Veda impatiently chewed on a toothpick as the grunts unloaded the crates from his ship. Hurry up! he wanted to shout, but he exercised self-restraint and kept his mouth shut. Or clinched, more like it. The weather was starting to turn, and he wanted this job finished before the rain came. Finally, two men with arms ten times the size of their brains brought the last box down the ramp.
"That's the last of it," one of them grunted as he strained under the weight of the load.
About time. "Hey, B1-D1, keep an eye on things, will ya?" Veda called up to the repurposed B1 battle droid at the top of the ramp. "I'll go see if I can get us paid for this haul."
"Roger, roger." Yeah, yeah, that's all you ever say.
Veda climbed into the open-air backseat of the rearmost cargo transport and rode in silence ten kilometers or so to the destination. These guys weren't much for conversation, which suited him all the better. The trip took about 30 minutes through the streets of Nar Shaddaa, but the markings on the vehicles ensured they arrived without issue. When they stopped, Veda hopped out the back and proceeded to the back entrance of the Raging Wampa club without waiting on the footmen.
What most people didn't know is that the back entrance of the Raging Wampa was actually the front entrance of a much nicer private club that had no name. The proprietor, an older, immaculately dressed Devaronian named Radix Kane, greeted him as he walked through the door.
"Captain Veda!" he exclaimed with a smile, "So glad you made it! And with my shipment intact, no doubt?"
"Have I ever let you down, Radix?" The toothpick had turned to splinters at this point, so he tossed it into the waste bin.
"Well . . ."
"Okay, okay, but I made that up to you twice over!"
"That you did, Pal, that you did." Kane's grin remained unchanged. "Come have a seat. I'm not expecting any guests for at least another hour. Won't you join your old friend for a drink?"
"Sorry, Radix, not this time. I'm on the clock." The club owner ignored Veda's protest and passed over a glass anyway. "Okay, just one."
"That's better." By now, his hired hands were bringing the crates through the door and taking them to the back. "Are you curious what you brought me this time?" Kane asked, gesturing to the cargo.
"That's your business," Veda responded. "I don't ask what you order, I just deliver it."
"Chandrilan wine, reserve batches from the Mothma estate." the Devaronian continued without caring. "My clients can't get enough of it."
The smuggler couldn't help but laugh. "You know it's legal to import Chandrilan wine, right?"
"Do you know what the Alliance is charging on tariffs and taxes these days? Not to mention shipping delays, inspection checkpoints, unnecessary questions on orders this size. It's a nightmare! No, no, it's well worth the money to have my favorite smuggler handle this."
"About that," Veda said with a raised eyebrow. He took a sip. Kriff, that's good!
Kane's smile doubled before letting out a light chuckle. "Of course, I haven't forgotten." He signaled for a protocol droid in the corner that soon came waddling over with a case. "Fifteen thousand credits, on delivery, as promised." As the droid handed the case over, he added, "Do you want to count it?"
"I trust you, Radix." Kane never shortchanged him, and he knew counting it in front of him would be an insult to their relationship. "And the other thing?"
"I haven't forgotten that, either." He slipped a handheld datapad from a hidden pocket of his robe, typed in a few commands, and slid it back into its hiding place. "Transmitted."
Veda removed his own datapad from his belt to confirm. Kane did not seem to take offense, knowing this was worth double checking. "You're a man of your word, Radix. This is it."
"Surprised?" He watched Veda's expression curiously for any hint of what he may be thinking.
"Constantly," Veda said quietly, still thinking about what he had just read.
"That's the last of it," one of them grunted as he strained under the weight of the load.
About time. "Hey, B1-D1, keep an eye on things, will ya?" Veda called up to the repurposed B1 battle droid at the top of the ramp. "I'll go see if I can get us paid for this haul."
"Roger, roger." Yeah, yeah, that's all you ever say.
Veda climbed into the open-air backseat of the rearmost cargo transport and rode in silence ten kilometers or so to the destination. These guys weren't much for conversation, which suited him all the better. The trip took about 30 minutes through the streets of Nar Shaddaa, but the markings on the vehicles ensured they arrived without issue. When they stopped, Veda hopped out the back and proceeded to the back entrance of the Raging Wampa club without waiting on the footmen.
What most people didn't know is that the back entrance of the Raging Wampa was actually the front entrance of a much nicer private club that had no name. The proprietor, an older, immaculately dressed Devaronian named Radix Kane, greeted him as he walked through the door.
"Captain Veda!" he exclaimed with a smile, "So glad you made it! And with my shipment intact, no doubt?"
"Have I ever let you down, Radix?" The toothpick had turned to splinters at this point, so he tossed it into the waste bin.
"Well . . ."
"Okay, okay, but I made that up to you twice over!"
"That you did, Pal, that you did." Kane's grin remained unchanged. "Come have a seat. I'm not expecting any guests for at least another hour. Won't you join your old friend for a drink?"
"Sorry, Radix, not this time. I'm on the clock." The club owner ignored Veda's protest and passed over a glass anyway. "Okay, just one."
"That's better." By now, his hired hands were bringing the crates through the door and taking them to the back. "Are you curious what you brought me this time?" Kane asked, gesturing to the cargo.
"That's your business," Veda responded. "I don't ask what you order, I just deliver it."
"Chandrilan wine, reserve batches from the Mothma estate." the Devaronian continued without caring. "My clients can't get enough of it."
The smuggler couldn't help but laugh. "You know it's legal to import Chandrilan wine, right?"
"Do you know what the Alliance is charging on tariffs and taxes these days? Not to mention shipping delays, inspection checkpoints, unnecessary questions on orders this size. It's a nightmare! No, no, it's well worth the money to have my favorite smuggler handle this."
"About that," Veda said with a raised eyebrow. He took a sip. Kriff, that's good!
Kane's smile doubled before letting out a light chuckle. "Of course, I haven't forgotten." He signaled for a protocol droid in the corner that soon came waddling over with a case. "Fifteen thousand credits, on delivery, as promised." As the droid handed the case over, he added, "Do you want to count it?"
"I trust you, Radix." Kane never shortchanged him, and he knew counting it in front of him would be an insult to their relationship. "And the other thing?"
"I haven't forgotten that, either." He slipped a handheld datapad from a hidden pocket of his robe, typed in a few commands, and slid it back into its hiding place. "Transmitted."
Veda removed his own datapad from his belt to confirm. Kane did not seem to take offense, knowing this was worth double checking. "You're a man of your word, Radix. This is it."
"Surprised?" He watched Veda's expression curiously for any hint of what he may be thinking.
"Constantly," Veda said quietly, still thinking about what he had just read.
