The Dark Cargo [Black Bha'lir]

[Paragon of Virtue]

Devaron Hex​

Corellian Trade Spine​

The Confederacy of Independent Systems has grown above and beyond what any of those who opposed to do could have ever had nightmares about. What had begun in the small areas within the Southern Systems was now a sprawling cloud that spread not only over there, but almost to Hutt Space in the north-east and towards the remains of what were ones systems held by the First Order as well. The appetite of the Confederacy had become irrelevant – more and more planets and systems flocked to join its cloud space, knowing fully well of Confederacy's ability to protect them.

And while every system, whether ruled by democracy, a monarchy, or by the people themselves, was more than welcome to join and enjoy the perks that being a Confederate planet gave them, there was but one rule all had to abide by, one rule that was not up for negotiations – slavery was illegal, and slavers were to be executed in the most horrifying of ways.

Yet with a growing cloud space, so did the growth of territories increase. The current cloud space of the Confederacy touched the Corellian Trade Spine, infamous for the smuggler ships that ran across it, carrying various of cargo starting from stolen goods, to spice, and… Slaves.

None could claim that Devaron belonged to the Confederacy in any way, shape, or form. Some would say that it was a matter of time before it did. Yet now that the Confederacy was so close, it saw no reason not to extend its influence. With the fall of the large territory of the First Order, who as far as any knew, weren't actual slavers by any means, the gap in leadership had left more than ample breeding grounds for new slavers to emerge.

And it was as such, that the Confederacy had received word about a certain slave cargo that was set to pass by that very spot on that day. Sadly, it was the only one they knew of for sure, though none could deny that there were probably many more and on a regular basis too. Yet now that they had information, they had dispatched the Black Bha'lir to take care of it – their smugglers, pirates, and people who most likely spoke the same code words and lingo as the ones who would be moving the slave cargo; the ones who, as the Confederacy's Ministry of Secrets had unveiled, were affiliates of the Umbaran Cartel, a cartel that had been operating since before the Clone Wars.

Spoiler: Tags

[member="Carter Pierce"]
[member="Kingsley"]
[member="Gray Venasir"]
[member="Hajrah Marjanah"]
[member="Janus Nooran"]

 

[Mallick Rel]

Smoke roiled from his lips as the jaunty spacer popped the collar of his brown coat and strode down the ramp of his junky old blockade runner. He pinched the cigarra tightly between two fingers and ashed on the feet of some no-named scumbag who promptly cursed at him in Bothan. Despite the grave nature of his offense, the messy haired man did a half spin, bow, blew smoke in the face of his aggressor, and flipped him the bird.

As the other man coughed and wafted away the vile plume of gray, he returned to his natural swagger as if he had never broken stride. Mallick Rel had come to Devaron, and he had done so for work. No one got in between a smuggler and a job.

Except the occasional woman, Rel would like it to be known. That was what made him several hours late on this fine day. She staggered a few paces behind him, wobbling to and fro as she slurred. "Oi, Mallick, I don't feel so great."

"Aye, that'll be the rum I suspect. You drank too much of it. At any rate, Sally-"

"My name is Angela-"

"Right, Patricia, I don't think things between us are going to work out, and you've followed me to a particularly inopportune location, so if you'll bear with me til I finish-"

"What?" she put both hands on her hips. "You said you loved me! Gave me this damn ring, said we'd be together forever-"

"Ah, that's just an old trinket I picked up out way of Mos Espa, and frankly, I don't plan on entering into any long term arrangements, so my lady Monica-"

"Angela," she grit her teeth, head pounding from the hangover. "My name is Angela!"

"-you'll have to forgive me, my associates have arrived. 'lo, folks! I'm here for the exchange?"

"Red or blue?" the man asked, his eyes narrowed. "Black, my good fellow, why no color looks better on me." The man grunted, almost disappointed he couldn't beat the pep out of this one's step. "And the girl? She with you?"

Mallick paused, looked at the girl, then shook his head slowly. "No," he replied quietly, "she may think she wants to be, but for this one, I think you'd better send her on her way."

"You heard the man," the guard stood blocking the woman's way. "Scram."

"Nice girl," he muttered, "but where I'm headed, they eat nice girls alive."