Conflict in the Streets of Nar Shadda
The streets were busy as the sky started to dim from the distant rising sun. But the streets were always busy on a moon that boasted a population of 85 billion. More diversity could be found on a single street on Nar Shadda than could have been found in the Senate building at the height of the Republic. A Sakiyan woman kept close to the buildings and slid into a cantina. Soft music filled the room from the mixed race band playing at the far side. The Sakiyan walked up to the counter and the horned Deveronian bartender asked “What’ll it be?”
The Sakiyan placed a 30 credit chip on the counter. “The location of the nearest hanger.”
He pocketed the credit chip with a smile and proceeded to explain where she could find what she was seeking. Money could get you anything on Nar Shadda.
Pleased, the Sakiyan returned to the crowded streets. The air was dense with smog and humidity. A short distance away she noticed a group, one of which was a loudly speaking street merchant. The speaker was a female Twi’lek. Her arms were darting about frantically and both lekku were twitching. She was accompanied by a male Twi’lek, two male humans, and a Gand. All three looked ready for violence. “We had a deal, Xigra!” the Twi’lek woman yelled.
The other merchant, an immense male Trandosian, replied calmly, yet voistrously, “And you didn’t fulfill your end of, Yorkema. The deal is over.”
Yorkema’s hand moved for her side holstered blaster.
“Kill them all!” boomed Xigra as he pointed directly at Yorkema.
From multiple directions, blaster fire erupted in the street. A Gank, a cyborg—more machine than living being—stepped from the background to stand beside the Trandosian merchant. The Gank raised its arm and the hand shifted to the side to reveal a blaster emitter. He fired once at Yorkema. The errant shot missed the Twi’lek’s left lekku by millimeters.
Another Gand, this one wearing an old piloting crest on its clothes, stepped between Xigra and Yorkema, waving both of its three-fingered hands and buzz-clicking furiously. The blaster fire came to an abrupt halt as Xigra’s shooters had realized that all of Yorkema’s crew had disappeared from the street. Yorkema made an effort of holding out her empty hands for all to see.
The Sakiyan, still hiding in a side alley, took great interest in the piloting crest of the Gand. She knew where to get a ship, but not how to fly it.
The Gank’s hand returned to its position and he approached the Gand. Their neural communicator implants had found the same frequency. They knew that each was looking for profitable work and figured they would stick together, pilot and muscle.
The Sakiyan cautiously approached the pair. She needed off the moon but the less anyone knew about her the better.
“My pilot crossed the wrong person and met their end. I’m looking to hire a new one for my crew,” the Sakiyan lied. “You two work together?”
The Gand made a couple of clicking sounds while looking at the Gank.
“We’re in,” the Gank explained. “Where is your ship?”
The Sakiyan led them to the hanger. As she had feared, the hanger door was locked. She would have to slice into it quickly. She didn’t want them to suspect that she shouldn’t have access and she certainly didn’t want to set off any alarms. She connected her datapad and went about slicing into the system. The door opened smoothly. She had succeeded without alerting anyone. She quickly scanned the open hanger floor and settled on a Krayt gunship.
The trio, under the Sakiyan’s lead, approached the gunship. She again connected the datapad and after a short wait, the ramp lowered. “Head in and get the ship prepped. I’ll check for any tracking devices.”
The Gank and the Gand exchanged skeptical looks but complied. The Gand powered up the craft after coaxing the panel with a clenched fist. The Gank searched the ship for the Sakiyan’s crew. He found the gunship empty, as he had expected. The Gand took off and brought the ship into the moon’s orbit.
On board, they began exchanging cautious amounts of information about each other’s lives.
Getting to Know Each Other
The Gand was seeking to advance the Gand way of life. She was most interested in genetically improving the race as a whole, since she believed that Gands were superior beings. But with the Gank before her, she was curious as to what cybernetic enhancements could do for the Gand race.
The Gank’s central processing unit had been damaged and he knew little about himself. He had no knowledge of what landed him on Nar Shadda. All he knew was that he felt highly motivated to commit and facilitate crime. He had known that the Sakiyan was lying about having a crew and a ship, but he had assumed—correctly—that the lie would lead to illegal activity. Now he was among strangers, including himself at this point, aboard a stolen ship.
The Sakiyan shared with the two that she was a technician that specialized in computers. But she kept to herself that she is an employee of the Black Sun, an immensely powerful criminal organization that was currently trying to edge out the Hutt’s long standing claim to the multitude of criminal activities. She had found herself way behind enemy lines in Hutt Space on the Smuggler’s Moon of Nar Shadda. She was collecting information on some of the Hutt clans.
The Sakiyan offered to look at the processor of the Gank to determine if she could help. She found that it would take a great deal of effort to repair the Gank’s central processor. The Gand located a processor aboard the ship’s inventory. They offered to sedate and install the secondary processor to see if it would help lighten the load of the Gank’s damaged central processor.
With a fair bit of difficulty, the two inserted the new processor in a spare slot of the Gank’s head moments before the anesitic wore off.
The Gank shook off the grogginess as he stood. “You are not my master,” said a robotic voice. His hand slid from its position at the wrist, revealing the hidden blaster. The processor on board the gunship had belonged to a Super Battle Droid. Many of which had been sold to various security forces and criminal organizations following the surrender of the Confederacy for Independent Systems at the end of the Clone Wars. The newly formed Empire had the Grand Army of the Republic in the early days and had no need for a droid army. “You are not my master,” the robotic voice repeated as it aimed the blaster at the Sakiyan.
The Sakiyan swore. The Gand’s hand slid slowly towards its blaster.
The Gand offered, via the neural comm implant and all of the coercion she could muster, to return the ship to Nar Shadda if the Gank powered down all of its systems and rest for a short while. It worked and the Gank sat down against a bulkhead. Seconds after his eyes were closed, the Sakiyan hit him with another dose of anestitic and removed the Super Battle Droid processor.
So Long, Nar Shadda
“We need to get away from Nar Shadda and out of Hutt Space,” the Sakiyan said to the Gand as she started running calculations for a hyperspace jump. “Here,” she pointed at the screen. “Jump is plotted. Let’s go.”
The Gand chattered a response and activated the hyperdrive, leaving Nar Shadda behind them.
Moments later, the Ubrikkan ship yards lay before the stolen gunship.
At the Ubrikkan ship yards, the trio found a Sullustan mechanic with the know how to reprogram the gunship’s transponder. Unfortunately, it would cost more than the three had amongst them.
“I’ll pay for any repairs that you need.” A Mon Calamari with a confident stride approached. He could tell that the group wouldn’t be with the Empire and he needed a ride.
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