I call over my shoulder for the troopers to stand down, then, rather than answer Krrro-ahn's question with words, I step out of his way so that he can lead the way.
Krrro-ahn moves past you, heads into the corridor. Your men move back, lowering weapons. There's a tense moment until you come into the hall with him. He leads you to the next container over, and you open it for him. Inside is another dozen Talz. A lean one, possible female, in purple moves forward.
She moves forward on unsteady legs, paws out reaching for you. Do you let her embrace you?
This is her: She whistles in a pleasant shrill tone.
"This is Trii. She says she is elated to see you in the real world." C4-PO responds cheerily.
I accept the embrace with as much grace as I can. "I am pleased to meet a seer of the Talz. I am less certain that I am the one you've seen. Sheer chance brought us together."
I wish I could communicate directly. "Trii, does The Force give you any hint as to our next steps? I'm not being dismissive... I've seen enough not to do that... Really asking the question." Maybe a higher power can help.
Trii looks with all four eyes above you, her paws on your shoulders as she looks into the nothingness of what may come. You feel a tickle in your stomach, the hair on your arms and the back of you neck stands up. She clicks a few times, makes a whirring noise from deep in her diaphragm.
C4-PO relays, "She says you will travel to a den of snakes, restore the honor of your mantle, and eventually face those whose faces you wear. A reckoning is coming. You must choose how you will accept it."
I don't dismiss Trii's words, although I might have, once. I will remember and think about them later.
"Thank you for your words, seer. If I may ask, are you and Krrro-ahn able to proceed without me from here? I will have medical droids and food sent over, but I would like to start thinking on what our options might be." Also, how to convince Hontu to accept my credits without also deciding he needs to kill me.
Trii assures you that with medical droids and food that the elders can manage, and thanks you for your help, hugging you again.
On your way out, you see that all the containers are open, and Talz are in the corridors, hugging each other, preening, stretching their legs and arms.
I do head back, but not quickly. I move slowly through the hallway because, despite the fact that I have no clue what happens next, despite the smell, despite the lingering adrenaline of the entire situation, this feels like a victory. Like my kind of victory. The kind I was made for.
After a minute or so, though, I head back to my ship to arrange for food, medical supplies and med droids, and, ah, hygiene products. And a little bit of quiet, meditative time beating my head against the wall.
Your shower done, head beating completed, you get a knock at the door. It's Hosk.
"Hey Lad," Hosk says as he walks in. I assume you let him? "The troops gave me a report. Eighty Talz? That's ballsy, man, letting them out. What was your read on it?"
"Had to be done. And really... I just have a sense. When I went in unarmed and just reasoned, the aggression just faded away. Of course, me showing up and setting them free was apparently prophesied..." Still chewing on that. "I got hugged a couple times by one of the elders, a seer. Interesting experience, to say the least."
"Prophesy? Gah," Hosk scoffs, waving a dismissive hand, "I wouldn't worry about that mumbo jumbo, Lad. That's just folks trying to rationalize when poodoo happens they can't control."
He comes over to you, reaches up to pat your shoulder, "You did the right thing, prophesy or not." After a beat, he asks, "You think they'll fight for us?"
I narrow my eyes in thought. "I intend to ask, but there would be a lot of training involved, and I doubt all of them are capable. No idea how many would be interested. It would certainly be a way for me, for us, to get something other than warm fuzzies for the incredible amount of credits and grovelling this whole thing is going to cost me."
A little surprised to hear Hosk say he "expected better" from anyone, but I don't disagree. "I did too, Hosk. Hontu's seemed so reasonable, so often, that I sometimes find it hard to remember that it's credits flowing through his veins as much as blood." I chuckle. "Maybe if I tell him it was foretold that I would do this, he'll cut me a break."
That gets a derisive snort, "I don't think he gives discounts for delusions of grandeur. He's cornered the market on that, Lad." He gives you a nod like he's done, starts to head for the door, "I'll leave you to it."
"Hosk..." When he turns, I continue. "Thanks for stopping by. It means a lot that you support me in this. Sometimes I think my greatest skill is making problems for myself."
Hosk gives a nod and chuckles at your problem making, then leaves. You're alone with your thoughts for a short while before you receive notification from the command deck (not Leex) that the freighter is ready to begin travel for Charon's Wall, awaiting your orders.
I head to the bridge. A tow operation seems routine, but there are too many possible points of failure for me simply to give the order. Once there, I give the order to commence and wait until we've overcome the starting inertia and are truly on the way.
After that, it's a tossup. Take Squall over for a damage assessment and repair estimate, maybe. Perhaps go ahead and meet with the Talz elders. Get someone started on opening up one of the closed areas of the Far Orbit to house them if need be. Read whatever I can find on Talz social structure. No shortage of possible things that aren't leaning back with a cup of klava and a new episode of The Young and the Clanless.
We pick up with you inside the slightly-less-smelly, but still-totally-not-pleasant-smelling Talz freighter with you and Squall and a couple engineers working behind her. Squall has a datapad, and ze looks semi-official.
For Squall.
Ze makes a "I'm giving it to you straight" face, "Captain, this ship is not safe. The damage it took during the pirate raid that you thwarted has affected several key load-bearing struts, and the life support is compromised. I think we should move the Talz onto the Far Orbit until we reach our destination and sell this farbot freighter for scrap." Ze looks up from zir datapd hopeful that you're impressed with what sounded like something Mikka might's said.
I nod. "That's sort of what I was afraid of. Any idea what we might be able to clear on the sale?" I guess opening up space for 80 Talz on the Far Orbit just increased in priority. "And how soon do we need to make the move?"
Squall screws up zir face a little, "If she were in factory condition, we could squeeze a hundred twenty thousand out of her. But since we're trading her in at Charon's Wall, and due to the damages, I'd say we'd be lucky to pull fifty."
Well, that's something at least. 50K divided by 300-some and I... okay, not really much. But something. "Okay. If I have quarters available in two hours, is that good enough? Or do we need to do this now?"
You see Squall do the math of pushing things to be nice versus the risk. "I'll put it this way. Wouldn't it really be awful to work this hard for these eighty souls, then lose them to the vacuum of space because their rooms weren't ready?" Ze makes a face, then grins, "I'll volunteer the Boom for temporary housing. It's no problem."
Hrrm. This offer brings up something that's been simmering in my "make problems for myself" brain for a bit. "Squall, that's generous. I'm going to go orthogonal here with my next question, and I want you to be completely honest." I give zir my "I'm totally kriffing serious" look. "Who should be the chief engineer of the Far Orbit, Squall? You, or Napvansa?"
Squall blinks twice, a tell that ze has thought about this. "What would serve the captain best? Someone careful, precise, and reliable? Or someone creative, passionate and... perhaps a little wild?" You know which one ze is. "Either way, I'm happy to serve under you."
I nod. Of course I'm not going to get an unambiguous answer. "You're my choice, Squall. And if it means anything, Lens, which likely means Mikka as well, agrees. Before I can make it official, we need to get you and Amy married. And the tiara may take a week or so. So... do you mind not offering up the Boom for housing until we figure it out?"
"Sure, of course!" is zir immediate answer. You see the wheels in motion, ze's elated at the thought of, more than anything, your trust in zir. Ze licks zir lips, suddenly uncertain, "It may be a while... the wedding. Amy's really stressed about this trooper stuff. I don't want to freak her out by being a bride-zillo beast, you know? But yeah, no Boom is alright. Decks fifty through fifty-two can house them, and they can take up the mess hall until the life support is back on. That's going to eat up energy, of course. But worth it." Ze quickly moves on, past zir personal concerns, trying to offer solutions.
I nod, getting the business out of the way. "I'll have the lights turned on, and give them the mess hall in the meantime." Then, I put on hand on Squall's shoulder. "Hey, would it be good for me to invite Amarath for a drink? Think she'll open up a little if I give her the opportunity without prying?"
Squall lets out a small breath, thankful that you're reaching out even though ze knows you probably shouldn't. Ze bites zir lower lip, fidgets, then answers in a quiet voice, "I dunno, Captain. Maybe? She's been really busy. I'm sure it's just jitters. I'm here for her, you know? I can be patient. Like you've been with me." Zir mouth drops when zir words seem a bit like a flirt. "I mean, patient with me, and my troubles and... not patient for me to, you know, like me and Amy. I just... umh, I'll shut up now." Zir eyes drop to the deck again.
I give a genuine chuckle. A moment of honestly not thinking about all the things on our plate. "It'll be okay, Squally. I'll keep an eye out for a chance to talk with her, but I won't push it." I feel bad that I haven't checked in, actually.
I get on the comms, give the order to clear the mess hall and start preparing decks 50 through 52 for guests. "You can head on back, Squall. I'll get the Talz organized to move."
Squall nods, then heads back to the ship. None of the Talz are in their old containers, now they move around in the freighter, which barely holds them. You can find Trii, and C4-PO is still here, handling translation duty.
I smile as I approach Trii. "Trii, I'm afraid this vessel isn't sound. I'm having some space prepared aboard my ship, but we'll need to get you moving soon. Can you help me get your people organized?"
Trii whistles and peers at you with her lower eyes, responding with a nod and chirps.
C4-PO relates, "She says her people will be happy to leave this prison. She promises that there will be no trouble." Trii makes more noises, and C4-PO continues translating, "The Talz are not space-farers, but they are strong and they can craft." Trii whistles a shrill tone and several Talz start moving towards her. It looks like she is organizing them for you already.
I wait until it looks like they're all ready to move, then lead the parade. As we pass, I speak to one of the Troopers at the entrance to the umbilical. "Once the last Talz is out, sweep the entire ship, quick but thorough, get back to the Far Orbit side, and wait for a signal to seal the tube."
Leading a procession of Talz into your ship gets quite a few odd looks. Mostly curious, a few ex-Imperials seem upset, but nobody is stupid enough to actually say anything. Still, you get the feeling that any trouble they cause will be magnified. Of course, there's some murmurs from the workers who were ousted from the mess hall.
Within half an hour, Hera's Arms is sealed and your mess hall is filled with tons of hairy, smelly Talz. You've got some support staff nearby, troopers and a couple engineers who Squall assigned to help out. It's quite a sight.
That's when the singing begins. It starts with a small Talz, a young one, about Hosk's size. She trills some notes, which are picked up by others. A few rail-thin and underfed Talz begin to move in some kind of dance.
I don't know what's actually happening... not sure if it's even beautiful, for the moment. So much unknown to me, here. I listen for a moment before turning to C4-PO and asking for some interpretation.
C4-PO whispers back in her soothing tone, "They are singing a joyful song of freedom, Captain Vos. Trii and Krrro-ahn have declared you their savior. I do not know if this is helpful, but some of them feel this is their promised land."
I wait for the song to finish, for the dance to whirl to a tired stop, then hold up a hand for attention. I don't know if I can stop this 'savior' business, but I feel obligated to try. I trust C4-PO to translate, pausing every now and then for her to catch up. "Friends, listen. I haven't done anything extraordinary, and what I have done, I haven't done alone. You are welcome aboard the Far Orbit until we find a better place for you, and longer than that if we can find a way to have your help with our mission. I won't abandon you, but I cannot..." How do I say this? 'Accept responsibility?' Haven't I already? "Guarantee your future. I am one being, as each of you are, floating alone in the galaxy despite this ship and crew that surround me." Knowing the little I know about the Talz, I take a stab at a metaphor. "I have only one pair of eyes, which are neither adapted for the bright light of present events or the darkness of the future. I will... try to do my best for you."
C4-PO deliberately sounds your response, and all one hundred sixty or so pairs of eyes are on you. Their response is quick and unanimous. They move forward and pick you up onto their sweaty, hairy shoulders and whistle-sing what C4-PO translates as many thanks and devotion, hope for the future and wonder at you, Captain Ladro Vos.
How long do you spend in their company, Ladro? Without any emergencies, what do you do next?
Deliberately? I wonder if the protocol droid is conspiring to put me in this position. Once they put me down, I'll share water and sit for fifteen minutes or so, but I really have other things to accomplish.
I check on the progress of opening up less temporary, less crowded space for our... guests? Passengers? New crew? I'll also try to raise Hontu now. Maybe he's even present on Charon's Wall. I can talk to him while drinking a cup of klava, unless there's an emergency that threatens the Far Orbit or our scrap-metal prize.
Since you aren't in hyperspace, raising Charon's Wall without trouble. After checking the feed you've used to chat with him before, you raise Hontu. His old cyborg guard answers the comm at first, then hands it over.
"Ladro, my bukii." Hontu says in a jovial tone. "What is the good word?"
"Greetings, Hontu. I'm not sure you'll find the word very good, though. Afraid I took a prize from some folks that said you set them to it. A Captain Wehrlhaussen?"
"Hoom hurm." Hontu intones, his wide mouth slipping from grin to neutral. "How is my prize, and what was our friend the Captain doing wrong? Too weak to keep the cargo? He had three ships to your one."
No point in prevarication, I suppose, but I don't need to show my whole hand all at once. "Well, I've... shall we say, upsized? I've subcontracted out the Profit Margin, since something a little bigger fell into my hands. And as to the prize, we're towing the ship to Charon's Wall now. The good captain did pretty significant damage, and looks like it's mostly good for scrap at this point." Now the crux of the matter. "As far as the cargo goes... well, I'm afraid I've decided not to deliver it. How much will it take to convince you not to kill me for that?"
Hontu narrows his big saucer-sized eyes. He answers in a flat tone, "I expected fifteen hundred credits apiece for that... prize. I would be satisfied with one hundred and twenty thousand." He licks his thin lips and clasps his hands. "The problem is appearance. Ladro. My people all know I hired Captain Wehrlhaussen. I cannot let you steal a prize, then buy it from me. That's bad practice."
I nod in sympathy. "A tenth or more of your shipment perished either en route or during Wehrlhaussen's attack, so you should take that into account as far as credits are concerned. Also, if you can keep a muzzle on the Captain, there's no reason for anyone to know who stole your prize. I'm in a rather unique situation. I'm an Alliance officer at the helm of a frigate that is, by all appearances, Imperial, and acting as a privateer. I'll keep the three remaining crew of the Hera's Arms in my brig for the time being, so they won't be telling anyone any different." I've never managed to feel a proper fear for Hontu, but I do feel more than a little respect. He's always responded to both of those things, in the past. I hope he will once again.
Hontu doesn't seem fazed by the loss of shipment, but he does at least make a semblance of a face at it. He listens, and you can see the gears turning. He says after a moment, "You know you're asking a great deal from me. You've met Wehrlhaussen. Do you imagine the size of the muzzle this would require?" He chuckles. Then, he narrows his eyes, "What are you offering... for this effort?"
My eyes narrow as well. "One hundred thousand. Plus a favor to be named later, provided it doesn't harm the Alliance or aid the Empire. But you need to know this, Hontu: as long as I am acting on my own authority, and not taking battle-orders from an Alliance superior... I will destroy any Spice I come across, and free any slaves. You understood me better at first meeting than most have after years of knowing me. I hope that, as powerful as the Hutts are, you understand that you, Hontu, prefer me as friend rather than adversary."
I wave a hand to stave off objections. "This is not a threat. I understand that you likely could reach out and have some swabbie on my ship take me out any time you want. You hold all the strings. You now know that I am a Rebel pretending to be an Imperial, and acting like a pirate. Once I reach Charon's Wall to exchange the hulk of Hera's Arms for a cup of kaff for each of my crew, after I pay out shares, you will know the name and designation of my ship, and you could sell that for at least what I can pay for these 80-some untrained Talz that were destined for cold-weather mines and definitely wouldn't have fetched 1500 credits apiece, the condition that they're in."
Knowing how deep the hole I'm digging is, I continue nonetheless. "So, that's my offer. One hundred thousand. One favor. And someone who believes that a new order, a new hope, will prevail over this Imperial tyranny, as idealistic as that seems, and intends to be there on the other side. Someone who can help one Hutt transition to a profitable and maybe even legal new way of doing business on the other side."
"War is profit. Peace is profit, if only on the brink of war. Your hope might serve me, Ladro. It might not." Hontu remarks. He exhales sharply, then says flatly, "One hundred thousand. And three favors, on the same conditions you offered the first."
"My favors have proved valuable, haven't they? Three is too many, and you know that. Either forgive the payment for the slaves, or take the one I offered."
The Hutt squares himself to the image of you and says clearly, "Ladro, you have stolen my name. You have taken a significant loan from me. And now, you have stolen my property. I am not interested in haggling with you. I will accept one hundred thousand credits and three favors." He crosses his arms and waits for your answer.
I square myself, as well. "Hontu, I pulled your name out of my space-heinie by sheer chance, and improved your reputation on the Smuggler's Moon by doing it. I have taken a significant loan and returned it many-fold in the profits you will gain from the cybernetics and other benefits of the mission where I almost lost one of my dearest friends, and have not defaulted despite that. I stole someone else's property out from under your ill-disciplined and bad-mannered lapdog's snout, and likely preserved a great deal of value in the process. I am also not interested in haggling, and I'm tired of being taken for a stupa, a fool. You are young and your position in the Cartel is still uncertain, yes? I've met Jabba, dealt with him, and I'm still here. Do you want an ally, an enemy, or a dead Kiffar that's a lost opportunity?"
Hontu listens, then answers in a less-than-pleased tone, "We are both young, Ladro. We have both fought and scrapped our way up ugly ladders. The slaves were a significant and risky venture for me, and you've just told me that one of my men who is well-funded on my credits failed to do his karking job. You offer me less credits than I'd expected and hope. It is a tough price."
He huffs a single harsh laugh, "I will not call this favor lightly. But trust me on this, Ladro Vos. When I do, I expect you to come through. It will be the only way I cannot call this venture a loss, the... hope for that payoff." He pauses as if he's finished, seems ready to end the conversation if you are, saying, "I am at Charon's Wall, where it seems you are headed. Come to see me, Ladro. We will share a drink, perhaps some hookah."
"Hontu, neither of us can afford not to bargain as hard as possible, I think. Strange as this may seem, I trust you not to let this come between the respect we have between us. I only hope that I can be present to raise a glass to the first Huttlet that you spawn and give you a birth-gift."
"I will fulfill my promise, Hontu. And if I can manage without 'breaking my cover,' I'll join you soon for a drink and an inhale or two off your hookah."
I comm Ahji Dar. "Are you okay to take the Woenid Nexus out for a visit to Charon's Wall to puff hookah with a Hutt, kitten?" Assuming the answer is yes, I join her in her ship in full civilian regalia and have her leave the frigate soon, so that we arrive before the Far Orbit does. Command staff knows to trade the hulk of Hera's Arms for what they can get, and know that anything below 110% of Squall's valuation will be looked on with disfavor.
"Of course, my Tom," Ahji Dar responds with a delighted tone. "I would enjoy having you as a guest. And having you all to myself." She purrs at the end.
Commander Seki assures you that he will organize the sale and keep order with the crew. Only ex-Imperials will be allowed off ship, and they will maintain the ruse. As soon as you take off from the Far Orbit, Ahji Dar punches it into hyperspace. You arrive minutes later and she guides the sleek ship down for a landing. You're in the cockpit with her as she does this. Her hands are sure, she knows this ship, and it practically hums with power.
"I have never met this Hontu. What can you tell me of him, my Tom? And... how are we around him?" Ahji Dar asks, flicking a glance your way as she asks if you two are openly a couple, or merely associates at this meeting.
"He is young for a Hutt, and... almost... progressive. In his own way, of course. And I would say there's no need to hide our relationship. We are who we are." I lean in for a kiss.
Ahji Dar returns the kiss, flicking her tongue across your lips as she pulls back, looking at the approaching docks. "Progressive? Do you think I should tell him about the time I punched Ziro the Hutt in the eye?" She flashes a cocky grin as the docking clamps engage and she starts shutting down her beloved ship.
I chuckle at that. "I suspect he'd enjoy that, kitten." I check the charge on my blaster, straighten my jacket, and make ready to go. I'll comm Hontu first, to let him know we're on the way and ask where he wants to meet.
Comments
Commander Seki takes a breath, holds it, then nods, "Mid-Rim should be secure in a few weeks. We can skirt the Outer Rim for.. a while. If we're careful."
Panaka adds, "But the bounty in the Outer Rim will be pitiful."
I grin. "So, we've got a few weeks. I can ask Hontu to keep quiet for a few months, I'd guess. We're not preserving this ruse forever. And I'll make sure he gets fair creds for this 'cargo,' if I have to pay it out of Captain's share of that last haul, so that won't be an issue." I hate being broke. Really hate it, but it seems like my lot in life to always return there, eventually.
I signal to Leex to reinitiate comm contact, after saying, "Audio only, but stand by for holo. Everyone else out of range of the pickup."
"Captain, I'll show you my face, but if you tell anyone that this vessel isn't actually Imperial before three standard months from this moment, I will make it a personal mission to make sure that you are ended in the most humiliating way possible. Understood?"
He looks you over, scans the wall behind you, then laughs long and loud, "Take your prize, Ladro Vos. Hontu will know you stole from me today. Do not let me catch you on even footing... or alone. We will have words. Harsh words." With a flourish, he signals for the holovid to cut off.
In moments, the trip of pirate ships power up and fly away. There's an audible sigh from Leex. Panaka snickers at the ensign's relief.
What do you do?
I shrug back into my jacket, just in case. Off comms. "Anyone with an answer, what's the closest port in realspace for us to deal with our haul?" Damaged freighter, check. Cargo of slaves... I just don't know. We can't drop them off out here in the end of nowhere and say, "You're free!" and expect anything good to happen.
"Charon's Wall is closer than anywhere else," Panaka offers, quickly snatching up the moment Seki was at a loss. "Not sure what shape we- the Imperials left them in after some retaliatory strikes a few months ago."
I chuckle to myself. With everything going on, I actually forgot where we were. Charon's Wall... the very place where I discovered that I'd made up a Hutt that already existed. I have Leex establish comms with Hera's Arms. "Captain of Hera's Arms, this is Captain Ladro Vos of the Far Orbit. Stand by to establish tow connections and an umbilical. I will join you shortly."
"Just cooperate with my technicians and prepare a full manifest and list of repairs that you require. Thank you." Any cargo besides spice or slaves, and I might even feel sorry for them, but as it stands, not so much.
After I disconnect, I set things in motion to get the tow and umbilical rigged, have Astrogation lay in the most efficient realspace course for Charon's Wall, and then have a quick meeting with Darkal and Cemma to get them on their way. I make certain that they have my personal requests (klava supplies, dress for Ahji, and tiara for Squall), take a quick look over Cemma's ideas, then dismiss them with my blessings.
Once the towlines are secure and we're on our way, I'll ask for a squad of troopers in Imperial mufti to accompany me through the umbilical, ready to subdue and detain the freighter's crew.
They are all ex-Imperials, looking sharp and dressed in Imperial unis. They snap to with remarkable attention, to you. These men and women are yours, Ladro. They're well-trained, honorable in their own way, and loyal to you.
What do you do?
I return their salutes, earnestly. "The objective is to secure the ship and detain the crew, with the least damage to beings and property possible. None, if we can." I assume their understanding and acknowledgement, and lead the way into the umbilical with my own non-standard blaster holstered.
What... Kiffu could possibly be walking off an Imperial frigate, backed by a squad of impeccably disciplined Imperial troopers in Imperial gear? Clearly these aren't qukuuf... they're an ironic tattoo.
In other words, pure space cojones. I only really have to make them hesitate.
"Where is your captain, T'Raq? And the rest of your crew."
Eighty-four slaves. Looks like five died during the flight, or perhaps during this attack. They must be packed in tight in the hold.
I gesture to the troopers. "Two of you escort T'raq to the brig, please, and the rest follow me to the hold."
I shrug. "You won't be harmed, T'raq, or held for long. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time, with the wrong cargo." I start toward the hold, bracing myself.
There is a near-human middle-aged man and a stout older human woman there, both in riot gear-type armor with stun sticks at their belts. They look at you, and all the troopers. The woman speaks first, "Allo, sir. We've got cargo secured. Best to stay back, some of 'em don't take visitors kindly. They've destroyed two droids we sent in, and that was just to feed 'em." She's got a military bearing, but worn down from years of merc work.
In a cold tone, I say, "Remove your stun sticks, put them on the floor and kick them over. My men are going to detain you. You won't be hurt if you don't resist."
The woman says, "Best be careful, Kiffar. We're carrying Talz. Very nasty brutes."
"Four of you to take them back to the brig, as well. Another four, move out in pairs to search the rest of the ship." In the meantime, I comm back to the Far Orbit, hoping that there is a protocol droid aboard that speaks Talz. I've seen two or three, but never tried a conversation on.
"I am C4-PO, human-cyborg relations. How may I assist you, Captain Vos?"
"Can you communicate in Talz, C4-PO? There are 84 rightfully angry, maltreated slaves on the other side of this bulkhead that I need to convince that we're the good guys, despite the fact that I'm wearing an Imperial uniform at the moment." I remove the jacket and hat, fold them and put them on the deck. "Troopers, please move back out of sightlines. If it sounds like I need rescuing, use stun only. These are not the enemy." Rolling up the cuffs of my shirt, I give C4-PO a look. "Are you feeling lucky?"
C4-PO replies brightly, Why, of course, sir. I'm fluent in over eight billion different languages and dialects. Talz are a fascinating species, very misunderstood. I will need to ask for your forebearance in my pronunciation, the language does sound rather... brusque." She pauses, her eyes flashing a low pulse, "I am ready, sir."
I brace myself and open the personnel door into the cargo hold. The stench that has been leaking out even into the corridor is intense, but I do my best not to make a face. My hands are out to the side, palms open, my blaster already removed and placed with the jacket and hat out of sight.
I dredge the little I know about Talz up. "Greetings to you and your clan. I am here as a friend." I wait for C4-PO to translate that opening salvo. No need for long speeches.
As you greet them, C4-PO translates, a string of buzzes and chirps. You see that this container has a dozen Talz, a few appear smaller than the others, and huddle in the rear of the cell. One larger one, more aggressive, steps forward, claws gleaming. He's not listening, and he's not happy.
Let's see you Act Under Pressure to remain calm.
(Rolled: 2d6+3. Rolls: 3, 1. Total: 7)
C4-PO quickly translates, "This is Krrro-ahn, he speaks for this clutch. He wants free, they all want free. If you are a friend, he demands you let them out now."
What do you do?
This is going to be difficult, but doable. "Krrro-ahn, you may have free run of this freighter, with a few conditions. First, any beings you encounter will be of my crew, and must not be harmed. Second, I need your guarantee that you will do no further damage to the ship or its contents. Third, I would like your help speaking with the other clutches. Lastly, you need to stay only on this ship for the time being."
C4 states, "He asks what happens next? Which mine?"
I wish I knew. I was not planning on slaves, and certainly not planning on Talz. We have space aboard the Far Orbit—we can open one of the closed areas of the ship if need be—but carting seven dozen non-combatants along to the Ringali Shell doesn't seem like an ideal situation. And just dropping them off somewhere en route would leave them vulnerable to being taken again, and with no way to make a living.
"I will need your help to figure that out. As of this moment, there are no slaves on this ship, but I don't know what would be best for you and yours. We will find a way, together."
C4-PO translates, "Krrro-ahn is happy to hear these words. He says Trii was right, a painted-face man would save them. She is a seer, but none dared hope." The Talz glances towards one of the walls, as if he's telling you Trii isn't in here.
That prophecy line sends a quick shiver up my spine, but I'm glad for the tension to be defused. "We're agreed, then? And you'll help deliver my words to the rest of your people?"
C4-PO helpfully translates, "Krrro-ahn is agreed. He knows Trii wants to meet you, he wants to set her clutch free next. Will you allow him to lead?"
I call over my shoulder for the troopers to stand down, then, rather than answer Krrro-ahn's question with words, I step out of his way so that he can lead the way.
She moves forward on unsteady legs, paws out reaching for you. Do you let her embrace you?
This is her:
She whistles in a pleasant shrill tone.
"This is Trii. She says she is elated to see you in the real world." C4-PO responds cheerily.
I accept the embrace with as much grace as I can. "I am pleased to meet a seer of the Talz. I am less certain that I am the one you've seen. Sheer chance brought us together."
"Trii wishes to say that what you call chance, her people call The Force." C4-PO responds.
I wish I could communicate directly. "Trii, does The Force give you any hint as to our next steps? I'm not being dismissive... I've seen enough not to do that... Really asking the question." Maybe a higher power can help.
C4-PO relays, "She says you will travel to a den of snakes, restore the honor of your mantle, and eventually face those whose faces you wear. A reckoning is coming. You must choose how you will accept it."
I don't dismiss Trii's words, although I might have, once. I will remember and think about them later.
"Thank you for your words, seer. If I may ask, are you and Krrro-ahn able to proceed without me from here? I will have medical droids and food sent over, but I would like to start thinking on what our options might be." Also, how to convince Hontu to accept my credits without also deciding he needs to kill me.
On your way out, you see that all the containers are open, and Talz are in the corridors, hugging each other, preening, stretching their legs and arms.
Do you head back to your ship?
I do head back, but not quickly. I move slowly through the hallway because, despite the fact that I have no clue what happens next, despite the smell, despite the lingering adrenaline of the entire situation, this feels like a victory. Like my kind of victory. The kind I was made for.
After a minute or so, though, I head back to my ship to arrange for food, medical supplies and med droids, and, ah, hygiene products. And a little bit of quiet, meditative time beating my head against the wall.
"Hey Lad," Hosk says as he walks in. I assume you let him? "The troops gave me a report. Eighty Talz? That's ballsy, man, letting them out. What was your read on it?"
"Had to be done. And really... I just have a sense. When I went in unarmed and just reasoned, the aggression just faded away. Of course, me showing up and setting them free was apparently prophesied..." Still chewing on that. "I got hugged a couple times by one of the elders, a seer. Interesting experience, to say the least."
"Prophesy? Gah," Hosk scoffs, waving a dismissive hand, "I wouldn't worry about that mumbo jumbo, Lad. That's just folks trying to rationalize when poodoo happens they can't control."
He comes over to you, reaches up to pat your shoulder, "You did the right thing, prophesy or not." After a beat, he asks, "You think they'll fight for us?"
I narrow my eyes in thought. "I intend to ask, but there would be a lot of training involved, and I doubt all of them are capable. No idea how many would be interested. It would certainly be a way for me, for us, to get something other than warm fuzzies for the incredible amount of credits and grovelling this whole thing is going to cost me."
Hosk shakes his head at the end there. "Yeah, I heard this was a Hontu deal. That's... I expected better from the Hutt. Not sure why."
A little surprised to hear Hosk say he "expected better" from anyone, but I don't disagree. "I did too, Hosk. Hontu's seemed so reasonable, so often, that I sometimes find it hard to remember that it's credits flowing through his veins as much as blood." I chuckle. "Maybe if I tell him it was foretold that I would do this, he'll cut me a break."
That gets a derisive snort, "I don't think he gives discounts for delusions of grandeur. He's cornered the market on that, Lad." He gives you a nod like he's done, starts to head for the door, "I'll leave you to it."
"Hosk..." When he turns, I continue. "Thanks for stopping by. It means a lot that you support me in this. Sometimes I think my greatest skill is making problems for myself."
I head to the bridge. A tow operation seems routine, but there are too many possible points of failure for me simply to give the order. Once there, I give the order to commence and wait until we've overcome the starting inertia and are truly on the way.
After that, it's a tossup. Take Squall over for a damage assessment and repair estimate, maybe. Perhaps go ahead and meet with the Talz elders. Get someone started on opening up one of the closed areas of the Far Orbit to house them if need be. Read whatever I can find on Talz social structure. No shortage of possible things that aren't leaning back with a cup of klava and a new episode of The Young and the Clanless.
For Squall.
Ze makes a "I'm giving it to you straight" face, "Captain, this ship is not safe. The damage it took during the pirate raid that you thwarted has affected several key load-bearing struts, and the life support is compromised. I think we should move the Talz onto the Far Orbit until we reach our destination and sell this farbot freighter for scrap." Ze looks up from zir datapd hopeful that you're impressed with what sounded like something Mikka might's said.
I nod. "That's sort of what I was afraid of. Any idea what we might be able to clear on the sale?" I guess opening up space for 80 Talz on the Far Orbit just increased in priority. "And how soon do we need to make the move?"
Squall screws up zir face a little, "If she were in factory condition, we could squeeze a hundred twenty thousand out of her. But since we're trading her in at Charon's Wall, and due to the damages, I'd say we'd be lucky to pull fifty."
Well, that's something at least. 50K divided by 300-some and I... okay, not really much. But something. "Okay. If I have quarters available in two hours, is that good enough? Or do we need to do this now?"
You see Squall do the math of pushing things to be nice versus the risk. "I'll put it this way. Wouldn't it really be awful to work this hard for these eighty souls, then lose them to the vacuum of space because their rooms weren't ready?" Ze makes a face, then grins, "I'll volunteer the Boom for temporary housing. It's no problem."
Hrrm. This offer brings up something that's been simmering in my "make problems for myself" brain for a bit. "Squall, that's generous. I'm going to go orthogonal here with my next question, and I want you to be completely honest." I give zir my "I'm totally kriffing serious" look. "Who should be the chief engineer of the Far Orbit, Squall? You, or Napvansa?"
Squall blinks twice, a tell that ze has thought about this. "What would serve the captain best? Someone careful, precise, and reliable? Or someone creative, passionate and... perhaps a little wild?" You know which one ze is. "Either way, I'm happy to serve under you."
I nod. Of course I'm not going to get an unambiguous answer. "You're my choice, Squall. And if it means anything, Lens, which likely means Mikka as well, agrees. Before I can make it official, we need to get you and Amy married. And the tiara may take a week or so. So... do you mind not offering up the Boom for housing until we figure it out?"
"Sure, of course!" is zir immediate answer. You see the wheels in motion, ze's elated at the thought of, more than anything, your trust in zir. Ze licks zir lips, suddenly uncertain, "It may be a while... the wedding. Amy's really stressed about this trooper stuff. I don't want to freak her out by being a bride-zillo beast, you know? But yeah, no Boom is alright. Decks fifty through fifty-two can house them, and they can take up the mess hall until the life support is back on. That's going to eat up energy, of course. But worth it." Ze quickly moves on, past zir personal concerns, trying to offer solutions.
I nod, getting the business out of the way. "I'll have the lights turned on, and give them the mess hall in the meantime." Then, I put on hand on Squall's shoulder. "Hey, would it be good for me to invite Amarath for a drink? Think she'll open up a little if I give her the opportunity without prying?"
Squall lets out a small breath, thankful that you're reaching out even though ze knows you probably shouldn't. Ze bites zir lower lip, fidgets, then answers in a quiet voice, "I dunno, Captain. Maybe? She's been really busy. I'm sure it's just jitters. I'm here for her, you know? I can be patient. Like you've been with me." Zir mouth drops when zir words seem a bit like a flirt. "I mean, patient with me, and my troubles and... not patient for me to, you know, like me and Amy. I just... umh, I'll shut up now." Zir eyes drop to the deck again.
I give a genuine chuckle. A moment of honestly not thinking about all the things on our plate. "It'll be okay, Squally. I'll keep an eye out for a chance to talk with her, but I won't push it." I feel bad that I haven't checked in, actually.
I get on the comms, give the order to clear the mess hall and start preparing decks 50 through 52 for guests. "You can head on back, Squall. I'll get the Talz organized to move."
What do you do?
I smile as I approach Trii. "Trii, I'm afraid this vessel isn't sound. I'm having some space prepared aboard my ship, but we'll need to get you moving soon. Can you help me get your people organized?"
C4-PO relates, "She says her people will be happy to leave this prison. She promises that there will be no trouble." Trii makes more noises, and C4-PO continues translating, "The Talz are not space-farers, but they are strong and they can craft." Trii whistles a shrill tone and several Talz start moving towards her. It looks like she is organizing them for you already.
What do you do?
I wait until it looks like they're all ready to move, then lead the parade. As we pass, I speak to one of the Troopers at the entrance to the umbilical. "Once the last Talz is out, sweep the entire ship, quick but thorough, get back to the Far Orbit side, and wait for a signal to seal the tube."
Within half an hour, Hera's Arms is sealed and your mess hall is filled with tons of hairy, smelly Talz. You've got some support staff nearby, troopers and a couple engineers who Squall assigned to help out. It's quite a sight.
That's when the singing begins. It starts with a small Talz, a young one, about Hosk's size. She trills some notes, which are picked up by others. A few rail-thin and underfed Talz begin to move in some kind of dance.
What do you do?
Oh.
I don't know what's actually happening... not sure if it's even beautiful, for the moment. So much unknown to me, here. I listen for a moment before turning to C4-PO and asking for some interpretation.
C4-PO whispers back in her soothing tone, "They are singing a joyful song of freedom, Captain Vos. Trii and Krrro-ahn have declared you their savior. I do not know if this is helpful, but some of them feel this is their promised land."
I wait for the song to finish, for the dance to whirl to a tired stop, then hold up a hand for attention. I don't know if I can stop this 'savior' business, but I feel obligated to try. I trust C4-PO to translate, pausing every now and then for her to catch up. "Friends, listen. I haven't done anything extraordinary, and what I have done, I haven't done alone. You are welcome aboard the Far Orbit until we find a better place for you, and longer than that if we can find a way to have your help with our mission. I won't abandon you, but I cannot..." How do I say this? 'Accept responsibility?' Haven't I already? "Guarantee your future. I am one being, as each of you are, floating alone in the galaxy despite this ship and crew that surround me." Knowing the little I know about the Talz, I take a stab at a metaphor. "I have only one pair of eyes, which are neither adapted for the bright light of present events or the darkness of the future. I will... try to do my best for you."
How long do you spend in their company, Ladro? Without any emergencies, what do you do next?
Deliberately? I wonder if the protocol droid is conspiring to put me in this position. Once they put me down, I'll share water and sit for fifteen minutes or so, but I really have other things to accomplish.
I check on the progress of opening up less temporary, less crowded space for our... guests? Passengers? New crew? I'll also try to raise Hontu now. Maybe he's even present on Charon's Wall. I can talk to him while drinking a cup of klava, unless there's an emergency that threatens the Far Orbit or our scrap-metal prize.
"Ladro, my bukii." Hontu says in a jovial tone. "What is the good word?"
"Greetings, Hontu. I'm not sure you'll find the word very good, though. Afraid I took a prize from some folks that said you set them to it. A Captain Wehrlhaussen?"
"Hoom hurm." Hontu intones, his wide mouth slipping from grin to neutral. "How is my prize, and what was our friend the Captain doing wrong? Too weak to keep the cargo? He had three ships to your one."
No point in prevarication, I suppose, but I don't need to show my whole hand all at once. "Well, I've... shall we say, upsized? I've subcontracted out the Profit Margin, since something a little bigger fell into my hands. And as to the prize, we're towing the ship to Charon's Wall now. The good captain did pretty significant damage, and looks like it's mostly good for scrap at this point." Now the crux of the matter. "As far as the cargo goes... well, I'm afraid I've decided not to deliver it. How much will it take to convince you not to kill me for that?"
Hontu narrows his big saucer-sized eyes. He answers in a flat tone, "I expected fifteen hundred credits apiece for that... prize. I would be satisfied with one hundred and twenty thousand." He licks his thin lips and clasps his hands. "The problem is appearance. Ladro. My people all know I hired Captain Wehrlhaussen. I cannot let you steal a prize, then buy it from me. That's bad practice."
I nod in sympathy. "A tenth or more of your shipment perished either en route or during Wehrlhaussen's attack, so you should take that into account as far as credits are concerned. Also, if you can keep a muzzle on the Captain, there's no reason for anyone to know who stole your prize. I'm in a rather unique situation. I'm an Alliance officer at the helm of a frigate that is, by all appearances, Imperial, and acting as a privateer. I'll keep the three remaining crew of the Hera's Arms in my brig for the time being, so they won't be telling anyone any different." I've never managed to feel a proper fear for Hontu, but I do feel more than a little respect. He's always responded to both of those things, in the past. I hope he will once again.
Hontu doesn't seem fazed by the loss of shipment, but he does at least make a semblance of a face at it. He listens, and you can see the gears turning. He says after a moment, "You know you're asking a great deal from me. You've met Wehrlhaussen. Do you imagine the size of the muzzle this would require?" He chuckles. Then, he narrows his eyes, "What are you offering... for this effort?"
My eyes narrow as well. "One hundred thousand. Plus a favor to be named later, provided it doesn't harm the Alliance or aid the Empire. But you need to know this, Hontu: as long as I am acting on my own authority, and not taking battle-orders from an Alliance superior... I will destroy any Spice I come across, and free any slaves. You understood me better at first meeting than most have after years of knowing me. I hope that, as powerful as the Hutts are, you understand that you, Hontu, prefer me as friend rather than adversary."
I wave a hand to stave off objections. "This is not a threat. I understand that you likely could reach out and have some swabbie on my ship take me out any time you want. You hold all the strings. You now know that I am a Rebel pretending to be an Imperial, and acting like a pirate. Once I reach Charon's Wall to exchange the hulk of Hera's Arms for a cup of kaff for each of my crew, after I pay out shares, you will know the name and designation of my ship, and you could sell that for at least what I can pay for these 80-some untrained Talz that were destined for cold-weather mines and definitely wouldn't have fetched 1500 credits apiece, the condition that they're in."
Knowing how deep the hole I'm digging is, I continue nonetheless. "So, that's my offer. One hundred thousand. One favor. And someone who believes that a new order, a new hope, will prevail over this Imperial tyranny, as idealistic as that seems, and intends to be there on the other side. Someone who can help one Hutt transition to a profitable and maybe even legal new way of doing business on the other side."
"War is profit. Peace is profit, if only on the brink of war. Your hope might serve me, Ladro. It might not." Hontu remarks. He exhales sharply, then says flatly, "One hundred thousand. And three favors, on the same conditions you offered the first."
"My favors have proved valuable, haven't they? Three is too many, and you know that. Either forgive the payment for the slaves, or take the one I offered."
The Hutt squares himself to the image of you and says clearly, "Ladro, you have stolen my name. You have taken a significant loan from me. And now, you have stolen my property. I am not interested in haggling with you. I will accept one hundred thousand credits and three favors." He crosses his arms and waits for your answer.
I square myself, as well. "Hontu, I pulled your name out of my space-heinie by sheer chance, and improved your reputation on the Smuggler's Moon by doing it. I have taken a significant loan and returned it many-fold in the profits you will gain from the cybernetics and other benefits of the mission where I almost lost one of my dearest friends, and have not defaulted despite that. I stole someone else's property out from under your ill-disciplined and bad-mannered lapdog's snout, and likely preserved a great deal of value in the process. I am also not interested in haggling, and I'm tired of being taken for a stupa, a fool. You are young and your position in the Cartel is still uncertain, yes? I've met Jabba, dealt with him, and I'm still here. Do you want an ally, an enemy, or a dead Kiffar that's a lost opportunity?"
Applying Leverage
(Rolled: 2d6+3. Rolls: 6, 6. Total: 15)
Hontu listens, then answers in a less-than-pleased tone, "We are both young, Ladro. We have both fought and scrapped our way up ugly ladders. The slaves were a significant and risky venture for me, and you've just told me that one of my men who is well-funded on my credits failed to do his karking job. You offer me less credits than I'd expected and hope. It is a tough price."
He huffs a single harsh laugh, "I will not call this favor lightly. But trust me on this, Ladro Vos. When I do, I expect you to come through. It will be the only way I cannot call this venture a loss, the... hope for that payoff." He pauses as if he's finished, seems ready to end the conversation if you are, saying, "I am at Charon's Wall, where it seems you are headed. Come to see me, Ladro. We will share a drink, perhaps some hookah."
"Hontu, neither of us can afford not to bargain as hard as possible, I think. Strange as this may seem, I trust you not to let this come between the respect we have between us. I only hope that I can be present to raise a glass to the first Huttlet that you spawn and give you a birth-gift."
"I will fulfill my promise, Hontu. And if I can manage without 'breaking my cover,' I'll join you soon for a drink and an inhale or two off your hookah."
Anything else before we skip to arrival on Charon's Wall?
I comm Ahji Dar. "Are you okay to take the Woenid Nexus out for a visit to Charon's Wall to puff hookah with a Hutt, kitten?" Assuming the answer is yes, I join her in her ship in full civilian regalia and have her leave the frigate soon, so that we arrive before the Far Orbit does. Command staff knows to trade the hulk of Hera's Arms for what they can get, and know that anything below 110% of Squall's valuation will be looked on with disfavor.
"Of course, my Tom," Ahji Dar responds with a delighted tone. "I would enjoy having you as a guest. And having you all to myself." She purrs at the end.
Commander Seki assures you that he will organize the sale and keep order with the crew. Only ex-Imperials will be allowed off ship, and they will maintain the ruse. As soon as you take off from the Far Orbit, Ahji Dar punches it into hyperspace. You arrive minutes later and she guides the sleek ship down for a landing. You're in the cockpit with her as she does this. Her hands are sure, she knows this ship, and it practically hums with power.
"I have never met this Hontu. What can you tell me of him, my Tom? And... how are we around him?" Ahji Dar asks, flicking a glance your way as she asks if you two are openly a couple, or merely associates at this meeting.
"He is young for a Hutt, and... almost... progressive. In his own way, of course. And I would say there's no need to hide our relationship. We are who we are." I lean in for a kiss.
Ahji Dar returns the kiss, flicking her tongue across your lips as she pulls back, looking at the approaching docks. "Progressive? Do you think I should tell him about the time I punched Ziro the Hutt in the eye?" She flashes a cocky grin as the docking clamps engage and she starts shutting down her beloved ship.
I chuckle at that. "I suspect he'd enjoy that, kitten." I check the charge on my blaster, straighten my jacket, and make ready to go. I'll comm Hontu first, to let him know we're on the way and ask where he wants to meet.