First Reply So Tell Me What Kind Of Ship Would Make You Feel Good

[Jerec Asyr]

QUEKKO'S CHOICE SHIP EMPORIUM
SEVEN CORNERS
DENON
900 ABY

Bad weather day: the environment controls were in rolling blackouts for budgetary reasons. A grossly warm breeze shoved grit and garbage across the pavement and piled it up against the landing gear of weird old heterogeneous ships.

Jerec patted one such ship fondly. "...and here we've got a classic Trandoshan armed freighter, the Gizka Inferno, heh heh," he gronked. "But let's talk a little more about the kind of ship you need today, and we'll see if the Inferno or some other beauty on the lot will be your new best friend."

He eyed the customer for some sign that they were in a buying kind of mood.

 

[Maldor Mecetti]

Maldor Mecetti, Senator from Obulette, was not the sort to make frequent travels to the Inner Rim. He preferred his jaunts to be coreward, in places of style and luxury. But family duties sometimes pushed him outwards, to the more pedestrian regions of the galaxy. At least Denon was civilized, and had features reminiscent of Coruscant, given the entire planet was covered in a cityscape.

But while there were surely good places to visit on Denon, Quekko's Choice Ship Emporium could hardly be one of them. It was exactly what it sounded like. Except perhaps more rustic than one might have imagined. To Maldor's eye, the place was scarcely more than a pick-your-part junkheap. Only, instead of parts, terrible and strange ships from across the Galaxy had been salvaged, refurbished, and put up for resale.

From the smell of things, this process did not include any actual cleaning.

"I understand you have a CorelliSpace OT-42H L.F.T. Endeavor in your inventory," Maldor said without preamble. He wanted out of here as soon as possible. Still, he managed to keep his disgust from his voice, and his blue eyes were clear and bright despite the darkened environs of this ramshackle shop.




Jerec Asyr

 

[Jerec Asyr]

Far be it from Jerec to make things awkward when a noble customer came slumming. In fact he got downright obsequious on occasion.

"Certainly, sir, certainly. It's just over here." He moved along down the line, past a Huttese skiff that had seen many far, far better days. "All open market, sir, the papers are in order. CorelliSpace makes a fine yacht. Only one previous owner, an aristocrat from the Tapani Sector. I believe he made it big and went for an upgrade, and here we are with this perfectly sound vessel in excellent condition. She's called the Dawngleam."

The CorelliSpace Endeavor looked a bit like the child of a broadhead arrow and a mynock. "Lines like these, sir, you'd think it's a starfighter - but no! It's classified as a light freighter and outfitted as a personal transport, which means there's plenty of space in that slim hull. Superb engines and industry-leader maneuverability for staying out of trouble."

Maldor Mecetti

 

[Maldor Mecetti]

​

As Maldor was brought to the hold upon which the ship sat, he was prepared to suppress a sneer. But in fact, the ship had good lines and was well above the quality of vessel that the heir to House Mecetti may have expected to see in such a place as this.

And yet, that really shouldn't have been a surprise.

The Ithorian's information was either incomplete or censored. Either way, that was good for Maldor. Once this ship had been identified by House Mecetti operatives as the ship used by a rival House's spy, the order had gone out to find it. Maldor's mother hadn't wanted to involve the Ministry of Inquiry for some reason, and so...

"Dawngleam?" Maldor weighed the word in his mouth for a moment, as though for the first time.

"The owner had some poetry in him."

Then he looked at the Ithorian's giant curved head, wondering how to discern emotion from such a creature.

"I don't actually need the whole ship, though. Just the computer's datacore."

Such a statement would risk revealing his purpose, but Maldor didn't really want to take the whole craft when all he needed was its flight history.

"You see, I have a friend who has the same model ship, and it needs a replacement datacore."

A potentially weak cover. He studied that inscrutable alien face for signs that his lie was accepted, or at least endured.





Jerec Asyr

 

[Jerec Asyr]

Maldor Mecetti

Jerec's immediate sense of loss of a potential sale gave way to excitement as he realized this was, fundamentally, an opportunity to sell the ship, more or less, twice. He'd just need to find a compatible secondhand data core somewhere to sell the ship 'good as new.'

"We can absolutely do that, sir. My staff and I can decouple the data core in just a few minutes with no risk to the contents, none at all."

Sniveling like this was the worst.

"There's just the question of our cost of labor and the price of the datacore and its contents, sir. Our processing systems take wupiupi, Republic credits, Underworld Credits, and a variety of other recognized currencies."

Subtext: how much is it worth to you?

 

[Maldor Mecetti]

Maldor eyed the strange-looking alien creature.

He hated haggling.

He hated it even more when his opponent in a haggling session was a creature so alien that its emotions could scarcely be discerned.

Never mind the unknown customs of the Ithorian people.

He reached into his money-pouch and withdrew a cred-chip that was worth easily half as much as the ship itself.

"For the core, your expenses... and your discretion."

If this had been Obulette, the Ithorian would probably have been 'disappeared' by the Ministry of Inquiry. A neat way to tie up loose ends. But in the wider galaxy, Maldor had to content himself with simple self-interest to motivate people.

And he had to hope that self-interest would not go so far as to sell Maldor out when this transaction was over.

"Of course, if anyone else should somehow obtain the contents of that data core, the results could be most unfortunate."

Something to put the brakes on excess greed. A bit of fear, to counteract desire.



Jerec Asyr

 

[Jerec Asyr]

Jerec accepted the carrot and the stick with all the equanimity he could muster. The money disappeared.

"Discretion, of course discretion. Loka! Boola! Unhook this ship's datacore, extra careful, no risks."

Two similarly disreputable Ithorians emerged from the depths of the ship lot and slouched up the ramp, tool belts a-jangle.

"My cousins," Jerec explained. "A dozen kids apiece. Lotta alimony to work off. Very careful."

The sounds of tools percolated down the ramp.

"So Tapani, eh? Lotta..." What was that place known for? "...sword fighting, yeh?"

Maldor Mecetti

 

[Maldor Mecetti]

Maldor's gaze narrowed somewhat at the Ithorian's comment.

"Wealth. Culture. Nobility. And yes... the finest duelists in the Galaxy... outside of the Jedi."

He did not mention the Sith. Not only were they personas non-grata in most of the galaxy, but Maldor had greater respect for the Jedi's saber control. Their version of Makashi was the most delicate and elegant manner of dueling which Maldor had ever seen.

It was only flawed in that the Jedi were reticent to kill with it.

The Sith, by contrast, held themselves to no such constraints. Which made them inherently more effective, to Maldor's mind. If the Sith had not been so self-destructive over the millennia, they would own the Galaxy, today.

"Or so I've heard," Maldor added, realizing he seemed too invested in his response.

Well, it was really too late for that, now.

Maldor produced a card from within his robes like a magician producing a coin from behind someone's ear.

"This is an automated message service. If you find anything else of interest from the Tapani Sector, call it in. Perhaps we can do business again."

'If you can't kill them, recruit them,' had been one of his mother's favorite sayings.


Jerec Asyr

 

[Jerec Asyr]

Maldor Mecetti 's business card went the way of the money.

"Ugh, fuck the Jedi," said Jerec, and meant it. Mecetti might feel a non-negligible surge in the Dark Side from this unassuming Ithorian. A certain battered item on his tool belt might, from the right angle and in the right context, look not unlike a lightsaber.

Here came Loka and Boola down the ramp. The latter carried, with care, the ship's data core. At Jerec's gesture, Boola offered the data core to Mecetti.

"Pleasure doing business, good sir," said Jerec, and meant that too.

 

[Maldor Mecetti]

Maldor's eyes widened in some surprise as the Ithorian reacted so vehemently to a mention of the Jedi.

Hmm.... perhaps this man could someday be useful for more than ship parts.

Maldor accepted the datacore and took in the alien figure with a new appreciation for his potential. There was a story, here. Someday, Maldor would like to hear it.

But not today. Today, he had a job to do.

"We may have overlapping interests. I'm sure the winds of fate will bring us together before long, Mr... "

He realized belatedly that he couldn't recall the man's name. Had he even bothered to ask?

He'd have to do better than that in the future. One never knew who would prove to be interesting... and useful.

"Well, it has been a pleasure."

And with that, he turned away to resume the day's travels. There was far to go, and not much time before his absence at the Senate was likely to be remarked upon.



Jerec Asyr

 

[Jerec Asyr]

Jerec didn't miss the moment of non-negative reaction to Jerec's anti-Jedi sentiments. Note to self.

"Captain Jerec Asyr. A pleasure, sir."

As Maldor Mecetti left, Jerec brought in his cousins for a quiet chat.

"Alright, boys, two major issues here. One, this ship needs a new data core. You've got the specs, or I hope you've got the specs, or just find the specs on the HoloNet - anyways, get something compatible from one of the backlot junkers and plug it in. Two...someone find out who the feth that rich Tapani guy was."

Cousin Boola, the younger and more technical, already had an image search running through Denon and sector news. Throw in the keyword 'Tapani' and, yeah, up came a couple pictures of a Galactic Alliance Senator.

"Huh. Boys..." Jorus held up the card he'd been given. "...we've got a Senator on speed dial. Karked if I know what to do with it, but maybe we'll think of something..."