"Ah, the beautiful stench of decay and desperate living. Word of warning: watch your step, or you'll fall for hours."

-Atton Rand (3,951 BBY)

Star Wars: The Most Dangerous Game

Chapter Four – The Living Dead on Nar Shaddaa

"Here's how everything went down," said the Togruta. "This man, Kambern Polis, has been on my staff for well over ten years. Even before we made the move to Hutt Space, he's been one of the few people I could trust without the slightest thought to the contrary. Even after this whole mess, I'm still very much convinced that if the Exchange had a gun to his head and the Hutts had another to his crotch, he still wouldn't sell me out. Very much convinced. We've been through a lot together, he and I."

He clapped Kambern Polis on the shoulder and the man recoiled. "But he's known Thrask for an even longer stretch of time. There's some childhood obligation there, or so I'm told. Kam would never sell me out to the Exchange, the Hutts, or even the Dark kriffing Council, but he'd sure as dust see me kiss the ground before his precious Thrask was slightly inconvenienced. It troubles me in a way that... Ah, well, never you mind. What's done is done."

The Togruta's name was Jarvin Trell, head of the Errant Gang, a relatively small-time organization compared to the giants that kept Nal Hutta and its moon spinning on their corrupt axes, but he had the credits where it counted.

And really, that was all that mattered to Shae in the grand scheme of things, but what Trell had to say right now was a matter of personal interest to her. She had just found out who let on to Thrask that a bounty hunter had been sent his way: one Kambern Polis, who was presently gagged and tightly bound to a chair, bruised and bloodied in the wake of his confirmed guilt in the matter.

She wasn't all too patient with folks who played havoc with her livelihood. It was the one area where her Mandalorian sensibilities seemed to fail her. "He picked the wrong bounty hunter to cross."

Trell snorted. "Trust me, he's well aware of that now." He gestured to Shae. "I do business with you because you get results, regardless of the situation. It reflects poorly on me—not as your employer, but as your customer—that someone within my circle was the one to complicate your job. For that, you have my sincerest apologies."

"Apologies aren't necessary," she said. "Neither was the 'little' bonus you added to my account. Jobs get can get complicated regardless of how intensely it's planned out beforehand. It's a chaotic business to begin with."

"Quite right—and these are chaotic times, aren't they?" He stroked one of his head-tails as he paced in front of the sole window in the room, which framed a section of the Nar Shaddaa skyline that seemed to be made up of nothing but brightly-colored holo advertisements. The east wing of the Star Cluster Casino could be seen hovering out there behind one of the taller buildings, redirecting the skylanes as it drifted back and forth over vistas of interest to its patrons. "I want to offer you something."

Shae noticed she had been a tad distracted by the lights outside. "What kind of offer?"

"Regardless of what happens tonight, I will no longer be in need of Mr. Polis' services. His tenure in this organization has come to an unfortunately quick end. He threw a hydrospanner into the works, and you had to pay for it." He nodded. "The physical punishment was a start, and I think seeing his friend Thrask mounted there on the wall did him in quite well, as you can see."

Trell was right; Polis hadn't stopped weeping since Shae had pushed the carbonite slab into the room. Thrask's outspread hands and expression of pure terror were frozen in place and startlingly defined. It was probably the best freeze job Shae had pulled off, and it gave her no small amount of pride to see Trell immediately demand that the slab be mounted on the wall like a proper decoration.

"Thrask stole from me, and he will meditate on this for some time. His slight has been rectified. But as for Mr. Polis..." The Togruta nodded to one of his associates, who touched a panel that opened the window and allowed the strong smog of Nar Shaddaa's atmosphere inside at a concentrated dose. "Outside this window is an unobstructed drop to the ground level of Nar Shaddaa. I don't think I have to tell you that a fall from any one of the structures in this district is a fatal one, but this spot in particular is special."

Trell smiled, and Shae was suddenly convinced that there was nothing "small-time" about this man. "Drop Polis out this window, and he, too, will have some time to meditate on his slights before he kisses the ground. He'll fall through the air like a meteor, and he'll die with regret, I assure you."

Shae caught up to what the Togruta was offering. "You want me to drop him out the window?"

"I don't want you to do anything," he corrected. "Merely offering. As I understand it, you weren't particularly pleased to hear of our leak, so I think it's only fair you be given the chance to plug it."

She turned to Polis, who had long since turned pale but could do little else to express his fear beyond shouting against his gag. It was true, she had been absolutely fuming the entire way back to Nar Shaddaa, eager to get her hands on whomever had blown the Coruscant plan. She had calmed herself down, of course, before meeting with Trell as professional courtesy demanded, and she thought that maybe she would be able to forgive, forget, and move on with business...

But now she realized she still really wanted Polis dead.

Before she knew it, she was pulling Polis across the room, chair and all, and the man screamed and struggled furiously against his bindings the entire way. At the opened window, with the nightly breeze gently pouring in, she spun Polis around so they were looking each other in the eye. She took him by the shoulders and her lips parted into a pleasant smile. "I'm sorry you met me, Mr. Polis."

And with one push, the man was gone into the neonlit night—his look of terror the last thing to disappear over the edge.

The associate casually toggled the window shut again.

"Hate to keep any window opened for so long on this moon," said Trell with a disgusted shudder. "Smog gets into the carpeting, wallpaper. Stains it all. And the taste of it, definitely, ah... an acquired one."

Shae's heart was pounding, her hands were trembling. "Definitely."

"Glad to see Mr. Polis get his just desserts. Start counting down the seconds, because it'll be another few minutes before he finally kisses ground. Ah, my kingdom for a glimpse of what's going through his head right now! Ha! Gets me every time." He clapped his hands together and a door at the end of the room opened. "What do you say we retire for dinner before you get on your way. Our in-house chef can do wondrous things with Bantha meat and a bit of Alderaanian wine."

"If it's all the same to you, I'd like to call our business concluded for now. It's been a trying couple of days and I have my own methods of unwinding." She could feel her left eyelid twitching. She had to get out of here.

"It's no problem at all, and I fully understand." Trell winked at the carbonite slab on the wall. "Thrask understands, too. Don't you, Thrask?"

–

"I'm telling you, I haven't felt that way in a long time." Shae leaned back in her chair—her absolute favorite chair in The Slippery Slopes Cantina—and took another sip of dakaar juice, enjoying the delightful taste in her mouth and the soothing burn at the back of her throat as she swallowed. "I think I could've turned a vibroblade on everyone in that building and it wouldn't have been enough."

"Yeah," Cander said through the comm. She could hear a swoop race in the background, so she wasn't expecting a very fulfilling conversation tonight. "That's nice."

"I feel like I've heard about it from other mercs we've met. Wish I could remember what they said, but I'm sure it boiled down to the standard 'We carry the bloodline of Mandalorian warriors' response, or some such nonsense."

"Yeah."

"Killing him just felt like such a release. It was a little frightening how much I enjoyed it."

"Mmhmm."

"Is that the Corellian Cup you're watching right now?"

She got no reply; only more sounds like crowds cheering.

"Nar Shaddaa gets that race through the HoloNet without a delay."

"Huh... Wait—don't!"

"The racer from Tatooine wins by a very wide margin."

"NO!" She could hear Cander slamming his fists down onto something. "Why! Why do you hate me? I've been waiting to watch this race for months!"

"Really?"

"Weeks!"

"Cander..."

"Okay, maybe since yesterday... But still!"

"You'll get over it." Shae took another drink and watched the neon advertisements outside coalesce into one towering image of a Twi'lek dancer, wordlessly urging any viewers to visit the Star Cluster Casino: the only casino on Nar Shaddaa that Rises Above the Rest! "Fine, I'll move off Polis. What does our account look like right now?"

Cander sighed and typed something at his terminal. "Like you just performed open heart surgery on three political dignitaries. Is this your client's idea of a 'little' bonus!"

"Trust me, I was just as surprised. He took the whole leak situation very personally."

He whistled. "Shae, this puts you well into the green for the rest of the year. If my numbers are correct—to which you respond..."

Shae rolled her eyes. "And they always are."

"Then unless you decide to take a trip to the Outer Rim, you're good on business and pleasure expenses for at least six months."

"Unless you gamble it all away."

"That's why I said 'at least' six months. I factor my addiction into everything." He clapped his hands. "Congratulations, Sis, your business has officially netted you a profit. You also got to throw some guy off a building, so I'd say this has been a banner week for the Vizla siblings."

"I'll drink to that," said Shae, raising her glass. "Not very often a job nearly gets botched and I still come out on top."

"Not very often as in: it should never happen, and probably won't happen again. Don't get comfy, don't get soft, let someone else throw the guy off the building next time. That's my all-encompassing solution for your very atypical problems right there."

"I know, I know." She held up a hand as if he could see her. "Just let me enjoy this for one night."

"Fine, one night." He snickered, and said, "So, when are you heading back to Vulta?"

A local band had started playing on the small stage in the corner. It was all brass and woodwind, so Shae had to speak a little louder. "I'll be heading out early tomorrow during whatever counts as morning around here. It'll take me an extra day to get home, though. Had to leave the Taylir IV on Coruscant and hitch a ride with Nico Okarr to get Thrask out here on time. Red flags were popping up all over the sector after my little romp through Two Twenty-three, and I didn't want to risk getting searched."

"Wow. Okarr's still flying, huh?"

"They haven't shot him down yet. Saving a Jedi tends to give you a bit of legal wiggle room, I suppose."

"You suppose correctly. Anyway, pass along my regards."

"Will do," Shae replied. "I'll call you when I'm back aboard the Taylir."

"Sounds like a plan. Have a safe flight."

"Thanks." She quickly added, "And don't go gambling away my bonus!"

"Heh... Yeah, okay..." The channel went dead.

Shae let the possibility of being broke by the time she returned home settle in for a moment, but then chased it away with a second glass of dakaar juice. After that, the band got marginally better, the voices got a little dimmer, and the lights outside got delightfully brighter. She lived for moments like this, when she could just breathe easy without the looming shadow of obligation.

Okkar would hang around the moon for another day or so, trying to get himself a few smuggling contracts, which he would most definitely land. Until then, Shae had nothing to do beyond enjoying the moment, and the lights. She loved the lights of the Smuggler's Moon, how they were perpetual but always changing. The neon holo of the Twi'lek dancer morphed into six separate ads for six different cleaning products, which morphed into scene from a holodrama, which morphed into a call for tourists to visit the beautiful world of Alderaan, complete with scenic waterfalls and a rich history dating back to the birth of the Republic... and so on.

Shae could get lost in it all, and often did just that. There was so much happening out there in the galaxy and, like the holos, it was always changing, always perpetuating, and she was excited to be a part of it. Shae eased back in her chair and watched the lights for some time, smiling to herself.

–

Her chrono said it was morning, but the night hadn't yet departed—and wouldn't for another few days while Nal Hutta loomed between Nar Shaddaa and the warming light of Y'Toub. Nico Okarr was already up and prepping his light freighter, Redshifter, for what he liked to call a "soft launch." This, as it had been explained to Shae, meant that time wasn't an issue as far as getting offworld was concerned, but a hangover most definitely was.

Shae guided one of the lifters into the freighter's cargo hold and dropped a pallet of unmarked "goods" in an out-of-the-way corner to make room for the rest. Nico had most definitely landed a few smuggling contracts overnight and then proceeded to celebrate at the Jekk'Jekk Tarr until he passed out from "exhaustion." Dealing with Nico Okarr involved a lot of reading between the lines.

"Lucked out with a contract that sends me down the Perlemian Route," Nico said, looking over his manifest. "I'll have a ship full of cargo the entire way that I'll be able to unload without any crazy detours, which pretty much means anything I make outside the contract will be pure profit." He laughed heartily and tussled Shae's hair as she passed by. "Credits in hand, Vizla. Credits in hand."

"It's been a good week for both of us, hasn't it?" Shae parked the lifter in its hold and stepped down the loading ramp to join Nico. "I know it's already been said, but thank you for giving my bounty and I a ride from Coruscant. Hope what I paid you was enough."

He shook his head mirthfully. "It was way more than what was necessary, which is to say I was just happy to help. Don't you and your brother go thinking you need to pay a fare any time you call me."

"No, we know that."

"You guys are family. I can't stop you from going behind my back and sending money into my account, but I would never take a single credit from you."

"We know."

"Unless you just really, really want to unload some credits on someone, then I'm the guy for that. Look no further."

Shae nodded and grinned. "We know."

Nico placed a wide-brimmed hat on his head of black and gray hair and looked at his old freighter with pride. He looked at that ship the same way Shae looked at the lights of Nar Shaddaa. "We'll be taking off shortly. Everything's already loaded by my reckoning, but I gotta grease a few palms in the customs office. Shouldn't take more than an hour if you just wanna wait onboard."

"Okay. And I won't touch any buttons—"

"Just make sure you don't touch any buttons. I got everything just so, all right?"

"Just so," echoed Shae. "Understood, Captain."

"All right. See you in a bit."

When Nico disappeared into the starport offices, Shae ascended the loading ramp and watched it close shut behind her. The inside of the Redshifter was exactly what you would expect from a starship that hadn't stopped flying for over thirty years. It was definitely lived-in, though Nico liked to keep the interior as immaculate as he could manage. Within reason, of course; Nico's definition of immaculate was something closer to the Huttese translation. Machine parts were strewn across what was intended to be a dining table, the dejarik board was still out of commission after a failed attempt at rigging a game, and there were liquor bottles balanced precariously on the environmental control panel.

The Redshifter was the closest thing to a home away from home for Shae, since she had known Nico all her life, and he had been a friend of the family years before that. Traditional Mandalorians like her parents very rarely befriended anyone outside the clans, but Nico had a way about him that made even the most distrustful people think twice about him. It was part of what made him so successful at his job.

Since her parents had died, Nico was the closest thing she had to family besides Cander. The man's seemingly constant fraternization with Jedi was the only reason she didn't visit him as much as she probably should. Ever since the stunt he pulled during the Battle of Korriban, he had been in the Order's good graces—and, by extension, the Republic's—and would likely continue to be indefinitely.

Shae just couldn't risk crossing paths with one of them. She didn't know how she'd react, thought it would probably end badly for all parties involved.

She moved up to the cockpit and plopped into the copilot's seat. With an hour to kill and a very boring view of the spaceport wall through the front viewport, she decided to check in on her contact list. Every hour, her datapad would update with a list of bounties that had been posted up throughout the galaxy, in both Republic and Sith space.

Her process: She would sort through them by distance, since traveling from Core to Rim to snatch up a murderer or an embezzler was rarely lucrative. Then by priority, because a higher priority on the board meant a better payout, plain and simple. Then she eliminated a few choice systems that were heavily embroiled in the Republic/Sith conflict, because the likelihood of unknowingly chasing down war criminals was way too high, and jobs like that always ended up becoming hopelessly entangled in battlefield bureaucracy, leaving her payout in a state of flux for months if not years.

The list Shae was left with was usually a bit more manageable, but she never got to actually see this list because a notification that popped up on the screen. She had to take a breath when she saw it. Someone sent her a direct message.

A direct message!

The only place that had her contact information was the Bounty Brokers Association, and they would only hand it out if someone required her services. Her services, over anyone else on this list. Since she had taken up the bounty game, the only one to ever contact her directly had been Jarvin Trell, the Togruta, but that had been done through personal connections. Unless there had been an error, this was through the most official channel available.

And the highest paying.

Taking another breath, she opened the message and read through it once, twice, three times, and before she even realized what she had done, she had already typed up and sent an acceptance letter—which, through the BBA, was as binding as any contract. She cheered loudly into the cockpit and waved her arms around in fierce celebration until the consequences of what she had done set in.

Oh, boy. Cander is not going to want to hear this...