Private Clutched in Dead Claws

[Vendra Vane]

SHIFFRIN
- Crash Town -

"VAAANE!" Shouted a Kel Dor.

He paced, blaster in hand, kicking up dust outside a ramshackle cantina in a small smuggling port. "Fiiiight me!" He shouted again and waved his weapon in the air.

"Owini's gone mad!" Said one pirate who watched the spectacle through a small crack in the wall.

Another pressed his chin uncomfortably over the pirate's shoulder to get a look as well. "Whysee doin'at?"

"Greenie killed his brother, that's why." The first answered.

Owini continued his shouting, he continued to demand that Vendra show herself so he could get his revenge. All that ended when a single streak of blaster fire came from his blindside and shot him dead. Behind the fresh barbecue stood the woman herself, smoking blaster in hand. She walked over him towards the cantina entrance with a single merc-type in tow, who glanced down in disgust.

"Well, that's settled." The first said again as the pirates returned to their drink in disappointment.

"He should have turned around," the merc snorted.

Vendra shrugged without a direct response to the matter. This wasn't the first time she had to deal with a loose string or two on a job, and now it was no longer anyone's problem, assuming the family tree's branches of justice seekers ended there.

"Come on, we're already late for the exchange." She said with a finger wave at her distracted companion.

After all, the two were here to collect some data on a supposed cache of lost tech said to hold the secrets of a bygone empire's deadly arsenal.

Hevnor

 

[Hevnor]

Vendra Vane

Hevnor was waiting in a booth, his only companion a rusted water pipe. Smoke curled around him and water gurgled in the basin as he took another long drag. The kubaz was aware of the shouting and blaster fire, but unmoved by it. The water pipe helped with that. He detested these little backwaters. Life was cheap out here and nobody had any problem reminding people of that. Pointless. Unguided and disorganized. ​

​

A shadow fell over the booth, and he knew that to be Vendra Vane. Hevnor removed the pipe from his mouth and wielded it to indicate the seat across from him. "Sit." Small tendrils of smoke rose from the nares along his snout. He craned his head only slightly to look at Vendra's associate. "Them too."​

​

Hevnor finally gave up the pipe and set it down on the water pipe. The damage was already done, of course, and the booth remained shrouded in a stubborn haze.​

​

"I have the nav data. What do you have for me?"​

​

There was no sound coming from Hevnor. Every word was spoken automatically by a small translation disk he wore like a badge. It was shiny and well-cared for, which in retrospect made it obvious he was not "of" the Outer Rim. ​