Sedition in Blue.

[Nostromos]

Outer Rim| Terminus | Nera’s Dream


The nightlife of Terminus was a never ending party. Even when the moonlight hours wanned into the pollution-hazed sunlit hours of the day; clubs, bars and cantinas never closed and certainly never stopped filling their customers with drugs and booze.

This could all be attributed to the thriving trade and lively spaceport culture of the transitionary planet. All manner of life forms transversed the melting pot that was Terminus, be they scummy criminals, Imperials, Mandalorians or even the odd Jedi or Sith. Everyone touched Terminus in some way or the other, it was just how it was.

No one lived on Terminus, but everyone who was in the transportation and trade business commuted there at some point.

Drooga was no different. Not surprised that his joblessness took him to Terminus, he’d taken to living in a seedy motel and visiting a close by Gentlemen’s club/Bar known as Nera’s Dream.

Nera; herself, was less of a dream then the bar’s name might have suggested. A blotchy skinned, wrinkly Toydarian Madam who punished her girls for currying favor from customers; and was prone to watering down all the alcohol she served to save a cred.

Drooga speculated it was why drugs were a much more common sight in this particular club than drinks. Not that he’d ever partaken, he just appreciated that he was allowed to smoke inside the club; as long as he didn’t get the smell on any of the girls. Which was quite easy for him as he never touched them.

Too sad for his taste.

Currently, the old Duros sat at a small booth that was situated on the perimeter of the main dance floor. He wasn’t keen on paying for the girls, but he liked to watch them; platonically of course. A young Nosaurian had taken a seat next to him and was trying to speak to him in Bocce. It wasn’t working out too well, the youth had given up and began bellowing and balking at Drooga in his own, primal language.

The Duros held up a hand and pressed it toward the other mans beak, halting the Nosaurian mid squawk. Growling low in his throat, Drooga leaned across the small table and stared him down. “Finitez cetez detox?” He tried Bocce first, and then thought better of it. “Try basic, my Bocce is rusty and I ain’t interested in chu shrieking in my face wit’ chu’r bird-speak”

Offended, the Nosaurian scoffed and ruffled before angrily pushing his seat away from the table and storming off to find someone more amiable. He had been trying to charter a rider from the Duros for the better part of an hour and only gotten offended in the process.

Left alone again, Drooga rolled his eyes and leaned back in the soft padded seat to watch several bar patrons gyrate to some sort of slow-beat warbled techno. He was definitely in search of a job, as his spending creds were considerably lower than he was comfortable with, but he wasn’t hurting so bad that he’d take a job that forced him to deal with communicating with something as annoying as a Nosaurian.

 

[Minuteman75]

Every time Forim visited Terminus, he was reminded how much he dislike it. Before his current status as a rebel Forim used to be a a part-smuggler and the filthy club he was walking into was an ugly reminder of it. In his opinion, only Nar Hutta and the Smuggler's Moon were bigger cesspools than the planet he was on now. Forim tried to keep such a notion buried inside but a little bit of it came out silently in an small scowl on his face as he made his way through.

He was dressed in a brown pair of jacket and pants, while equiped with a blaster pistol to on his dark belt, in order to pose as a smuggler on this occasion

The cheap music heard overhead wasn't doing any favors to his mood and not to mention a Rodian hooker step in front of him in an flirtatious manner. Forim seriously doubted he was attractive enough to warrent such attention, no the lady was more likely just fishing for credits.

The Rodian female playfully bade her eyelashes at Forim and show out her figure which was thinly covered in a light purple robe, leaving no room for imagination. Inpatient, Forim grunted no as his answer to the lady who just nonchalantly shrug and the went out of his way to find herself another would-be mark.

Jeez I need to get in an better mood or else I'm going to screw things up. Forim consider in his mind.

The only reason why he came to this crap hole because he heard that a certain blaster for hire could be found here, Drooga Oon. He had recently found out about Drooga from the gossip branch in town during his search for assistance in an little raid for supplies he and some of his squad mates cook up. They needed outside help for this one Forim but it's best the merc dosen't know that they're rebels or else he will very likely say no. With that consideration, Forim took a deep breath and then scan the establishment for Mister Oon, thankfully he got a good description of the man from one of Drooga's past employers.

Old and crusty were the only polite words that the informant used when talking about the gun-hand, the rest of the comments involved a lot of swearing. So what if Drooga was a mean son of *****, Forim thought, he'll deal with it. The job he was going to offer wasn't exactly for saints anyway, meaning that Drooga fit the bill, hearing that he does get his work done. Suddnely Forim spotted him close by at a small booth. Forim already knew he and the merc were of the same species but it felt like a surprise to him for some reason. Perhaps it because he hadn't seen a fellow Duros for quite sometime.

Of course, the young Rebel had to remind himself that not every Duros felt the same way he did about their species. Ignoring the crazed dancing at the main floor and the lame music playing along with it, Forim start his apporch over to where Drooga was. Putting on his business face the best way he can manage. Then once a few feet away Forim spoke in Durese, their native tongue.

[Greetings mister Oon I have been looking for you. My name is Soz Vellen I have a job offer for someone of your experience. Interested?]

 

[Nostromos]

Drooga looked up from his idle perusing of the local fauna to take in the younger Duros, more surprised to be spoken to in Durese than he was to actually see another member of his species. It brought back old, uncomfortable memories of another life.

The older man scowled and leaned back in his seat, kicking his leg out under the table to push the only other chair away from the table. It was the kindest way he could offer the young man a seat. Taking his eyes away from Forim, Drooga lifted a spindly finger up to summon one of the scantily clad waitresses.

The little falleen girl sauntered up to the table, Drooga liked this particularly sassy girl; but was quite wary of her due to her species natural ‘assets’. He made the exchange quick. “Bring me two of chu’r Neimoidian absinthe’, and you tell Nera if she waters it down Imma come back there’n have a word wit her myself”

The girl sniffed with displeasure, but nodded and walked off to tell her boss the order. Drooga didn’t try to hide that he watched her walk away with intense interest before finally he turned his attention to Forim.

Drooga’s face crinkled, pinching his chin between his thumb and pointer finger as he concentrated hard on forming the words of a language he hadn’t spoken in over a decade.

[ I haven’t spoken the mother tongue in many years kid, you’ll have to deal with the atrocious accent. Soz Vellen was it? Show me your ID chit]

The older Duro held his hand out palm up, bending and straightening his fingers in a sort of ‘gimme’ gesture.

 

[Minuteman75]

Forim/Soz keeping a straight face sat down in the chair that Drooga "offered". Then he waited quietly as the older man ordered beer for both of them from a Falleen waitress that he had to admitted to be very sexy. Forim grinned like an idiot for a sec but suddenly he remember a humiliating incident in his past where a similar Falleen, a con-artist seduced and robbed him blind. Only his pants had remained after the thief was done and left him tied to a bed.

The memory made Forim blush in embarrassment and looked away from the waitress, not wanting to earn her attention.

Thankfully Drooga's "charm" drove the emerald lady away in an hurry, at least for short time, making the Rebel sigh with relief. It seemed that the merc being a hard*** was actually usueful, Forim was now more motivated to hiring this fellow. The tricky part though is going to convince the son of b**** to take the job.

Judging by the reaction to being spoken to in Durese, Forim was pretty sure that Drooga didn't appreciate it and he was sharp enough to ask for a ID chit. The pilot smiled and pulled out such a chit with his left hand gave it to Drooga.

Inside the device was an identity he and one of his fellow pilots Asyer made to serve as his alter-ego. The name itself once belonged to a low-level thug that bullied him during his childhood, Forim was certain that the creep didn't surive the genocide and any information on the real Soz was likely gone as well but he doubted that the criminal was ever noteworthy enough to have merit attention outside of Duro.

What you will find mister Oon is just general info about my birthdate and blood type etc. Then my background as a kolto merchant from Cato Nemoidia will show up. Yet you will most certainly not believe it especially when you will find some subtle holes in the details about my supposed contacts that will be traced back to Nar Shaddaa, screaming illegal to you in the process.

Then you'll may consider the possibility that I'm a young amateur smuggler, trying to act all super secret, thereby causing you to be wary or irritated yet wanting to hear me out...hopefully.

Forim thought while silently waiting for Drooga to finish his inspection.

 

[Nostromos]

Drooga snatched the ID chit from Forim and scrutinized it with keen, hard eyes. Reading over the info, the old Duros had to keep himself from sneering at the fake ID. “You ever been to Mimban, Kid?” Drooga placed the chit facedown on the table and flicked it back to Forim with disinterest. “Delivered some spice to Mimban once, my employers were some stupid Weeq-y bastards who thought it’d be a good idea to use the jungles as cover for their illicit trade. Planet ate em alive before I even got there. Wound up having a product I couldn’t sell in civilized space”

The falleen came back with their drinks, glaring daggers at Drooga as he leered down her cleavage openly. He made her uncomfortable, so she put all her effort into smiling at the younger Duros as she placed their drinks down. She lingered for a moment longer than the older Duros would have like, he gave a snap of his fingers just as the girl opened her mouth to offer Forim a dance.

“Beat it”


The Falleen once again found herself scoffing in disgust at the older man and stormed off, tray tucked tightly between her arms. Drooga smirked and gave his eyes a roll before continuing his train of thought. “So I thought to myself; you know what’s just a hop and a skip from Mimban?”

Drooga paused intentionally at this point, plucking his shot from the table and flicking the sweetener cube into the tart liquor, letting it fizz and dissolve before tilting it back, he downed the whole thing. He gave his lips a smack, before reaching over and grabbing the other drink that had been set in front of Forim, repeating the process but pausing to drink it. “Nal Hutta. I said to myself. And what better place to sell a product that had no owner than Nal Hutta”

The old Duros sneered and leaned over the table a bit to look Forim dead in the eye. “You ever been to Nal Hutta. Kid?” This was the smugglers way of showing Forim that he understood the game they were playing; he’d charted a good number of criminals from one planet to another halfway across the galaxy. He was an old hand at this and didn’t like being lied to, even if it came with the territory.


Drooga tipped back the second drink much as he had the first, downed it's contents and smacked the glass upside down on the table.

 

[Minuteman75]

Forim got annoyed with the Falleen waitress when she returned with drinks and was flirting with him, he had no time with this nonsense. Once again Drooga drove her away, this time for good this time it seems as he finished looking over Forim's false ID card. With feminine distractions out of the way, Forim retrieved the chit and then found himself listening to Drooga tell a smuggling story as he drank away both of their beverages out of spite.

It's official Drooga, you're a mean b******* but not stupid that's for sure.

Young Forim had to resisted forming a smile instead projected a nervous frown when the veteran Duros took the bait and indirectly accuse him of being a smuggler.

Scratching his head to add to the effect of his act then he spoke in basic like Drooga, pretending to be embarrassed.

"Uh...yea I have been there once or twice now that ya mention it. Made a good set of creds there recently but I don't want to live on that kriffing world. So anyway, I'll cut to the chase and say that I'm in the smuggling trade sorta like you."

Pausing for a second, Forim sighed then scowl in pretended frustration while folding his arms over his chest before complaining like anyone would expected from an inpatient youth.

"Look man are you going to listen to my offer now or what?"

 

[Nostromos]

Drooga gave another sneer, leaning back in his chair and draping his arms over the back of it as he tossed his head to the side. “Kid. I didn’t shoot you the second you sat down, and I ain’t telling you to leave now.” The accent he had been using in basic faded away to a harsh, glass-gargling baritone. He was interested enough in this job not to pretend to be something he wasn’t. Namely, an uneducated, drunken gun-for-hire with a poor grasp on basic,

The older Duros reclined a bit more, relaxing as he felt he had gotten his point across with his little story. He was not going to be tricked or bamboozled by some green-horn smuggler.

“You go ahead and tell me the job. And I’ll go ahead and tell you if you can take your smuggler creds and shove em up yer ass” Drooga simply smiled, not with malice or sarcasm; but a neutral sort of half smile that spoke far more of his cruelty than any smirk he had given so far.

 

[Minuteman75]

"Fair enough."

Forim repiled with a more serious attitude than before. Part of him wanted to snap back some insults, but he knew that would be overdoing it. Yet he couldn't afford to beg either, that would ruin his chances of pulling this off as well. Now in the back of his mind, the fighter pilot knew the tricky part of this deal was coming up. If this interview didn't work out, Forim considered, that he was going to have keep searching throughout the cantinas in this seedy planet for another merc who would be greedy or desperate enough to do it.

It was something he really had no time for. His face displayed the tensions from what he was feeling in this moment but quickly he put on straight face then spoke once more.

"Here the thing, I and a few associates recently done some shipments for this private militia a hundred miles outside of this port. The thing is we gave some crates filled with weapons to them to trade for the spice they had in possession. But those sons of ******* ripped us off! They kept the spice at gun-point, threatening me!"

Forim slammed his left fist at the booth as if he really been pissed off then he added;

"So the gang and I decided we're going to make a recall on those gifts so to speak and take the spice from them as well. But you see mister Oon, we number about only twelve people and they got around twenty-five guys at their hideout. So we feel that this raid would work out better with an expert you can say.

The job is simple really, help me and the crew take back the merchandise and teach those kriffing play-soldiers a lesson. Scare them or killed all of them I don't care how it's done as long they're out of the picture."

Forim stopped for a few seconds to let that information to sink in to Drooga then he finally concluded.

"As for your reward Oon, you get to name the price of how much you want in return, within reason of course. If you got any questions about this go ahead and tell me."

 

[Nostromos]

Drooga listened with what appeared to be disinterest, but inside his mind was a whirl of statistics, things that could go wrong, profit to be made, if it was worth his effort. He wasn’t so sure yet, he had questions to ask and wasn’t going to walk into this blindly because the money was good.

Private militia’s were obnoxious; well equipped and lacking any of the honor a official government military might employ, they were the worst sort of scum in Drooga’s opinion. Mostly because the men and women employed in private militia’s were a lot like him, and he knew how goddamn awful he was. But the story irked him and he tapped the table a bit as he thought.

“A Private milita would suggest that someone was paying this group of men for security. Which means that most likely a contracting company was involved. If that was the case, no militia would swindle their clients potential business partners---Bad for business”

Drooga finally sat up straight, his neutrality slipping away again to reveal the keen interest he had in the finer details. “Which means, that this private militia must be self-financed. Which means they are probably a criminal militia of some kind. You know the name of this group? I ain’t gettin’ involved in nothing that’s going to have the Imperium tryin’ to shooting me out of the sky every time I attempt a landing on a Core planet.”


The older Duros sneered but continued anyway. “I don’t know what the ads told you about me kid, but I don’t think adding one gun to your rag tag band is going to suffice. How long ago did these fools screw you over? Cause they’ll be expecting retaliation, which takes the element of surprise away from your plan.”



Drooga rubbed his chin again and chewed on his tongue, he was thinking he’d take the job more and more as the seconds ticked by; but he wanted to press the kid hard for info. “ I want to meet all of your cohorts who intend to get involved in this. I want their names, credentials. I want the works. As for my price---My usual rates are steep. But killing and the risk involve are going to make me triple it. Though I could be convinced to take weapons or other tangible goods as a supplement to my fee if my price is too high for you”

 

[Minuteman75]

Forim nodded, he figure this won't be cheap but that's how it is when hiring a merc. The truth was he and the other rebels undercover never really bartered with the militia. In fact the gun nuts did murdered some smugglers aligned with the Rebellion. The deal was really suppose to sell spice to the militiamen in exchange for some of their their heavy weapons. Instead the milita got greedy and decided to keep both.

Forim and his squadron were sent to Terminus after the smugglers didn't check in to investigate and they quickly discover the truth. Ever since they have been scouting out the militia's stronghold and been gathering intel for most of the week and now they feel it is time to strike.

"Of course, I'll get all the intel that you have requested, that assuming if you argee to this job. Now as for your concerns, here are the facts. The milita call themselves the Dawn Sabers and their commander is a human that served as a colonel in the army of the former Galactic Alliance, named Marisha Dova.

Meaning you don't have to worry about pissed-off imperials in the future, concerning that point. It's been over a week since they double crossed me. Despite their large numbers, most of the Sabers are recruits in training that were picked up from these slums here.

The other thing is they rely too much on their defnese turrets and shield generator for protection and some of my crew happen to be very good hackers who can disable them. As for the plan of attack, my partner, Gial Teels is responsible for it.

He a battle-harden vet who knows how these things work, fought in the Siege of Manaan sometime back. Trust me we have done our homework on this group in secret and have pinpointed who's who the chain of command. That's where you'll come in, to help cut off the head as we cause a distraction for ya to do it. The primary role you can play in will be to pretty much assassinate the militia leaders we have identify and marked for you."

Forim paused after that last sentence pretending to be embarrassed again in his facial expressions. Then with a chuckle he added.

"As for your terms of payment its acceptable. Do we have a deal?"

 

[Nostromos]

Working in a team had never been Drooga’s strong point but in situations like this he welcomed the meat-shields.

Tapping his fingers in a tuneless rhythm, the older Duros mulled over the information again. He’d need to meet these people but it was no trouble for him to discern whether or not he was willing to work with whom inside of Forim’s little operation.

It seemed too good to be true, but Drooga knew when not to look a gift-voorpak in the mouth. Besides, if things went south he could always keep C.J. on standby to get his ass out of there. No harm no foul; especially because Forim was hiring him as a sniper and his presence amidst the assault would be mostly unknown. Some things still bothered him but those could be mulled over later when he was alone and had more time to himself; and access to a terminal.

“Deal. I’ll help you get your revenge; and goods.”

That was all need be said, the old Duros raised his hand for another drink and merely mimed the number two at the Falleen from before before leaning back in his chair and grinning. “You got yourself a sniper, Kid”