Ask Match Made in Heaven

[Nor'baal Desilijic]

The Jabbas Delight was one of the places to be since the Hutts had been 'reminded' to leave Nar Shaddaa. A fancy-looking sail barge floating off the entertainment district of an Ubrikkian city, it was the toast of the town, and where a sizable number of Hutts, Smugglers and other unsavoury types enjoyed hanging out.

Wriggling his way into the entrance lobby, Nor'baal Desilijic Fa'athra took in the room, clocking some of the greats in the upper gallery.

<Devaro bu Deathrunner! Jee babau goo kotky bu bahh see Yemahatmola skappa joppay goo doth ata donocha- bo!> he mumbled to himself as he saw a dashing man, a Twi'lek on each arm as he supped on a cocktail that made Nor'baals mouth water. <Dooo cay mah chawinu caka, fa nah doth biweoo bai san bo gusha.> he chuckled, making his way further back into the bar, where the 'cheaper alternatives' tended to hang out.

"Most illustrious Nor'baal, do you think it wise to rely on these scum?"

Nor'baal ignored his droid, as he often did. For a protocol droid, the 3PO unit was not exactly very tactful.

<Uba saconba mah boha Droida? Bu lhonu Nor'baal bla haku goo doth woy." he wallowed in his own self-adulation, as he clocked a booth with an empty recliner in it. Nestling himself in, he narrowed his beady eyes, clocking a weather-beaten man at the bar, who might as well have had 'scumbag' written on his forehead.

At his command, his droid toddled over, and spoke.

"His great and illustrious majesty, Nor'baal Desilijic Fa'athra commands that you prostrate yourself before his great immensity, for the discussion of commerce."

The droid stared.

"My master would like to hire you." it added, more succinctly.

@Ecclessey

 

[Davik Lorso]

Davik stood at the bar, drinking Chandrilan rum by the mouthfuls because he couldn't afford his usual of bantha milk with a pinch of Glitterrryll. He could afford the milk, just not the dash of spice that gave it the taste he enjoyed. Anyway, as usual he was down on his luck. His last job had been smuggling some spice from Kessel to the Coreworld drop-off where MorataCorp spice dealers picked it up and while it went largely without a hitch, the 'Catscratch' got flagged on the way offworld and now the Zaa Fenn Crime Family didn't want him transporting a new shipment. Something about giving it time for people to forget about the catscratch again.

By Catharese loveknots! That just means everyone is going to forget about Davik the Smuggler, too. He emptied his glass with his last mouthful of rum just as the man next to was approached by a droid acquiring about his services. Both him and Davik turned, looked at the droid and then gazed over its shoulder to see a Hutt standing there. The other man immediately started laughing, "Hohoho! Working for a Hutt?" he asked rethorically and waved his hand in dismissal, "Do I look like I want to end up on the wrong side of Preef Callo's blaster? Get lost!" Now, Davik had heard about the rodian declaring any and all Hutts' lives to be forfeit. Calling for a general hutticide, once the only unforgivable crime in this part of the galaxy, and exiling them from their homeworlds. But Davik was more... foolish, than the other smuggler.

"If you're not gonna take it," he began, tapping the shoulder of the other smuggler and turned towards the droid, "Mind if I do?" soft laughter escaped the smarter smuggler as way of a blessing. "Your death, not mine."

The prospect of making credits made Davik seem a little bit taller as he extended a hand towards the droid, "Davik Lorso. Owner of the Catscratch."



@Nor'baal

 

[Nor'baal Desilijic]

"Davik Lorso. Owner of the Catscratch."

Nor'baals deep green eyes widened. Catscratch!

His head was immediately awash with schemes as his imagination ran wild. Nor'baal, Captain - no, Commodore - of the Catscratch! That was a name people would remember, he chuckled out loud, lost in his revere as the tired looking smuggler gave him a blank look the lesser species, humans, were all too good at giving. Nor'baal looked closer at the man, sure, he didn't have the personal magnetism of Devaro the Deathrunner, the luscious locks of Bastani the Brutaliser, or even the chromium pistol and cybernetic arm of Valanak the Adventurer, but he had....

Nor'baal struggled to find the right word.

...a rugged appeal?

He could see, peering closer, the strength of the mans arm, the grit and determination of a Smuggler, as at home in the space lanes as he was in the embrace of a Twi'lek consort from Madam Froods Pleasure Palace.

<Haku wa luto kabai see wa yae uba gee bedwana mi Droida. Yoieu jen du da jau ticay heee toydrarians yoieu an jeejee gee yoieu ou....> quickly, his droid waved his armatures in horror. "My Lord, this is the smuggler you asked for, the....urm...other contact is later."

Nor'baal blinked.

Nor'baal took a swig of his drink.

<Tagwa Jee bla da uba beesga! Koochoo! Kava stoopa woy uba canta Dobra, Jee bla coo tah cahtana doth.> he shuffled awkwardly in his seat and addressed the man in a patronising tone.

"Hello. Me, Nor'baal." he pointed at his chest. Not sure if the man spoke Huttese, he opted for the tried and tested method of speaking reeeeallllllyyy slowly instead. "Do. You." he pointed at Davik "Speak, Huttese?"

 

[Davik Lorso]

Davik approached his prospective employer with some awe, for the stories of Hutt crimelords were usually epic, and a slight distrust, because those same stories were often exaggerated accounts of events the Hutts themselves were never part of. Nevertheless, the Ossein smuggler figured he'd have a leg up in the price negotiations as everyone knew a Hutt's life was forfeit and he guessed this job was smugging the giant slug itself further away from syndicate space, further out of reach of the legendary gunslinger's peacemaker. That said, this Hutt didn't look very smart and spoke awfully slow...

"Name's Davik," he replied before he realized the Hutt was still mid-sentence and was just having these long-assed pauses in between slowly articulated words. Mentally he upped the price some. "No Huttese, but I-ehm-" he turned towards the droid, "Tell him my ship is fueled up and ready to go. He can load his valuables in at any time and I'll get you both as far as Dubrillion. I have charts up to that planet, but if you need to go to Bastion then you gotta find someone else." Nav-charts for the fringes of known space were expensive as heck. Sure, Preef would never think to look for them there, but then again who ever sought for Hutts outside of syndicate space anyway? Davik could probably drop them off in a Binka-orchard of Agamar and the Hutt could live his extremely long life without ever having to meet another scroundrel.

Now came the tricky part, "I'll need payment up front," he owed the local mechanic a good sum for the much-needed repairs he did, "All 10,000 credits of it."

@Nor'baal

 

[Nor'baal Desilijic]

Taking another Kowakian slime-ale as a depressed-looking waiter stomped over with a dirty tray, Nor'baal scoffed as he heard the human speak in the rather crude language of basic. Not one to debase his species by conversing in such a vulgar tongue, Nor'baal waved his droid over.

<Jee cha catkiua nakiheu bai Dubrillion! Bu lhonu Nor'baal doth tee paupe phoba see bmela bai doth shuta hhont bu Yoskah. Che yanka- Droida, bleeu tah dopa- dondichola dotlahee bu tokiy see mah yanee.>

"His great opulence, the mighty Nor'baal is not the charge here Mr Davik. You will instead be joining the great and merciful one in transporting some organic foodstuffs, into the Core. Corellia - to be precise." the droid intoned monotonously.

Nor'baal, meanwhile, was still seething around the price.

Ten-Thousand Credits!

No way the Hutt would part with ten thousand of his credits for such a task.

<Jeejee tee dotke koumuaneu du bu neyoha see tah dan che tanea Mabee donkd uueca. Nobata, bu Yih danko doth bu mogke bahsei see mah camai! Che banwene rohceua bu Yih gee han bu Yih danko du twa way chacasa, ata che da tapacmakanh pee-chah, Durr, bai baah fa tytung koumhaptecee an jot da Mabee kenog paknee ata patka!>

Nor'baal waxed about the ludicrous nature of it even being implied that he would need to flee Hutt space.

Of course, he was not currently in Hutt Space, Ubrikkua was outside of its border, but that was beside the point.

Now, there was the matter of cost. He boomed out in Huttese, and his droid swiftly translated as he did.

"This is not an 'evacuation' Mr.," the droids rusted memory banks had quite forgotten the man's name "Mr. Smuggler, this is a standard shipment of 'foodstuffs'." the droid said unconvincingly "The Great Nor'baal shall pay two-thousand." it replied, as Nor'baal grinned from ear to ear.

Haggling, was his favourite thing to do.

 

[Davik Lorso]

The Hutt only seemed to have two ways of communicating; either really slow in basic or really low and fast in Huttese. Clearly he wasn't very bright, something Davik figured he could take advantage of. "Wait a minute," the smuggler frowned, "joining him? You mean I'm transporting both his cargo and him?" that was going to be a much more difficult job.. and into Corellia!? That was a Coreworld destination with proper security checks and well, Hutts didn't usually get waved passed without thorough inspections and he was too big to fit in any of the Catscratch's hidden compartments.

Contemplating his options, Davik placed both hands on his hips and stared up at the ceiling. "Four-thousand for the foodstuffs," he said finally, clever enough to realize that you didn't need a smuggler for simple legal foodstuffs and Hutts were known to.. bent the truth a little, "and another two-thousand credits for you two." Not evacuating, his ass, Davik recognized a fleeing person when he saw them, he had ran too many times himself not to recognize it, and this Hutt was definitely running from something.

It'd be a tight fit on the Catscratch, the ceilings weren't that high, but it should work if the [í]organic[/i] foodstuffs didn't take in his entire cargo space.


@Nor'baal

 

[Nor'baal Desilijic]

Grumbling slightly at the amount, six thousand, Nor'baal gestured his approval of the terms and placed his now empty glass back down. Strictly speaking Nor'baal wasn't fleeing Hutt space, just - relocating long-term with an intention to return?

Yes. That sounded right.

"The illustrious Nor'baal would like to see your ship, so we can load the cargo immediately." his teetering droid intoned, before finally recalling the mans name "Mr. Drannik, after you."

Nor'baal moved his bulk, and came up level to Davik <Gee uba woy mee nagoza-ah bai Gahauua? Jee babau ateema see roy bu banba bkhokah doth kiuke busier, cay bu bayan bidchkap dee CEC hay lapa. Lwaa woy fa cua wolei bai yoieu bu shlon du.>

"Have you done many trips to Corellia Mr Favrik? My master suggests the lanes are busier around this time of the year, making entry easier for you."

Nor'baal would follow the man to the ship, where they would be met by two swarthy Gamorrean stevedores, and a large, very smelly, crate - that seemed to be snoring.

"Mr. Smazzrik, if you would please inform the Gamorreans where to load the cargo." the droid asked, as Nor'baal looked at the ship, and frowned.

Not much to look at.

 

[Davik Lorso]

Hah. #winning. Six-thousands credits got him some profit. Davik prided himself on his good negotiating skills and hoped the Hutt would pay the bribes if they needed them to get paid. "It's Davik, by the way-" he reminded the droid, "Davik Lorso". It wasn't that hard a name. Try remembering Snor'baax Dessihouse Fallucize. Now that was a hard name to remember and when even Davik managed to get that right, surely a droid with its infallible programming could remember the name Davik.

The walk over actually wasn't that long, but long enough to get bothered by questions. "Corellia won't be a problem." Well, maybe, hopefully. Last time he went to Corellia he did almost get caught and the resulting bribe cost him more than his profit margin, but that wasn't this time. This time... this time luck was on his side. "Did you know that I ran the Sith Blockade of Eiattu IV? How do you ask?" the rounded the corner and there stood the Catscratch, his Lethisk-class Armed Freighter, in full ornate beauty. "That was all the Catscratch. Best blockade runner you'll ever have the pleasure to be shipped in."

A few moments later and Davik was at the panel, opening the cargo doors for the two rather large Gamorreans to load the crate unto the ramp and inside the ship. He assumed they didn't join them, for he'd have to remember to alter the price. Two more mouths to feed ate into his profit margin and those two looked like they ate a lot. And wait, was that crate snoring? What the kriff was he going to smuggle to Corellia?

Opening the door, Davik turned around with a big grin and a suddenly extrovert attitude. "My esteemed guests, welcome to the Catscratch."

The interior was relatively tidy, although the traditional Catharese styled furniture did make it look more messy. Instead of a couch he had cushions on the floor and the walls were painted broken white. It was clear that Davik enjoyed spice and drink, for his living area had ample traces of both. "Make yourselves at home while I warm up the engines."


@Nor'baal

 

[Nor'baal Desilijic]

"It's Davik, by the way- Davik Lorso"

"My apologies Mr. Fanzo." the droid replied with sincerity as it made its way toward the ship, Nor'baal shaking his head. He needed to get that thing fixed.

He shook his head again as the smuggler tried to big up the scrap-heap he saw in front of him. Well, you pay crap, you get crap. the Hutt reminded himself of the wisdom of his sainted Mother, as he slapped the side of the large snoring crate and then regretted it as the crate snarled, before returning to its snoring.

Nor'baal had personally searched the holonet for 'How to sedate a Rathtar', so he was beyond confident that it would remain asleep for the duration of their journey. <Uohza fa bimhee, hee chicou mo.> waving at the Gamorreans, who starting heaving and shoving on the crate, up into the cargo hold.

"Make yourselves at home while I warm up the engines."

"Hmm." he omitted a deep grumble as he slithered into the ship. Not loungers? Where was the hookah? How can one live in such squalor? he lamented as he took up position in what stood for the lounge of the ship.

<Bleeu Sacenit Lorso Jee lwaa paknee ata mah natmahconza wata.>

"Mr. Panlo, my master shall take his supper in the lounge. Good day."

 

[Davik Lorso]

While his cargo made itself comfortable in his home, Davik made his way to the adjacent cockpit, planted his butt in his favorite chair and started his takeoff-checklist. "Engine in one," he muttered as he switched some switches and pressed a button, causing a low rumbling from the engine and his main console to lit up. It was the only modern part of his ship, the main console, for the original cockpit had been so old that replacements parts couldn't even be found by the Ossein fleets and that meant it had to be stripped entirely and replaced with 'modernity'. If you asked Davik it was a waste of time and credits, but he couldn't deny that it was much more user friendly. The checklist wasn't long. Engines needed to warm up, nav-chart needed to start and update if necessary and last but not least all external doors needed to be closed and locked remotely. Luckily the camera he had in the cargo hold showed the Gamorreans kriffing off after they fastened the giant snoring box and that left Davik only the last item on his list: "Hot caf in the cockpit." You could never risk falling asleep while piloting a spaceship. On autopilot, sure, but when doing manual flying it was best to.. well, let's say Davik had learned his lesson some time ago. And the refreshing course last week when he scraped those rocks on Ryloth.

He was about to stand up and get the caf machine going when the droid entered the cockpit and told him the Nor'baal wanted his supper in the lounge. "Ofcourse, master droid. Ofcourse," Davik smiled and motioned for the droid to turn around again and get the kriff out of his cockpit.

The kitchenette was adjacent to the lounge area, just as the cockpit, for this wasn't that big of a ship. "I hear you want supper here, master Nor'baal?" Davik asked as he pressed the button on his caf machine and simultaneously opened the little fridge, "Let's see, ah! A catscrach specialty!" from the fridge he retrieved a wrapped seafood sandwich, only two days old, and tossed it over to his very large guest. "If that isn't to your liking, we'll reach Zeltros Refueling Station Six in the morning. You can use my communicator," he gestured towards the little console next to Nor'baal, "To place a meal order to be delivered to fueling station fifteen-dash-thirteen." But Davik wasn't going to pay feeding a Hutt. He knew what they ate, and how much of it.



@Nor'baal

 

[Nor'baal Desilijic]

"Captain Marso has prepared a 'great feast' from his homeworld, Master." the droid lied, knowing to well his Master's irksome nature when it came to food or the lack thereof. Taking the foil-wrapped sandwich with a pudgy hand, the Hutt peeled back the slightly moist covering and sniffed it.

Hmmm.

He licked his lips and gently nibbled the corner of the 'delicious' item, before finding it to his liking and opening his large jaw to effectively inhale the rest of the sandwich.

However, fate it seemed, had a different plan and a loud 'thunk' was heard through the Catscratch. Nor'baal gulped.

<Fa uogna tee lotka koee doth waueoo tee cay juju nagey ahbeu." the Hutt remarked, before moving himself down to the cargo bay and peering through the door. The crate was still in place, the creature within it was just not - well, snoring anymore. There was no noise at all coming from the crate.

Eager to ensure Davik couldn't turn around and just dump him, Nor'baal went back up to the cockpit. Deciding to keep the fact the Rathtar was no longer asleep to himself, he waited for Davik to enter hyperspace, before breaking the news.

 

[Davik Lorso]

Davik didn't stick around to watch the Hutt eat, mainly because the sight sickened him, but also because he caf was ready and that meant it was time to take off. He startled slightly due to the thunk, but when his guest gulped he just figured Nor'baal had accidentally eaten the wrapper too, so he didn't think anything of it. Back in the cockpit none of his readings seemed off either, so there wasn't a reason to delay.

The Catscratch took air roughly three minutes later. Davik made an effort to go through the maneuvering parts as slow as possible so he wouldn't crash into anything and sure enough they were cruising through the planet's spheres heading for the endless cold black vastness of space. It was cold, dead and endless and yet to everyone Ossein it felt like home.

Davik remained in his cockpit, sipping his caf and steering the ship towards the point in space his nav-computer said it should go into hyperspace at. It was a tedious two hours, but if the engines didn't fail them going into hyperspace then it was an easy trip all the way to Corellia. Two quick jumps, first Zeltros and then their final destination.

Finally they reached the spot, the hyperdrive light turned green and Davik punched in the coordinates for Corellia. So far so good, "Well, Nor'baal-" the smuggler smiled, confidently, "-let's Hutta it out of here." Okay so it was a corny joke but- the hyperdrive had a small delay and always surprised him as he was suddenly pushed back into his chair as the ship rapidly advanced in speed. Three seconds later it stabilized and stars shot by in awesome speed. It worked, the hyperdrive still worked. Relieved, Davik engaged the autopilot and strapped himself out of the pilot's chair. "Well, that's that. Time for a drink."


@Nor'baal

 

[Nor'baal Desilijic]

As the stars streaked out in front of them, Nor'baal considered taking a nap - after all, what else could he really do whilst the mission itself got underway? All he really needed to do what hand the Rathtar over to his 'doctor' when he arrived, and then his job was done - once the shock collar was in place, the Rathtar could be very useful.

He went back into the lounge, ignoring Daviks horrendous joke, to get a bit of shut-eye.

Nestling into the recliner, he closed his eyes and dozed off.

For about ten minutes, before a loud 'thwack' shook through the ship, waking him from his slumber.

"Lorso!" Nor'baal bellowed in basic "Fly this damn ship straight and stop waking me!" he commanded, thundering through the ship toward the cockpit. "I thought you were a good pilot? Yet you can't eve...."

There was another thwack, and his droid appeared.

If droids could look distressed - this one had managed it.

"Master! We have a problem, the...the 'cargo'." it lowered its tone upon seeing Davik "It's urm, come and see."

Nor'baal smiled at Davik, and dashed as fast as he could out of the cockpit. Trundling down to the cargo bay, and praying Davik had not followed him, he grabbed the sedatives and a large dirty needle.

<Jot ten neu. Duba jekha? Peae se woy jeejee boya jotke tee-tocky? Dopa?> he mumbled to himself, as he fiddled with the menacing-looking item, and, through a small gap in the box, rammed it into the Rathtars side.

 

[Davik Lorso]

The auto-pilot hadn't been engaged for more than ten minutes when the ship experienced some sudden turbulence. Davik barely noticed, but the Chandrilan Rum in his glass definitely shook a little and having lived most of his life in space he immediately startled upright. Nor'baal suddenly bellowed as Davik rushed over to the cockpit, "This isn't good-" is all he said in reply while the Hutt continued to berate him for his flying. Turbulence during hyperspeed could throw your off course enough to send the entire ship straight into a star and go up in a big ball of fire. That wasn't something Davik was looking forward to so he ignored Nor'baal and quickly checked the margins on the auto-pilot and the nav-computer. Luckily it seemed the turbulence hadn't rocked them off course, which prompted a big sigh of relief from the smuggler just in time to hear the droid enter-

-now that was way too suspicious!

Davik quickly followed them down to the cargo bay in time to watch a dirty needle with sedatives being rammed into a small hole in the box. "What the-" he gasped, "-what's in that crate?" He should've guessed he was transporting a live animal, after all he had definitely heard it snoring before, but that was one heck of a sedative being administered. Enough to kill a bantha! "What needs so much sedatives? Did that just cause the turbulence!?" his mind ran through all the crazy creatures that could completely ruin him, destroy his ship and kill him. Rancors, Rahtars, Rodians, Hutts. His heart was racing to keep up with his mind as the panic began to set in.

Taking on a Hutt as cargo would kill him. It was official. Davik was the dumbest smuggler in the known galaxy. No, also of the unknown. He was the dumbest smuggler in the galaxy period. Oh why did he strike a deal with Nor'baal!?

@Nor'baal

 

[Nor'baal Desilijic]

Cramming the errant tentacle back into the crate as Davik walked into the cargo hold, Nor'baal ignored his protests as the sedative began to kick in - the yarls and yelps of the Rathtar once again being replaced by grumbles and snores. He breathed a sigh of relief and turn to face Davik, moving cautiously away from the crate as he heartbeat slowed to normal levels.

"-what's in that crate?"

The Hutt looked somewhat awkward as he sheepishly put the dirty needle back in its box, wiping the end with a rag for 'hygiene purposes'.

"What needs so much sedatives? Did that just cause the turbulence!?"

"A bull bantha in heat. Trust me, I know what I am doing." he said unconvincingly, as he made his way out of the cargo bay "Just you know, make this ship go a bit faster and we'll be fine." he added, digging himself a little deeper into his lie.