Csilla
Space Port
Even as the craft landed the great Puffcake debacle still raged - leaving even the droids circuits occasionally sparking and messing with their inherent algorithms. Dash gave it about a standard hour before the entire lot of the refugee transport off of Coruscant realized that they were on an ice world. Of all the worlds in the Unknown Regions, you'd think the Chiss would have picked a more agreeable planet. What it lacked however in style, habitability, and general appearance - it attempted to make up for in boasting some of the finest connected cities in the Galaxy. Personally Dash was not convinced that it made up for the frigid climate, or the lack of snowbunnies, but other people might vary in their mileage. During the mass confusion, the slicer de-boarded and stepped into a lively version of a port hub, with it's clean durasteel floors, and a host of red-eyed blue skinned sentients that could of been one hell of a flash mob. It had already been imagined as the Hapan surveyed the crowd that milled about in their various directions. Restaurants beckoned with tasty meat like products that wafted from all directions, and the sounds of foot traffic created a thrumming off-tempo beat that he just couldn't place. One particular older Chiss caught his eye, and not because of the terrible coverall fashion error he was sporting. A bucket of water and a mop were his tools of the trade, and he was just in the middle of attempting to clean up some apparent vandalism.
"Hey there! Picture for my scrap-book? I'm calling it unsung heroes of the verse." Dash jogged over to the low-income janitor and flashed a dazzling smile. The Chiss' red eyes narrowed in contempt for a minute studying the boy. That disposition was bothersome, but he finally let out a shrug, and placed both hands on the curved pommel of the mop. A quick flash of a holo-cam mounted on his wrist was enough to temporarily blind the man while he flashed a few images of the stamped code on the floor.
"I'll send ya a copy once its published. Thanks!" And like that, he was gone, having saved the data - and feeling a great pit of hunger wash over him, making his stomach grumble. It'd take quite sometime he wagered for the man to clean up that liquid that had been stamped purposefully as the next clue to this planet-hopping scavenger hunt. Whoever was turning these wheels still had the hyperactive multi-tasking slicer by the coat-tails, and he wasn't about to give up until he solved this galactic riddle.
The food court was something of a hodgepodge between the Coruscant Carnival and the local space-mall. It wasn't overly good, but it was priced to look like it. Dash didn't really care about credit prices though, as he wasn't technically buying anyway. One day he planned to give a footnote in his digital memoirs about all the folks who unwittingly donated to his good time. The list would be quite a long one, and filled with people who would probably want him to give a hefty reimbursement. Deep-fried Nerf on a stick, and a Corellian cider was taken to a single table while he started to work over the code that his mystery benefactor had left. This one was a little less immediate in it's meaning, until he started to get into the mindset of what this enigmatic party planner had in store. One step to the left, and he was putting the Basic together with relative ease. For now though, he figured he was ahead of the game, and would indulge in a bit of a snack break.
[member="Brevitæ"] [member="Xephirus"] [member="Break"] [member="Harrip"] [member="Caira Zee"]
