Stranded again, Cal Ulwan thought to himself, as he sipped a particularly sour alderaanian ale. The cantina he sat in was just beginning to stir, the long Nar Shaddaa day just beginning. Cal dug through his old stained pilots overalls and pulled out a small handful of credits. How am I gonna get off this rock?
Ulwan laid his head on his arm and grimaced. Not more then a standard day ago he'd begun what he thought would prove to be a lucrative career, working under the Besadii hutt clan. But of course that didn't last long. Upon landing on the 'Smuggler's Moon' he learned his employer, the crafty Durga Tai, had arranged a small 'greeting party'. Taking his ship, they just left him for dead.
Slowly Cal heard
footsteps approaching him. Slowly moving his hand to his blaster, the
young smuggler was preparing for the worst. Spinning around in his
chair Ulwan nearly blasted the sentient, but caught himself just
before he could fire a bolt. "Sal!" he called out
enthusiastically, rising to his feet. The Duros Sal had a look of
apprehension as he regarded Cal. Ulwan, his enthusiasm tapering, gave
Sal an inquisitive look. "What is it, Sal?"
Sal, speaking a
faintly accented huttese, said, "I have work for you, Cal. Work
that can pay off pretty well."
Cal was suddenly disturbed by
the tone in his voice. "Whats the catch?"
Sal just shook his head. "Don't do it my friend, it's too much for you."
A scowl grew in Ulwan's expression. "Just tell me the job Sal, I need the work bad, and you know it..."
Sal looked down, "Alright Cal, but I warned you. A man in a black robe handed me this," Sal said, handing Cal a flimsi. "Cal, take my advice, go somewhere else for work. You're desperate, but I have a bad feeling about this one."
Cal, looking at the flimsi, looked up to see Sal was already stepping out of the dingy cantina. I know this is a bad move, but I need this job. Sliding the flimsy into this dirty gray overalls, Cal begun towards the door.
