If You've Got the Credits

[Alaric Marãll]

Drev'starn, Bothawui

“I swear this whole planet smells like wet Bothan.” The voice was dominated by a strange accent, difficult to place. It was as if the speaker was in competition to keep his lower lip impossibly still and open his mouth as little as possible to communicate. That said, he made no effort at all to keep his voice down, making the younger woman moving alongside him wince a little.

“Come on Old Man, you really shouldn’t say things like that, especially not on Bothawui.” She placed special emphasis on the last word before letting out a sigh. As if being on a planet populated almost entirely by Bothans would keep her companion from making rude remarks at their expense. “At least talk a little quieter.”

“Oh hell,” he responded, as if taken completely aback by the very notion that a Bothan may have been offended at his remark. “If one of these critters wants to start a fight just because I offered a perfectly. Valid. Criticism,” he said each word with oomph, “then so be it. I’m not signing on to all this ‘be polite’ nonsense.” The girl rolled her eyes as if to say here we go again. “It’s not my fault that the only thing smellier than a wet Bothan is a Wookie.” He stopped suddenly. “… and a Hutt.” He gave a nod of ornery satisfaction before producing a cigarette and a match, he shielded the match to ensure it caught and then let his favorite poison and inhaled deeply, idly counting a few seconds before he puffed out a ring of smoke. He smiled, very impressed with himself. “See that,” he asked as he puffed a second, small circle of smoke, “looks like the rings on that planet we passed few days back.” He turned to his companion- she didn’t seem impressed. “Oh, what’s the matter? You used to like my smoke tricks.”

“I’m not seven any more, Old Man.” Came the curt reply.

“Yep. You’re a teenager.” He said with a chuckle before blowing another ring, “fine, I can entertain myself.” The pair continued in relative silence as they proceeded through the not-so-great part of Drev’starn, the Bothan capital city. Eventually finding their way to a local cantina with the simple name- The Grove. A smile crossed Alaric’s face as he stepped inside, the smell was better. “Humans,” he sighed contentedly, scanning over the room, “when you need a no-good low life, there’s no one better to look for than a Human.” He began to move like a man on a mission towards the bar before stopping suddenly, “… or a Hutt.” He nodded again and kept moving, ordering two strong drinks.

“I’m not drinking right before we meet a client,” the woman accompanying him said as the one of the drinks was set down in front of her.

“Well, ‘course not. These are both for me,” he said matter-of-factly before downing one drink in a single gulp, only to chase it down with the other. “Wow,” he said smacking his mouth a few times and taking another puff from cigarette. “Alright, you keep a look out for our contact and I’m going to go play a hand of cards.” He started moving towards the card table and the girl reached out and grabbed his arm. “What?”

“You didn’t tell me what our contact looks like, Old Man.”

“The Nether if I know,” he said with a shrug, “some green fella’ there can’t be that many wanderin’ around. Just keep your eyes peeled, Mynock. You’ll be fine,” he said elongating the vowel, he pulled his hand free and made quick way to the table, discarding one cigarette and lighting another as he went.

The girl shook her head with humor and disapproval before taking a seat at the bar and ordering a water, keeping her eyes focused on the door. She brushed a brunette strain of hair out of her face and behind her ear, our guy should be here sooner or later.

 

[KeCholo]

[member="Alaric Marãll"]

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n3gr3hqlPnU

In this cruel galaxy of ours, there were many benefits to being 2.2 meters tall and 136 kilograms. Chief among them was the fact that most people were deathly afraid of you. Ke'Cholo had gotten out of several situations where all he had to do was simply raise his voice or act intimidating. However, along with benefits comes negatives. Being a giant green man made it really hard to hide in plain sight, so most of the time Ke'Cholo didn't bother. Plus, after the countless tests and experiments he had endured while training with the Techno Union all those years ago, finding someone that he was scared enough to hide from was borderline impossible. The Imperials on Bothawui didn't scare him a bit, but they outnumbered him, so he used bribes and the HypnoGaze attached to his visor to get out of the sticky situations.

Getting on the planet was tricky, and he'd barely managed to do it. Using stolen Imperial passes and a uniform (and maybe a small amount of credits) he'd convinced the dock officer that he was carrying vital cargo that didn't need to be scanned and was required for the troops immediately. From there, he made his way to the capital, preferring to stick to the back streets, which made him trip time much longer than it needed to be. He ran into the occasional goon, which he offered to pay off to leave him alone. If that didn't work, he'd either blast him or try that HypnoGaze on him.

The Duros perused through the smelly and wet capital of Bothawui in a HC3-High Capacity Cargo Carrier carrying the aforementioned hidden cargo. He parked it in an alley nearby The Grove, and before leaving, he pulled back the door to the back of the truck and whispered. ''You better shutup, if the Imperials don't kill you, I will.'' Ke'Cholo's voice was laced with a thick cajun accent.

clunk

clunk

clunk

His boots clambered on the metallic floors leading up to the cantina. He was dressed in his newly acquired Desperado armor, with his Warden Cloak draped over. The Duros was (as usual) armed to the teeth and prepared for almost anything. However, Ke'Cholo had left some of his larger weapons in his truck for fear of drawing unneeded attention. He also carried a long metallic case with him, one that looked like it could hide a large weapon or two.

The doors to the cantina slid open, revealing the inside. Ke'Cholo deactivated the face mask of his armor and placed it in one of the inside pockets of his cloak. It was fairly packed, he'd have a hard time finding his contact, unless of course someone was looking for him. He pulled a cigar case from one of his many pocket, clutched one in his teeth, and lit it. Whatever came next, he was ready. At least that's what he told himself.

 

[Alaric Marãll]

“Boy,” the word was long, the vowel extended unnaturally by a draw, “Now look, I’m goin’ offer you a bit of advice. Now you ain’t got to take it, but at the very least you might want to give it the ole’ one over in that head o’ yours.” The older man leaned across the table, the smell of smoke and whisky clung to him like a hyper masculine cologne. The younger man kept his elder’s eye and the crowd around them was silent. The younger man lipped his cracked lips before opening his mouth to speak, with dizzying speed the older man’s hand reached across the table, grabbing the back of the man’s neck and slamming his face down against the hard wood of the table. The man’s nose exploded into a mass of wet red, a mostly empty glass exploded as the man’s forehead hit the table a second time. The older man reached under the table with his leg and gave the semi-conscious younger man’s seat a kick, causing it to topple backwards. Before the man could regain his bearings from the two blows, the older man was on top of him, pulling him up to his feet by the front of his shirt.

“What was the point of that, Boy? Huh?! Absolutely meaningless. Stupid. Don’t interrupt your elders, Boy. I know your mama taught you better than that!” He paused and looked off to the side, frowning. “Now I’ve forgotten what I was saying,” he said as he dropped the man roughly on the ground and scratched his beard. “Yep,” he said as he remembered and picked the man back up, “now my advice was this; stop playing Pazaak, at least, stop playing Pazaak against people who are better than you. If we’d played a few more hands, you were going to owe me a whole month’s worth of drinks. Hey,” he shook the man a little to get his attention, but it seemed the man had slipped into unconsciousness. “Well Sithspit,” he sighed as he dropped the man and lit another cigarette. He patted the man down and found his wallet, taking what he eyeballed to be a fair number of credits for his winnings and tossed it back. “Hey barkeep,” he motioned, “bring me as many drinks as this will buy,” he said handing over the unconscious man’s credits.

“Old Man,” his eyes turned back to his female companion, she pointed over to the massive alien who had only just entered. He was an incredibly large creature, capable of intimidating most with little more than a breath. Alaric nodded and took another puff from his cigarette, he inspected the man. Fancy armor. Fancy cloak. “He’s heavily armed.” The man nodded at the girl’s addition.

“Yep,” he flicked the cigarette out onto the ground and lit another, “but he doesn’t look like the type to betray us to the stormies. Let’s go.” He motioned for the girl to get behind him and began approaching the tall figure, he slapped the man on the arm and motioned to a table, “Howdy, name’s Alaric Marãll, we’ve got a table over here.” He led the giant to the table and sat down along with his companion, waiting for the alien to join them. The barkeep brought eleven various drinks to the table, Marãll grabbed one of the ones closest to him and downed in a single gulp. “So, I’m guessing you’re the contact right? They told me you were a big fella’ but you sure are a big son-of-a-blaster! Have trouble getting through doors do you?” He chuckled and shook his head, “man I didn’t know you bulb-heads got that big. Sure you’re mama wasn’t part rancor or something?” He laughed again while the girl sitting beside him attempted to fight the blush from her cheeks. Alaric’s attention had returned to the drinks, “hey, you wanna’ split these? 70-30? Oh… I’ll be generous. 60-40?”

 

[KeCholo]

[member="Alaric Marãll"]

First impressions were very important, and the old man had certainly made one. Ke'Cholo stood near the entrance and watched him pummel another man into the floor. And then he took the defeated man's credits and bought all the liquor his liver could process. Ke'Cholo stayed away from liquor of all types, it had helped destroy his father after the death of his mother. The vice had only accelerated his and his father's poverty, leaving them with (at best) meager wealth.

A young woman at the bar seemed to point out Ke'Cholo, at which the old man approached him and led him over to a table. Almost as soon as they sat down, the bartender arrived with copious amounts of hard liquor. The Duros then endured the comedic ramblings that he often had heard. How was the weather up there? Have you always been that tall? Is it genetics?

The man then began to ask, somewhat more serious questions, at which Ke'Cholo first spoke. He spoke pointedly, through his thick cajun accent.

''I never met my mother, so for I all I know, she was part Rancor. But something tells me it was my altercations with the Techno Union. '' a line of dark humor to be sure, his mother died during his own childbirth.

''I don't drink'' he said simply, not revealing his father's vice. The Duros lightly pushed the glasses towards Alaric. Wasting no time, he retrieved the case he was carrying and placed it on the table, taking care not to tip over any of the glasses. With two crisp snaps, the case opened to reveal a Volley Gun and a Magnetic Repeater. The weapons were placed carefully on foam padding, with extra ammunition. Ke'Cholo raised the case and flipped it around to Alaric and his companion. He wasn't too worried about anyone seeing the guns, as this was a fairly shady cantina and most of the occupants were concerned with Alaric's victim.

''As requested.'' he said, leaning back in his chair.

''My truck is parked outside, I'm ready whenever you are. It may be best to leave now as we might be attracting...undue attention.'' Ke'Cholo nodded to incapacitated man.

 

[Alaric Marãll]

[SIZE=11.5pt]The man seemed terribly serious, [/SIZE][SIZE=11.5pt]Mar[/SIZE]ãll shook his head. It was too common in this line of work and those like it, young men who had decided, for one idiotic reason or another, that the only way to be taken seriously was to never dare crack a smile. He hated working with them, but then he offered his tightlipped response.

[SIZE=11.5pt]“Ha!” [/SIZE][SIZE=11.5pt]Mar[/SIZE]ãll laughed at the concession, and nodded his head. His laugh faded to chuckles and the chuckles faded to a good-humored smile, “glad to see you don’t take yourself too seriously.” He nodded and scratched his beard, taking a puff from the cigarette as he considered the idea of alterations. “What do you think? You’re a giant. Look like you could probably take care of yourself in a fight. Can certainly take a few punches. Seems like a pretty good deal. Did you sign up for the alterations or were they… less diplomatic about it than that?” He grabbed another drink and downed it, “Did you bring the goods?”

[SIZE=11.5pt]He eyed the two weapons over, a smirk appearing on his face. Absent anything resembling caution, he pulled the Repeater out of the case, disassembling it with a striking familiarity. He twirled the various pieces to examine them rapidly from every angle. “Very nice,” he mumbled under his breath, the weapon certainly met his expectations. He handed it to his female companion for her to inspect, which she did with equal efficiency. He then reached out an grabbed the Volley Gun, eyeing it over carefully. He nodded. “You seem to deliver,”[/SIZE] he said as he sat back in his chair and took another puff. “Good.” His companion examined the Volley Gun also before reaching into the case and producing the ammunition, loading both weapons before setting them in front of Alaric.

[SIZE=11.5pt]“Undue attention,” [/SIZE][SIZE=11.5pt]he said humored, “I’ll tell you what Bulby, the only thing I appreciate more than undue attention is the ladies’ attention. If you know what I’m sayin’,” he looked over to the man he had unfortunately rendered unconscious and then looked down at the nine drinks still sitting there and sighed deeply. “Alright,” [/SIZE]he grabbed one of the drinks and swallowed it, “let’s head out.” He placed the Volley Gun in a spare holster on his belt, brought specifically to accommodate the new weapon. His associate took the Repeater, placing it on her back. “Let’s go.” He grabbed one more drink to take with him on the road. “Now where did you say your truck was?”

 

[KeCholo]

[member="Alaric Marãll"]

''My truck is outside, follow me.'' Ke'Cholo stood up from the table, dusted himself off, and gathered the empty case. He briefly looked around before motioning for the old man and his companion to follow. The Duros stepped over the still incapacitated man, and began the two block journey to his truck. He'd parked it so far away to avoid suspicion from the authorities.

''I don't believe I've properly introduced myself.'' Ke'Cholo said, a lit cigar clutched between his teeth. ''Ma' name's Ke'Cholo. I'm the owner of Battlewell Security and Arms, Master of Arms to HK-36, and consumer of copious amounts of cigars.'' he said as his head swiveled, looking for potential threats. ''I've received intense training along with genetic modifications, to make me, well better at everything. Techno Union paid for all of it, in exchange for my...services'' the Duros alluded to his storied criminal history.

''The plan is...'' he began, his voice taking a hushed tone ''we spring her from the facility she's currently at using detonation charges to get in. That's where you come in, as I mentioned before, I need the information about where the facility is, how tightly guarded it is, and the quickest way to her. Think you can do that?'' Throughout his ramblings, Ke'Cholo had allowed Alaric and his companion to respond.

Ke'Cholo suddenly darted into an alley.

Inside the alley was Ke'Cholo's truck, parked, with a durasteel frame on the back. The frame was covered with thick, dark, cloth that draped over the entire structure. Ke'Cholo approached the truck and pulled back the curtain to the back of the truck. ''I could hear you idiots from a block away, you'll be lucky if the entire Imperial military doesn't show up. Pipe down or I'll rip out your vocal cords.'' Ke'Cholo brandished a knife and showed it to the still unseen occupants.

Ke'Cholo swung himself up and into the driver's seat of the truck.

''Get in up here, I'll need you up here to tell me where to go.'' he yelled from the cabin.

 

[Alaric Marãll]

“Well, nice to meet you Bulby,” he answered after the introduction. “Like I said, I’m Alaric. Owner of…” he paused as he scratched his beard and took another puff on his cigarette, “well, I’ve got a ship. Some guns,” he said as he exposed his newly acquired firearm to gleam in the sun, “and a whole lot of bounty on my head. Don’t worry, never posted by anyone respectable. I’ll tell you what, Bulby,” he disposed of the butt of his cigarette and lit another, “you can smoke as much as you want around me, as long as you give me a pack of cigars when all this is over. Deal?” He managed to keep pace with the man, finding his swiveling head humorous, completely unconcerned with the prospect of luring Stormtroopers to their position. While Ke’Cholo swiveled, Alaric swaggered down the road, not a care in the world. “I tell you the truth Bulby,” he said after listening to the alien recount his time with the Techno Union, “we’ve all got pasts, and no one likes to talk about them. So let’s not.”

The man furrowed his brow as he pondered what, precisely, the man was talking about. He chuckled, there had clearly been some kind of misunderstanding. He pondered how, precisely, they were planning on resolving this. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you Bulby, but I don’t exactly do recon. Give me an address and I’ll see to it that the building comes down or the prisoners get out, but that’s about the extent of my expertise. Oh, and if you need someone to organize a guerilla campaign against a group of civilian-butchering lowlifes, I can do that too. Mynock,” he turned to the woman, “you signed us up to do recon?”

“Yeah, we needed the guns Old Man.” She turned her attention to the giant, “don’t worry, we’ve got the intel. The target is named Vitin Triem. She’s the widow of Avix Triem. He was assassinated by Imperial agents during the invasions. They’ve detained Mrs. Triem in a subterranean facility on the eastern outskirts of the city. It’s a repurposed Rebel HQ. There’s a tightly guarded perimeter and only two entrances- one for officials and one for supplies. Both are heavily guarded. All said, I would estimate at least a couple hundred Imperial troops stationed there. A frontal assault will not succeed.” She held up a small electronic storage device, “I know the way to her cell, but we’ve got to get in first.”

“Well Varp,” Alaric cursed quietly, “when did you get all of that information together, Mynock?” He thought back, there weren’t very many times since that got on-world that she had had time the time to gather all of the information.

“First night we got here,” she answered simply, saying no more of Alaric’s night out or following day spent unconscious in the motel.

“Right, good.” He responded with a knowing grin. The pair looked curiously at the truck, the strange exchange went entirely unexplained and, while they both found the incident strange, they declined to comment on it. “Well I guess you’d better ask Mynock there,” he said when the man asked for directions.

“Just head to the east, out of the city. You’ll want to take side alleys and backroads. Checkpoints everywhere. They bombed it during the invasion, so for the most part you can just follow the rubble,” the woman informed him, pointing to the East in case he wasn’t especially coordinated. “Oh, and the name’s Alienor… don’t call me ‘Mynock.’”

 

[KeCholo]

[member="Alaric Marãll"]

Ke'Cholo started the truck up and rolled out of the city, taking care to remain on backroads and side streets, as directed. Once the stress of constantly being surrounded by Imperials had died off, he made light conversation with Alaric and Alienor asking them where they were from and what they had done most of their lives. Ke'Cholo offered snippets of information himself, but only snippets. The roads outside the city were rocky and hard to navigate, due to the recent bombing, so their trip time took longer than expected.

~1 hour later~​

Spoiler

Ke'Cholo approached the entrance of the complex slowly and carefully. There were two guards stationed outside, one one the left to talk with drivers and one on the right to open to entrance to the base. Ke'Cholo parked the truck a few meters in front of the entrance and awaited the guard to approach him. Ke'Cholo turned to his two companions and pressed a finger against his own lips, motioning for them to remain quiet in the encounter.

''What are you doing here? We're not expecting any trucks tonight...and where's your uniform?''

''Truck's empty, need to pick up supplies for the relief effort inside the bombed out areas. I'm an independent driver, all your trucks are busy carrying other supplies.''

''I'll need to see some paperwork and scan your truck just to be sure.''

Ke'Cholo held up his mask and pressed a button on the side of it. Lights on it began to flash.

''I have all my paperwork and passes, you don't need to check my truck since it's empty.''

''You have all your paperwork and passes, your truck is empty so I don't need to check it.''

''Good, now tell the other guard to open the entrance and after that you're going to radio to the troops below that we have urgent cargo that doesn't need to be inspected again.''

The first guard waved the truck through, a signal to the guard to open the gates. In just a moment the entrance creaked and squeaked open, and the truck rolled on through. As soon as they were through, Ke'Cholo turned to his companions.

''Where to from here?''

 

[Alaric Marãll]

The journey to the distant holding facility was a long one indeed. Alaric and Alienor were vague and tight lipped in response to the alien’s inquiries. Alaric all but flatly refused to say anything about how he had spent his several decades, and his companion kept her remarks equally bisque. However, it was clear to anyone that the pair had been working together for a very long time, on more than one occasion they’d share a glance or exchange a small frown, and each time they would change the subject or make an excuse as to why they couldn’t answer that question or otherwise answer so vaguely as to have not answered at all. It was almost as if they were communicating telepathically. Of course, then, they understood when Ke’Cholo was characteristically stoic in his answers, giving them the bare minimum information about himself and where he came from. They didn’t press him on the matter. It made for a mostly quiet ride through the destroyed city center and countryside.

“Well, I hope you’ve got a plan,” Alaric complained when they came to a stop and the alien seemed to wait for the man to approach the truck. When he had pictured the liberation, it had included some explosions, some blaster fire, and maybe hotwiring a space vehicle to flee the scene. He positioned a blaster under the black leather of his coat, pointing towards the window. While he was sure Bulby had a plan, there was never an excuse for being underprepared. Plans had a tendency of going awry. No one liked talking their way out of trouble more than Alaric, but that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy having a blaster at the ready. “Oh, kark,” the man cursed under his breath. He turned to his companion and motioned with his thumb to the massive alien, chuckling under his breath, “we’ve got ourselves a giant, augmented, son-of-a-blaster who wants to play Jedi.” He shook his head, continuing to laugh.

“I’m all for anything that gets us in without shooting. Or getting shot out.”

“Yep,” the man responded, smirking at the dry response of his companion. “That’s your problem Mynock, don’t have a heart for adventure. Back in my day, well, back in my day we would have…”

“Played target practice for a few thousand Stormtroopers?”

“Well, there were times,” he responded, lighting another cigarette, flicking the butt of the previous one out the window. He turned to the alien and gave him an approving nod, “smart thinking Bulby. Though not near as fun as it coulda’ been.” The truck moved into a generic parking spot as directed by the Imperials. Normally there would be dozens of trucks in this area, each loading or unloading supplies and prisoners, but today the occupation seemed to be especially busy and their truck was alone in the ‘loading’ section of the lot.

“Look here,” Alienor said, producing a small sphere which projected a holographic map of the area about the size of a sheet of paper. She pointed to the western section of the facility, “right now, we’re here. But we need to be,” the map spun about and rotated to show the subterranean sections of the facility. It seemed the Rebellion had constructed some sort of metal plant when they created the facility, it featured a long central section which went deep into the earth, corridors extending out in every direction like secondary and tertiary roots breaking off from the main. She pointed to one of these branches towards the lower levels of the facility, “here. This is Cell Block VT, reserved for VIPs and other individuals of particular interest. However, we’ve got to be careful…” she motioned to the map, “there’s only the central shaft to take us to those levels- if an alarm sounds, they’ll be able to trap us down there. In addition, there are not only the standard detachment of Stormtroopers, but there’s also an Imperial Intelligence facility reported to be somewhere in the facility. We’ll only have one shot at this.”

“Don't be so dramatic Mynock."

 

[KeCholo]

[member="Alaric Marãll"]

As soon as the truck was parked in the loading area, he shed most of his weapons, tossing them into the back of the cab of the truck. ''Easier moving around this place than it is getting in.'' Ke'Cholo muttered to himself, scrabbling around the back of the cab of the truck, looking for something. From the back, he retrieved a large metal case, identical to the one he gave to Alaric, except smaller. In the case were three cards, identification slips, and badges. He thumbed through the slips and cards, handing ''Mynock'' her card and Alaric his. He then tossed each of them a badge as his stepped out of the truck cab. ''If anyone questions you, we're independent bounty hunters who are transporting rebel terrorists. Don't flash around your weapons, keep your identification handy and you should be fine.'' Ke'Cholo gave the two instructions as he opened the door of the cab to let them out.

The ''bounty hunter carrying captured rebel terrorists'' then strode to the back of the truck and unzipped the back of it. Inside were a dozen Urko Commandos Ke'Cholo had disguised as captured rebels. They were all wearing standard Imperial prisoner uniforms and appeared grim and defeated.

''Get out of here! Now! Move it!'' Ke'Cholo was almost screaming at the top of his lungs. He wanted to appear as convincing as possible to the few staggered guards around the loading bay. The Urkos practically leapt out of the truck, as they were not able to use their hands to steady themselves. Ke'Cholo had modified standard restraints to allow the Urko to break or unlock them at any time, but had instructed them to act as convincing as possible.

''K-, er, Cap'n Davis I'mma gonna strang'l you 's soon as I bust outta dis place.'' the Urko directed towards Ke'Cholo, in broken basic, sounding very rehearsed. ''Captain Hurq Davis'' turned to ''Enroy Rawwk'' and ''Chun Roberts''.

''Enroy, Chun, c'mon, the Imperials are going to be expecting these prisoners any moment now.'' Ke'Cholo flashed the two a rare smile. And off they went, into the belly of the beast.