Stench of Hutt Poodoo in the Air

[Sen Oisel]

Evening waved it's majestic dimness over the land. The sun ran a tide into the distance, eclipsed in view by the stew of buildings. Admix of critters and humanoids danced through the ecumenopolis. Some linger in speeders, while others took amble on the durasteel sectors. Droid's could be heard chirping away at work, the sounds managing to pierce through the field of the Midget Brow's hull.

Expertise overwhelmed my fatigue, pushing my hands across the levers. A click of the control panel, and I managed to shift the shuttle into a blast above the skyscrapers. Flung in a whirlwind of pilot savvy, the ship jetted through the underline of traffic and dashed beyond the depths of architecture below. Brisk maneuvers pressed the freight amidst the gloom of The Works.

Field of industrial plants seasoned the land with distinct profusion. Absurd smells were funneled by the vent, for the most part, but some trickled through. A distasteful aroma ruffled my nose as I took in an exhausted breathe and sighed. Although I had managed to gain much needed sleep, the slumber was not truly effective. Despite adept notions, there was not much keeping me from dropping my hand on the control panel.

On the planetary map beside me, projected from the holopad, sat a way point. Over the flight the frequency from the Nym's headquarters had been sent, and provided all the necessary information for the ship's movements. Soon, we would be off into hyperspace again and on our way to Kashyyk. Maybe then I could catch up on some sleep.

After an eased landing on the nearest building top, I activated the ship's energy shield. The heavily modified shields would provided much more than the necessary to protect against the expected futile attempts of gangs and thief. Midget Brow was not precisely a shuttling piffer, but it was decent enough to get a cowardly thief's mouth watering.

"Time to go..."

[Artisn]

Throughout the trip after the mishap, Feruaj kept away from Sen. Anytime they were in a room together, he left. It was only best to avoid the conflict until it seemed fitting to spark another conversation. Beside the very skewed view of his vengeance, their was a clear understanding that the punch was not absolutely necessary.

He could have at least laid his bulging fist somewhere else on the Captain's body. The nose was frail, fragile and weak spot.

The landing was no different. Instead of clustering around the cockpit with interest, he rested in his room fiddling about with the blasters he had managed to run off Anaxes with. In another lifetime he was a weapon specialist for the few companies. Designing them wasn't hard, and understanding their mechanics were the least of his troubles.

[PD-A4]

A flick of the manufactured wrist, and the plank popped out of position. Slowly treading to the floor, it pressed into a perfected diagonal for easy exit and entrance. During their moderately short stay A4 would be guarding the door as the other's headed off.

Maybe he could do a few more checks about while they were away.

[Sen Oisel]

The gangplank was ready, but I wasn't. After a quick dash from the cockpit, I was rummaging about the main deck. Even though the trip would be small, there was a need for a few light things to pack. On my belt I carried my datapad, equipped with the required information from downloaded data cards. But for the life of me I could not find my blaster.

Before my bucket head brother fell in some assault, he sent a few gifts back home. All the purpose of joining the Imperial Army was to gain some credits, and he did. Purchases ranged from all over the galaxy as he traveled, commonly sending messages through absurd frequencies. It was a trip back then, but their was not much to his name anymore, beside the blaster. A DH-23, and though I wasn't an ace there was much to love about the durable pistol.

Despite it's setbacks to the DH-17, it was a tighter, more compact exchange to the weak structure of it's predecessor. Although it hadn't gotten me out of trouble yet, it was well worth scavenging for before I took a walk through "The Works". Gangs, squads and foolish buffoons tattered the streets around the industrial highway, and no man was certainly safe. It was a perfect place for a pick-up, but not for the smuggler there.

A grumble rumbled my throat as I knelled, peering into an open cabinet. After an abrupt close, I went back into a studious mode, leaping from side-to-side. Finally I found the DH-23 resting inside the refrigerator. Somehow I forgot that was where I was putting all my weapons.

"Now," I began, grabbing up my pilot jacket from a nearby chair. People had told me when I first bought it that Han Solo had been seen with it on as well, but of course my own was cooler. I mean...I'm me.

"...I'm ready." And so the DH-23 was holstered as I headed slowly toward exit's corridor. The other's better get up, or they would be running about The Works by themselves.

[Artisn]

Feruaj watched carefully. Standing in the darkness afar from the view of the Captain, his hand shuffled with weaponry. Time had given him the boredom to preoccupy himself, and weapons were the idle choice. Cleaning them had become of the many hobbies he had.

Yet they could not be used, though it was certain it may come to that. Any closer movements with the Captain and another brawl could set out. So, instead, he stood afar and watched as the pilot headed from the main deck to the gangplank. He would follow, but at the back of the bunch.

Soon the other's would ready themselves for the departure and he would follow suit. Until then, he simply polished the hardware in silence.

[Sprocket Gearhead]

After maybe four or five hours of sleep right on the workbench, head slumped on his arms, Sprocket Gearhead awakened with a start. From his vantage point, he could see the Besalisk polishing the hardware, or in Sprocket's case, large weapons. That couldn't be good. Reaching to the rebreather mask and vocabulator, Sprocket made some final recalibrations and adjustments before fitting the durasteel plating over the exposed hardware, like a hatch on the engine of a landspeeder. A few tested words, mostly whispered, and a word or two at normal tone, and a few other inflections, and the Ewok's mask was complete. It was fully functional. Smiling under the perfectly fitted mask, Sprocket then took out a weapon from his pack. It was a simple, primitive weapon: a sling. It would be all he needed, but Sprocket wanted to make a few modifications. Sprocket quickly welded and cooled together a few pieces of metal and a few pieces of fexicord, with a patch to connect the four flexicord pieces, and a fitted laser pointer lens inside the handle, just above it. And his new slingshot was ready. The patch was adjustable for varying pieces of ammunition. Wait, ammunition.....Reaching into a receptacle, he found small scrap pieces of metal usable for bullets. And the ammunition was complete.

Taking a shop-rag and some metal and rubber cleaner/polisher, Sprocket began to clean off the newly-worked slingshot and mask. Everything was ready. Now to pack.

Hopping down from the stool, Sprocket fixed himself a large flask of water and a pack of trail rations, and tied it all to a knapsack. He was ready.

Stepping out of his workshop, Sprocket approached Sen. And his automated yet personable voice spoke.

"I'm ready to go. How's you nose?"

[Sen Oisel]

A smirk wrinkled my lips as I glanced down at the small fur bag. Sprocket was a genius. In only a night's work he managed to configure scraps into a genuinely personable module. Conversations would be a lot easier, but hopefully the vocal works would be a bit less mechanical as upgrades came. Didn't matter much, I was more proud of his success.

Sprocket was definately diamond in the rough. A fleet of foolish buffoons were to accompany me. Not that I hadn't become fond of them all, even the nose-smasher, but Sprocket would be certainly be worthwhile acquaintance. The others seemed like they carried a bit more baggage than one hand could handle.

"It's fine, it's fine," I said, reassuring him. Sprocket was a caring character, and deserved the same in return.

"So ya ready to go, Kit-master?"

Coming up with nicknames was a habit of mine, and Sprocket deserved it.

[Artisn]

Feruaj watched cautiously from afar down the depths of the corridor. Shadows casted him into oblivion, unseen by the converse between the Ewok and pilot. In moments the whole bunch would be gone, so swiftly he headed toward his quarters.

Bagging his weapons and required equiptment, he latched the pack on his back. He was ready to go as much as Sen and Sprocket.

[PD-A4]

A4 was like any other droid, as diligent as he could be. So, in utter silence he observed the Ewok. Beside the amusement the little furry creature had gave him previously, the Ewok was intelligent. Despite the rather large power of upgrades to his A.I, he was still quite setback in rival to other models.

He hoped when the crew returned he could convese with the Ewok aswell. A few upgrades and problems ravaged his circuits, and the protocol droid was certain Sprocket was a perfect canidate to work on him.

[Sprocket Gearhead]

Sprocket nodded, his fur waving slightly with it. And his keen sense of smell got a scent of oil, but not the oil and rubber cleaner that he used. It was for another weapon. And it came from the direction where the Besalisk slept. He was probably up and getting ready. No worries. He patted his belongings.

"Yep. I'm ready when everyone else is..."

[Sen Oisel]

"They can catch up."

Before the courteous Ewok could rebut, I sacked my idle hands in my pockets and headed down the steps. A messenger bag banged against my back as I walked down the tilted gangplank. Night engulf the sky. Darkness contorted by unique clouds of smoke seasoned the heavens, and only a dimly lit moon illuminated through the disgusting puffs.

Industrial regions were polluted with troubles, beyond the one of company buildings. Although the vapor haul a malodor, the true blight resided across the street. Waste from every sector of the planet trickled into the terrace. On their rear laid pitfalls, depleted dreams and impoverished life. Dire views deluged The Works commoner, leaving gangs to be affiliated and more trouble on their plates to digest.

Disgust manged to dismantle my proud character. Abomination could be felt in the very air and step. Gas perfumed the radiated avenue's below as the young puffed cigarra's. Help was futile, so I could only stare over at the bizarre affairs. Anaxes and Coruscant both sustained an ecumenopolis, but the planets could not be any different. Pols Anaxes did have it's scum, but the Imperial Center was different.

Abhor spoil the lesser sectors of the Empire's capitol. Only moments ago I flew over the delicacy, in awe at my return to the place I once called home. The injustice of the metropolis outskirts veiled an infernal contrast. Even Captain Obvious would notice the distinction in a blink.

I wonder how the Kit-Master took it. Although I never had been to The Works before, nor Endor, tales spilled from both areas. The differences couldn't be more evident.

"How you doin'?" I asked as I headed to the lift that would take us down. Soon we'd be with the contact and off the dust ball.

[Sprocket Gearhead]

Sprocket, adjusting his mask, looked around the terrain. It was unlike anything he'd ever experienced on Endor. The air was polluted and smoggy, even more difficult to see than Endor's misty mornings. And the buildings were everywhere. Not a tree, rock, or natural formation in sight. The air was being filtered through the mask, but Sprocket could still smell the difference. The air was used and dirty, and would probably never be the same as Endor, even if they made better air purifiers.

"Oh, I'm just fine. The air and the planet isn't though. How it remains truly alive and in orbit is a mystery to me....."

Sprocket had his slingshot on his belt, clipped off to the side. It was drawable at a moment's notice. And Sprocket was ready for a fight, though he would simply find cover and make opportunistic shots. Such was his way.....the way of a smaller creature. Use every advantage that you could.....

[Sen Oisel]

A click and the we were down to the abandoned building. Groans wheezed from the lift as it screech down. Anguish was even in the blueprint of the place. Shattered durasteel, once a wall, pressed to the side as we exit the horrid elevator. Through the freakish tower, mistaken for old structure, I kept my hands to my pocket. Tending to the lent with a fiddle of my fingers, I curiously inspected the surroundings.

Much of the room was barren, but the chirps of transported lesser womp rats could be heard echoing from the corners of the dim room. A single light illuminated from the center of the room, providing the necessary shine to walk carefully through. It was only required to be cautious in such terrifying settings. The place seemed fitting for a Horror Holovids or something.

I never liked those darn vids.

A snort and my composure returned. Leaning out the door, Sprocket and I found ourselves in the traffic of flesh. People rushed through the streets. A wholesome family gripped tightly on their groceries as they headed home. Mom and kids, faces converted to frowns as their steps steadily increased in speed. It was only required as a crowd of vile scum took amble in follow of them.

For the most part the bunch were sub-adults. One wasn't much older than 10 from the looks of his youthful face. However, they all carried the same scum that had become well known to my eyes since my days as an Outlaw Tech. The boy followed the crowd without a care, unusual hatred managing to tatter the once angelic nature of his eyes. It was a pity.

All I could do was shake my head. My hands delved in different business, and being a hero just wasn't my job. A glance down at the Ewok, then I swallowed my optimism. The Works already had managed to drain something from me. Hopefully it wouldn't do much more.

[Artisn]

Feruaj kept behind, but drifted out of the ship. His eyes followed in twarted frustration, surveying the Ewok and Sen. They were moving at a steady pace, and like the Bounty Hunter he once was he lurked.

When business was to be taken care of, he would show up on their side. Until then he was trickle in the crowd to be mixed up with the others. He still was unsure if Sen was angry about the punch. Despite it all, the Captain was his ride throughout the galaxy and held the keys to a safe haven. He did get even, but things seemed out of whack.

All the thoughts troubled him as he carefully observed and moved prudently.

[Litika Dor]

Litika sighed. She hadn't been able to get much information out of Oisel as to why they were actually here...some contact from whom some kind of information could be gleaned for some purpose or other...Sen had been very vague. She was pretty sure he hadn't actually said the words "Imperial City" until they were in orbit around it, and from that second on she had politely demurred from accompanying the boys on their run. (Her exact refusal had been something like, "Yeeeeeeeah, you guys have fun in that hellhole. If you think I'm going with you you're out of your gorram frelling minds. And I'm not coming after you if you get eaten by Cthon. Just sayin'.")

So now Litika watched warily as the short-fused Besalisk shuffled off the Midget Brow several minutes after Sen and Sprocket. She rather wished the little Ewok had stayed here with her; she well knew that Ewoks were pretty amazing at taking care of themselves, but The Works was not Endor. There were no zombies on Endor. She was pretty sure there wasn't much toxic smog, either.

But Sprocket had seemed keen to follow the captain into hell's butthole, so Litika just shrugged and sealed the ship after Ter.

She ambled up to the cockpit and flung herself into the copilot's chair. She heard a rickety whirring pass by in the corridor.

"Yo, A4!" she hailed the walking tin can. The whirring paused, and the droid's dully shining head popped back round the corner.

"Looks like it's just you and me, good buddy." Litika grinned. She liked droids, but A4 was just too easy to mess with.

[Sen Oisel]

"Frag, watch ya self."

I spat with sudden vigor as a hoverboard sped past with a Dug flipping about it's top. All the athleticism in the world, and the stupid Dug used it to fly past me. Nothing about it made sense. However, I didn't dwell long on the puzzled moment. Turning about, I treaded on with Sprocket at my side.

There was business to be taken care of, so my mouth kept shut. Sprocket and I hadn't talked much since the depature, but it did not bug me. My mind was overwhelmed with other subjects, such as the smog. Every breathe was another new toxin that was foreign.

A swallow kept my building disgust at bay as we turned around a corner toward the barren building at the end of the block. The industrial terrian was decimated with horrid air from such structures. And here we were required to venture to for a lenghty conversation with an unknown man. All of it was a bit suspicious, but it was my first job. I couldn't demand much.

[Araib Musbunig]

A life of troubles had captured Araib since his involvement with the unique company of his. Smuggling operations had sent him on foreign worlds, dazzled by their beauty as he provided them with healthy products. Many worlds had been encompass by the gross of the New Order and their civilians required non-taxed items.

Araib had always been there to provide, gain supply and fly off through unknown routes. Despite it all, he felt like a hero. He was in many respects the opposite to the smuggler stereotype.

He loved to be unique, but now he was just another puppet. After a run-in with a dastardly devilish figure, he found himself without any options. The Empire had taken a grasp on him, and here he was on the Imperial Center, in The Works of all places to deliver some supply.

All of it was a bit too much for him to understand, but business was business. He had to keep his lekku on, and that was all that matters. Scowl formatted his broad features as he remembered about the threat from the tall man.

Man, the things he got himself into.

[Artisn]

Feruaj's eyes switched from side to side. He headed in only moments after the Ewok and Sen did. Time had come to reveal himself as he traveled through the workshops and lines of inactive droids.

Soon the contact would expose himself, and he would be there to see him.

[Sen Oisel]

Every step was done with delicancy. The beat of my feet were at a complete lull. Time had given me the chance to examine the plan. In the back of my mind I rambled on about the numerous possibilities. A trap was always plausible, and at moments time my quick reflexes could supply a shot to the dome. Cautious as could be, I carried myself with Ewok by myself toward nearby steps.

The blueprint of the warehouse had given me all the required information to drift to meeting grounds at the height of the once bustling industrial building. Fumes of once active assembly lines gave my nose a new tingle. Tickled by the aroma forced me into a respire, before pushing a swinging door open. The stubby legs of the furry comrade dashed in before me, as I followed close behind.

One step, then a turn and we were there. Designs rampage the room. Fashionable aritcles richocheted through, symbolized in dangling drapes and carpet finery. Lamps hung at the door atop Kashyykian wooden tables. Refined sofa sat in the middle of the room with a memorable Twi'lek pressed into it's embrace. The new stitching gave my eyes something to tumble over, but my feet moved with grace.

Dropping into the opposing seat, the Ewok sat behind me. The room had been fitted such for this occasion, just for this action. And so, I began.

"The supplies, sir?"

[Artisn]

Feruaj stood at the door, silence restraining his thoughts. On his back he still carried the weaponry that could very well be necessary in moments to come.

A snarl framed his face as he watched from afar. Soon the purpose of this trip would be shown. Already talk of supplies had intrigued him.