Space above Carida (follows on from the end of Chets bio)
“Your performance was better than expected.”
Whilst Chet appreciated the compliment, the low level of expectations surrounding his hit irked him slightly. He was after all a professional.
“You have clearly been working with amateurs, that was a relatively simple kill, you should see last months work.”
Riley didn’t blink. It would not have surprised Chet if he knew exactly what had happened over the last month, probably in far more detail than the press had reported. One of the victims had after all been in their employ.
“As agreed, you can have the ship, we’ll keep your speeder. The money is in the safe in the cockpit, as are your new identity papers.”
Chet didn’t doubt that when he left there would be a decent percentage of the agreed 1000 credits missing, after all, the chances of him returning to Carida in the near future was slim.
“For what it’s worth, you’ve clearly got a talent for murder. The tricky ones. Anyone can knife or blast someone in a bar or an alley. Killing them in a way that sends a message without leaving witnesses or evidence, that’s a skill. You should work on that.”
“I like blowing things up. People are things. I am thinking of making a bit of career of it, the cash that’s left in that safe isn’t going to last forever. Don’t suppose you have any tips?”
Rileys brow furrowed. The potential for their new assassin to be used against them crossed his mind.
“You need to leave the inner rim. You are supposed to be dead remember.”
Chet nodded.
“Tatooine. The location should still be in the Nav Computer. Find a Twi’lek called Quadra. He owns a moisture farm on the outskirts. Failing that he likes a bet, the casino would be a fair place to look.”
Riley handed over a datapad, a Twi’lek, dark blue in colour with a purple scar across his face appeared.
“We’ll let him know you’re vouched for.”
Chet nodded again, offering his hand, which Riley shook before leaving through the airlock to the larger freighter.
Moments later the Rangemaster Scout maneuverered away from the freighter and entered hyperspace, the nav computer taking the lead, heading towards Tatooine.
Tatooine, a few days later.
“I bloody hate sand.”
Chet muttered, supposedly to the remote hovering next to him, though given it’s limited processing ability, he was talking to himself. He had spent the last 24 hours searching for the moisture farm owned by the Twi’lek. His assumption that few Twi’leks on Tatooine would own moisture farms was correct. There were precisely zero according to the protocol droid in the spaceport. Precisely zero according to the owner of the condenser repair shop on the outskirts of the spaceport… and precisely zero according to the multiple bartenders he bribed.
It was beginning to look like he was going to have to search the casino. The most concerning thing for Chet to this point was that nobody had even heard of the Twi’lek Quadra. Perhaps Riley had sold him up the river, needed to dispose of him so there were no connections back to the assassination of the police chief on Carida.
“Ah well, let’s go for a bet.”
Again, spoken under his breath, to himself.
The ‘Casino’ was not of the ilk of the grand casinos of the core and the mid rim, it was a large, open plan building, in the white, domed style of Tatooine. In parts, it almost looked like walls had been demolished and neighbouring buildings had been assumed into it. A myriad of gambling options were laid out before Chet, cards, dice games… machines that seemed to eat credits. The main attraction at that particular moment seemed to be a live holo-stream of a gladiator match from somewhere else in the outer rim.
His first visual scan of the room did not show the Twi’lek, though there were in the order of 400 people of various shapes, sizes and species, all watched by a collection of mercenaries, Gamoreans and a vast array of cameras. Chet had no doubt his every move was being watched and recorded.
“Go have a look, you know what you’re looking for.”
He engaged the remote in search mode, the image from Rileys datapad having been uploaded into its memory before they arrived.
“I’m going to get myself a drink.”
As the remote whirred off, avoiding a Mandalorian who swatted at it, Chet moved through a group of intoxicated Rodians towards one of the bars.
“One of………them.” He said, pointing to a bottled beverage that seemed popular.
The bartender, a bearded human notably missing his left hand nodded, returning with the beverage.
“I’m looking for a Twi’lek by the name Quadra, any ideas?”
“Your performance was better than expected.”
Whilst Chet appreciated the compliment, the low level of expectations surrounding his hit irked him slightly. He was after all a professional.
“You have clearly been working with amateurs, that was a relatively simple kill, you should see last months work.”
Riley didn’t blink. It would not have surprised Chet if he knew exactly what had happened over the last month, probably in far more detail than the press had reported. One of the victims had after all been in their employ.
“As agreed, you can have the ship, we’ll keep your speeder. The money is in the safe in the cockpit, as are your new identity papers.”
Chet didn’t doubt that when he left there would be a decent percentage of the agreed 1000 credits missing, after all, the chances of him returning to Carida in the near future was slim.
“For what it’s worth, you’ve clearly got a talent for murder. The tricky ones. Anyone can knife or blast someone in a bar or an alley. Killing them in a way that sends a message without leaving witnesses or evidence, that’s a skill. You should work on that.”
“I like blowing things up. People are things. I am thinking of making a bit of career of it, the cash that’s left in that safe isn’t going to last forever. Don’t suppose you have any tips?”
Rileys brow furrowed. The potential for their new assassin to be used against them crossed his mind.
“You need to leave the inner rim. You are supposed to be dead remember.”
Chet nodded.
“Tatooine. The location should still be in the Nav Computer. Find a Twi’lek called Quadra. He owns a moisture farm on the outskirts. Failing that he likes a bet, the casino would be a fair place to look.”
Riley handed over a datapad, a Twi’lek, dark blue in colour with a purple scar across his face appeared.
“We’ll let him know you’re vouched for.”
Chet nodded again, offering his hand, which Riley shook before leaving through the airlock to the larger freighter.
Moments later the Rangemaster Scout maneuverered away from the freighter and entered hyperspace, the nav computer taking the lead, heading towards Tatooine.
Tatooine, a few days later.
“I bloody hate sand.”
Chet muttered, supposedly to the remote hovering next to him, though given it’s limited processing ability, he was talking to himself. He had spent the last 24 hours searching for the moisture farm owned by the Twi’lek. His assumption that few Twi’leks on Tatooine would own moisture farms was correct. There were precisely zero according to the protocol droid in the spaceport. Precisely zero according to the owner of the condenser repair shop on the outskirts of the spaceport… and precisely zero according to the multiple bartenders he bribed.
It was beginning to look like he was going to have to search the casino. The most concerning thing for Chet to this point was that nobody had even heard of the Twi’lek Quadra. Perhaps Riley had sold him up the river, needed to dispose of him so there were no connections back to the assassination of the police chief on Carida.
“Ah well, let’s go for a bet.”
Again, spoken under his breath, to himself.
The ‘Casino’ was not of the ilk of the grand casinos of the core and the mid rim, it was a large, open plan building, in the white, domed style of Tatooine. In parts, it almost looked like walls had been demolished and neighbouring buildings had been assumed into it. A myriad of gambling options were laid out before Chet, cards, dice games… machines that seemed to eat credits. The main attraction at that particular moment seemed to be a live holo-stream of a gladiator match from somewhere else in the outer rim.
His first visual scan of the room did not show the Twi’lek, though there were in the order of 400 people of various shapes, sizes and species, all watched by a collection of mercenaries, Gamoreans and a vast array of cameras. Chet had no doubt his every move was being watched and recorded.
“Go have a look, you know what you’re looking for.”
He engaged the remote in search mode, the image from Rileys datapad having been uploaded into its memory before they arrived.
“I’m going to get myself a drink.”
As the remote whirred off, avoiding a Mandalorian who swatted at it, Chet moved through a group of intoxicated Rodians towards one of the bars.
“One of………them.” He said, pointing to a bottled beverage that seemed popular.
The bartender, a bearded human notably missing his left hand nodded, returning with the beverage.
“I’m looking for a Twi’lek by the name Quadra, any ideas?”
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