Grand Cardooine Hotel

Tourist District

Cardooine

The receptionist looked up at the older man in front of her. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" It had been a busy day for the poor girl. Customers were coming in and out, hustling and bustling. But it was Cardooine's autumn, and this meant tons and tons of tourists coming in and out hoping to see Cardooine's galaxy-famous foliage.

"Could you please tell the occupant of suite 714 that his ride has arrived?" The girl couldn't place it, but something about the old man seemed kind of off. Maybe it was the large, bushy beard, the thick sunglasses, or the heavy coat. He looked dirty and disheveled, like he would be more at home in one of the motels on the other side of the district rather than in a place as luxurious as the Grand Cardooine Hotel. Still, she obliged his request, hailing the guest in suite 714 through the building's intricate internal comlink system. After repeating the old man's message, she forwarded a response back to him: that the guest from Room 714 would be down in one moment.

The guest of suite 714, mister Gar Harend according to hotel records, was another odd fit. He looked like he hadn't slept at all the past few days. His clothes were disheveled, and the bags under his eyes were heavier than whatever the helper droids could carry up to the suites. His hair was tussled and messy, and his breath reeked of alcohol. "Mr. Harend?" the old man asked.

"Y-yeah?" the disheveled guest responded.

"I'm here to take you to your flight," the old man explained. "Please, follow me to my speeder." The receptionist helped Mr. Harend check out, and then watched as the old man led him outside. Something sure was odd about the old man. Shame she wasn't paid enough to care.

Dock 43

Tourist District

Cardooine

Elsewhere, the crew of the Big Momma Cool once again was starting to get restless again. A loud screech ripped through the upper deck as an R4 unit barreled out of the hangar and into the storage closet, locking the door behind it. Inside the hangar, a delighted series of beeps and whistles could be heard. On the upper deck lounge, the screams did not go unnoticed. "You really ssshould do sssomething about that droid, you know", Skulrakh said as he fixed himself a glass of juice. "Memory wipesss aren't really that expensssive, after all."

Crix put down his datapad. "Look, that thing came with tons of neat tools and gadgets. If I give it a memory wipe, I'd have to track down the software drivers for all those tools. And I don't even know if it's even legal to get half that stuff. I'm willing to put up with a few odd personality quirks if it means having something as reliable as R5 when I'm in the cockpit." He picked the datapad up again and pressed a few buttons, continuing to read the local galactic news. "Besides, he's a huge hit at parties."

The older Barabel hissed in disapproval. "He ssstill bulliesss my R4 far too much. Routine checkupsss take much longer sssince poor R4 isss terrified of your R5." He stirred the glass for a bit, before grabbing a sugar packet from near the coffee machine and pouring it in. "Where do you even find a psssychopath like that, anyway?"

Crix shrugged, not even bothering to look at Skulrakh. "I had been discharged and was looking for gear to start bounty hunting. So I get my ship from a salvage dealer on Rori, but there's no astromech for it. And since I've blown most of my credits on the ship, I really need to get a droid cheap. So anyway, there's this bum I run into outside the bar. Really seedy-looking motherfragger, and obviously drunk off his ass. He tells me he needs to make this astromech disappear before his parole officer starts asking questions. 20 credits later, the droid's all mine." He put down the datapad and picked up his mug of coffee. "What the hell is taking Dar so long? Didn't he say he'd have brought the mark back by now?"

"Go check the cockpit window. Maybe he'sss pulling up now." Crix grumbled as he walked down the hall and into to the cockpit, coffee and datapad in hand. Skulrakh sipped his juice. It was a wonderful mixture, made with fresh fruits handpicked from the farms of Yhuli. Ever since he had quit drinking, his tastebuds had been opened up to a multitude of non-alcoholic beverages. Indeed, part of the joy of going freelance was his desire to see the galaxy, and explore what there was outside of the dens of vice he had called home. He smiled warmly, and took another sip. If it wasn't for his wanderlust and desire to do good in the galaxy, juice like this would make him consider being a farmer.

"Hey Skullie," Crix interrupted, disturbing the Barabel's peace. "Do we own a silver B69 Elektra Convertible?"

"That would be Dar'sss ssspeeder, yesss." He took another sip, letting the juice sooth his temptation to ask Crix how long the speeder had been there. Chances are, when Darro got inside and the mark was secured, he would want another cup of juice to handle the fallout.

"Yeah, this thing's been flashing its lights at me for a while now. The dockworkers are kind of frustrated with it not moving. You think I should open the doors for him?" Skulrakh sighed. At this rate, he would be going through an entire carton of juice.

The receptionist looked up at the irritated Zabrak in front of her. "I'm sorry sir, the guest from suite 714 left with his ride a short while ago." Evidently, that was the wrong answer, as a gloved hand yanked her by the collar, putting her close up to a tattoo-marred face.

"What do you mean, he left with his ride?" The Zabrak snarled, baring his yellow teeth and rancid breath. "WE were the ride." He gestured to a motley crew of thugs, clad in improvised battle dress. They cheered their boss's aggression on, some even waving steel pipes and chains around.

"Th-th-the guest left with an old guy, big coat and beard. He was limping, probably a bad leg. D-d-d-dark glasses, couldn't see his face." The thug dropped her, letting the poor girl slide back into her chair. He turned to his gang.

"You!" he yelled, pointing at one of his goons. "Call the boss, tell him someone else got our man and he needs to scan every ship leaving the planet! The rest of you, head back to the fighters! Harend either gets away with the boss, or we shut him up for good!"