Slave to the Rhythm

[Kellyn Muir]

The fan whirred in the dark room, the neon red light piercing through the wooden blinds. The office on Nar Shaddaa was hardly a desireable location, but it was cheap and it got the job done. This wasn't the traditional office with cubicles and office peons, but rather an open floor with nothing but a handful of desks scattered throughout the large space. On each, a pile of papers and holopads, and a holonet terminal. These terminals weren't like the kind commercially available though, they were only available via government contracts or the black market. The latter is where Jest, or rather his handle, 'Chiffre', operated best.

He had gambled all his immediate assets away and was left with very few credits remaining, but that's nothing a quick hack into a bank with lax cybersecurity couldn't remedy. Typing away on the holographic keyboard, a ping came up on his holopad. Continuing to type with one hand, he picked up the holopad as he activated it, his eyes still glued to the terminal. As the one-handed typing slowed, his gaze turned to the holopad, where his heartbeat increased. There it was.

The Slave I, the fabled starfighter of the legendary Mandalorian warriors Jango and Boba Fett. It had been seized by a seemingly random port authority for abandonment, and he was surprised that it had not been recognized or allowed for sale to the public. With a swipe, the display of the holopad was now on the terminal. Breaching the firewalls was easy, all that was left was changing the time to twenty seconds. That would give him enough time to outbid the winning bid and not enough time for them to rebid.

10,000 credits.

That's all it took, and with a chime, he received the notification. For 5,000 credits, he could even have the vessel shipped to him on Nar Shaddaa. It was risky, but it'd be worth it. He'd already lost his swoop speeder and personal shuttle on the races, he needed something to get off the lawless rock. And what better way than to do so than in the Slave I?

Rubbing his hands on the goosebumps on his arms, he smiled. Today was a good day.

 

[Kellyn Muir]

T W O D A Y S L A T E R

Today was the day. Though a significant distance away, thanks to his Endor Prime membership, the Slave I should be showing up on his doorstep any moment now. Well, he'd have to go to the spaceport and sign for it, but it was there. Jest didn't enjoy walking in the streets, though Nar Shaddaa was a bit of an exception. No one cared enough who you were to dig deeper, though the danger of his noble status and inherent worth would prove to be a significant danger if leaked to the criminal element of the planet.

Donning a black hood and his brown bomber jacket, he slid a a disposable holopad into his pockets before he exited the office, locking the door behind him. The streets of Nar Shaddaa were hardly kind, though so long as your head was down and you minded your business, you'd do just fine. And that's exactly what Jest did, at least until a potential problem arose. Near the east entrance to the spaceport, there was a Duros hanging out with a group of other mean looking fellows. Normally so long as Jest kept his head down, he'd be fine, but he was a lieutenant in one of the local gangs that he had hacked not longer than a couple weeks ago. This would be problematic.

Sulking around a corner, he leaned against a building in an alleyway. He made sure to look down it and make sure it was clear, as alleys were a favorite for thugs to take advantage of unsuspecting or careless peoples.

He reached into his pocket and produced his holopad, unlocking and tapping away. Using hacked bank money, he'd just placed a 5,000 credit bounty on the Duros. That should be enough to at least gather a handful of lower tier bounty hunters, and it was. Within minutes, three masked figures charged him from the ground and one used a jump pack in the air. A firefight ensued in the streets, and Jest took advantage. Sliding his holopad back into his pocket, he tucked his head and walked adjacent to the building he leaned on. Blaster bolts fired all around, though thanks to the airborne bounty hunter, luckily the damage was mostly either in the sky or gang's location.

Just put one foot in front of the other...

There. He was in. He turned around, and found the lieutenant lying on the ground, hands clutching his abdomen. He hadn't expected the bounty hunters to actually succeed in claiming the bounty, but they got the job done in providing the distraction. The credits automatically disbursed into their accounts and Jest looked forward.

There it was. He could see it.

 

[Kellyn Muir]

There is was. He could see it.

The Slave I.

He continued walking in the same caution exhibited on the streets. Though the spaceport was generally much safer than the avenues outside of it, largely in thanks to private security corporations, but it didn't stop Jest from exhibiting caution. He was almost too cautious, and almost always was. It was in his nature. Leave no stone unturned, unless they were his - then they could all stay unturned, and if someone cared enough to flip them, they'd lead nowhere.

That's what Jest de Rous was. A ghost. Chiffre. A name on a screen.

Today though, he was more than a name. He was the claimant and lawful purchaser of a legendary starfighter, dating back past the Battle of Yavin IV. And there they were. The goosebumps. They came back like a loyal hound to it's owner. They were a nuisance, but it could be much worse. It was almost humorous that an artifact so priceless was acquired for such a low price.

He was within arms distance of it now. He looked up and down, admiring the craftmanship of the custom vessel.

"Hey! Back up!", a voice shouted.

 

[Kellyn Muir]

Jest flinched and complied with the shout. He didn't expect any surprises, or maybe he was just distracted with his new purchase.

As he turned his head searching for the origin of the voice, an armed security officer began walking aggressively towards him.

"Stay back!", he warned again, pointing for him to move even further away. His hands raised slightly in open view, he turned to face the officer. "Officer, I...", he tried explaining before the security guard pushed him back. Why was he so aggressive?

"We have a client picking this up today, and I can't have greasers like you scumming it up!"

That explained it. Though slightly offended at his remark, he was actually happy to see that the transfer of custody of his ship was regarded as so valuable as it was. He wasn't sure who he had to thank, the seller, shipper, or security corporation for actually doing their job. Nonetheless, he was pleased.

"I'm that client.", he managed to get out before the guard began preparing to frisk him.

"Let me see some I.D.", the officer demanded. Reaching slowly into his pockets, he fetched his diplomatic credentials for the guard. He should then see the status of the de Rous before him. There was a few minutes of pause as the guard contacted his supervisor, presumable to verify his identity.

Patting Jest on the back, the guard returned the I.D.

"My apologies, viscount. We'll have the papers brought down immediately. Feel free to examine the merchandise."

The exterior was all he could manage to examine, as the ship was locked. He could hack it to gain entry, or he could wait five minutes and save himself the hassle, and that's exactly what he did.

 

[Kellyn Muir]

The paneling, the color, it was magnificent. It was far from mint condition, but that was just fine to Jest. It gave the ship character, and more than likely added value rather than a complete restoration would've.

"Alright sir, here we are.", the guard said, approaching Jest with a large holopad and stylus. "Sign here, initial here, and sign here again."

And that was that. The ship was his, now officially in his custody. The ship clicked with a submission of the document, and it was now unlocked. Climbing aboard, the interior was much more spacious than he could have anticipated. Though crude in it's design and intent as a bounty hunting ship, the thing was mint. Whoever restored the ship knew what they were doing. Climbing into the pilot seat, he entered a set of coordinates in the nav computer before starting the ship up.

The engines whirred to life and he obtained clearance to launch. However, he wasn't about to leave Nar Shaddaa just yet. Taking off ever so slowly, he mosied his way through the streets, or rather a hundred meters above them.

The office.

He sped up, the ship's velocity increasing without any discernible effort. There it was. With the push of a button on the controls, red lasers jolted out of the cannons and into the building.

There the office was.

Turning skyward, the hyperspace generator began whirring and off he went into the stars - Chiffre and his Slave.