Building an Empire. [ATTN: Raif]

[Kreeps]

Six Months Prior To Present Day, Blue Sector, Coronet City, Corellia, Corellian Sector, Alliance Space.
Jester walked out of the office at the back of one of Coronets nicer clubs. The Blues Sector was a harsh parallel to the rest of Coronet. While the majority of the city was a bustling metropolis, home to the Corellian government, The Blue Sector was a rough neighborhood populated by seedy cantinas, corrupt dance clubs and all other brands of filth. Jester wasn't a huge fan of conducting business on Corellia. Sure it was a beautiful planet and all, and there was definitely a market here, but CorSec was a thorn in his side. CorSec was known as one of the more competent law enforcement agencies in The Galaxy, a model for many a planetary police force. However police presence had its benefits. On criminal controlled, outer rim worlds like Nar Shadaa with no law of any kind, Spice was widely available and dirt cheap. On developed, civilized core worlds like Corellia, it was less available, and much, much more expensive. Jester looked at the high denomination credit chips he had just made. 120,000 Alliance credits. A decent take, considering the amount he had sold would have netted him 20,000 in the Outer Rim. It was amazing how profitable the Spice market could be on worlds like this. the scumbag club owner he had just sold his product to could easily triple the amount he paid. Especially with Glow, the exclusive strain Jester had just sold him. Once Coronets underworld got a taste of it, the market would explode. From then on, Jester would have his small time smugglers deliver the Glow. He liked to make the first sale on a new world himself. To build reputation and let people know who the real King was.

He walked through the bustling club. Neon lights, lasers and stobes flashed around the dance floor. Young Corellians, some poor, a surprising amount rich, danced to the ear smashing music blasting from the clubs many speakers. It was a cool spot for a young person wanting a fling, maybe planning to have some drinks and a little spice. So these are my Corellian customers... Jester thought as he looked over the dance floor. Nobody noticed him, they were either too drunk, high or enamored with each other to care about the dark dressed bald man whisping his way through the crowd. Jester could use a drink, and hell, he was already here. He walked through a sliding door adorned with neon lights of all colors and into the cantina room. This was one of the bigger clubs in The Blue Sector, combining a hip club for the young rich kids to use on the weekends, and a cantina for the regulars. surely a profitable arrangement, seeing how crowded the place was. Maybe I'll open a few clubs one day. Jester thought. They were certainly a good cover for a Spice den, but the operating costs probably took a bite out of profits. That's why Jester liked the Spice trade. Every credit he made was almost pure profit. Once you get your production centers set up, it costs pennies of the credit to make, and is worth hundreds of times what it cost tor produce it.

He walked up to the bar. Time to place his typical order.

"Hey, bartender, best thing you got."

The bartender walked over.

"Everything we got is the best buddy."

Jester smiled at the boast.

"The best of the best then."

The bartender nodded. He disappeared into the back room and came back out with a tall, clear bottle, holding a shimmering golden, bubbling liquid.

"Here it is, Corellian Champagne, fresh from the producer. 10,000 for the bottle and 800 for a glass."

Jester smiled again. His kind of swill.

"I'll buy the bottle." Jester said, pulling a 10,000 cred chip out the the pocket inside his long black jacket. Heh, funny, the clubs owner had just handed him this.

"Alright here ya go. Gonna drink all that yourself?"

Jester thought for a second.

"Maybe."

The bartender let out a laugh.

"Big drinker eh?"

"You could say that."

Jester cracked open the bottle and took a long swig right off. It was an exquisite drink. Tasty as hell, and reasonably strong. Now to find someone to share it with, or maybe not. He scanned the bar. In the corner there seemed to be a Saabac game going on. At the table sat a rich looking human kid, no older than 19, a sketchy looking human, probably in his thirties, and a giant blue alien. He was the one that stood out. The guy was a mountain of muscle. Jester thought what species he could be, Feeorin he thought it was. Wait... didn't some Feeorin smuggler beat out a Sith Lord or something like that not too long ago? Maybe that was the guy, and if it was, he had to meet him.

Jester took another long swig from the bottle, it was obviously not intended for one guy, but Jester was never known as a responsible drinker. He walked up to the Saabac table and slammed the bottle down on the corner.

"You guys wanna deal me in?" He said casually, holding up a hand full of credit chips, shimmering in the neon lights of the club.

 

[Raif]

Gar was down on his luck. Actually, to say he was down on his luck was a massive understatement. His crew had left him, each to pursue more lucrative opportunities, until eventually he was all alone.

Just him and his ship. Well, truth be told it wasn't even really his ship, given the fact that he had stolen it and all.

But that's beside the point. Gar had a ship...actually he used to have a ship.

His most recent job hadn't exactly gone well. What was supposed to have been a simple grab-and-go on Selonia had resulted in a space chase of epic proportions. Somehow those blasted CorSec do-gooders had been waiting for him once he broke atmosphere, and then things got real crazy real quick.

Thanks to some mighty impressive flying, if he did say so himself, he had lost them by going to ground on Corellia, using map of the earth flying to evade detection until he reached Coronet City.

At least he thought he had lost them. After taking a very brief "pitstop" at the nearest cantina to calm his nerves, Gar had returned to his berth at the spaceport to see his ship swarming with CorSec.

And so Gar had gone to do what Gar did best: drink his cares away. He had stumbled from one place to the next until he had eventually wound up in this Blue Sector cantina with barely a credit to his name. In fact, the entire reason he had entered into this particular Sabaac game was to be able to afford his bar tab; otherwise he might have to try and slip out the door quick fast and in a hurry once it came time to pay the bill.

Thankfully, this young human with more money than common sense seemed perfectly willing to help fund Gar's future endeavors. He was so drunk that he didn't even notice that Gar and the shady-looking human sitting across from him were cheating their asses off.

All in all, it was shaping up to be an alright evening after all. As long as the twerp kept handing out his credits Gar would be able to buy passage off planet within the hour.

And then up walks baldy, slamming down an extraordinarily expensive bottle of bubbly and asking to join in on their game. Gar would have gladly told the man exactly what sort of game he could go play with himself, but he held back from speaking.

Something about this guy was...different. You didn't survive in this game as long as Gar had without developing something of a sixth sense, and right now Gar's was tingling something fierce; this was not a man to be trifled with.

And so Gar put on his best smile, gestured good-naturedly toward the empty seat next to him, and said:

"Well make y'self at home, pal. 'm sure we c'n make s'room fer ya."

While he was gesturing with one hand, his other was checking to make sure his hold out blaster was ready to go if he needed to make a quick exit.

 

[Kreeps]

Jester took his seat next to the large alien. He spoke with a heavy, slangy accent. Nothing wrong with that in Jesters mind. Hell it even reminded him of home a little bit. The other two players stayed silent. The older guy giving Jester a silent nod and the young kid seemed to barely notice him. Poor guy, he was way too blitzed to be gambling right now. Not Jesters problem. If anything the little prick deserved to get daddy's money jacked in a game of late night saabac by some people who actually needed it. Jester hated rich privileged punks. Think they're hot shit because some guy in his family actually worked hard for once. Sure Jester had money, but you would never be able to tell from looking at him or talking to him. The only time his wealth really showed was when he ordered a drink. He had expensive tastes but that was about it. Besides, Jester had earned his cash with blood, sweat and a distinct lack of tears.

The older human dealt everyone a hand. Jester couldn't help but notice that he was taking a peek at every card he passed out. Whatever, he would let it slide. He could afford to lose a few credits and something told him that he would inevitably fare better than the drunken punk in the corner. Jester peeked at his cards, then left them face down on the table. Everyone placed their bets. The large alien and the older guy threw in small amounts, while the drunk kid tossed in a 1,000 credit chip. What an ass. Jester thought as he watched the kid. He wasn't here to win big so he dropped in 100 cred chip. He took a swig from the bottle sitting next to him then placed it back on the table.

"Any of you boys want some feel free, I don't give a shit." He said calmly, pointing to the bottle of champagne. There was still three quarters left at least.

Before long everyone revealed their cards. The alien had won out this time as he swept the pile of chips on the table into his lap.

"Good hand brother. Hey I gotta say you look familiar, are you in the... shipping field by any chance?" Jester asked the alien. It was his roundabout way of asking if he was a smuggler, which he pretty obviously was. If his intuition had served him right, this would be the infamous Feeorin smuggler he had heard about. Name was Gar or Gore or something like that.

 

[Raif]

Gar helped himself when the newcomer offered up his booze. One of the nice things about being a Feeorin was that it was damned hard to catch any sort of sickness off anyone but another Feeorin - and in Gar's long life he could count one one hand how many times he'd seen another of his race.

"'Tis awful kind o'ya. Harder drinks're more ma style, but if'n ya like bubbly then good on ya."

The hand played out, and Gar refrained from cheating until he could get a better read on their new generous guest. And lookin there, he won! Maybe he should try playing fair more often...or not.

He was halfway through taking in his winnings when baldy asked about his line of work. Despite his best efforts Gar paused for just a second, then finished dumping them into his lap. When he did he also left one hand below the table, a not so subtle gesture in a place like this. The shifty human across from him began to visibly sweat, knowing that things had just gotten tense. Junior on the other hand, continued to cackle and wave at the pretty twi'lek serving girl; the drunken idiot was oblivious.

Gar looked at the newcomer, bringing a finger up to pick at a piece of food caught in his teeth as if everything were completely fine.

"Wellie now, maybs I am an' maybs I ain't. Wazzit to ya?"

Though Gar may appear at first glance to be a muscle bound simpleton, and that impression may be strengthened as soon as he opens his mouth to speak, he was at times a cunning and deadly creature. Right now was one of those times. He already had three different escape plans rolling around his mind, ready to spring into action depending on how the human next to him responded.

 

[Kreeps]

Jester watched as the alien paused. He had one hand still under the table, probably on his blaster. Fair enough. Questions like that can make anyone suspicious, but Jester wasn't here to collect a debt, and he was about the farthest thing from CorSec. He took a moment to take another swig from the bottle before he opened his mouth to speak.

"Well if you were, I just might have a job for a someone in that line of work. Provided they like credits and don't drop their cargo at the first sign of trouble."

Jester set the bottle down calmly, maintaining his cool. This alien was probably still suspicious, but Jester was cool as a cucumber. If Jester was in his position, he would probably be just as skeptical. If the alien was who he thought he was, something told Jester that they would soon be cashing out and talking business. This sketchy human and the drunk kid in the corner didn't need to hear any of that. Jester kept his hands off of his pistol, which was concealed on a shoulder holster in his jacket. He wasn't here for a gunfight, though it wouldn't come to that. Maybe this day could get even better. If this gigantic alien could cross paths with a Sith and live to tell the tale, he could make both Jester and himself quite a lot of credits.

 

[Raif]

Gar looked at his guest for a long moment, then nodded his head: he had made up his mind. He directed a pointe look at Shifty across the table, who thankfully took the hint and got the hell out of dodge. Gar didn't even waste time trying something like that with Junior. Instead he whistled shrilly at the bartender.

"Oi! Bring a bottle'o Afterburner an' get this kid outta 'ere!"

Gar directed a thumb toward the drunked kid, then lowered his voice.

"Yer payin fer that bottle, by the by. I ain't talkin bidness wifout sum'in strong ta drink."

Within moments the boy was gently escorted from the bar and Gar was taking swigs from a bottle of liquor which could double as hyperdrive coolant in an emergency. It was toxic for the vast majority of species in the galaxy, and highly flammable as well. Just the way the big Feeorin liked it

After slamming back a deep pull from the bottle, he belched loudly before speaking again.

"A'ight, bub, you got yerself an int'rested party here. An' rest assured, guy like me, there ain't much in this galaxy that'll make me drop ma cargo. Belie' that."

Gar couldn't help but think back to his run in with that Sith bitch, Andraste, as he spoke these last words.

"Name's Gar, by tha by. Try keepin that lil tidbit to yerself, thank ya."

 

[Kreeps]

Jester watched contently as Gar booted their company out of their table. The sleazy looking human was gone half a second after Gar made eye contact, and the drunk prick practically got dragged out of the bar. Not exactly the way Jester would have done it, he's more about the subtle approach. Then again, it can't be easy for a seven foot tall alien to be any kind of subtle. Jester watched as Gar ordered himself a bottle of Afterburner, a hard liquor that Jester could smell from 5 feet away. When Gar said Jester would be paying for it, he just silently stuck up his thumb and nodded. Compared to the swill he was drinking, the Afterburner was cheap as hell.

"No other way to talk business brother." Jester said with a smile at Gars comment about needing a strong drink.

After watching Gar knock back a huge swath of the pungent liquor, he listened to what he had to say. Jester certainly believed him. This giant of a man didn't look like the skittish type. After Gar introduced himself Jester did the same.

"The name's Jester. Good to meet you. I gotta say you have quite the rep amigo. You'll have to tell me about you're run in with you know who some other time. For now lets talk about the important stuff. Now I'm in the business of producing and distributing some... less than legal substances. I need people to transport them from my labs to my contacts across the Galaxy. I could also use anyone that can set up new contacts. People I can trust. I'll tell you right now that there will be a lot of credits for the both of us."

Jester was a professional at "making offers you can't refuse". Honestly though, no criminal worth his salt and no smuggler worth his ship would pass up an offer like that. However, Jester also knew from experience that nothing is ever as easy as saying a few nice words. Trust has to be earned and power has to be proven.

 

[Raif]

Gar sat back, listening as his new friend laid his offer on the table. He mumbled softly to himself as he mentally digested what he was hearing:

"Less'n'legal..."

Gar knew exactly what that meant. Spice. Despite his many years as a criminal, Gar didn't actually have the most hands on experience with this particular niche of the underworld. He wasn't exactly in a position to be overly choosy, however, and just because he hasn't directly dealt with spice before didn't mean he couldn't learn quickly - in this field you either learned quickly or you were dead quickly.

"S'quite a yarn yer spinnin fer me there, Jester ol' buddy ol' pal. If it's all true, o'course. As fer me, transportin's somethin of a spesh-ee-ality o' mine...not countin' my recent troubles, that is. And speakin' o' settin' up new contacts, well...I been told I got me a likeable face, haw haw!"

Gar slapped the table with one of his massive hands as he laughed at himself, then took another deep swig of the Afterburner. He was going to need another bottle if he kept up this pace, and so he turned to look at the bartender, intending to ask if he had anymore hidden back there somewhere.

And so he was watching as the door busted inwards, followed by several armed and armored CorSec agents.

EVERYONE FREEZE!!!!

 

[Kreeps]

The Law, always trying to ruin the fun.
The agents had just booted in the door. Four of them, wearing police armor and holding blaster rifles. Jester looked up at Gar. They were either here for him, or Jester. Then again maybe they wanted the owner, his involvement in Spice and all. This is exactly why I don't like this damn planet. Jester thought. This was it, if they were here for Gar, it would be mere seconds before they spotted him, he would be hard to miss. Jester started running through his options. What could he use here? He had his standard kit, blaster pistol, vibroknife, concussion grenades... That was it. The concussion grenades. They were designed to blind, deafen and disorient. It was for exactly this purpose that Jester kept two of them on his person at all times. He looked up at Gar again, he was frozen in place, probably running through his options as well.

"We gotta run for it. Count to three, close your eyes and ears then bolt for the door. Nobody gets in the way." Jester said quietly and quickly. He hoped Gar had heard him and knew what he meant. He slid the two concussion grenades into his hand. holding them in his jacket so they were concealed should the CorSec agents look over. He slid a switch on each grenade with his thumb, causing them to blink, then nodded to Gar.

This was it, their only chance out of here without ending up in cuffs. Jester threw the two grenades towards the CorSec agents, closing his eyes as his did so. He moved his hands over his ears as soon as they left his hands, hoping to minimize the effects of two concussion grenades in an enclosed space, a space made of durasteel to boot. The grenades flew through the air, landing in the middle of the group of agents. Instinctively they all turned to look at the two blinking metal spheres that had just flown into their midst. The worst possible reaction. Then...

BANG!

An ungodly loud bang rang out through the room, accompanied by a blinding flash of light. Even to Jesters covered ears it was painfully loud, but he could still hear. He stood immediately and started bolting for the door. The CorSec agents were walking around aimlessly, holding their bleeding ears and yelling in pain, as were many of the bars other patrons. Cries of pain, and things such as "MY EYES! I CAN'T SEE AGGHHHH!" rang out through the club as Jester made a beeline for the door. As he was running, he reached into his shoulder holster, expecting CorSec to be waiting outside...

 

[Raif]

Thankfully the pandemonium that one would expect from a CorSec forced entry covered the very brief "scheming" between Gar and Jester, and the big alien simply nodded his head and waited for the fun to start.

He had no idea who the cops were after, but it didn't really matter all that much given the immediate circumstances.

As Jester's hands flew towards the agents, Gar immediately tucked his face into to crook of his elbow to protect his vision as much as possible. He covered his aural openings/ears as much as he could, but he knew that it was mostly a wasted effort; those grenades appeared to be flashbangs, and there was nothing Gar could do inside this closed in space to protect his hearing entirely. It was his eyes he was going to need the most.

The bang came and went, even more painful than Gar remembered it being - let's face it, this wasn't Gar's first tangle with a flashbang - and then Gar was up and moving away from the table. He couldn't completely deny his baser instincts, forever, and his left hand remained gripped tight around the neck of the Afterburner bottle.

Gar was going to yell for Jester to get behind him, but knew his words wouldn't be heard anyway, so instead he just roughly jerked the bald human behind him, lowered his massive shoulder, and plowed the way through the stumbling and shocked CorSec troopers. They fell like so many bowling pins; Gar was the juggernaut, bitch.

As they moved through the door and into the alleyway outside, Gar pulled up short for a second, blinking his eyes and looking around frantically. CorSec was sure to have some back up around here somewhere...

ZAP

A blaster bolt zipped through Gar's upper arm, ripping an angry line of flesh and burning a hole through the sleeve of one of his favorite shirts. The wound itself was nothing compared to some he'd received over the years, but:

"Argh! Ma frikkin' shirt!!"

Gar turned to see two additional CorSec agents - probably rookies, judging by their young faces and the fact they had been left to guard the patrol speeders. One of them held a smoking blaster pistol, and appeared to be yelling; probably telling Gar and Jester to freeze or drop to the ground or something like that. Gar couldn't hear, and even if he did he wouldn't care.

In a blur of speed that would be surprising for a being of his size, Gar chucked the bottle of alcohol toward the two rookies. It sped toward the pair as time seemed to slow, and as it hovered just between the two young Corellians, Gar drew his blaster and fired.

The blaster bolt struck the bottle, causing the highly-flammable contents to superheat and expand in an awesome ball of fire and heated glass shards. The two agents fell to the ground, bleeding from a dozen small shrapnel wounds and their armor burned and smoldering in several places. The kids were alive, sure, but they weren't going to be giving chase any time soon.

"Haw! Ah kent 'lieve that bluddy werked!! Les' move, Chuckles."

Gar hurried toward the now-unguarded CorSec patrol speeders. His first instinct was to get behind the wheel and drive, but he didn't exactly have anywhere to go. Jester, on the other hand, seemed like the kind of guy who would have a hidey-hole not too far from here, so the big Feeorin instead squeezed himself into the backseat of the nearest speeder. From there he could provide cover for their escape if need be.

 

[Kreeps]

As Jester was making a break for the door he was suddenly shocked as a massive and grabbed his arm and a massive blue body charged in front of him. He ripped through the incapacitated CorSec agents like they were paper at a high school sporting event. Seconds later they were outside.

Two young CorSec agents were waiting for them. One fired his blaster as soon as he saw the hulking beast that was Gar, but the bolt just grazed his shoulder. Typical cop, can't shoot to save his life. That graze seemed to enrage Gar, who yelled something about his favorite shirt as he through the bottle of deadly liquor between the two rookie. In an incredible display of skill, he pulled his blaster and shot the bottle mid air, blowing the two cops to hell.

"Holy shit!" Jester said as the two CorSec boys burst in to flame. If that raid wasn't for them, it certainly was now. Multiple charges of assault on a CorSec officer and accesory to the murder of a CorSec officer for Jester, and vice versa for Gar. They needed to get the hell of world NOW.

Gar jumped in the passenger seat of the patrol speeder, and Jester took that as his cue to take the helm. He jumped in and took off as fast as he could, sending the speeding whistling and humming into the cool night air. Shit where are we gonna go? The spaceport will be crawling with CorSec, but of they stayed on the planet, or in the entire Corellian sector for that matter they were dead meat.

"My ship is in Docking Bay 941 at CorSec spaceport, where's yours? We gotta ditch this rock." Jester yelled over the growling engines as he took off towards the tower that was Coronet Spaceport. If they were lucky, the CorSec guys they just wrecked were either too dead or too deaf and blind to call in their descriptions, or that fact that a patrol speeder just got jacked.

 

[Raif]

Gar had to fight the urge to look over his shoulder as they took off into the night. Acting casual was what was needed at this point, otherwise anyone who glanced in their direction would be able to immediately tell they dust belong in this speeder.

As Jester began laying plans for their escape, Gar made a face when asked about his ship.

"Well'uh, y'see, 's actually a funny story bout ma ship. It's, uh, whadya call it, incapacitated? Yeah, that's it, on account'o is'swarmin wit CorSec last time I checked."

Gar smiled again, laughed, and clapped Jester on the shoulder with a massive hand.

"Kriff it, blasted ship won't really mine t'begin wit anywho, seeins how ah stoled it an all. So ah say yer ship sounds plenty good'ta me."

 

[Kreeps]

Jester listened as the hulking alien spoke. So his ship was impounded. Awesome. They could go to his ship to recuperate and figure something out, but Gar needed a ship. Jester thought for a moment... the ship was stolen... hmm... that gave him a few ideas, but he would wait until they got back to The Jester to choose one.

"Your ship is impounded? Damn, that's rough. You're gonna need a ship. You said you stole it, from who?" Jester asked. One of his possible plans would require that information. The plan that didn't involve blasters and a even more dead CorSec agents. The police speeder neared the monumental tower that was Coronet Spaceport. Jester smoothly glided the craft down to one of the less occupied speeder pads. The building was massive, from their vantage point you could see all of Coronet, glittering like a jewel in the night. But now wasn't the time for sight seeing.

"Follow me big guy, I'll give you a grand tour of my ship and we can figure something out about that little impoundment." Jester motioned for Gar to follow him. The walked quickly through the halls. Luckily they weren't too busy, as this was one of the higher levels and most of the pilots who made landfall today were getting drunk off their asses in The Blue Sector or sleeping. No CorSec to be seen either. A little bit of luck to top of an extraordinarily unlucky day. Finally they reached the hangar where The Jester was resting. The sliding door opened to reveal the YT-2000. It was a nice ship. Jester had gotten it painted black out of personal taste and upgraded the older craft to the maximum. Modern aeronautics, weapons, shields and a supreme hyperdrive. But the real beauty of the ship was inside.

"Come on in." Jester said as he walked up the entrance ramp and into his ship. The entrance brought them right into the "living area" of the vessel and Jester took a seat at the small table in the corner.

"So here's the deal. I help you get your ship back, you start doing some jobs for me. You straight with that?"

 

[Raif]

"Ah, well y'see thass actually a'long story, so 'tis, but th'short answer'd be it used t'belong t'a prison warden. Specifically, the warden o'the prison ah used ta be'a "guest" at, if'n ya take mah meanin'. O'course, heh, the riot that me'an mah buddy A'den used as a cover to bust outta th'clink left th'warden dead, so it won't like he's likely ta miss tha ship, ya dig? Haw haw!"

Gar spoke his short tale as they made their way into the space port, and whistled appreciatively as they entered Jester's ship. Gar appreciated classic beauty when it came to starships, and there was just something sexy about anything with a YT prefix in front of its designation. These Corellians may have a hard-on for law and order and locking up hard working folk, but they sure could build a starship.

Gar took the offered seat and listened to Jester's new offer, nodding his head as the man spoke.

"Well now, Jester, I reckon ah'm about as straight as lightspeed with that there deal. T'be honest witcha, though, The Fool's Errand was a great ship, an' it got me through more'n a few scrapes, let me tell ya. But ever since mah boy A'den got all twised'n'tangled with that there Mandalorian Civil War nonsense, ah've been thinkin' o' downsizin' anywho.

So here's what ah'm thinkin'. By now them CorSec do-gooder's'll have reported what went down at th'cantina, o'course. Them young'uns I blasted wit that bottle are blooded, sure, but they ain't dead. The good thing is, though, they likely only got a decent look'a me. So they'll put two an' two together, figure ah''ll be headin' back ta mah ship, and that part o' the port'll be swimmin' with badges an' blasters."

Gar leaned back, clasping his hands behind his head with a devious look on his face.

"Which means, Chuckles mah boy, security in the rest o' the port'll be weakened, seein's how they'll have tah bleed resources to double up on The Fool. Leavin' the way open fer me tah help mahself to any of tha other dozens o' ships 'round here. Maybe one day ah'll come back fer The Fool, but today ain't zactly mah lucky day. Whaddya say?"

 

[Kreeps]

Jester listened as Gar spoke. He wanted to ditch his old ship, and... acquire a new one. That was unexpected, every smuggler he had ever met practically was married to your ship. But this showed versatility, a good quality in the underworld that's for sure. Adding smuggling compartments and ugrades wouldn't be cheap, but Jester would help him with that. Assuming he couldn't find one that was decked out already...

"Steal a new one eh? I like your style Gar I gotta say. That's a solid idea. What can I do to help?"

Jester had always had credits, so he wasn't exactly sure what kind of work went into stealing a ship. He was more the robber, less the thief. Easier to have what you want handed to you at blasterpoint than sneak in and hack and hijack and all kinds of other crap. But Gar seemed to know what he was talking about, and a deal is a deal.

"A deal is a deal brother. I only got two things in this world, my balls, and my word, and I don't break em' for no one." Jester had made this man a deal, and he would follow through, even if he had to kill half of CorSec to do it.

 

[Raif]

Gar shook his head emphatically, spit into his palm, and held his hand out to seal the deal.

Once that was out of the way, Gar leaned in to get to the plotting and the scheming. His jovial attitude had been replaced by a look of concentration: when it came down to business, Gar was all business. More or less. At least, he was more serious than otherwise.

"S'here's the thing. Shipjackin', at least a successful shipjackin', ain't usually somethin ya wanna rush into, y'dig? Given that we ain't got ourselves much'o'a choice, though, we're gonna have ta cut some corners. First thing, we need ourselves a mark. We ain't gotta lotta time, so we'll have to hope yer instincts is good. An' yep, I said yer instincts; I'm too much o'a easy target if'n I go wand'rin' round the 'port.

I reckon we focus on the luxury berths; a big lug like me ain't likely to make many friends in that part'o the spaceport, so it'll be tha last place CorSec expects me. Keep yer eye open for anythin' unattended, or anyone looks like'n they could be...persuaded to help us out, if'n ya get mah meanin'.

You mark 'em, I move in' an' bust the lock or bust some lips, either way, it's our best chance. You in?"

 

[Kreeps]

Gar spit in his hand and held it out for Jester to shake, a common gesture among the underworld culture. Jester did the same then shook the giant aliens hand with as much firmness as he could muster keeping his eyes locked with him. A handshake can tell you a lot about a man. Jester knew this guy was legit despite his recent mishaps. Jester listened intently as Gar explained "shipjackin'". Jester had a criminal mind through and through and was always interested in adding a new skill to his arsenal. He needed to find a mark. Jester didn't think it would be a problem. His instincts were among the best. they'd kept him around this long at least.

"Alright Gar, I'm in. I got something for you first though." Jester stood and walked to a durasteel footlocker sitting in the corner of the living area, opened it, and retrieved two comlinks.

"Two way comlinks, short range, but secure. Not even the best slicer could listen in on our conversation with these. Just press the button and talk. I'll let you know when I've found a mark." Jester handed the small, cylindrical object to Gar after explaining its use. It was a simple, but effective tool.

"Alright brother. I'm gonna go browse the wares, I'll give you a call once I find something."Jester stood, nodded at Gar and left the ship. He exited the hanger and walked into the shining, clean hallway of Coronet Spaceport. Left or Right? Left. Jester started walking, looking through the windows into the hangars. Most were either full of techs, or locked up tight. Most of the ships were sub par any way and wouldn't be worthy of a man like Gar. He had almost done a full lap when he spotted someone sitting outside of the door of one of the hangars. The person was just sitting there, sprawled out, reeking of liqour. Jester peekd through the window. On the other side was a beautiful ship, probably one of the nicest Jester had ever seen. He walked up to the guy.

"Hey. Hey! Buddy!" Jester said, his voice getting louder. No response. Wait a second... that's that Sabaac playing punk from the bar! The kid was completely passed out. Blitzed. Jester grinned, a rare sight. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the comlink.

"Hey Gar, I think I found you a ship buddy."

 

[Raif]

Gar busied himself while Jester went out to recon. He knew that, as a Feeorin, he was extraordinarily easy to pick out of a crowd; not many people missed someone of his size, or with a headfull of tentacles hanging down around his shoulders.

So Gar needed a disguise. He quickly checked around Jester's shipping, hoping the man wouldn't mind his "snooping." It took him only a moment to find what he was looking for: black electrical tape. Gathering his head-tentacles into two even bunches, he wrapped the tape around in a sort of weaving pattern; ultimately, instead of a bunch of tentacles it now looked like he only had two. Gar was now the biggest freaking Twi'lek in the history of universe.

That was ok though. He knew, from having used this makeshift disguise in the past, that he could reduce his physical appearance a bit just through slouching and other sorts of subservient body language; when you acted small, people took you as small.

Gar was just putting the finishing touches on his disguise when the comm crackled and Jester reported that he'd found somebody.

Damn, that was quick. Here goes nothing...

Gar relayed to his partner that he was on his way after getting the location of their mark from the man...

...and couldn't help but laugh out loud when he saw who Jester was standing next to.

"Junior! Ah swear yer mah guardian angel, lil buddy. Here 'e goes, upsy daisy, wakey wakey!"

Gar easily hefted the drunken man up and out of his sleeping position, giving him a few light slaps on the face to wake him up. Or at least, open his eyes, which was all Gar needed to get through Hangar security. As the young man mumbled drunkenly about some pony that he wanted for next life day, Gar held his face up to the security reader just long enough for the droid brain there to get a retinal scan.

And, whoosh, just like that they were through the door and heading for the ship. And what a nice ship it was, as well. Figures, rich kid like this gets all the nice toys. As the approached the hatch for the ship itself, Gar just shook his head when he saw the kid hadn't even locked it. Just like rich people, trusting hangar security to keep the riff raff out.

Gar continued half-carrying/half-guiding the drunkard up the ramp and into the ship, then dumped him on the first out-of-the-way flat surface he could find. He then made a bee-line for the cockpit.

He whistled in appreciation for the second time that night as he saw how well-equipped this ship was.

"Daddy must'a been awful nice ta you, sonny. An' lookie where it gotcha. Maybs a few more spankins and a few less tricked-out starship'd helped ya out in the long run. Not that ah'm complain, mind."

Gar quickly settled into the pilot seat and began familiarizing himself with his surroundings. As he was doing so, he looked over his shoulder and called out to Jester.

"Ey Chuckles! Why dontcha take a looksie 'round this bad boy, see if'n this kid's got any other nice toys 'e wants'ta be sharin' wit us."

 

[Kreeps]

Jester couldn't help but chuckle as Gar picked the hammered kid up like a ragdoll and opened the hangar door. The ship waiting inside sure was a flashy piece of tech. Chrome paint, blue accent lights, probably had one hell of a luxury interior. Maybe Jester would buy a ship like that, but probably not. He loved his YT-2000 and had already dumped massive piles of credits into it anyway. The only ship he could see himself buying in the future was a yacht.

As Jester entered the hangar Gar asked him if he wanted to have a look around the new ship.

"Hell, I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to." Jester said as he walked up the ramp and into the ship. Well isn't this a piece of work. Jester thought as he entered. Everything on board was brand spankin' new. Nice furniture, ambient lighting, enough chrome to blind you, this sure was a beast of a ship. Seeing as this kid was a little rich prick, he probably loved his spice. Jester's inner businessman took over once again as he started looking for any sort of hidden compartments. He checked everywhere. The bathroom, cockpit, living area, bedroom, dorms, nothing to be found. He made a second sweep then came back out into the living area. He sat down on one of the luxury couches in front of a table feeling kind of disappointed. As he thought of possible hiding places he started to absentmindedly drum on the table in front of him. the his finger pressed a little deeper than usual and he looked up to see that he had pushed a button. the table folded back and revealed a whole area, masterfully hidden that could easily conceal an entire crate of Spice.

"Yo Gar! Come check this out!"

 

[Raif]

Gar had been busy getting the preflight checklist taken care of - thankfully, on a boat like this, it was about 90% automated. At the same time, he compiled and sent to the tower a completely bogus but believable-enough-for-their-purposes flight plan which involved The Birth Right - Gar literally laughed out loud when he found out that's what this ship had been christened, and immediately began counting down the second before he could make a permanent change - taking a leisurely jaunt out towards the twin planets of Talus and Tralus and then returning the next morning.

When he heard Jester hollering for him, Gar took one last look to make sure the automated start up procedures were continuing on schedule before heading aft. On the way he passed Junior, still unconscious, and made a mental note to go ahead and stash the kid in an escape pod as soon as possible. No use running the risk he might miraculously sober up any time soon.

Heading toward the main living area, he saw Jester waving him over and staring at the table.

"Yeah, wazzup? Whatcha want me ta--"

Gar cut his sentence short when he saw the hollowed out smuggler's cubby inside in the table. He knew immediately where Jester's mind was, and a big smile split his blue face.

"Haw haw, looks like our young'un Junior ain't so innocent as ah first was thinkin'! Ah do believe this tub'll do nicely fer what we're needin' it fer. Frick, if'n I get ridda some'o this gaudy chrome ah might even keep it permanent-like. So whatcha say, Jester, ready to blow this pop stand?"