Kregg leaned against one of the fecal-colored walls of the pleasure barge, the cold metal bearing hard on the tip of his elbow.

Odd choice. He had expected the inside of Gourmand to be similar to The Fat Minister's palace in all its gilded opulence. He was told in passing by Ooba Vyr that the walls were once gold. Apathy had turned all the gilding to poodoo. The smell was much the same. The tetrad stenches of sweat, sex, emission, and excretion came from all around him. Years before, they might have had an effect on him, but six years on Nar Shaddaa had rendered his senses numb.

"You gonna loaf there all night?" Arvis Xiu's voice crawled into his ear like icy tendrils. Kregg rolled his eyes. "He won't allow it, you know. A guest to not party?" He grazed the underside of his chin with his knuckles. "Poodoo."

"What say you, my favorite Pantoran slaver?" Kregg looked Arvis up and down now that he had a closer look. "These walls have gone to shite and you've gone to fat. What are the odds?"

"I live like a baron." His indigo lips pursed in a playful pout. "The Exalted One offered you such a life, as well."

"I think you can see it's rather obvious why I didn't take it."

"But you saw Shana at the forum, yes?" Arvis paused for a moment and fruitlessly looked around to point her out. "Who's to say you would not remain disciplined like her?"

Kregg scoffed. "Put a drink in my hand and that discipline goes out the fekkin' airlock. What brings you over to me, anyways? Aren't there socialites more befitting your station 'round here? Not enough runaway gals in the lower city to bring to his highness?"

"Walk with me," Arvis said flatly. He walked off in a stride, his footsteps heavy under his weight, and bid Kregg to follow.

Kregg dragged his feet to keep pace. As they passed a serving girl, Arvis grabbed two large glasses of wine. He offered one to Kregg, who shook his head, then groaned as the Pantoran gulped down both. They continued on through the mass of people, which seemed to grow more and more dense as they moved forward. He wasn't sure when, but the crowd grew thinner and petered out. Kregg glanced behind him and saw that they had not even moved very far. He shook his head.

"Good," Arvis said as he thrust himself back against an empty wall. "We're clear from open ears and prying eyes."

Kregg remained silent.

"Saving your energy for later when you'll be needing it. A smart man." He rested his hands atop his stomach and began to thump the fingers together. "There is about to be a regime change, my good smuggler."

Kregg was looking off to the side, but that snapped him back. He did a double-take. "What did you say?" He craned forward to lean into Arvis' ear. "What the fek are you talking about?"

"The old kajidics want their moon back. Durgulla has renounced the clans, renounced the Hutts, and worst of all renounced his brother. They need him set aside."

"Aye, kill the king 'n' all that," Kregg chuckled. "But that don't tell me the why of it. Or why it's one of the king's merry men telling me all this."

"It is true, you hold no reason to trust me." Arvis let out a tittering laugh. "But I did tell you why. Is the word of the Hutts not good enough for the Ghost of Fondor?"

"Which Hutt?"

"All of the Hutts."

Getting two Hutts within the same clan to agree was a chore enough unto itself. The unified agreement of the kajidics was considered impossible.

"They're not gonna like this," Kregg said as he waved to the throng of smallfolk reveling and dancing in the belly of the ship.

"Oh, kark what they think." Arvis waved his hand. "They'll like whatever they're given. They're peasants, they have no standards, no loyalties. They like our liege lord because he offers them all this." Then he clapped his gut. "And this."

"So the Hutts want to take back their demesne. Fair enough. But I ask again, Arvis, where the hell do I fit into this?"

"That is something you will learn soon enough, my friend." Arvis brought himself away from the wall with a groan. "Come with me. I convinced the Exalted One to let go of his newest prize for a moment. She's just down the hall, in the pens."

She's not the one I care about. Kregg stuck his hand out. "No, let me go to 'em myself."

Arvis chuckled, his face worming into a jovial smile. "As you wish, smuggler."

Kregg heard the Pantoran call out "Enjoy yourself!" after he was already halfway down the hall. It had been a long time since Kregg had visited the slave pens. How many months had it been? Six, seven? No matter. Much as he wanted to forget Arvis Xiu and his machinations, he knew it prudent to keep them on his mind.

He passed through four spartan sliding doors before he reached the final one, still dressed in gold and flanked by two Chevin guards. Both slept, their prodigious chins slobber-dribbled third feet against the floor. They sleep more than anything else. He strolled through the door. A snort echoed off the floor behind him and he thought one of the Chevins roused, but the door sealed before he could know for true.

The moment Kregg was inside, a gaggle of courtesans were already pawing and snatching at him. He shrugged them off. The first time, all those months ago, he'd thought it charming. Now, it was an inconvenience; even worse, a bore. A stubborn human girl clung to his arm, babbling in some nonsense tongue.

"Let go of me," he muttered, gingerly tugging each of her fingers off his forearm. He gave her a hard look and stuck a finger up against her mouth. "Do that to some other bastard, they'll love it."

Calling these "pens" was as ill-fitting a name as any. Kregg had been in the courts of countless Hutts, each with their own retinue of slaves. None had ever treated them to luxuries such as this. Rich velvet tapestries, silken rugs and pillows, impeccable footrests and furniture wrought of dark wroshyr-wood with cushions in a spectrum of bright colors were everywhere. A gaudy silver fountain sat in the center of the room not containing water, but instead some brown material that he was unable to identify. Another stood at the opposite end of the room. That one spewed only water, and for that he was thankful.

He passed a gaggle of slaves lying on their stomachs, sucking deep from hookah pipes affixed to a central spire. Another to his right lie sprawled out on a purple couch. He noticed the orange powder caked around her lips and fingers. He hoped she'd wake up.

All the eyes were upon him as he strolled through the heart of the pens. There was only one he needed to see, and a second he would speak to if his wits did not leave him.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and his spine tingled. He turned around, slowly at first. When the thing that caught his eyes was ghostly white, he turned faster. He laughed and threw out his arms to embrace the woman that stood before him, though his laugh quieted when his fingers grazed a bulging pair of ribs.

"You were looking for me?" she said in Basic as he let go of her. She was all alabaster to the point she glowed in the white light. Her face was painted with sharp lines in jagged black, shadowing her eyes and dripping down like inky tears. Black-painted spines started from her chin and went down the front of her neck, coiling around her throat before snaking between her breasts.

"Aye, Xira," Kregg said as he looked over her. His smile morphed into a look of disappointment. "You look a bit worse for wear."

"Oh, Marcus," she giggled and stepped over to him gingerly. She grabbed hold of him by the shoulders, then turned him around and thrust him against a wall, pinning him there with bony hands. "Where are your manners?"

His face burned as it erupted in pink. "Well, you still got the strength at least. But I can't deny I liked this bit better when I wasn't scared of snapping you in two."

Kregg felt a sharp sting across his face. He lifted a finger to his cheek, where he felt a little bubble. There was a pinprick-sized dot of blood on his finger. Before he could say anything, Xira bobbed her head forward and kissed him, almost gnawing on his lip. He felt the color spread across his cheeks again and did the same unto her.

"Never say that again," she said as she brought her head back. She stuck out a finger and scooped up a drop of blood on the nail, then sucked on it.

"Even if it gets me more of that?" he leaned forward to kiss her again, but instead of her lips he felt a hand against his throat.

"Nuh-uh-uh," Xira chided him. "Not yet." She let go of his neck, but kept him against the wall. She wrapped her legs around him and drove her heels into his spine to hold herself in place.

"How does a gal go from a Nagai warmaiden to the skinniest branch on a wroshyr tree?"

"Blame the Hutt," Xira shrugged and released him. Kregg slumped down onto the floor, and she squatted down with him. She smiled, revealing teeth as pointed and jagged as her face paint. "He's not as stupid as he seems; he's scared of me. Crafty bastard he is, he's determined to starve me out until I'm too weak to resist him. Alas, he doesn't realize what he's dealing with."

Kregg got a better look at her now. Rough, but not bad. When he saw her last, Xira had been a well-hewn machine of muscularity. That was all gone now, replaced by skin stretched taut across bones that barbed from underneath like knives.

"At what cost, Xira?"

"Well, darling, would you rather have me live or dead?" she giggled. "That's what it comes down to. When I failed to kill the Hutt's beast, my honor was forfeit. Honor is everything." She sighed. "When he didn't kill me, I was supposed to take matters into my own hands. I've failed even at that."

"I suppose there ain't any way to off yourself here, anyway," Kregg said. His eyes darted around. "Smother yourself with one o' them pillows, maybe." There was one next to him, and he turned his head to inspect it. Nah, too sheer. "Clearly you're still strong, but you look brittle."

She reared her head back and groaned. "I don't care how much longer this goes on, I will not break for that worm." She leaned closer to Kregg and clasped his shoulders. "I am a warlord, not a dainty little princess. This is not the fate of a warrior."

The Hutt metes out cruelty just as well as decadence. "Of course not," Kregg said, his eyes narrowed. "Otherwise why would the smallfolk even aspire to this level of decadence?"

Xira laughed and pecked him on the lips again. "You're here for Twyla anyway, I take it," she said with a coy smile. "Don't worry. With the way she scarfs down his slop, you won't have to worry about playing rough with her."

"Well, aye, I'd like to speak with her, yes," Kregg said. He managed a smile of his own, then cupped a hand against her cheek. "Don't worry too much, Xira. You're still my warmaiden, no matter what."

He saw the faintest outline of blush creep across her sunken cheeks. She lifted a finger over her head and pointed behind her. "She's back there somewhere Keeps a room all to herself."

Kregg got to his feet and walked past Xira. He felt a swat on his rear, but by the time he looked down towards her, she was already sprawled out on the floor, leaning back against the wall. A playful grin rested on her face under her closed eyes.

The scent of hookah smoke crept in and out his nose as Kregg made his way over to the other side of the room. At the other wall, there was a little nook that led into a squat hall just as small. He peeked his head around the corner to make sure no one else was in there, then strolled right in. The walls were all painted a rich burgundy. There was only dim light overhead that sucked out any life there might have been. As he rounded the corner, there was a niche with a red nerfhide booth and a single round table. The Lethan Twi'lek that had danced at the procession was sitting atop the table, swinging her long legs back and forth.

"What do you want?" She surprised him when it didn't come out in Huttese or Twi'leki. She kept her eyes on the ceiling and continued swaying her legs, as if threatening to kick him if he came too close.

"Well, I hear you're the new girl," he laughed. He shrugged and kept a smile on his face.

"'Girl', he says." She stuck out her tongue and mocked a gag.

"Don't get testy," he began to approach her, keeping his hands held up.

She jumped to her feet and took his hands in her own. Then, he groaned as he felt an unbearable pain just under his manhood. Wincing through the pain, he looked down to see her knee move away and her foot fall back into place. He grimaced and didn't even feel it when she twirled around him. Next thing he knew, he was stumbling backwards into the table. The disc-shaped topper fell over with a clang. It rattled in his ears, becoming fast friends with the years of blaster fire that still rang and warbled within.

"Who the hell are you?" she was grabbing him by the chin, her fingernails stabbing him like volcanic glass. "You aren't a Masidii man."

"Ar... Arvis... Xiu..." It took all of Kregg's will to speak through the pain. It seared the whole of his nerves like white-flamed wildfire. Through squinted eyes he saw her mouth open and felt her hand drop.

"Oh, maybe so." She paced around on a moment, her bare feet silent against the floor, then dragged him over to the booth. He heard her groan as she lifted him up into the seat. It seemed to take all of her strength.

"I'll give you a minute to shake that off," she said. Then, next thing he knew, she straddled him. "I'm Ootwyla'nemura."

"Who?" the last of the pain dissipated and Kregg shook his head. "That's a karkin' mouthful, lady."

"Humans," she groaned, then poked him hard in the ribs. "Twyla, then, if that makes it easier. I'm the assassin Urga Masidii the Elder hired."

Kregg winced. The Masidii were the most numerous of the three reigning Hutt clans and any other time, they would have used one of their own to do their dirty work.

"They normally waste Evocii on missions like this," he said. It felt awkward with her bearing down on top of him. He finally got a good look at her: naked, save for a scant pair of black undergarments and leather straps encircling her lekku. She was deathly skinny, though not as malnourished as Xira, with skin stretched tight against sharp bones, ribs like knives and hips like daggers. It did not feel like a woman atop him, but the honed edge of a sword.

"They needed someone better." Suddenly, she slapped him. "Of course, this nonsense is more than I bargained for. Thank the goddess for giving me multiple stomachs." She looked at him and sighed. "What does that Pantoran moon think he's going to do with you? Or are you just trapped in his orbit?"

"Well, that might be why I'm speaking with you," Kregg said. He felt her bones stab him as she shifted. He bit his lip to hide the pain. "Maybe you can elucidate me?"

Twyla rolled her eyes. "Fine, you fekking lecher. Urga the Elder is seething with righteous anger over his clan's exile from Narsh. Some nonsense about family. He's talked to the other clans about it, and now they're riled up, too. He thinks it's a waste to dump a horde of Evocii and ships on Narsh, so he wanted to do this the old-fashioned way." Her face twisted into a sneer as she slapped the back of her hand against his manhood. "I didn't think plans got a man going."

"They don't." Kregg thought his face aflame, agitated by sweat. "Ignore me, keep going."

"Enter Arvis Xiu," she continued, her smile backing off. "He was easy enough to turn. We promised him a barony on Pantora. Easier said than done, but at least he looks the part now. Shana was ours before we even said a word; she hates that degenerate slug. The others just aren't worth the bother. They get caught in the crossfire, so be it."

True. Ooba Vyr was loyal to a fault and had always enjoyed the good life. Bes was too simple minded to take part in any scheme.

Twyla stuck a finger against her pointed chin. "You're a wild card. What do you offer?"

"Again, tell me," Kregg said. "Arvis told me nothing."

"What, you want me to hold your hand?" She grinned. "You already know what he meant, you just don't want it to be true."

Kregg looked down and shook his head. He felt her fingers dig into his sallow cheeks when Twyla brought his head back up to face her. "I'm the fekkin' fall guy, ain't I?" The obvious answer stung him. He felt his blood boil. "I'll be trading one chain for another, what does this do for me?"

She loosed her grip and began to stroke him under the chin. "Unfortunately, that's the Hutts' call to make, not mine. I'd offer to take you back to Ryloth with me, but I doubt you'd last very long there." She lifted off of him, and the pain was eased at once. "I suppose if you find someone who can get you away from the chaos you'll be fine." She snickered and leaned forward, almost pressing her face against his own. "But good luck arranging that. It'll be on us soon."

Just like that, he felt the color leave him. "How soon?"

She ignored the words and dragged him out of the seat. With a series of paltry grunts, Twyla shoved him out towards the hallway. When Kregg turned around to face her, all she did was offer a venomous smile. He slumped his shoulders and made his way back to the main chamber, feeling even more ignorant than before.

Within half a heartbeat of making it back, Xira embraced him. All his worries dissipated at once. He tried to speak, but she shushed him before his lips could so much as flinch. She reached up into his ear, her shaggy black hair tickling the nape of his neck.

"My private suite," she whispered. The growl in her voice roused his attention, though evidently not all the way.

He never even realized they moved until he felt the linens and silks of her sheets against his back.