Open Jakku Trivial Pursuits

Bast Emblai

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Bast knew the job was going to be headache from the moment she set eyes on Jakku. However, she was new and new rangers got the short end of the Acklay tooth. Dust clouds whirled around the planet in golden marbled clouds. Programming in the planetary coordinates for the nearest spaceport, Bast sat back and relaxed as she began her descent. It was unlikely she would be able to rest once she was on-site. Even if she caught who she was looking for quickly, she would likely spend says scraping sand out of the chinks in her faded armor. Bast looked at her Enforcer Armor lovingly. Although it had a few dings and scratches, the paint that comprised the Sector Rangers Emblem was good as new. Just seeing the thing she was a part of brought a smile to her face. She was working again. And better than working, she was making the galaxy a better place. Even arresting the small spice dealer currently visiting Jakku could save lives.

So caught up in her fantasy of justice and glory, Emblai barely noticed as she received the all clear to land her Sapphire Crescent. Hastily tying her hair up in a bun and adjusting her posture, she strolled off her ship confidently locking it up and headed towards the nearest Cantina. Although drunk people were poor witnesses, they did give helpful tips and she had a feeling the dealer she was looking for had been around the somewhat lacking nightlife of the planet. Bast kept her helmet under her arm in order to appear friendly. People were also more likely to talk to those whose face was clearly visible.

Seating herself at the bar of the Cantina, Bast scanned the area. Dirty duracreet floor (probably not cleaned in a week), Exhausted bartender (huge circles under his eyes and the fact he almost dropped several drinks nodding off indicated he’d had little sleep), Paid dancers who worked by the hour (the tip basket was empty, and the dancer‘s makeup had not been sweated off. It was 21:04), and a variety of other patrons. Turning to the person next to her, Bast felt the hydraulics in her spine change. “Do you come here often?”
 

Corran Velt

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"Only to cause trouble," came the snarky reply. The man that sat apart from the main bar, but still held a canteen in his hand looked quite like the average scavenger or water merchant on a world like Jakku. He had a worn field cap with goggles and a bandanna that hung from his neck. Likely to protect his eyes and face from the dust storms that sometimes blew across the sands of this world. A large pack with various survival gear leaned against the wall next to his boots. Despite the attempt at ruggedness, the human man still came across too polished; stood too tall. He didn't appear beaten down or impoverished into despair like many in the bar.

Corran Velt, for his part, was still considered green-as-grass in the Sector Rangers. The rookie lawman had a few missions and misadventures under his belt, but very few to write home about. That's why he wound up on Jakku, investigating the details of a small time spice dealer that had gotten a bit too public even on this wreckage-strewn world. Jobs like this were often left to local law enforcement on prosperous Core Worlds. Law Enforcement on Jakku was a bounty hunter at best or local thugs at worst, or so Corran had surmised in his short time here. There was something beautiful about the way the sun set behind the relics of a war long over.

"What about you, ma'am? First time?" Asked the younger man in a thinly veiled Coreward accent.
 

Bast Emblai

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The man’s reply was snarky, but she didn’t fully disbelieve him. He clearly was not a local. Though he attempted to dress and talk similarly to one, he wasn’t sunbaked enough, nor was his backpack sandworn with the characteristic minuscule scratches of the rough grain on every polished buckle. His boots, though they looked comfortably weathered, were did not appear dusted inside out with the fine-particled dust that permeated almost every other surface.

“I am from Corellia. This is indeed my first time on Jakku. Hopefully my last, as well, if everything goes according to plan. Now, do you happen to know anything about where I can get some spice?” Bast put up her ‘completely clueless facade’. Perhaps she would seem like an off-worlder who just wanted to get a hit. There was something odd about the man, like he was not quite telling her everything either. Grabbing a drink and pretending (rather unconvincingly) to sip it- she would never drink on duty- Ranger Emblai awaited a response.
 
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Corran Velt

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“Corellia, huh? Pretty far out from one of the jewels of the Core Worlds.” The young man said before taking another swig of his metal canteen. One would notice that his breath didn’t stink of alcohol and nor did his canteen.

Corran started piecing scenarios in his head together. A woman came all the way from Corellia to a sparsely populated dust-ball like Jakku for a hit of spice? One could get spice on a few closer stops along the way to Jakku. Something wasn’t adding up in that story. The three likeliest possibilities were this woman was an organized crime gunmen to take down a lower-rung spice dealer who got too mouthy for their own good, someone who was looking to trade in spice and bring it Coreward for richer markets, or law enforcement. There was no easy way to find out the truth of his thoughts. Better see this thing through, then.

The man leaned forward and spoke in a low voice, “As for spice... I know a little. Some supposed big-shot in the area offers first-timers a free sample. I never met him, but, I’d like to.”

Of course, the spice dealer was only ’big-shot’ for a world like Jakku. Small fry pretty much anywhere else. Corran just needed to see how the woman responded before he went in for more details.

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Bast Emblai

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Mmmh.” Bast pretended the free sample had piqued her interest, but in reality she was noting the scent his breath carried- or lack thereof. He was not flushed and his drink did not bear the stench of alcohol. Odd, but perhaps he simply did not like it. Her eyes glided down to the blaster at his waist. Not every civilian carried one of those either. She gestured at it.
Live in a dangerous area? I can’t imagine you’d need it here”. The foreign man also on this backwater planet couldn’t be coincidence. Either he was competition to take the dealer out or a comrade. Pidge adjusted and pinged the local sector Ranger frequency. If the man was a sector Ranger, his com would beep or vibrate.
 

Corran Velt

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The false scavenger looked down at his sidearm after the woman motioned towards it. “Oh this thing? I learned on the trade lanes you can never be too prepared,” he said with a grin. That was an easy lie because it was true. Corran had kept a blaster throughout his formative years in the merchant business and certainly being a Sector Ranger reinforced that behavior. Based on her question, it was becoming clear she was sizing him up. To what end, Corran wasn’t sure.

His communicator vibrated. That was odd. There wasn’t anyone in range that he could recall. Corran pressed his finger against the comm to silence it. The device was set to Sector Ranger frequency while he was undercover more times than not, especially on underdeveloped worlds or Outer Rim settlements. The young man’s eyes panned the bar quickly before settling on the woman near him. The man squinted at her, as if he eyes were saying You... you’re a ranger?

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Bast Emblai

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Bast cracked a smile. She had her answer, and he probably did, too. “I am going to reintroduce myself. I am Bast Emblai, Sector Ranger, as it appears you are as well. I think we are here for the same reason, although I’m unsure of why no official bothered to notify either of us that this was a two-person job. How about you tell me a bit about what you know. Then we can get started. Clearly we both need a promotion.” She gazed inquisitively at him as she ended her monologue of deductions. Now that she knew his job, his situation made much more sense. She motioned for him to step out of the Cantina into a nearby deserted hall.
“I hope you did not want a drink?”
 

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The other Ranger glanced over both his shoulders quickly as Bast introduced herself and official position. He made the motion with his hands for her to speak more quietly. They were in a public place in a rather lawless part of the galaxy, after all. When they exited out into the hallway, the other man seemed a bit more relaxed about conversing.

“No, I didn’t,” the other Ranger began, looking around carefully down both ends of the passage, “I don’t drink on duty. Or all that much, actually.” When his eyes returned to Bast, he glanced down to her helmet and back to her face. “I should have guessed you weren’t a junkie. You don’t have that dejected, hallow look.”

Satisfied the coast was clear, he pulled up his field cap and revealed his young face more fully. “My name is Corran Velt. I think headquarters isn’t often in the know of the whereabouts of Rangers out in the field; I apologize if me being here is stepping on your toes for this case.”

The young man truly did look apologetic over the whole thing and even a little bit uncertain. Carefully, he drew forth a datapad from his jacket. A few taps summoned some sparse notes. “The spice dealer you’re looking into isn’t a local, at least, not originally. Likely came here from a larger network but wanted to get more of the cut. A real braggart, so the few scrappers and salvagers tell me.“

The datapad opened up to a map of the settlement and the surrounding terrain. In blue light, small circles appeared on the outskirts. Corran tilted the screen towards Bast for easier viewing. “Two spice-heads told me that the dealer can be found in a scrap yard not too far from here. Others say he has some den built out of a sunken skiff. I didn’t get much else beyond that.”

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Bast Emblai

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A quiet chuckle escaped from Bast’s lips. A rare, occurrence, but this man seemed to have a heart, and that was rare among law enforcement, including the Ranger herself. “You are not stepping on my toes in the least. Frankly, I’m glad to have company. It would do me some good. And thank you. I am glad you do not think I look dejected. I like to think my job keeps my body and mind young. There is clearly more to this dealer than I originally believe. We can perhaps trace the larger network back. Let’s head out. I think we should get him to talk before we arrest him. Be subtle. You want to ‘buy’ or should I?”

Bast was not surprised that such a business thrived on Jakku. There was so little law enforcement presence here, the planet was a playground for thieves and criminals. She sighed, knowing apprehending one man would only do so much. They had to get to the root of the issue, cut off the beast’s head.
 

Corran Velt

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Corran seemed focused on the datapad in his hand until he hear a faint chuckle from his newly revealed comrade. He glanced at her briefly before averting his eyes just as fast. Did she find him amusing? In his time with the Sector Rangers, he had only really gotten to know a handful and of those very few, only seemed to professionally accept his company. “The job keeps your body and mind young? You’ll have to tell me your secret because half the veterans at HQ seem to have aged a decade in the past month.” The smirk that curled in the corner of Corran’s lips indicated an attempt at quip.

Ahem. Back to business. The rookie lawman tucked away the datapad before clearing his throat sheepishly, “You should buy, I think. If the dealer is the bragging type, they might try to impress a woman by showing off a little. That’s my hunch, at least.” Corran raised one hand defensively to ward off any accusations of trying to sound to authoritative on the topic.

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Bast Emblai

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“Well, if it were not for constant chases, lifting dead bodies, and moving stacks of paperwork, I think I’d be rather out of shape.“ Bast unfastened her backplate, allowing Corran to view her spinal implant. “I was injured two years ago, completely paralyzed. No one wanted me as an employee because I do not look very good on paper. Actually, a liability. But I could not stand a stagnant life so I joined up again. As for my mind, I worked as a detective. I no longer hold the title, but mystery intrigues me.“

The ranger nodded, Corran’s logic made sense. People tended to trust females more. It was quite the advantage. “I can be the naive buyer. You can be ready to make the arrest after he has the goods on hand and has gifted us some information. Now, I’d like to know more about my fellow officer. Where are you actually from?”
 

Corran Velt

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The young Ranger‘s face changed from curiosity, to tragic surprise, to finally a look of unfortunate understanding. “I’m sorry that happened to you,” Corran said conveying no pity but empathy, “I’m impressed by your drive to get back into law enforcement. I don’t know if I could do the same if the shoe was on the other foot.“

The man seemed pensive as he took one last look at the spinal implant and then Bast’s features of her face. For the young, they often felt seemingly invincible as heroes in their own stories. That bill likely fit Corran, even if he never admitted it to himself. Losing a limb, being paralyzed, or even dying simply wasn’t a possibility... until it would be. Still, Bast gave some hope. Even if he was grievously wounded, Corran could still come back and do something meaningful.

“You don’t need the title of detective when you’ve got one just as good - Ranger.” Corran said the sentence in a lower voice, trying not to give away the whole operation with some discussion between recently revealed like-minded souls.

When Bast asked about Corran’s background, he seemed astonished. He had worked with a handful of individuals over the past few months and none of them had asked his background. Some of those circumstances didn’t really lend to it, but neither did this one. The rookie Ranger began slowly, as if pulling information from some dusty bookshelf in his mind, “I’m from Commenor. Son of a trader, kept with the family business until winding up with our current... job.” He was skipping over some of the details, but that was for another time.
“As for your plan, I think it sounds like a good one. Let’s just hope this spice dealer doesn’t have any bodyguards.”

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Bast Emblai

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Bast raised her eyebrows. It certainly seemed like Corran had skipped a bit in his story. It was rare to go straight from what she assumed was a small family business to being a galaxy-touring Sector Ranger. However, she’d let him talk when he felt more comfortable and they had time. If there was one thing she had learned from interrogations- not that she was interrogating him, of course, but the principal still held- was that prying was counterproductive. People could not be forced to talk. They would always incriminate or prove themselves innocent eventually. There was no such thing as a perfect lie. Eventually, something would tangle or give itself away, even if it took years. Naturally, the goal was just to catch it as soon as possible.

Pulling off her pauldrons that labeled her as a Ranger, she checked to make sure her blaster pistol was loaded. The ranger doubted she would need her blaster rifle, not to mention, carrying around a large munition was rather not in the vein of stealth. She ran to drop them off in her ship, returning a couple of minutes later. She had let her hair down. She looked less-business like that way. “Shall we?”

——

They had been walking along a wind and sun beaten path between the dunes for about twenty minutes. The Je’k Scrapyard was remote but clearly not unpopular. The trails from the levitation devices on many speeders and bikes were etched in the shifting sands that dusted the road. A graveyard of metal shone in the distance- refuse and scraps- the livelihood of most on the planet. She saw some distant movement. There was little good cover for hiding behind. It would be fine in a firefight, but certainly not enough to conceal a hiding person.
“It seems as if you will have trouble just being there without looking suspicious. Perhaps you could be my bodyguard? Say I’m a rich junkie from a nearby planet. I’m never sober enough to keep safe so I need you. Of course, any ideas of yours would be welcome“
 

Corran Velt

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The twenty minutes between the downtrodden bar and Je’K scrapyard passed by mostly in silence. Walking along the well-worn path to the junkyard, Corran kept darting his eyes to armored back of his fellow Ranger. As she strode ahead of him, the young man debated what to make of her. Even with her hair down, Bast seemed like a stoic professional. That prior law enforcement training didn’t fade with time or injury, it seemed. Corran liked that. In an organization that upheld the law in the Outer Rim by (in his experience) enlisting the likes of frontier gunslingers who relied on bending the rules rather than adhering to them, it was nice to see a kindred spirit.

The junkyard of rust and manufactured remains approached. Something shifted among the stacked wreckage. Bast saw it before he did. Too slow. Instinctively, Corran felt the impulse to look for cover. There was some, but not a lot of it looked sturdy. Likely enough to seek shelter but not enough to stealth around.

Corran pulled-down the scarf that was shielding his face from the windswept sand to reply, “That is a good idea. A wealthy woman trying to get the purer stuff or maybe buy in bulk instead of small samples from street dealers. Think you can pull off the rich, aloof type?” Corran cocked a curious eyebrow and a teasing grin. He tapped his blaster holster with the palm of his hand, “I think I can handle looking tough. Well. Tough enough.”

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Bast Emblai

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Bast smiled back at Corran. He seemed to be one of the few good natured rangers in it for the benefit of the galaxy. Unfortunately, that was a rare breed. Most were rogueish, skirting around the laws, or completely self-centered, gaining prestige rather than enforcing laws. Bast knew trusting her comerades was essential, but she also knew that if officers started picking and choosing what part of the law to follow, they were no better than those they were fighting. She held honesty, humor, and devotion in high regard. Sure, Corran was a bit fresh and unkempt, but he seemed reasonable.

The ranger adjusted her posture, hunched her shoulders, and let her head loll slightly to the left. She walked in a vaguely wobbly line, as if she was functional yet not quite sober. Bast knew the walk and the posture because of all the arrests of ‘Driving Speeders Under the Influence Prohibition‘ offenders she had carried out in her earlier years. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she scanned the area. There was no obvious life forms, but recent footprints not yet covered by wind blown sand indicated the area did harbor someone. She wandered past a few crates and slurred loudly, “Velt- didn’t they say he’d be around here? I thou it would be a quick purchase.“

At the sound of her unfamiliar voice, a male Twi’lek strolled ouf head tilted back, hips forward, arms loosely at his sides. The was wearing a dark visor over his eyes to shade from the glaring sun. “You are here to see Meeno, eh? You don’t look very familiar. Are you sure you are in the right junkyard?” Bast gave a non-committal nod.

“Look, I paid for my flight here. I just want the spice. You sell it purer. And who are you? You don’t appear to be the dealer. You see, I get impatient. Oh, and please take off the visor. I like to see the face of the person I’m talking to.” No doubt that would do for entitled and rich. The man seemed taken aback, but then smiled. It was not an honest grin. More the type a killer has when he relives his first murder.
“Follow me.”
 

Corran Velt

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As the Twi'lek shared a beastly grin, Corran made a show of resting his hand on the grip of his Power 5. He had to act like a bodyguard with a hair-trigger attitude. He couldn't tell if that came across as the goon didn't really react much besides the command to follow him. The junkyard path weaved in between piles of crushed speeders and the occasionally gutted starship. Truly technology of any kind did not survive long on Jakku. Towards the back of the scrapyard came a tipped over skiff large scraps of fabric pinned into the dirt to form a crude, but large, tent structure.

The Twi'lek halted just outside the main flap and tucked it back. "Go in. Meeno will see you," the goon hissed. Entering into the ramshackle 'palace', Corran couldn't help but be amazed at the glittering junk all around. Some of it hang from the ceiling on string. Others were assorted along hastily assembled shelves or strew about at the feet of Meeno. The haunty spice dealer sat with his feet kicked up on the arm of the chair he had salvaged - or stole - from someone. Looked to be from some Corellian freighter junked long ago. The Durese man made a show of greeting them, "Oh? Has Klok brought me more purchasers or playthings?"

The spice dealer rose from his casual seating position and placed his feet on the ground and leaned forward in his chair, "By the look of it... playthings, I hope."

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Bast Emblai

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Bast felt slightly reassured by the fact she had backup as they entered the tattered camp. The juxtaposition of polished metals against the sandy carpets was oddly jading. The air hung stagnantly, heavily scented with incense. The durese alien sat in his salvaged chair as if it were a throne, his legs hanging off the armrest in the posture of an entitled prince. The ranger had to hold back a visible reaction. It infuriated her when people flouted the law so shamelessly. People could die- no they would murder others, and during their confession, they would admit they still want pure spice express shipment delivered to their cell. Still, she must restrain herself in order to pursue the best course of justice.

The ranger certainly did not like the sound of ‘playthings’. “Let‘s say I’m a fan of your product. I can’t get it as pure where I come from. I can I have three crates?” She looked over her shoulder and mouthed to Corran ”Look around for any useful information“. Bast needed to keep the focus on her.
 

Corran Velt

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"A fan of my product, you say?" Meeno rose to his feet and folded his arms while his golden eyes looked over the two guests. "Not playthings then. How unfortunate. You'd be surprised how many people wish to sell others." The Duro was lithe and had what looked like two viroblades in sheaths at his waist. Corran, for his part, stayed close to Bast and kept a hand close to his blaster. They didn't know how many thugs were apart of this crew. Was it a two-person show or was there more? For an operation this small and... self-boastful, Corran thought it likely couldn't be too many. That's a gamble, but one he would take.

Meeno swaggered closer to the two visitors, gently brushing aside the dangling 'treasures' with a blue finger. "Three crates, though...? Quite a request. My product is quite pure if I do say so myself," The Duro glanced at his hand, as if examining it, "But I don't sell so much to just anyone. Let's start with names." The spice dealer than opened his palm to Bast, as if requesting the answer into his hand.

Corran glanced at Bast. She would have to take the lead on this one. Most bodyguards weren't too mouthy and relied on their client to go about their business and introduce them as they saw fit, if at all.

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Bast Emblai

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Bast was not surprised, nor unaware of the amount of people who sold other sentient, but she feigned shock, then indigence at the implied difficulty buying three crates of spice entailed. The ranger, however, thought it was far to easy to attain the illegal substance. She glanced back at Corran before continuing. He had his hand on his blaster and stood at her back, ready to defend at a moment’s notice.

“I am Penelope Frase. This man, my bodyguard, is Colin Arda. Fear not, I do have the credits to afford the spice. I even have the transportation. I am sure, if this purchase goes smoothly, all my associates will know your business. You will have several new well off customers. What do you say?
“Ah, but first I must know more about you. How do I recommend you? Meeno.... who? After all, I am about to hand over a great amount of credits. I want to know where they are going. I like to think I am fiscally responsible. Wouldn’t you say, Colin?“


Bast turned towards Corran. They needed to gather as much information as possible before they blew cover. Where did Meeno (presuming that was truly his name) get his spice from? If they knew, they could start watching for smuggler ships offloading on Jakku. She hoped he had been good enough at lip reading to get her previous message. She walked closer to the Duros, obstructing his vision more. He frowned slightly, likely sensing something was off. Still, the promise of more business kept him intrigued.

“A curious customer indeed. I am Meeno Kalahi. That is no secret, you could’ve asked anyone in the area. My reputation is quite widespread, if I do say so myself.“ Bast resisted pulling a skeptical face. She doubted anyone outside of Jakku knew he inhabited a space in the galaxy.
“Well, I did hear of you through the grapevine. How often can I expect spice shipments? Can I buy a subscription?
She saw no hints of spice cartons inside the shelter, nor easy hiding places for stores. Perhaps Meeno kept it outside. If it was still in the shipping crate, there might be a stamp from the location of embarcation. She would leave that up to Corran to figure out if he could sneak out and he was on the same page as her.
 

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The retired detective and the small-time spice dealer went back and forth in a Dejarik game of cunning. There was a bit of flattery in there, some clever deceptions, and even a secret message. Bast was more experienced than Corran and it showed. The only flaw was when she bestowed upon him a new name: Colin Arda. The grunt outside, Klok, may have overheard Corran be called 'Velt' aloud earlier in the junkyard. Corran would have to think of a cover-story if that ever came up. For now, he just needed to focus on finding the storage of the spice.

"Yeah, she's fiscally responsible all right. All the credits for spice, little for security," Corran attempted a crude,di satisfied voice, "You two haggle trinkets or whatever. I'm going for a cig. Beep me on comms when you need me." Throwing open the flap to the 'grandiose palace', the bodyguard took his leave outside. Klok, the brutish Twi'lek sat on a rusted container just outside the tent. It was too small to contain any large amount of spice. Likely was just a stool for him. Corran shrugged at him, "Got a cig on you?" The Twi'lek grimaced and stared daggers at the young human. The Ranger-in-disguised waved off the alien and went away from the criminal's abode. Normally, this would be a terrible thing for a bodyguard to do, even an underpaid one. Corran got the feeling that Bast could handle herself against those two if she had to in a pinch. He hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Out of sight of the others, the Ranger got to looking around. He was careful to avoid stepping on any loose metal or debris. A sound would draw attention and give away his position. Je'k Scrapyard seemed devoid of any other living being. No other gang members. No other dwelling huts. Either this spice dealer had sent his crew elsewhere for the time being or there just wasn't that many of them. Could it be only the two?

Coming around a corner of destroyed nose of a Z-95 Headhunter, Corran saw a red light. Small, like the top of a camera. He quickly moved back behind the tower of parts and rust with the starfighter structure at the base. Slowly, the rookie peaked around the corner again before darting his head back. It looked like some sort of camera or sensor, but he wasn't sure. It didn't move or beep. It sat above a shipping container that was curiously unburied by other stacks of debris and metals. Based on Corran's trading years, likely something from a Wayfarer-class medium transport. It had some writing on the side, but he would need to get closer.

Noting the device was immobile, Corran went around the other side of the stack he hid behind and made a running slide to get up next to the container. The device above him didn't react. Whatever it was, it didn't sound an alarm. At least, not yet. Looking around to make sure the coast was clear first, the Ranger rubbed his forearm against the paneling to brush off some Jakku dust.

In Aurebesh, the container read Fondor.

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