SithLore

Rane sits quietly outside a small, nameless cantina in the city of Mos Espa. His drink is cold, but not even the coolness of the drink is able to quench the unending heat of the planet’s binary suns. The streets are crowded by the usual standards. It’s Boonta Eve and the entire city is abuzz with activity. Already throngs of anxious spectators are gathering to enter the Grand Arena in anticipation of the start of the Boonta Eve Classic Podrace. Rane wasn’t aware that his visit to Tatooine would coincide with the festivities, but it was a welcome distraction from his current state of affairs.

Rane imagines his efforts on Roche had been in vain. He knew that seeking out Master Buggie at the direction of his cousin, Lieutenant Commander Sien DeCola, was likely not one of the wisest moves he had ever made. It was brash, but it was a risk that Rane had felt was worth taking.

Rane had a close relationship with his cousin growing up. For much of their lives, the two had been inseparable. Once they became adults though, Sien had made his choice and joined the Alliance. He knew that while his cousin held rank in the Alliance Navy, that Sien was likely involved in some of the Alliance’s less than public affairs. Rane thought at one time about following in his cousin’s footsteps. His desire to explore the galaxy and not wanting be tied to the rules and regulations of the military though, had led him to head off in a different direction in life.

Things had changed however. It had been almost two years since Sien had been identified as ‘missing in action’ by the Alliance. Details of the mission that Sien had been on were classified. Rane had attempted to obtain those details, but his efforts had come up empty. All of his efforts related to finding out what happened to his cousin had been empty, until a coded message cylinder had been delivered to him stating he should seek out Master Buggie. Rane would have ignored the message, with the exception that the cylinder was encoded with Sien’s personal signature code. This was something that couldn’t be disregarded.

Rane didn’t know how to find Master Buggie. His inquiries into the mysterious Jedi acquaintance of Sien had been mixed. Some said that he no longer existed. Others said he had joined the Sith and crossed to the Dark Side of the Force. Rane didn’t know what to believe. His best lead had been to go to Roche and look for the Verpine amongst his own race there, but that had cost him everything he owned. He had only just made it off Roche by boarding a freighter that had already cleared inspection and was bound for the Outer Rim. That was how he had ended up on Tatooine.

Not wanting to dwell any further on his failed efforts for the remainder of the evening, Rane finishes his drink. It was time to join the crowds and let the race take his mind off of things until tomorrow.

The Blue Star Cantina was one of two locations of the same name in Mos Espa. Though the name of the establishments obviously evoked thoughts of the pirate entity, the cantinas were not affiliated-- at least to common knowledge. There was no outward presence of the Blue Star Pirates on Tatooine, but an ally to the criminal organization could find a safe harbor at the bar, or in the back where the real brains of Tatooine's operations resided.

One of the establishment's proprietors leaned against the side of the cantina, a cigarra lazily hanging out of his mouth as he studied the drunken streetwalkers on Boonta Eve. Sniffing, he withdrew the narrow cigarra from his mouth and put the butt of it out against the wall, a series of ashes sparking off the dried clay before they dropped to the sand.

Nothing to see here.

While he wanted to get away from it all, reality quickly came rushing back to Rane when the waiter presented him the check for his drinks. He paid the waiter and counted up the last few credits that he had to his name. He needed work, and he was sure that there was work to be found in Mos Espa.

“So, you know where a spacer might sign on to crew a ship around here?” Rane asks the waiter.

“Well, not too many pilots or traders come through this particular establishment. This is more of a local place. But, you might try over at the Blue Star Cantina. Word on the street is that if you are looking for a way off of Tatooine that it can be found there.”

Rane threw an extra credit chip on the table that was quickly grabbed up by the human waiter. He hoped the lead was worth something. The remaining credits in his pocket wouldn’t take him much further at this point.

Rane further questioned the waiter on where the Blue Star Cantina was located. The waiter gave him directions, but seemed confused if it were located further toward the center of the city or along the outskirts. Rane figured that at least with the place’s name, it shouldn’t be too hard to figure out where to find the place.

Several hours later, Rane finally had managed to find the nondescript bar. The sign above the door with a large, blue star had been a bit of a giveaway. Rane walks into the cantina and is instantly met with the sounds and smells of a ‘spacers’ bar’. This was his kind of place.

Rane approaches the bar and takes a seat. Large holoscreens display the opening ceremonies of the podrace event that was still several hours away from kicking off at the Grand Arena. The crowd hadn’t yet spilled over from the street into the cantina, so it looked like Rane had made a timely enough arrival to not miss too much of the action and still find a seat.

“What’ll it be?” a grisly looking humanoid bartender asked from behind the bar.

“Ale, what the local stuff is, as long as it cold and cheap. Clean glass would be good to.”

“Yeah, well that’ll cost ya extra.” The bar tender said snickering as he shuffled toward the other end of the bar to fill the order.

The room was full of humanoids and aliens from at least a dozen different planets. Rane wants to find his opportunity to get off Tatooine soon. Staying here wasn’t going to help him at this point, although he didn’t know what his next move would be either. Rane had never been one to sit around.

The bar tender comes back and sets down a drink in front of Rane. Rane sips the beverage. It will suffice. The last time he had sat at a bar and had a drink, he had to leave in a hurry, and hoped that it wouldn’t be the case this time.

“So, you know anyone looking to hire on some crew? I’ve got some skills and need the money. And, for the time being, I’ve got all the time in the galaxy.”

The bartender placed both of his palms on the top of the bar, looking around the cantina, "'Spose you could try your luck with Marbles over there in the poncho. He's been in and out looking for an extra hand."

Marbles, it appeared, was a smooth, ashen skinned Iotran, clad in a mottled poncho. His nose was wide and flat, and evoked the mental image of an air intake vent on the side of an atmospheric speeder. His head had no obvious signs of ears, but there were a number of spotty blemishes lining the crown of his head. Altogether, he seemed like the type of sentient one didn't want to be around for too long.

"Hey! Marbles!" the barkeep called, taking matters into his own hands, whether the man across the bar from him liked it or not, "'Cold and Cheap' over here says he's handy on a freighter."

Marbles, who had been minding his own business up until that point, rose from his seat, glass in his four-digit hand, and approached the bar where the newcomer sat.

"Tell me about it, tough guy," Marbles said, in an uncharacteristically soft voice that was at least three octaves higher than what would have been expected out of someone of his stature, "What have you worked on? Why aren't you working now?"

"I'm sure you'll excuse my friend here for botching the introduction. My name's actually Rane. I've been around you could say. Graduated from the Alliance's Starfigher Academy, did my stint, spent some time over at Incom, and well, for the sake of discussion, I'll goes as far to say I entertained a few extracurricular enterprises that were able to supplement my income."

The bar tender sets Rane's beer down in front of him. Rane grasps the drink and inspects it. The beer isn't completely chilled, but at least the glass was clean by Tatooine standards. Hopefully the price will be right. He takes a sip anyway. Regardless of its shortcomings, the ale quenches his thirst that's been caused by the planet's incessant daytime heat.

"As for why I'm not working now, I've been dealing with a bit of a personal issue lately that's required me to be away from work. Unfortunately, the issue has upset my finances somewhat and I'm in need of steady cashflow. If you know where I might come by that, well I'm all ears."

The conversation is back in the Iotran's court. Rane has not had many dealing with Iotran's in the past, with the exception that the few that he had encountered had militaristic tendencies. People with a disposition like that he knew to be serious about their business. He hopes that with a name like "Marbles", that imposing man now standing next to him hadn't lost his somewhere along the way.

He almost wishes now that he could take back the comment about being 'all ears.'

"Rain!" Marbles exclaimed, as he threw his head back and let out a hoot, seemingly emerging from his wide nose, "Where I am from, tough guy, we worship the rain. It is considered a sign of great fortune."

Before he could be corrected as to the meaning of his new acquaintance's name, Marbles looked around the establishment for a moment and grew somber, "Not much rain or great fortune to be found here on this miserable planet. For you or for me, it seems."

After a moment of silence, the Iotran looked at the Human beside him furtively, "I've decided then. You're able enough, from the sounds of it. If you aren't afraid to get your hands in the carcass and keep your mouth shut about it, I'll sign you on for a job. Can't promise we'll be going to a resort world, but it'll pay. Bigly."

Marbles offered him a job. It was exactly the opportunity Rane was looking for. His only other want at this point was not losing his own marbles in the process of getting the job done. It was a comfort knowing that he would be on the same side as the daunting Iotran, but by the reference that Marbles had made, he hopes that he won't need to get too dirty in the course of completing the work.

“Sounds like a plan. When do we leave?”

As Rane finishes his sentence, a group of spacers, rougher looking than Marbles even, comes crowding through the door of the cantina. A Devaronian, with a demonistic look on his face, leads the rowdy bunch.

“BAR TENDER!!! A ROUND FOR MY CREW AND MAKE IT QUICK IF YOU KNOW WHAT’S GOOD FOR YA!,” the Devaronian yells.

Rane doesn’t pay the collection of miscreants much heed, but can see that Marbles is getting agitated.

“Not friends of yours I take it?”

The Devaronian, and what Rane took to be his crew, grabbed seats at the bar and continued their rowdy behavior. Looking down the bar, the Devaronian spots Marbles and Rane sitting at the opposite end.

“MARBLES!!!” The group quiets some, and the Devaronian now turns his attention on the Iotran. “See you found yourself a new recruit.”

The Devaronian grabs the drink that the bar tender had quickly returned with and makes his way toward Rane and Marbles. He looks Rane up and down and addresses him.

“Hope you like shoveling bantha fodder for a living because that’s all this washed up, earless, soprano-voiced sot and his ship are good for. Hauling crap.”

Almost immediately, Rane could feel despise for the Devaronian welling up inside of himself. For a fleeting moment, he felt a hand on his shoulder and was quickly shoved aside by it...

Just before Marbles could get moving with his new crew hand, the last voice he wanted to hear burst through the door of the Blue Star Cantina. The Iotran groaned, and shortly afterwards the Devaronian and his crew were gathered around.

"Agriworlds like Lothal pay a lot for fertilizer..." Marbles said lamely, as if it was any justification for hauling liquid waste.

That comment brought an uproar of laughter from the Devaronian and his crew. One of the sentients accompanying the demonic humanoid, emboldened by Marbles' frail efforts to defend himself, laid a hand on Rane's shoulder, swatting him away like a gnat. While it was unclear exactly what the relationship between Marbles and this Devaronian was, it was clear to all within the cantina that the Iotran was instantly emasculated by his antagonist's presence.

"B-Be careful now!" Marbles warned, "My new first mate might not look like much, but he's quick with a blaster! A death mark in three systems! The Hutts want to execute him live on the HoloNet!"

First mate?

Rane recovered quickly from being shoved out of the way, but had he heard correctly? Marbles referred to him as his first mate. He isn’t sure that he had committed to that exactly, but Marbles presented him with an opportunity and told him that it would pay well. He needed the money, and Marbles’ proposition was the only one he had on the table right now. The Devaronian had rubbed Rane the wrong way, and after his comments to Marbles, Rane felt some level of loyalty to the Iotran despite the fact that they had only just met.

Reasserting himself, Rane glares at the human that just shoved him. “Hey, watch it there.”

“OH! You were right Marbles, your first mate is a lively one. Thinks he can talk to whomever he likes, like he’s already been made captain,” the Devaronian laughs.

“If I were captain, I wouldn’t have let this piece of scum touch me, and I would have handled the situation myself. Besides, if you think three death marks is something, I only joined up with Marbles here because he’s got six. Apparently, I’ve got a few things left to learn.”

The Devaronian appears somewhat confused, but Rane knows that it time for him and Marbles to make their departure.

“Captain, the ship is ready and if we don’t get moving those Ithorian mercenaries are going to be upset that their fertilizer has been over-ripened. They prefer their crap fresh.”

Rane continues to glare. He knows that he is likely out matched physically by the Devaronian, but he would love for the disdainful, horned alien to give him a reason to try. Now he only hopes that Marbles catches on and decides it’s time to move on.

Maybe Rane has lost his marbles.

"Um..." Marbles managed, as confused as the rest of the cantina at the insinuation that he had even a single mark on his head, until Rane told him that it was time for them to depart, "Right!"

As if it were an afterthought, Marbles grabbed Rane's beer glass, threw the contents at the Devaronian's boots, and ran out of the cantina after Rane. The Iotran was moving at such a pace that his companion needed to run to keep up. When they were finally out of an eyeshot of the Blue Star Cantina and it was clear that they were not being pursued, Marbles slowed his pace and threw his head back in a trumpet-like laugh.

"Oh wow! Wow!" he marveled, "Did you see that? Wow, what an adventure that was!"

As the two proceeded through the wide spaceport thoroughfare, Marbles was indeed in a great mood. When the docking bay opened to Marbles' keycard, a large, flat light freighter rested atop the landing pad. The ship was somewhat similar to a YT-series light freighter, but its body resembled a landspeeder in that its main body was flat, but the engines were raised above the main frame. A trio of engine pods rose from the hull like a raised fin, and a series of sensor dishes were located in the front of the vessel.

"There she is, the Vo'tre," Marbles said, proudly, "A VCX-350, if you're not familiar with the model. You'll catch on, tough guy, so long as you've worked on a YT-series. Let's get in there."