The luxury liner was said to be one of a kind, drifting through space without fear of being preyed upon by pirates or the like. It was outfitted with its fair share of shields and armaments, enough to ward off buzzing insects, and just as much had express tickets to call in Republic, FWA, ISC and whatever other acronym or otherwise for immediate support.
No surprise, given that a number of its passengers were VIPs, and it did have its own entourage escorting it from star to planet. So, no, dangerous folk weren’t an overhanging concern for Nine Clouds. Its main concern was its own passengers.
Only its crew had no idea just how dangerous one of those passengers was.
The cruise ship cruised along, the helm steering toward Coruscant a ways in front of Ord Mantell, which ultimately meant that it was simply somewhere in the space in between, and space was merciless.
Such a beautiful behemoth, the lady who was called Nine Clouds. There was surely a story behind the name. Maybe nine tycoons got together to create the cruise line? Maybe it was the name of a video game? Maybe some di’kut pissed the name into the wind one starry night after suffocating his brother?
Di’kut, one soul chortled to himself. Mandalorians always did have a way with words. And so do I.
“Have you seen this man?” He showed the photo, the image, the picture, the holo-something-or-other-thing.
“Hm?” The bartender blinked. “No.” And, like that, he was back to tending the bar in the upper deck of the ship where passengers came to mingle.
The patron shrugged, set the photo on the counter, gazed at it. There was no mistaking the face. It was him all right. My greatest enemy...my greatest friend...my nemesis…
Moments passed. Kayden Skyler sucked from the nectar in his glass. Red wine, the best Merlot this side of severed space, licked his throat as though a harlot kissing his neck. Then he burst out laughing.
“My greatest enemy!? Greatest friend!? Nemesis!?” Kayden caught his breath, looked at the patron on the stool beside him; some dumb Ithorian. “As if!”
“Who are you looking for, buddy?” Came a measured voice, like the speaker was flirting between curious and cautious, or just irritated.
So Kayden showed the other stool, some stupid Human, the photo-thing. “Him.”
“What’s his name?”
“Di’kut.”
“...”
“Then kriff the kark off before I flay the skin off your ears and feed what’s left to the Ithorian.”
No surprise, given that a number of its passengers were VIPs, and it did have its own entourage escorting it from star to planet. So, no, dangerous folk weren’t an overhanging concern for Nine Clouds. Its main concern was its own passengers.
Only its crew had no idea just how dangerous one of those passengers was.
The cruise ship cruised along, the helm steering toward Coruscant a ways in front of Ord Mantell, which ultimately meant that it was simply somewhere in the space in between, and space was merciless.
Such a beautiful behemoth, the lady who was called Nine Clouds. There was surely a story behind the name. Maybe nine tycoons got together to create the cruise line? Maybe it was the name of a video game? Maybe some di’kut pissed the name into the wind one starry night after suffocating his brother?
Di’kut, one soul chortled to himself. Mandalorians always did have a way with words. And so do I.
“Have you seen this man?” He showed the photo, the image, the picture, the holo-something-or-other-thing.
“Hm?” The bartender blinked. “No.” And, like that, he was back to tending the bar in the upper deck of the ship where passengers came to mingle.
The patron shrugged, set the photo on the counter, gazed at it. There was no mistaking the face. It was him all right. My greatest enemy...my greatest friend...my nemesis…
Moments passed. Kayden Skyler sucked from the nectar in his glass. Red wine, the best Merlot this side of severed space, licked his throat as though a harlot kissing his neck. Then he burst out laughing.
“My greatest enemy!? Greatest friend!? Nemesis!?” Kayden caught his breath, looked at the patron on the stool beside him; some dumb Ithorian. “As if!”
“Who are you looking for, buddy?” Came a measured voice, like the speaker was flirting between curious and cautious, or just irritated.
So Kayden showed the other stool, some stupid Human, the photo-thing. “Him.”
“What’s his name?”
“Di’kut.”
“...”
“Then kriff the kark off before I flay the skin off your ears and feed what’s left to the Ithorian.”