A LONG TIME AGO IN A GALAXY FAR, FAR AWAY…

STAR WARS
The Old Republic - Episode Seven
A HIVE OF SCUM AND VILLAINY

Smuggler MIRANA KAHL has tracked nefarious

starship thief SKAVAK to the Republic's capital

world of CORUSCANT, which still struggles to

rebuild from the SITH EMPIRE's occupation.

On this planet of a trillion inhabitants,

vicious gangs battle the overwhelmed

government for control of entire sectors.

Finding one man would be an impossible task

alone – which is why the smuggler will

need to rely on the help of an old friend…

Chapter One: Advice from an Old Friend

To anyone watching, they would have seemed like three teenagers, loitering outside the spaceport. Riloh wondered whether that was actually the truth. But Egara swore she'd had a tip, and that a profitable bounty would be getting off transport from Ord Mantell.

They had positioned themselves carefully, inside the security cameras' blind spot. They would be able to grab their mark fast if no guards were around. If a guard was there, then they would casually follow until they saw their chance.

No one was around when their mark appeared. But when Riloh laid eye son the grumpy fortyish woman, she found herself doubting that this could be the target. The only unusual thing about her was the scar over her right eye. Outside of that, she might have been any tourist as she griped at the large hayseed beside her.

Egara brought up the holo-image she'd been provided and gesticulated enthusiastically. "I told you!" she said.

Riloh had to admit, this woman was a match. Mirana Kahl, the captain from Rogun the Butcher's bounty posting.

He grinned. "You're still my lucky star, lover."

They moved in for a kiss. Scorch, the third member of their party, made a loud disgusted noise that ruined the moment.

"Business first, get a room after." He stepped out, headstrong as ever, not waiting for his friends as he advanced on the smuggler. "Hold it right there, Captain. You have a price on your head, and we are here to collect!"

A second earlier, Mira had been grumbling to Corso, annoyed by his wide-eyed ogling of the enormous spaceport. Scorch's approach put her on instant alert, however, and her hand twitched toward her blaster.

She studied the young man and his friends. He was the aggressive one, driven by attitude and a thirst to prove himself. If she could talk him down, the others would back off.

"Is that a hairstyle?" Mira asked. "Or did a womp rat die on your head?"

The boy's hand instantly went to his blond mop. "What…? Did you just…?" His two friends were smirking in spite of themselves. Scorch scowled. "Shut up!"

He reached for his blaster, but Mira's was already in her hand. She held it lazily, not so much pointing it as gesturing with it. But there was not a single fraction of a second at which the muzzle was not clearly pointed straight at the blond boy.

"You're a little young for a bounty hunter," she said. "You kids should really run home to your mommas, before I decide to spank you." She gave her brightest smile.

Scorch quivered, torn between competing impulses. Fear told him to run. Pride insisted that he couldn't look like a coward.

Riloh's hand fell on his friend's shoulder. "Ease off, Scorch. She's way more than we can handle."

"I'd listen to your friend," Mira said. "Money's not worth much if you're not alive to spend it."

Corso had started to move to the side, positioning himself to flank the trio. Mira took in his movements approvingly. So he wasn't completely useless after all.

Riloh glanced at Corso, back at Mira. "This is over, Scorch. Let's go home."

Egara moved to Scorch's right side, taking his hand firmly. She pulled him by the hand while Riloh steered him by the shoulders. The three teens moved away.

"The one kid might make a decent hunter someday," Corso observed as he walked back to Mira. "Not the blond, the other boy. The blond kid will be lucky to make it to twenty."

Mira returned her blaster to its holster, scowling darkly. Rogun the Butcher had put out a bounty on her. There was only one way that had happened: Skavak.

"When I catch up to that thief, I'm going to kill him slowly," she growled. "Maybe I can get a Hutt to throw him into a Sarlacc. After breaking his arms and legs first."

A plummy voice sounded behind her. "Trouble with bounty hunters, Mirana? It sounds rather like old times."

Mira grinned at the familiar intonations. She turned to greet an aging but still dapper man wearing an expensive suit.

"Darmas Pollaran!"

They shared an embrace, while Corso scowled.

"I was sorry to hear about Viidu," Darmas said. "He was a man of refined tastes and a truly terrible card player. I will miss him."

"You knew Viidu?" Corso asked. "He never mentioned you."

There was a note of sulking in his voice, which Mira ignored.

"Darmas, Viidu, and I spent years running goods all over the galaxy," she said. "Darmas lined up the clients, Viidu figured out how and where to ship the items, and… Well, I was the runner."

"So what happened?" Corso asked.

Darmas shrugged. "Retirement," he said. "Life is like sabacc. The trick is to quit while you're ahead so that you're able to actually enjoy your winnings."

Corso looked him up and down. "Well, I guess it's good to relax in your twilight years."

Mira glared, giving Corso her very best "shut up or else" look.

"I'm sorry about my friend," Mira said. "He's been on Ord Mantell his whole life. His very short, inexperienced life."

Corso flushed, as Darmas laughed.

"No offense taken," he declared. "Anyway, I have kept my hand in, and I've looked into the matter we discussed. I have a room at the Dealer's Den Cantina. You can clean up, and we'll talk business."

"You're renting a room at a cantina?" Corso asked, the skepticism in his voice clear.

Darmas chuckled. "I never rent, dear boy. I own."

Corso's brow furrowed in puzzlement. "The room?"

"The cantina."

Darmas's chuckle exploded into a full-blown laugh, and Mira joined in eagerly. She was aware of Corso's scowl as he trailed behind them – which just made her laugh all the harder.

"My dear Mirana – You are more radiant than a Tattooine sunset. The years have only brought your inner fire to the surface."

The three of them were in Darmas's private booth. Mira had taken Darmas up on his invitation to clean up, enjoying a hot shower. An actual water shower. She lingered in the luxury, letting the steam fill her lungs and take away the tension of the last few days.

She changed into her standby cantina outfit, a red dress that stopped about midway down her thighs. She looked good in it, and she knew it. It also allowed freedom of movement. In a pinch, she could run or fight in it – as she had proved, on one or two occasions.

Corso's eyes bulged as he took in the dress. Darmas, never at a loss for words, rose to his feet, bowed, and delivered his compliment about fire and sunsets. She smiled graciously. He had doubtless used the same patter on other women. Doubtless successfully.

She accepted his proffered hand as he directed her into a seat. He and Corso already had cards in front of them. Darmas dealt her in.

"Your friend Skavak is quite the piece of work," he noted. "He's earned death marks across the galaxy under various alibis. Armed robbery, kidnapping, slave running. He's rumored to be in the Sith Empire's pocket. Also, he cheats at cards."

Darmas said this last with a dramatic glare.

"If there's one thing I hate, it's a card cheat," Mira said dutifully.

Darmas raised his wine glass. "Beauty, intelligence, and fine moral values. How ever did I let you go?"

Mira smiled. "Probably because I was never yours to start with," she said.

Corso's glumness grew as he watched their patter. He cut in clumsily, trying to steer them toward business. "So what's your brilliant advice?" he asked.

"I never offer advice," Darmas said. "Only information. What you do with that is up to you." He turned back to Mira. "What do you know about the Migrant Merchants' Guild?"

Mira frowned. "Migrant Merchants' Guild? A… trade organization?"

"Ostensibly. They started out legitimate, advocating for the rights of nonhumans and refugees while supporting the reconstruction effort. But… Well, you don't need me to tell you how that went."

Mira knew all too well. The reconstruction of Coruscant had started with public buildings, which were built up bigger and better than before to "restore a sense of pride." Then the wealthy areas and the tourist spots were made to look shiny, and the business community was re-regulated so that interplanetary corporations could purchase entire sectors from previously established private businesses for next to nothing. Ostensibly this was to "rebuild the economy" – and if a good portion of the Senate mysteriously became flush with gifts… Well, that was just the way of things.

The end result? The politicians and the fat cats grew even richer than before. Meanwhile, aside from a token handout here or there, the poor and displaced were left to fend for themselves.

"So the Migrant Merchants' Guild became another gang," Mira concluded.

"They still present themselves as a legitimate entity," Darmas said, "and they still engage in advocacy efforts. But they learned the hard way that they have to protect themselves and their people. Which you simply cannot do with puppies, love, and rainbows."

"And Skavak did some less-than-legitimate business with them," Mira guessed. She also suspected that the Guild, like the Black Sun or the Justicars or any of Coruscant's other gangs, would not look kindly on outsiders. "Good to know, but it doesn't really get me anywhere. This dress makes me look good, but not that good."

"I may have a solution," Darmas replied.

He reached forward and clicked on the holonet. Mira was startled to see Cress Va'Shann, the sergeant she had befriended on Ord Mantell, shown walking purposefully toward the Senate building. Teh text display declared: "REPUBLIC HERO TO TESTIFY BEFORE SENATE."

"Corso tells me you're acquainted," Darmas said.

"We helped each other out on Ord Mantell. He's a good guy, but a total straight arrow. He's not going to help with anything illegal."

"But I expect he will assist a senator." Darmas clicked the recording off. "A friend of mine knows someone who knows a first-term senator who got in over her head with the Migrant Merchants' Guild. I've arranged for you to meet her. She'll describe her problem, and with any luck you can enlist your good friend Sergeant Va'Shann to find a solution."

"And get into Guild territory at the same time," Mira lifted her wine glass. "You haven't lost your touch, old friend."

"Now let's finish our hand," Darmas said. "Then I suggest you change into something more formal. As much as that dress suits you, I don't think it's quite appropriate for meeting a sitting senator."