The hydraulic whirring of the cargo ramp closing still rang in Cinder's ears well after she and Fell made their way onto the landing pad. Stevedores—Sullustans, Devaronians, and Humans alike—moved between ships, loading and unloading cargo. Three had approached Cinder before she had even gotten off The Ashen One's cargo ramp. She turned each away and expressly forbid them from coming near her vessel. They scurried off towards another freighter down the way, freshly landed.
"Remember who we are now," Cinder said to Fell.
There was a single path out: a narrow set of stairs made into a stick-thin corridor by the throng of people huddled around each side. They weaved their way down the stairs, through the bustling crowd. Behind the mass were towering grey high rises, square slab spires nestled in a sea of smaller grey buildings. Pale lights beamed down on them from longnecked, flatheaded lamps that branched upwards like metal trees. The sky was scarcely even visible above the rows of transport vessels, cargo haulers, taxis, and limousines that trawled the trade lanes. Cinder could faintly make out the boundaries of each one: powdery wisps of bright blue-silver, almost invisible to the naked eye.
"Stop."
Cinder heard a brusque, Huttese voice raise above the din as a holographic red band stretched across the two poles in front of her. She stuck a hand behind her to stop Fell. She looked to her left and found the source. A stout, barrel-chested Aqualish stood inside a guard shanty, leaning back against a wall. His arms were crossed over his chest and his fat beige tusks dug their way into the wrinkled sleeves of his jacket. His four glossy black eyes didn't look anywhere in particular, least of all at her.
"Tourists pay toll," he grunted in stilted Basic. Cinder could not see his mouth, but his tusks seemed to bounce like the fat on his neck with every word. "No toll, no enter. Hutt Lord need toll keep Narsh great." He approached the window towards Cinder and slid the glass pane open. He stuck out a three-fingered hand the color of old grease. Then, his four eyes seemed to concentrate on Cinder. "Unless lady like to pay other way."
Cinder groaned and tried to avoid gagging on her own tongue. Damnable Hutt space. She reached into the pocket of her robes with her right hand, and gingerly flexed the fingers on her left. "We will pay no toll," she said.
The Aqualish cocked his head. "Tourist pay no toll." He withdrew his hand, leaned back from the window, and pulled a lever. The barrier dissipated at once.
"You will wrack your brain and think about your poor choices." Cinder waved her fingers at the gate guard again and beckoned Fell through the new path before them. She watched the Aqualish as he vacantly echoed her words back to her, and followed suit after her apprentice. As they drew away into the city proper, she could faintly hear the rattling echo of meaty flesh pounding against a steel wall.
Fell heard it too. "Alright, I saw the mind trick, but was that really necessary?"
Cinder looked at him with apprehension. "I am Sith but that does not make me callous," she said as they made their way into a bustling city street. "The next woman that has to come through that gate should not find herself indignified by a lecher."
As they walked down the street, Fell and Cinder took in the sights around them. The drab grey that greeted them on the landing pad gave way to colorful buildings of all shapes and sizes, many with ornate domed roofs and others with flat planes of duracrete. Some bore a mottled purple sheen, others glowed in the near constant darkness. Though it was day, any light by the sun was blocked out by the sprawling cityscape and constant churning of the trade lanes above. Everything down here was lit by man-made lamps and torches that glowed varying shades of white and blue. Neon signage in a fool's motley of colors jeered at them at every conceivable angle. Some were written in Aurebesh, others in calligraphic Huttese; sometimes they bore both alphabets. Each advertised wares for sale, the colorful names of colorful bars, gastropubs, and services rendered. The sprawl on their right ended for a moment, giving them a view of the skyline and a chance to pause. Cinder looked across the street to find a sign reading "Porges: Doctor of Medicine" to mark their place.
As Fell leaned over the railing and looked off into the distance, Cinder did the same. When the view wasn't interrupted by a landing ship, it was magnificent. The near darkness gave the skyline an off-purple shine, with distant red flares of lights adding small bursts of additional color.
"What do you think?" Fell said as he pushed himself back from the rail. He leaned his back against it and took in the sights of the city street that had been behind him.
"I'm quite sure a more wretched hive does not exist," Cinder said. She peered into the abyssal field of the sky. "The sooner we're away from here, the better."
"You're just not used to Hutt space."
"I do not wish to get used to Hutt space. The dangers always appear manageable, but greater threats always lurk beneath the surface. Each and every word is a bargain to be struck; every sentence a trick attempting to lead you into a trap. We must be mindful. Not every being is as simple-minded as an Aqualish toll operator. Most have grander designs."
Fell chuckled. "The Viridian Slug should be right down the way. I looked over a directory while we were walking the street."
Cinder looked over as he pointed to the northwest. A few more buildings cropped up on each side around a smooth metal ramp flanked by sets of stonework stairs. At the top, she could faintly make out the apex of a large silver dome, crested by a needle bearing a metal-plated infant Hutt on its pinnacle. The slug spun round and round like a child's toy.
"You think he'll be there?" she turned to Fell, who was staring at a pair of Twi'lek women entering a store nearby.
"It's a good enough start as any," he said. "I don't think splitting up and visiting each is a smart idea."
It's not an option, either. "Let's be quick."
They resumed their walk up the street, continuing to take in the sights. She let Fell lead the way so that she could better observe it all. Though she detested the realm of the Hutts, there was something novel about everything here. A whole new world.
In front of the ramp leading up to the Viridian Slug, a large crowd amassed in front of a narrow building. The sign above the door was illegible; most of its letters were swaddled in darkness, the neon long burnt out. She watched as Fell tried to push his way through the throng, but they would not budge, so she ordered him back to her. Cinder got on the tips of her toes and attempted to stare over the crowd, into the glowing orange doorway of the building. She saw smoke emanating from within, but it was not the kind that followed fire.
A clangor of metal-on-metal rang out as two brusque aliens stepped out of the doorway. The source of the noise was a Rodian, clad neck to spindly toe in a yellow flight suit with armor plating, beating two metal rods together. His accomplice was a Weequay, the brown skin of his face wrinkled like old parchment and contrasting with his bright grey battle armor. He was brandishing a rifle with a bandolier strap sagging underneath.
"Disperse!" The Weequay's voice was shrill and hoarse. Words eked out of his mouth ragged and uneven. "Go back to your business, this is of no concern."
Some obeyed and trotted off, but the crowd did not clear. Cinder looked over at Fell, and he nodded at her in agreement. They pushed their way through the crowd over to the ramp. They did not run once they got through, settling instead for a sauntering pace. Cinder heard blaster fire and screaming and curses in alien tongues erupt behind her, then the sound of feet on metal as people scurried off. She looked over her shoulder briefly to see the two aliens stroll back into the orange glow of the building as if nothing had happened.
The Viridian Slug made an impressive sight to behold. An ornate footpath of durasteel painstakingly carved to look like cobblestone led to doors on both sides of the disc-shaped building. The paths bore gold paint on each side, with silver speckled with dark green in the center walkways. The exterior walls were all the same shade of green. Even the spinning Hutt on top, which had appeared silver to her before, was actually covered in viridian plate, the vivid color reflecting the pale blue lights that hung above.
They made their way to the footpath on the right, following the silver-and-gold trail around a brazier that sat in front of the building. Its pit glowed with green flame, and a motley crew of all species sat around it: two humans, a hammerheaded Ithorian, and a Klatooinian were immediately visible. Cinder caught the gleam of a beige-skinned Zabrak's bony horns underneath his hood as he turned to look over the wanderers. His eyes caught Cinder's, and he turned back to his friends around the brazier.
The path led them to a door of solid glass, braced at the sides by durasteel plating. It slid away smooth as silk at their approach, and beckoned them into a small room walled with bulbous tiles of green and white. A single red light shone above them and another door, this one tinted almost solid black, was in front. This one did not open at their approach, and the sound coming from behind it was so muffled it sounded only like a series of low booms. Instead, to their right, bulbs popped, crackling to life with a fizz and just barely illuminating a security room walled off by a metal grate with fat, open holes. A slim metal tray sat below it. A massive, hunchbacked Baragwin stood in the dim light. His features were mostly concealed by shadow, though Cinder could make out his bloated tongue hanging outside his mouth, the slime upon it glistening as light caught it. He craned his head with a speed that made a granite slug seem quick, giving Cinder and Fell a once-over.
"Welcome to the Viridian Slug," the Baragwin said. He spoke Basic, though ponderous and slow. Doubtless his colossal, hanging tongue would not let him speak any quicker; it was surprising enough he could speak at all. "The lady arrives on a special night, no charge to her. The man pays our fee of seventy-five credits, as is custom."
"Seventy-five credits?" Fell scoffed. "What the hell for?"
The Baragwin said nothing, instead producing a thin rod from the inside of a cloak wrapped around his waist. With the shake of a mammoth hand, the rod extended forward, and he pushed it through one of the grate's holes until it rubbed up against a sign divided in half by a fat black line. On the top was Aurebesh, on the bottom Huttese. Fell looked it over.
"Cover charge?" Fell glowered at the signage. The Baragwin began to read it aloud, but Fell hushed him after a couple words.
"There are other guests behind us," Cinder whispered to him. She turned to the Baragwin and gave him a look of apology. "I apologize, this is his first time here." She grabbed a clasp of credits from the inside of her robe, and placed a seventy-five credit chip on the sill under the grate.
The Baragwin took it with a certain odd tenderness in between two massive fingers. He looked back at her, his jaw slack as his tongue weighed the lower half down. He deposited the chip into a metal object, then slammed a fat finger into a button on the console near him. The door slid open with a cold hiss, and he bid them through with a wave of his hand.
The muffled booms that had echoed behind the door turned to music so loud it reverberated and bounced off of every surface. The tiles of the first room were all gone now. The walls had become polished black and green glass, limned on each side by thin stripes of jade. Everything reflected in them. The floor was exactly the same, but topped with great teal rugs to prevent scuffing. To their front stood the bar, a cylindrical structure that existed in the round. A great half circle functioned as a barrier between patrons on their leatherette bar stools and green-aproned bartenders. Another half circle loomed above, mixology instruments and other assorted tubes hanging down from it. Both of these created the illusion of a window into the bar itself.
The path went around the bar in a circle, splitting off in three directions: one where Cinder and Fell had entered and the other two leading off to the left and right, creating a Y-shape and three sections. At their left and right were all tall tables accompanied by tall seats of black leather with green trim. A row of black booths with painted wooden tables decked the walls on both sides. Every square centimeter was packed with life: aliens and humans alike talking amongst themselves in various tongues. Most were armed, though some were not. One table wobbled underneath a Twi'lek dancing girl as the patrons around her jeered and threw chips of credits. Cinder looked away and led Fell down the path to the right.
"I would prefer you not cause a scene in a place like this," she scolded him. "I will not bail you out again."
"Understood, master," Fell said.
"You forget yourself, nephew. "Where would he be?"
"Well, there's only this path and the other one. Should be quick enough to find him." Fell moved ahead of her into the hallway, leaving her no choice but to follow behind.
The entirety of the Viridian Slug glowed in almost pinkish red light. The hallway they found themselves in was a thick one made thin by mingling patrons at all sides. Doors and windows alike melded with glossy walls, catching Cinder by surprise when she would suddenly find herself staring at tables outside being attended by waitstaff. Gusts of air induced shivers when walls slid themselves open. She caught several people staring at Fell and herself, but paid them no mind. Let them stare, they will regret anything they try.
After several minutes, the hallway spilled out into another open room much like the one in which they had started. This one did not bear a fork of paths, however, and tables were only present at the front, at the sides of the squat set of stairs that they were descending. The center had a much smaller bar, accompanied by slot machines. The entire back of the room was a stage, with a multi-species band performing a seemingly unfitting piece as dancers flanked them. Cinder's eyes studied the room until she recalled she had no idea what Marcus Kregg even looked like.
"How does he look?" Cinder said, leaning over to Fell as they came off the stairs. She heard a man swear at her in Huttese and stepped aside to dodge his spittle.
"That's a good question," Fell said. "I didn't think that far ahead."
Cinder groaned. "This is a waste of time. We would have been better off going to Ord Mantell and finding a pilot there."
"I will never set foot on that planet again," Fell said. Then, she saw his eyes widen and he was tugging on her robes like an excited child.
"There!" He pointed towards a lone table far off in the back corner. A scruffy man with blasted back, shoulder length brown hair sat on a stool with his back to them. A bottle of liquor stood at the center of the table. He kept pouring it into a shot glass and drinking. Never once did it seem to empty.
Cinder and Fell made their way over, sitting at the table with him. For a moment, he did not even look at them.
"Go away," he muttered as he shot a glance at them through the corner of his eye. His voice was ragged from years of hard living, yet still bore the singsong lilt of the natives of Fondor. When his guests did not move, he finally looked Cinder square in the eye and forced a small smile.
"Fine, guess I can use someone to talk to," he said. "I'd extend my hand, but I'm not sure if the bind extends that far." Sure enough, Cinder noticed a thin pink trail of laser wire streaking from a cuff affixed to his left arm. It coiled under the table into some device the likes of which she had never seen. "Name's Kregg. I'm sure you've heard all the tall tales about me, otherwise you wouldn't be here."
"I just saw a man who looked lonely and thought it wise to chat." Cinder feigned surprise. She recalled the vague description a Republic cadet had given of Kregg all those years ago. The features certainly matched up, though more marked by age now: a long and gaunt face, with white skin stretched taut over high pointed bones. He had been said to wear a well-kept auburn beard, though now it was a wiry mess of dull brown and gray scraggle.
Kregg laughed. "Don't lie to me, lady, I'll see right through it." He raised his shot glass, swallowed it down, then poured himself another. Cinder had just enough time to read the label: "Nal Grogga", marked as an aged vintage from Nal Hutta. "I'm old, not blind and dumb. I see those robes, too. What brings a Jedi to the arse end of the galaxy?"
"Perhaps it's you." A waiter approached, but Cinder brushed him off. Fell called him back and placed an order for a glass of spice wine. She rolled her eyes at him.
"Oh, who am I kiddin'?" Kregg laughed and slapped his knee. "A Jedi would never come here, and if they did, they wouldn't be in a place like this." He took another shot, and his cheeks turned rosy. "Nah, they're too busy lording over their fields of fekking peasants in their precious fekking castles in the gilded fekking Core. They're too good for the Outer Rim." He pounded the rim of the table with each word.
"So the Hutts still rule here then?" Fell said. The waiter returned with his wine, and he exchanged a chip of credits for the glass.
"Well, the Hutt certainly does." Kregg looked the boy over. Cinder could tell he was not sure what to think. He turned his stare back to her. "He yours?"
She laughed. "I'm his aunt. We're traveling the galaxy so that I can teach him more about this world in which he lives."
Kregg leaned back a moment and pondered. "I don't believe that for a second. You ain't that old, lady, not old enough to be maternal to a boy like that."
"Boy?" Fell pouted.
"I like him though." Kregg wiggled his pointer finger at Fell, laughing. "He would've been a good copilot when I was still working."
Cinder felt her lips curl. "The greatest smuggler in the galaxy is unemployed?"
"Oh you never heard, huh?" Kregg sighed. "Look, even smugglers have a sense of honor. But I got myself in a bit of a hole." He shrugged. "Enough about that, though, back to what I was saying." He turned back to Fell. "As I was saying, there's one Hutt runs this place, name of Durgulla. He styles himself 'The Fat Minister'. It's been this way for about, um, four- no five, five years now. I landed on Narsh during the second year of his reign, back when the other Hutts were still here, and of course I picked him out of the litter when I was lookin' for work." He let out a half-hearted chuckle. "So much for 'scoundrel's luck'."
Kregg got to his feet and almost at once lost his balance. He caught himself on the table with an arm before Cinder could spring down and help him. The bottle of grog at the center shook and almost spilled over, but Fell caught it. She noticed the laser wire stretch taut from Kregg's arm as he moved. Her morbid curiosity wondered what would happen if it stretched too far.
"So then where are the other Hutts?" Fell asked. He was just as confused as Cinder was. After all, she had told him before that Nar Shaddaa was ruled by a cadre of Hutts and their cartels. That was the way she had always been taught as well, and the way things had been for at least a thousand years.
"They all went back to Nal Hutta!" Kregg gave a silly, toothy smile and let out a boisterous laugh. He was well and truly drunk. "The Fat Minister forced 'em all out."
Curious. "The Hutt clans despise one another, yes," Cinder said, "but the kajidics are still like family. How did one force them all out?"
"Hutts are smarter than us humans give 'em credit for." Kregg staggered over to Cinder and leaned against the table next to her. His breath reeked of grog and stale food. "They're creatures of cunning and great intelligence."
"Make no mistake, I do not belittle the Hutts," Cinder said.
"So you'll understand why they left. The smallfolk here, down in the lower city and the trenches and the underbelly, they love The Fat Minister. He represents an idea for 'em all to aspire to, bloated and disgusting as it may be." He rested an arm on Cinder's shoulder and she fought the urge to shrug it off.
"They see him and his magisters and servants and they see themselves, what they could be if they were able to luck into His Grace's presence or get on the good side of his tail. So all the other Hutts went back to Nal Hutta instead of fighting him, 'cos they didn't want blood running down the thoroughfare."
"And yet I hear no love for him in your voice, Kregg."
"A good smuggler doesn't love anyone, let alone his captor." He jabbed at the cuff around his arm. "Any of the other Hutts? It would've just been a matter of clearing my tab. But this guy? Fekkin' unreasonable. I can't even leave this bar. He had a gang of thugs come install this thing and chain me to this very spot."
He stumbled again, and this time Cinder caught his arm before he sprawled onto the floor. "Take a seat," she whispered in his ear as people began to stare. "Before you attract any attention to us." He reluctantly obeyed, easing himself back into his chair opposite her and Fell.
"Look," he said, raising his hands, "all's I'm trying to say is I'm stuck here. I can't just walk to his palace and pay my dues. I mean he knows who he's got right?" He raised his voice. "'Ghost of the Core'? Does that not mean anything anymore?"
"Keep your voice down." Cinder sighed. This is pointless and our man is a shell. "Look, we know all about you and what you're capable of, and we need a guide to the other end of the galaxy." And yet I fear this one can no longer navigate his way out of a pair of smallclothes, let alone fly a ship.
"Just wayfaring, eh?" Kregg chuckled. "Easy enough. What's the target?"
"We don't know where," she continued, "but I can give you the target."
"Shoot."
She leaned in close to him. "The Dark Lord of the Sith," she whispered, steeling herself against his noxious breath.
Kregg reared back his head and guffawed.
"So let me get this straight," he started in between fits of laughter. "You- you- sorry, this is just too good - you want me to locate someone who's dead? I don't know if you've heard, but Korriban was sacked almost a month ago. That hokey religion's dead, wiped off the face of the galaxy like shite off the privy." He slapped a hand against the table and laughed. "I didn't even know they were capable of of massacre like that. I thought their whole shtick was that wanton slaughter was a path to darkness." He stuck his hands up and wriggled his fingers mockingly.
"He escaped, though they won't admit it," Cinder said. She did not much care for being mocked, but nonetheless she concealed the cracks in her pride. "Why would they? They gain nothing but an angered galaxy that would thirst for more blood." She looked over at one of the screens overhead, broadcasting a holonet news story. This one was some saccharine nonsense about a baby rancor at a Corulag petting zoo. She cringed and looked back to Kregg. "Surely the holonet has told you where they've gone after the fall of Korriban?"
Kregg snorted. "They went back to their baronies, back to Coruscant, wherever the fek it is Jedi go. The screamsheet rumor mills say they're gearing up to fight the Mandalorians. They don't broadcast that on the holonet though, but I've heard more than a few conversations from travelers in here saying they've been trawling the Mid Rim in some behemoth flagship, burning worlds to draw attention and instill terror. They say they drop their basilisk-"
"-war droids from the stars above and rain fire down below," Cinder finished. "Yes, I know all about their tactics." She had read much of the Mandalorian Wars in the Jedi Temple Archives on Coruscant, though she could not admit that to Kregg. At least, not for now. "And the Republic does nothing?"
"They're wanting to avoid a repeat of the last several thousand years, I wager." He shrugged. "Better to let a few planets burn and assemble an army to pick up the pieces later then raise their levies. The Jedi want to get involved, but this time it's the Republic holding them back." Kregg smirked. "Them pesky bureaucrats."
Cinder smiled. She remembered from her reading that in the last war, it had been the opposite. The Republic sought to fight the Mandalorians as they pillaged their way across the galaxy, but the Jedi saw a powerful darkness beyond the veil and refused to join the war. The Jedi Revan defied the order and led his army of Revanchists into the throes of battle. The war changed him and his army, however, and he became the first of a new lineage of Sith.
"Things change as much as they stay the same," Cinder said. "This is of no import. Tell me, Kregg: are you willing to help us in our perceived fool's errand or no?"
"I don't believe for a second we can magically find your supposed Dark Lord of the Sith." Kregg sighed and took the whole bottle of grog in hand. He took a swig and then set it aside, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "Even if he is alive. But, tell you what, lady: you settle my score with The Fat Minister, and I'll do whatever you want, long as it means I can get away from here. Fool's errand or no, I wasn't born to sit in a bar and draw botflies. I was made to fly. My legs'll fall off if I sit here on land too much longer."
Cinder looked over at Fell, who was finishing his wine. "Well, much as I am loathe to be here much longer, I'll see what I can do." She stretched her arm across the table and prepared to shake Kregg's hand. He looked at her with reluctance, then obliged.
"Now tell me," she said, "where do I find Durgulla the Hutt?"
Kregg chuckled. "Step One: Don't call him that, he hates it. Step Two: Leave here and just go straight down the road, not down the ramp outside. It'll turn into an 'L' that goes right into an empty void with no buildings around it. The path'll turn to this really gaudy lookin' gold and there'll be statues of Hutts on each side. He hasn't torn 'em down yet, I don't think. That'll take you to what they used to call 'The Chamber of Commerce.' It's big, fat, and round, just like him. You can't miss it. It's all just his palace now. You'll know him when you see him, believe me. You ain't seen a big fekkin' Hutt 'til you've seen this one, mark my words."
"Does he have a translator?" Fell spoke up at last. They had left HK on the ship, as to not draw any of the stares or suspicions that would come from towing around a near two-thousand-year-old droid.
"Aye, he does." Kregg nodded. "Though a little Huttese goes a long way, my friend."
"Fair enough," Cinder said. "We'll return to our ship to fetch our droid, and then pay this 'Fat Minister' a visit."
Kregg snorted. "Now don't waltz in there thinkin' he's just gonna want credits. He's got a glutton's appetite, and credits haven't sated him for who knows how many years. He's gonna ask a favor of you." Kregg shook his head. "That being said, I've never seen him fail to keep a bargain. He's got that over most Hutts, at least." He cracked a smile. "Now whether it's the bargain you asked for, that's a different story."
"Noted." Cinder turned to Fell and beckoned him to get up. "Well, Kregg, it was a pleasure to meet you. Here's hoping we can return with your freedom. Don't drink yourself to death in the meantime."
He laughed at that. "Of course not. One more thing: I want to know the names of the people I work with."
Cinder tsked. "Not so fast. We'll set you free, then you learn who we are. We've already shared more than enough with you."
"Dammit." Kregg cut short his disappointment with a laugh. "And here I was hoping I'd get a pretty lady's name."
Cinder rolled her eyes. "We'll return." She bid Fell come, and they left the drunkard behind.