Chapter Two
Koravin sat inside his private cabin, which contained a chaotic assortment of mismatched furniture and random valuables from his many raids. The cushioned chair in which he sat was carved out of the finest quality Kashyyyk wroshyr tree. It had once belonged to the governor of a mid rim world, before Koravin had raided his palace.
His mind was on business. He had briefly considered ransoming off his cargo to the Hutt it had been meant for, but discarded the idea. The opee sea killers would demand a good price, but he preferred to avoid the wrath of a Hutt crime lord, even one he wasn't familiar with, such as this 'Poualiac the Hutt.'
They were on their way to his secret den, which was an underwater cove on the aquatic swamp world of Ando, the homeworld of Opuk, their Aqualish pilot. He was waiting impatiently for a message from one of his frequent buyers. He had his feet propped up atop a black plasteel storage locker and chewed upon the chitinous shell of a Mon Calamari fire lobster as he waited. He didn't have to wait too much longer.
"Captain, private message inbound from Mr. Lokil," Kellash's deep and watery voice announced over the comm.
"Patch him through," Koravin answered. The holoprojector in his cabin came to life, however it was not the expensive model found on many Imperial ships, the ones that featured live feeds. A still image of Lokil, a horned devaronian smuggler and black market entrepreneur, appeared above the projector. Lokil had decorated the long horns that sprouted from his forehead with elaborate circular carvings, a very unusual thing for his species. Koravin understood that such procedures were quite painful.
"Captain Koravin," Mr. Lokil said in reluctant greeting. "I hope you got in contact with me in order to apologize?"
"Apologize? Have you ever known me to apologize?" Koravin asked. "If anyone ever told you I apologized for anything, please, let me know. I have a vibroblade with their name on it," Koravin threatened jokingly.
"That last product you sold me, the bodyguard droids? They were defective. I ended having to sell them for a loss."
"I'm not a mechanic," Koravin said with a shrug. "You should've tested them before buying."
Before Lokil could respond Koravin cut him off. "But listen, I will cut you a special deal, to make up for it."
"What kind of deal?" Lokil asked, his tone changing from anger to mild curiosity.
"I may have come into possession of a shipment of opee sea killer eggs. Frozen, completely healthy."
"Opee sea killers?"
"Huge crustaceans, monsters almost, from Naboo. Incredibly rare."
"I've never heard of them before."
"Easily worth 10,000 credits, each. I've got a container with hundreds of them."
"So what are you offering?"
"For the whole lot of them, two hundred thousand credits."
"Two hundred thousand?" Lokil exclaimed. "Have you lost your mind?"
"I could get a million for them from the right buyer myself, easily. But I know how good you are, you could get much more. But as I told you, this is a special deal."
"Then why don't you sell them for that much yourself? How hot are they?"
"They are a little hot. That is another reason I'm dropping my price so low. Plus, rounding up buyers is your business. I'm a finder."
"And just who did you find them from?" Lokil asked sharply.
"I won't discuss it over the holonet. No one too big, I assure you. Mr. Lokil, you are one of my favorites, otherwise I would go to someone else, let them deal with the heat."
There was a pause as Lokil considered the deal. "No guarantees, I need to do some research. But if I find the product is in good condition, I will make an offer. I'm on Formos now."
"I can't travel halfway around the galaxy without a guarantee."
"Fine. I will guarantee a hundred fifty thousand. If it is as good as you say, I will buy the lot of them for three hundred."
"Deal," Koravin said in agreement. Lokil signed off of the call and the holoprojector went out with a lazy, static filled hiss. The first thing Koravin would buy with his credits after offloading the opee sea killers would be a better holoprojector. Well, after building an aquarium for his hand picked opee sea killer baby.
Koravin took the Blackpool Flier to Formos after their stopover on Ando, which allowed his crew a few days of relaxation after the successful raid. While he was there he removed three eggs from the container ship and prepared incubation chambers out of spare parts, which he scavenged from their ship's kitchen. Once he finished tinkering they resembled heated fishbowls, miniature versions of the cribs used on his homeworld. He lowered the chambers into the soup-like water inside their cavernous hideout, with one of the eggs inside of each one. Hopefully when they returned from Formos they would be ready to hatch.
Formos was the location of a shadow port, one of the most important ones in the galaxy outside of Hutt space.Koravin conducted business through multiple shadow-ports throughout the galaxy, mostly in stretches of the outer rim. Shadow-ports were spaceports that did not follow the laws and regulations of the government, whether that government was the Empire or some other entity. They were entry points into the black market, places where pirates and smugglers could offload their cargo without fear of harassment from security forces. The shadow-ports on many worlds operated in as much secrecy as possible to avoid Imperial interference. Some were in remote hidden locations, while others operated in normal spaceports, but were concealed by corrupt officials.
The shadow-port on Formos, however, operated completely in the open, as a normal part of everyday life on the small outer rim world. The heightened black market economic activity existed on Formos for one simple reason, its proximity to the spice mines of Kessel. Formos was the first major port outside of Kessel and the dangerous grouping of black holes that the tiny rocky world had as its neighbor. And so it was the primary drop off point for the smugglers that carried spice away from the mines.
The Blackpool Flier appeared out of hyperspace just outside of the orbit of the small orange world. Formos' two small oceans were a sickly yellow color, and its rather dormant tectonic activity prevented the formation of any significant mountains or otherwise interesting geology. But visitors to this little world on the outskirts of the outer rim were not there for the sights.
"Captain, we've received our landing clearance from the eastern port," Kellash announced as Koravin arrived on the bridge.
He leaned over him, his fingers gripping the vibrosword he wore on his hip. "Take her in. You two will stay with the ship," he ordered, motioning to Opuk as well. After they nodded in acknowledgment he left the bridge behind and walked down the narrow central corridor until he reached the lounge.
He found Pleff and Half-stock playing pazaak, a very common card game, with the rest of the crew surrounding them. The match was played until one of them had won three out of five games. They were tied, two to two. Each round was won by the player who got as close to a score of twenty-three as they could without going over. The players would receive a new card each turn, which increased their score. They could then use a card from their hand to alter the score and get closer to the magic number of twenty-three.
Pleff pressed a button on the pazaak board, locking in his hand at a face value of twenty two, one short of the perfect score of twenty-three. In response, Half-stock, with her hand sitting at a weak eighteen, played her last card, a variable minus five/plus five card, in its positive position, giving her a score of twenty three and trumping Pleff's hand. She clapped her hands and stood over the table in celebration as the Elarza sisters clapped her on the back.
"You could've used that card to give you the first match," Pleff complained.
"Never use up your best weapons right at the start," Half-stock answered.
"Alright, games are over," Koravin announced, raising his voice to drown out the noise from their celebration. "We're about to call into port. Half-stock, you and Cutter stay in your Cloakshape fighters in case we need you. The assault team will come with me."
"You expectin' trouble cappin'?" Walaa asked.
"If you don't expect trouble, trouble will take your head off," he answered, leading the way into the cargo bay and retrieved a blaster pistol from the armory rack.
Two of the neelabi twins were already in the cargo bay, tinkering with some mechanical gear next to the tether cannon. "Point the cannons at anyone who gets nosy," Koravin instructed them.
"Aye captain," they answered. They then relayed the instructions to their brethren throughout the rest of the ship, who manned the Flier's defensive turrets.
Soon the crew felt a rumble followed by a soft thud as the Blackpool Flier landed. The cargo bay door opened and Koravin led the way into the hangar.
The load lifter droids who milled about the spaceport were rusted and caked with a permanent layer of orange dust. Koravin glanced upwards, noticing that there were hardly any clouds in the sky. It was almost noon but Formos' white star gave the sky a permanently gray overcast. There was too little water vapor in the air for the formation of clouds, and Koravin could already feel his skin drying out. Although the temperature was not as blisteringly hot as warmer desert worlds, such as Tatooine or Jakku, he still couldn't wait to get off the planet.
Koravin spotted the dock official, who was standing at the exit to the hangar flanked by a pair of rusty, beaten up IG-RM bodyguard droids.
"Nice ship," the official commented as Koravin approached. He guessed that the man was human, albeit with an odd stone-like skin condition. He wondered if the condition was brought on by the lack of moisture in the air.
"Its nicer than she looks. Meaner too," Koravin said, narrowing his eyes. Koravin was a bad judge of sarcasm in humans, as they lacked the head tendrils that many species used for non-verbal communication.
"I don't doubt it," the man said. "That will be three hundred for the parking fee."
"Three hundred credits? A bit steep for a place like this. That fee come with refueling?"
"Refueling is a hundred and fifty extra."
Koravin understood part of the fee was a bribe.
"Three fifty total, plus fuel, and I wont turn my cannons on your control tower. What grade shields do you have up there?" Koravin countered.
"Uh, three fifty should be sufficient," the man said, looking a little unhappy.
"I'll give you an extra fifty," Koravin said, coming closer to the officials original price, "if you tell me where the Black Spike cantina is?"
"It's just down the main road from the spaceport, in between the Bounty Hunter's guild hall and a bath house. Walking distance."
Koravin placed the appropriate amount of credits in the official's hand and gestured to his crew, who were standing behind him, to follow. The spaceport complex consisted of a ring of open-air docking berths, surrounded by a wide concourse. A large warehouse and storage facility were located underground, and accessed by large lifts located on the concourse outside of each docking berth. The pirates had to cautiously avoid being trampled by an enormous binary load lifter as it hefted an enormous cargo container to one of the lifts. Its programming apparently did not include instructions to avoid crushing small organics underfoot.
They continued around the circular concourse until they arrived at a large lobby. The central section of the room contained seating, which was mostly unoccupied. A semi functional cantina was set into the wall on their right, with multi-species refresher stations located to their left.
The exit was a pair of large blast doors, which appeared to be permanently open. One of the blast doors was partially melted, apparently resulting from an explosion.
They stepped outside the doorway and stood upon the precipice until their eyes got used to the relative increase in light. The street outside of the spaceport was unpaved dirt. Clouds of dust drifted here and there, disturbed occasionally by the passing of air speeders.
"I think its straight ahead, captain," Pleff said. They crossed the t-intersection and walked down the main street. Despite that fact that a half dozen armed pirates were walking by, very few passersby paid them any attention. Most of the ones who did notice, including a down-on-his-luck Neimodian with tattered robes, were trying to sell them things.
"Captain, can I get some groceries? I haven't had any live protein lately," Saruush asked, eyeing the enormous flies the Neimodian was selling.
"Not now, we're on business," Pleff answered before Koravin could bother.
They continued on down the dusty street, passing small apartments and inns. Every building, no matter the wealth of the occupants, seemed caked in a layer of dust and grime. The crew walked up a short hill on the street, and when they arrived at the summit their destination revealed itself below them.
The Black Spike Cantina stood out like a sore thumb. The low lying buildings around it, including the bath house, were at most two stories tall and like most every other building were a sort of drab dusty tan color. But the Black Spike Cantina was painted completely black, with enormous holoboards mounted to the side of the building flashing advertisements in bright colors. The footprint of the cantina crowded its neighbors, and it rose four stories tall, with an open air observation deck on the roof. Each story was progressively smaller as the building rose, giving the building a slightly conical appearance that was true to its name.
"Alright, listen up," Koravin said. "I'm going to be negotiating with the buyer. The rest of you fan out around the bar, keep your eyes on the exits."
The crew crossed the street with their captain in the lead, who was flanked on either side by Pleff and Saruush. The rest fanned out behind them. The front door to the cantina consisted of an open doorway with a short flight of stairs leading down to the ground floor.
An old human was sitting on a chair to one side of the doorway, a blaster laying across his lap. He glanced up at the approaching pirates but did not make a move towards his weapon.
"You boys a' look like your fixin' to fight a war," he said.
"We are not all boys," one of the Elarza sisters scowled.
"My mistake," the man apologized, squinting at her. "You can keep your weapons. But I wouldn' start a fight iffin' I were you. The owner is a powerful man."
"I hate powerful men," Koravin said as the started down the steps.
The inside of the cantina contrasted sharply with the exterior of the building, which bordered on tackiness. Koravin had never been to Corellia, but if he had he would have recognized the stylings as late Republic-era Corellian. It clearly catered to the tastes of the smugglers who frequented the system, who may not all be Corellian, but emphasized with the stereotype of the rogue Corellian spacer.
The room was lit in a very dim soft light, with polished wooden tables, green or red nerf hide leather chairs, and a healthy excess of polished chromium accents. The bar was one long hand-polished wooden countertop. A twi'lek bartender, who dressed in a rather stylish suit with his yellow lekku draping over his shoulders, poured a drink for a human who sat at the bar. Two droids were assisting him, taking orders further down the bar.
Koravin waved his hand to the others. The Elarza sisters took a seat at a table near a darkened corner of the room. Saruush, Pleff, and Walaa sat together at a table near the entrance.
Koravin approached the bar, seating himself a short ways down from the only other customer, the human man. One of the droids, an old protocol model, stiffly walked over.
"May I order a drink for you sir?" it asked politely.
"No drink. I need to talk to the bartender," Koravin answered. The droid shuffled back towards the bar tender to relay the message.
"Can I help you?" the twi'lek asked loudly from down the bar.
Koravin scowled at having to move down the bar in order to talk without his voice carrying throughout the establishment. "I'm looking for Mr. Lokil. He's expecting me."
There was a brief flash of nervousness on the twi'leks face. Most beings probably wouldn't have noticed, but Koravin observed that the bartender's lekku, his head tendrils, were twitching slightly. Having head tendrils of his own, this didn't escape the his notice.
"He's on the next floor," the bartender revealed. "I'll tell him you've arrived. And you are?"
"Koravin."
The twi'lek exited through a door behind the bar, ostensibly to get on a comm. Koravin loosened the blaster in his holster and glanced around the room.
The others were paying attention dutifully. Koravin motioned with his head towards Pleff, summoning his first mate.
"Captain?"
"With me. Be on guard."
Together they walked across the room towards a staircase that led to the next floor. They arrived on a level completely unlike the previous. Instead of Corellian stylings, this floor was modeled after a Coruscant nightclub. Lights of various bright colors were flashing on and off across the elevated ceiling. The layout was rotated ninety degrees from the previous floor, with the bar located perpendicular to where it was on the floor below. There were fewer tables across the floor of the room and a space cleared to the left of the stairs provided ample room for a dance floor. A hologram of a popular music group was playing to an audience of no one. Apparently it was a slow time of the day for the establishment.
The two pirates walked across the room, looking about for their buyer. Pleff spotted the devaronian sitting with a muscular zabrak in a corner booth. He nudged Koravin to get his attention and they approached the booth.
Lokil and his bodyguard stood as the pirates approached, the devaronian raising a glass to them.
"Greetings my feeorin friend," Lokil said. "Did you not order a drink?"
"Hmph," Koravin answered. "Not in the mood."
"They have the most magnificent wheat ale from dantooine. I've never been able to get it anywhere else."
"You don't own the place?"
"Oh no," Lokil said, shaking his head. "I'm friends with the owner. About as stylish as you could ask for on a world like this, am I right?"
"Perhaps. Is each floor different?"
"Indeed. Upstairs is the gaming room, and above that a smoking lounge," Lokil said, closing his eyes with imaginary pleasure.
"I'd rather tie my tendrils in knots than smoke anything in this dry air," Koravin complained.
"Ah, I forgot. Your whole crew is aquatic, is it not?"
"More or less. Can we get down to business?"
"Of course, of course," Lokil said with a smile. He sat, although his bodyguard remained standing. Koravin followed suit, with Pleff mirroring the bodyguard.
Koravin slid a data cube across the table. Lokil picked it up and thumbed the side. A holo projection of the Opal Pulse's manifest appeared.
"Looks official. I have men at the spaceport who can check out the product," Lokil informed him.
"Men? Only one is walking aboard my ship at a time. I hope they know what they are looking at."
"They, ahem, he, is sufficiently informed. Let me call him." Lokil reached down under the table, causing Koravin to tense up. But when his hand came back into view he was holding a comm.
Lokil called his man, pausing to ask which bay the Blackpool Flier was berthed in. Koravin told him the bay number, and pulled his own comm from his vest pocket. "This is the Captain. Let Mr. Lokil's man onboard to look at the cargo."
"Assuming he confirms what you've told me of this product is accurate, I have to ask. Where did you find it? Or more importantly, who did you find it on?"
Koravin didn't like revealing where he had scored his booty. He considered it proprietary information, but in this case he couldn't refuse.
"A ship called the Opal Pulse. It was en route to the Anoat sector," he answered.
"And who did the shipment belong to?"
"A Hutt named 'Poualiac'."
Lokil shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his facade of confidence faltering.
"You guaranteed me payment," Koravin warned him.
"Yes, I suppose I did," Lokil agreed reluctantly. "Well, obviously I don't walk around with one hundred and fifty thousand credits on my person. The basement has a suite of apartments, surprisingly nice, if you are looking for a place to stay. Let me head down and retrieve your credits." Lokil made as if to leave.
"Stay," Koravin said.
"Excuse me?" Lokil asked nervously.
"Send another of your men to retrieve it. And besides, the other one hasn't checked in yet. You would pay me without securing your product?"
"Well, I…" Lokil broke off when Koravin suddenly stood. The pirate pulled his blaster with stunning speed, placing the barrel underneath the chin of the zabrak bodyguard.
"What is going on?" Koravin asked with a snarl.
"When you told me about the sea killers I made inquiries of my own. I was curious who you could have nicked them from. My inquiries were...noticed."
"You sold me out?" Koravin asked, almost shouting. Pleff pointed his blaster carbine at the bodyguard, who had his hands raised in a signal of surrender. Koravin shifted his blaster pistol and pointed it at Lokil instead.
"No, of course not," Lokil pleaded. "The Hutts just showed up on their own. My informants may have leaked my location. Such a rare product, you should have never called about it remotely."
"They're here already?" Koravin asked, a fearful tinge creeping into the anger of his tone.
"Yes. If you run now you may make it. I haven't told them when you were coming, but I'm sure they have spies. Dump the cargo container and they may let you go."
"I'm not dumping…"
Suddenly the sound of blaster fire erupted from down stairs.
"Karking murglak," Koravin shouted. He shifted his aim and shot the Zabrak point blank in the face, the back of the bodyguard's skull showering the wall and Lokil in blood and gore.
Lokil screamed and ducked for cover. Or fainted, Koravin wasn't sure.
"Let's go," Koravin shouted, running for the stairs. Pleff bent down, retrieved the blaster pistol the bodyguard had never got the chance to draw, and followed his captain into battle.