Jump to content

Mon Calamari/Dac


Nikolai Kolchak

Recommended Posts

The chortling laughter ground to a sudden halt as the head between the bench and table inclined upwards. A furred hand shoved the wife floppy brim of the hat out of the way so that it’s owners cold rodent eyes could stare at more than the boots of whoever it was that addressed him.

 

Hopping upwards, the squib’s behind landed in the worn seat. He gestured to the empty seat across from him, any aura of joviality gone; replaced by a serious air; one of business.  
 

Lookie here not-so-big-tall lady. I might have something for you, provided your behind can sail higher than it’s current low flying altitude. What I have to offer though is more costly money valuable than shiny lustrous gold or big’n sparkly jewels though. You see, friendship of high life-saving calibre is worth much greater high value than spacer trinkets and witch’s magical baubles. Please sit and tell me what you bring to the table most esteemed huntress of drunky disordered  discontents.”

 

The Squib smiled, patting his hands against his weighted vest. Each pocket bulged with contents. Running his hands over them offered the diminutive rodent a sense of reassurance, before he held a hand out to the woman, “They call me Reaper Joe, most high capitan admiral of her majesty’s salvage and recovery deepest dark space naval destroyer forces.”

image.png.daf7e9c75e1f2acba314151d968a7e3b.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Zeris took the squib's hand and gave it a brief shake.

 

"I dont take friendship as payment Joe. If you need to know what I can do, then fine. Here's the pitch." She dropped the barabel on the floor. "I find things. I hit things. I bring things back. I've got a ship to help me get to where I can do all three. If you can pay me, then I'll do those things for you. Maybe more, depending on how much. If you want me to brag, then go find someone else. I dont have the time or patience for the runaround." She spoke in a quiet, businesslike manner. "Now, how much are you paying, and what do you need?" 

 

She held her hands out to her sides, waiting.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The Squib smiled. “You are very much misunderstanding the totality of the entire premise.” He gestured again the the empty bench across the booth from him, hoping to avoid any more of a scene than an unconscious  barabel might already create. The smile slipped from his fave as quick as a passing shadow.  “Now please sit.”
 

The squib stared unblinkingly at the woman/cyborg/droid. He was not entirely sure what she was, yet. He knew, from their brief handshake though that there was something more mechanical than met the eye. He waited for her to take a seat and once she did, the calm warm smile crept back over his face. “We have much big misunderstanding. I do not offer priceless friendship. I offer something more real deal real. I have a job that pays lots of shiny gold big bucks. I offer that to you. You have a spacer ship that can take a passenger of priceless value safely into the deepest uncharted region of no-Sith monkey business space? If you do have such a ship, lots of bouncy laser shields some big guns to keep off muck monsters, I have an expensive job. You can have this big money high-pay job, all you, no commission.” he chittered rapidly as he got into his groove. “So I give you big high grade job. Make you ginormous rich, important most-valued client, who cannot be harmed, not one scale. Open door to many more contracts. Contracts that are flowing like oh so sweet honey from my ears. I do this for you for a super beyond reasonable price trade. I just want your arm. You would agree very reasonable for the great glorious riches my secretive client will grant to you to transport and keep totally safe. Access to vast vaults of treasures gained from worlds across and beyond the wholeness of the galactic rim; all for you. What do you say to such a thing?” The Squib held up a data chip with  informational details and coordinates in one hand near his head while he extended his other hand to offer a deal-cinching handshake. “Do we have a more than fair free trade no take backsies deal?”

image.png.daf7e9c75e1f2acba314151d968a7e3b.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Zeris arched an eyebrow as she sat down.

 

"...My arm?

 

No. Absolutely not."

 

Her hands fished deep in her coat pockets for a moment before one drew out a partially burnt cigarra and the other a lighter. A moment later, and the round stub was glowing a dull orange and wisps of smoke trailed out of her mouth.

 

"So a transport job? VIP passenger?" She shoved the lighter back into the dark recesses of her coat, and then held up her hand, four mechanical fingers raised. She ticked them down one by one.

 

"Who is the subject?

 

What is the destination?

 

What is the pay?

 

What is the catch?

 

And if you don't start feeding me something concrete here, I'm walking out that door, got it? I deal with enough people in my work life who spend words like its a contest to not want to listen to that verbal vomit on my own time." 

 

She drew in a deep breath, and the last of the cigarra crumbled to ash on the table. She pinched the remains between her metal thumb and index finger and ground it out, before puffing out a cloud of pale white smoke that hung in the cheap bar's stale air.

 

"Get to the point."

 

 

  • Like 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

The squib raised his eyebrows comically  and blinked at the response before reaching into an overstuffed pocket on his oversized vest. He produced a large fist-sized glistening hypergem and set it on the table, shielding it’s view with his arm from the rest of the bar. “And much more like this one,” he whispered, tapping the gemstone.

 

“The subject as you speak it is a very muchly being of highest Squibian regard, a devout religious magician of life saver mysticals and pacifistic ways who must remain unnamed until our deal is completed in total agreements so as to avoid any slimy evil dark Sith so-called Empire of imposters entanglements of bloody or firey big booms. 
 

The destination was unknown to our most gracious all compassionate benefactor, but Squibian charts of most detail across all of the galaxies are those of having no equals and I with my very large brain was able to discern the location beyond the grasp of all power hungry mongering empires nestled between many dead spaces of galaxies.  To go there would take the most powerful of all Squibian task forces too far from the fields of valued golden scraps and we would abandon our contracts. So I offer the job to you in exchange for a fair price. When we agree on a fair trade the destination,” he waggled the data chip in his other hand, “will be freely given. To aloudly speak of such a cursed world would bring cursed of ancient magicks unto your trek and I am bound by the deepest honors of my highest positions and familial superior lines of genes to not do so to a fellow sojourner of the space lanes. The Sith may still be quietly secret watching the world having only just been beaten with much slamming back with the forces of Squibian command turning the tide of battle. To go to Felucia and leave without Sith tail following is the catch.

 

If you have the fuel cells, such more shiny riches as these,” he tapped the hypercrystal in the table, “could be made yours. The amount is limited only by your programmed boundaries of imaginations. A storehouse of ill-gotten stolen Sith booty lies awaiting you at the end of your jumps, as much many as your ship may carry.”

 

Pausing, Reaper Joe shrugged before tucking the stone away again. “As to why anyone with sane minds would seek to go this far into the unstable core of the galactic center, you will have to nicely kind-like question ask our doctoring friend. She often very regularly goes to places where the people are of great sickness and in need of much magical mystical healer things.”
 

 

image.png.daf7e9c75e1f2acba314151d968a7e3b.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Zeris' cold, flinty eyes bored down on the squib captain. Her limbs, cybernetic replacements each of them, remained unnaturally still, and her breathing came as slow and steady as it might have if she had been asleep.

 

A core planet, a mysterious passenger, and potential Sith involvement...

 

"...Alright," she said after a few moments. She nodded at the data drive. "First offer. How much?"

 

Perhaps to emphasize her captured interest (or out of simple addiction) she fished out another cigarra and lit it, puffing away even as her eyes never left the little furry captain.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The pirate-salvager blinked. Had she really accepted his offer on premise alone? Either she was that hard up for cash or a junky for near-death experiences. Still, if she was a droid, she was a darn good one and if she was anything else, she was resourceful enough to piece herself back together.

 

Leaning back in his chair, the squirrelly green being scratched at the fur on his chin lime he was combing a fine beard, “Hmmmmm. I am greatly supposing that the proposition of a limb is of unappealing nature to you?” He asked without really expecting an answer.

 

Leaning back forward, the Squib jerked a thumb at the drooling barabel that he had witnessed the droid-woman-beast-thing best with ease. “What say you to a flat trade,” he waggled the datachip  in his hand. “One personal contract for another of equal or greater likey value. What are his terms of bonky head capturing and money moola collecting?”

image.png.daf7e9c75e1f2acba314151d968a7e3b.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Zeris clenched the cigarra in her teeth to free up her hand, and yanked the barabel up onto the table while she pulled out her data pad. With a thumb, she scrolled through the bounty list while propping up the barabel's head until his face (albeit less swollen) popped up in a flickering hologram. Zeris speed read the bounty before answering.

 

"15,000 dead. 45,000 alive.

 

...Embezzler. Wanted by Industrial Automata."

 

She dropped the barabel's head onto the table with a thunk and a muffled moan.

 

"Yours for the datastick." She paused as she thought of something. "And if there's nothing on it, I can find you."

  • Like 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

The Squib’s entire face lit up at the offer. So clean, so concise, so open to interpretation. As long as the data stick had something on it, he was off the hook. The pirate doubted a slimy fingerprint counted. Fortunately for him, he was not bluffing. The coordinates to Byss, the comm code to contact the still unidentified passenger on Felucia, and even a vague description of what was expected on the mission were all on the drive; after one broke the relatively simple randomized passcode the Squib had put on it to keep bosey bellies out that was.

 

”You big bombad trader in addition to your much mighty fine looks and robotical heart equivilants.” He responded, snapping his fingers. “We have a most holy and sacred binding deal. Let none, not even gods, icky demons, or the mysterio force undo it.”

 

Almost immediately a half dozen Squibs of varying colorations materialized from the shadows of the cantina. Each was armed to the teeth with what they called ‘salvaging equipment’. The heavy weapons clearly meant for something else. With a point from their leader, the Squibs scooped up the barabel and shackled his arms and feet before scurrying out the door with the groggy dazed lixard on their shoulders.

 

Reaper Joe turned from watching the show back to Zaris. He smiled, his mouth wide in a slightly unsettled rodent toothy grin. “Much great pleasurabilities doing thebtradey trade talksies business with you robot lady. Remembering to remind your memories of Squibian no take backing laws and of sacred duties to adhere to all portions of contrscts both talky verbalizarioned and written in messy bloods, inks, or other digitized dataing formulations. We, the greatest tribe of all great Squib tribes, loom forward to conducting large grand wholesome binding dealing trades with you again in the many futures. Good day!” And with that, Reaper Joe slapped the datachip on the table, hopped down from his chair and scurried out the door into the night. He hoped that he and his men could be far enough away before the woman realized the chip was password encrypted and even further if and when she found the clause contained within binding her to future jobs assisting one Jedi Master Healer, Leena Kil, at Squibian discretion, of course.

Edited by Leena Kil

image.png.daf7e9c75e1f2acba314151d968a7e3b.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Zeris eyes the squibs leaving, reasserting her dislike for the "colorful" species.

 

Sighing, she plugged the datastick into her pad.

 

Passcode required

 

A small smile was the only outward response she gave to the conveniently unmentioned complication.

 

She keyed up her comm, and sent the encrypted file off to one of the very few saved holomail addresses on her list. When it prompted her to send a message with the attachment, she thought for a moment, pressed the record button, and said, "Calling in a favor. Unlock this. You owe me two more."

 

__________________________

 

An hour later, her comm dinged, and a hologram of a seedy, skinny nikto flickered onto the display.

 

"Alright, pretty basic stuff here. Cracked it pretty quick. Remember what you said Zeris, only two more."

 

The recorded hologram of the man rubber his nose self-consciously, where an obvious break that had never healed right could be seen.

 

"And dont worry, I wont talk."

 

The hologram shut off with a click.

 

Zeris thumbed through the datastick's contents. Comm code, core planet coordinates...dangerous space there. And a binding clause for future contract work.

 

Zeris chuckled. She'd see how this worked out, and would have a proper contract drawn up with the actual customer.

 

She set her datapad to encrypt, and sent a message to Felucia.

 

*Message in Felucia topic*

  • Like 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

**An encrypted message dinged on Xeris Mons’ communicator, what followed was not a prerecorded holomessage, but a written correspondence on Jedi letterhead**
 

Ms Mons,

 

Your offer of assistance is much appreciated. If Reaper Joe has asked you to assist me, I am sure that you are quite qualified. I do wonder if our Squib associate left out some certain key details. You seem to know more than I do at this point. Reaper Joe was supposed to be locating an unidentified world for me and arranging transport for myself and a few associates to investigate an unknown force disturbance.

 

The payment you are requesting, may be higher than I am able to provide. The 10% of the base can be provided to you upon your arrival at Felucia. In addition, if you are taking this task from Reaper Joe and company, I can extend the same offering to you as has been given to them. Any salvageable scrap and wares, the owners of which cannot be identified or who have been labelled enemies of the Order, and having no intrinsic monastic value to the Jedi Order are, by rights, salvageable and obtainable by, in this case, you, one Zeris Mons.

 

I look forward to meeting with you. At this time, I am awaiting the arrival of my associates and upon the arrival of our team, we will be ready to depart under your expert piloting and navigational guidance.

 

Signed


Leena Kil

 

Leena Kil

Jedi Master Healer

Edited by Leena Kil

image.png.daf7e9c75e1f2acba314151d968a7e3b.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 3 weeks later...

Under the watchful eyes of the naval forces of the Imperial Remnant, Mon Cal had begun an upward spiral towards its former glory. Working side by side, Imperial engineers and scientists toiled beside Mon Cal and Quarren researchers, shipbuilders, and craftsmen. They worked tirelessly purging the seas of pollutants and returning the planet’s waters to their pristine nature.

 

The damaged cities were gone over from their coral depths to their peaked spires. Anything found damaged was returned to it’s former state, if not improved. The criminal enterprises that had sprung up under the watch of the Sith were routed and their machines returned to capital production. Those forced to toil in these conditions were freed, their employment restored to those who wished it. Homes were rebuilt and restored. Businesses were refurbished, repaired, and restocked.

 

Overhead the shipyards, worked in bondage to Apothos returned to their nationalized industrial past time, the production of unique and powerful space fairing craft. Several craft were near completed under the lash of the Sith’s machinations. They were; however, lacking in the unique touches that made each craft unique, mysterious, and powerful in it’s own right. Combing over every inch of the massive vessels, spaceborn engineers and machinists poured over the crafts hulls as others moved inch by inch through the interiors. In teams they righted intentional wrongs programmed into the craft, mended back feeds and sabotage and countless other small acts of rebellion against their Sith oppressors. From there, the uniqueness of Mon Cal ships were added to the craft.

 

In a matter of a month four new bulbous signature Mon Cal craft were in orbit over the glistening blue marble of a world. A half dozen more cruisers were already under production.


 

-MC90 Star Cruiser The Wailing Whaladon 25/25

Assault Lance [Kinetic Ram] Juggernaut


-MC90 Star Cruiser Reborn Hope 25/25

Heavy Brawler Escort: Hammer and Anvil

 

-MC80B Star Cruiser Devilsquid 25/35

Destroyer Group [Rail guns]: Focus Fire

 

-MC80a Star Cruiser Tessek’s Revenge 25/25

Search and Destroy Carrier Ghost Hunters

 

The world of Mon Cal was again flourishing under the rightful leadership of their own people. Side by side the aquatic races of the world stood and worked with the Remnant. Once again, Mon Cal was a beacon of freedom to an oppressed galaxy.

kol2.png.1d12933059e161bb1d4824942dd151d8.png

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • Esterhazy changed the title to Mon Calamari/Dac
×
×
  • Create New...