Ask I'll Just Ask One Quesh-tion

[Nymeria]

Somewhere, Quesh​

Even with the protective gear she was wearing, Nymeria could feel the very air making her itch all over, and she could only imagine what it was doing to her hair. Still, for the sort of payday that might be involved she was willing to put up with some discomforts. Quesh wasn't really a place anyone visited for pleasure, unless you were a Hutt who loved feeling on outside what their stomachs probably felt like on the inside. The very air was toxic, visibility was low, and getting any sort of reading was a pain in the ass. No, the only reason anyone came here was if they had nowhere else to go. Who else was going to venture into this hellhole? And that was precisely why the treasure she was hunting was still here. Buried somewhere deep within the acid washed ruins of Quesh.

With her were two droids, not combat droids, but the sort used in construction. Big, hulking beasts who were used to breaking shit down. They were there to dig the ship out, or to dig a path to them. She had even paid extra to get them some upgrades, make them sturdy enough to survive Quesh's corrosive environment. She could easily have asked her buyer to pay for them, but the expense was not so great to make it worth risking goodwill. Not when she needed that goodwill to negotiate the terms of the sale.

As if on cue, one of the droids perked up, and a ping went off on her helmet's HUD. It looked like her buyer was here.

 

[Cassian Graves]

With toxic wastelands stretching out as far as the eye could see, Quesh truly deserved to be counted among the planets in Hutt Space. It was the sort of place that you spent the rest of your life trying to forget, not unlike the majority of Hutts Cassian had been privileged enough to meet in his lifetime. It was an eyesore that no one wanted to acknowledge, much less look at for any extended period of time.

The proverbial elephant in the room, if that elephant looked like the insides of a sarlacc pit and smelled as pleasant as the large, toothless mouth of a Kowakian lizard monkey after eating its nightly bowl of worms.

According to some history books, thousands of years ago Quesh had been a battleground. Fought over by the Republic, Sith, and Hutts alike. Strange, that anyone would would want this revolving heap of toxic fodder, let alone three of the galaxy's major players.

The Zeltron descended the boarding ramp of his personal light freighter, blue eyes silently scanning his surroundings. For once in his life, he was not relieved to disembark. Even cramped quarters and cold, lifeless space was preferable to this sorry excuse for a planet.

"I won't be needing you," he remarked, waving a dismissive hand to the large, one-eyed Houk behind him. Gurp, if that was his real name—and Cassian certainly hoped it wasn't—had accompanied Cassian merely as a precautionary measure, mostly at the insistence of the Royal Family.

A precautionary measure the Zeltron hoped he would not need. He knew very little about this contact other than her name and that she was an information broker, building up her network on Takodana, but she had given him no reason to suspect a double-cross. Not yet, anyway.

The Zeltron stepped forward, his protective gear, however necessary, annoyingly tight and restricting. "Nymeria, I presume?" he addressed the woman that stood between two massive droids that he hoped would be used for construction.

Of course it was Nymeria. Who else would be standing out here in the middle of nowhere, just waiting to inhale toxic chemicals and develop some rare illness that would kill your internal organs faster than a shot of flameout?

@Wit

 

[Nymeria]

Forewarned as she was, Nymeria was waiting when Cassian arrived. Smiling behind her helmet, though how much of her face would be visible behind the already grimy exterior of her visor she did not know, she nodded and held out a hand.

"Consul, it's a pleasure to finally meet you in person." One of the droids, who was linked to her suit via a motion capture device, mirrored the motion and held out a hand as well. "Oh, forgive me!" She let out a chuckle and pressed a button on the band she wore on a wrist, and the droid pulled back it's arm and resumed the same pose as its partner. "A little something to help us get our hands dirty without really getting our hands dirty."

She reached into a bag that hung at her waist and pulled out another band, and held it out for the Senator. "Here, this one's for you. Ever piloted a droid before?" As she waited for a response, a distant ping went off on her HUD. It wasn't close, probably just a satellite flying by overhead, but she hadn't gotten this far by being careless. So she made a mental note, and kept track from the corner of her eyes, her attention still very much on the man in front of her.

@llamallove

 

[Cassian Graves]

The Zeltron accepted the hand Nymeria offered, an abnormally difficult gesture between the clunky, uncomfortable outfits and gloves they each wore. But better this getup than to end up as the third Free Worlds Alliance senator to die under mysterious circumstances. And on Quesh, of all places.

"The pleasure is all mine, Nymeria," he would reply, the statement somewhat conventional for a practiced politician. On the contrary, Cassian was entirely sincere and meant every word. The Onderon Crown Jewels had been missing for over a millennia, stolen right from under the noses of the Royal Onderon Guard while the kingdom raged war with Sith invaders.

Since the last man rumored to know the whereabouts or be in possession of the jewels had been shot down over Quesh, there had been no new leads. No whispers on the streets. Not even the two million credits the Crown of Onderon offered and the hoodlums they hired privately were able to yield any results.

So when Nymeria, a woman who kept her ear to the ground for a living, reached out regarding the jewels— the choice was easy.
Cassian would go as King Hakan's proxy. The King was of the old variety— the kind that didn't want his family name soiled by any association with someone he deemed 'not respectable.' The Zeltron, on the other hand, didn't mind soiling his reputation.

In fact, it was one of the few pleasures he had in life— pushing the limits and having as much fun as possible along the way. He would wallow in the mud if it got him what he wanted, so long as it never came back to bite him in the eyes of the public. There was always re-election to consider. Unfortunately.

"Never," he admitted, turning the band over in his hands before securing it to his wrist. He smiled at her. "I'm afraid there's always someone to do the heavy lifting for me." @Wit