SithLore

"Gotta go, gotta go, come on," Jak ordered his gang through the gunfire. "Time constraints, people!"

Blaster fire streaked through the ozone-tinged air of the Mimbanese warehouse the Bexel Gang were intent on leaving. Flanked by Red Eyes and Van Cleef, the three pirates of varying rank run-and-gunned their way towards The Nice Jacket while Mums, Stretch, and Harold made a bee-line for their smaller Skipray Blastboat. It was a full retreat all-around, with The Horn Sisters providing an assist on the turrets of the YT-2000 freighter.

On his breakneck voyage through the space lanes -- indiscriminately purchasing intergalactic cannabis for the soft opening of his wellness center on Coruscant -- the Bexel Gang had come out ahead more often than not. This was not one of those times. Mimban had proven to be... mixed in its messages re: the procurement of their soil-rich plants. Vendors had expressed interest on the outset while coded messages had warned of aggressive expansion of the noninterventionist variety by way of dominant tribes. Hedging their bets, Jak and co. found themselves very nearly besieged by a Mimbanese gang intent on stealing their shipment. He did not often retreat, but this particular sect had proven resolute in keeping their wares, and as the old adage states, 'never start a land war on Mimban'.

"This is the last time I'm ever coming here," Jak hollered up the ramp, nearly taking a bolt to the hamstring on his way up. "Start her up!"

"Right-o captain," Van Cleef replied, her lungs retaining smoke. "We're not missing much, their product is moof-grass."

"How'd you have time to find out?" He asked as he barged into the cockpit doorway, nearly knocking Ellem over while edging Van Cleef off his captain's chair. "You know we're being shot at, right?"

"I'm younger and faster," She exhaled from an azure glass bowl and took a seat in the firstmate chair. "Coordinates are set, you're welcome."

"They're rolling out an E-Web!" Came Red Eyes through the comms.

With a roar of the thrusters, both ships hovered out of the roof-less warehouse and shot out into the atmosphere; the explosion of said rear thrusters sparking a fire in the mass of cannabis product they had no time to procure and setting off a chain reaction that set ablaze most of the gang's sought-after product. Stretch could be heard laughing through the comms. "We showed them," He nodded to Mums, who was less thrilled. Both ships engaged in a jump sequence that saw them fleeing the Circarpous sector through an opening in the Smuggler's Run. With danger averted, Riz and Tessa disembarked from the turrets and entered the smoke-filled cockpit.

"Smells like college in here," Riz coughed. "Where to now, Captain?"

Jak was studying the navcomputer, looking for an answer. "On this excursion... we've covered Umbara, Naboo, Kerkoida, Kira... we can say Mimban was a wash. Maybe we can jack up the prices on more exotic worlds to cover for the ones we nearly die in."

Ellem chortled, head tilting to make eye contact with her master.

"Yes, the Korriban strain will fetch an extremely high price due to the incidentals," He retorted, looking up from the navcomputer at his crew. "Since I'm at a loss, and since we're low on fuel, it pains me to do this but... we probably should head back to Tattooine."

As if in unison, the entire crew in the cockpit threw up their arms in contempt and frustration. Through the comms, Red Eyes opined with the same degree of disgust for the desert planet. It made sense - it was close, reliable, they had contacts to off-load their product, but it was also drought season.

"I can put out a call to the Broodship but it'll take longer than we have time for! I know it's not ideal..." he was interrupted by Red Eyes at the comms.

"What about DSR? They moved part of it not far from here."

Van Kleef cocked her stoned head. "What's Dee-essr?"

Red Eyes began his lore dump through the comms:

"DSR -- Deep Space Resort -- was once a vibrant and posh city in space for the galaxy's jet-setting elite that quickly fell into disrepair with the re-emergence of Galactic War™. Spinning like a massive spider on an axis, its endless appendages housed shops, residency, casinos, you name it. The tippy top 1% of people who made it their home were so far removed from discourse and so insulated with money that they were unable to fathom the world of danger that commoners had to face," and then he emerged through the cockpit doorway.

"... and in its recession, a bunch of criminals descended upon it who knew how to game the rich for all the credits they weren't using anyway. Certain sects battled for supremacy in a private war, and the place literally cracked into two bits. The historic portion remained just within reach of the Core Worlds, while the second half found its way firmly in the Outer Rim. It was available to anyone who cared and knew about it."

"And how pray tell do you know about it, Red?" Jak asked, a question that he somehow knew the answer to.

"I blew it up myself," Red gestured to himself with a smile and his two fat thumbs. "They got fuel, I know it cause it was a play to disconnect the wealthy from their fuel supply. The whole place is one large refuel spot without the other half leeching onto it. I wouldn't be surprised if they rolled out the carpet for me."

Tessa raised her hand, Jak pointed to her. "When you put it like that, I don't hate Tattooine," she said.

"Captain," Mums called out through the comms. "If you want, we can send out a blanket ping to any pirates within the sector. If there's friends, we can possibly off-load from there." Jak waved off his suggestion, then realized he was waving off a voice and not a person. "It's too risky. Any number of raiding gangs can and has used our tech against us. We'll have to be more covert than that. Let's first see if we can set down, and work it from there... I still can't believe you're all putting me up to this."

"What? You're the boss. We're just the crew. Unless you want a change of scenery too, you can plunk us down on that desert armpit and we wouldn't say squat," shot Red Eyes. Jak thought about it for a moment.

"Set a course for DSR, whatever's left of it. Maybe a change of scenery would be fun?" At this point, Jak had a sneaky suspicion that he was talking himself into someone else's bad idea.

A Mobquet Transport dropped out of hyperspace and set its vector towards the strangest space station Ryder had ever seen. His grey eyes watched the gnarled facility grow bigger before his bridge crew brought the vessel into one of the DSRs gagged docking stations. As the ship touched down the six men and woman who Ryder had accompanied out here rose from their seats. One of them, a male Weequay approached Ryder.

“Alright boss man, we’re here, what’s next?” The man spoke quickly.

“Levi, you continue with your mission as you were assigned, you’re still in charge of this op.” Ryder replied calmly.

“Sorry of course, just not used to my boss tagging along is all, I get nervous when being evaluated.” Levi continued, trying to regain his composure.

“I’m not here to evaluate you, I’m here to do some of my own digging while your team retrieves the stash.”

“Oh, okay okay, what ya diggin for? We can keep our ears out!”

“Just the usuals, listening for any mentions of the Crimson Raiders, Blue Star Pirates or Molnano the Hutt.”

“Yeah yeah, oh I’ve heard mention you’re lookin for that Hutt fellow, why is that?”

Ryder raised an eyebrow at Levi. “Personal reason Mr. Leviroth. Now your team is waiting for you.”

The Weequay nodded before quickly turning and making his way to the hold. Ryder shook his head before rising and grabbing the helmet of his Salus Corp Stalker armor. Dawning it he started toward the exit of The Sandy Scyk.

Jak ran through the requisite list of contacts — not entirely thrilled by Molnano's presence — and found no indication of Blue Star influence. "Maybe it's more covert than that," he said to no one in particular with a sigh. "At the very least we can refuel, but both ships need to be on lockdown. Scatter the supply amongst the hidden compartments. Mums, you hear that?"

"Loud and clear, Captain," he came through on the comm.

"Alright, gang, you know what to do," Jak said to the cockpit crew, and each member split up to do his bidding. This was 100 lbs of cannabis, stored in 2 lb increments in odor-free cases. Compartments, installed by the mad hatters onboard the BSP Broodship, could be found in nearly every room, generally in the last place you would look. Remote triggers opened passageways between bunks and other storage areas. Jak's own compartment was just beyond his jacket closet, only operable within range of the signal in Jak's wrist gauntlet. They were able to divide up the stock just in time for exiting hyperspace.

The Jacket and The Bandit jumped out of light speed at a safe distance from Deep Space Resort II — far enough for it to look like a crumbled rag or piece of paper in the distance. The central cluste was rounded, but rough. Calloused with squat towers in all directions from years of poor urban planning, it looked like a Trade Federation droid controller if its appendages divided three times over and spread around the center globe like protective spikes. In truth, these terminals — once trash chutes — were renovated into docking bays and repair stations. As one ventured closer to the core, one could find the typical uses of such a place. Housing, entertainment, and satellite businesses existed within the core. It was an impossible machine that was somehow gifted a second chance by the underworld.

"Damn thing looks like a dead spider," Van Kleef whined. "How is this better than Tattooine?"

"Give it a chance," Red said, very nearly defending himself. "It may not look like much but I promise, it's a… very unique experience. All this was the vital section of DSR, and it used to be the bottom side. When we revolted, we upended the whole thing. You'll notice the rooms are somewhat upside down. The decor is on the top half of the walls, rugs are on the ceiling, some machinery is still up there. It's trippy. I wonder if they fixed that."

Transmission from DSR piped through the comm of both ships. The requisite permissions were granted, and both ships began their landing sequence on the southeast tendril of the station. With no idea what was in store, Jak advised his welcoming committee to come equipped. For his part, he donned his own Stalker armor, all pale gray tones with turquoise and mustard accents. On top was a hooded poncho in rust with light beige patterns of unknown origin.

The Horn Sisters and Mums stayed on board both ships. His party consisted of Red Eyes (their guide), Stretch, Ellem, and V.

"Nobody wander off. Look for the signs. Red, you're basically our guide and only bargaining chip so… take us to the authorities."