Star Wars - Aliit Nehutyc

Chapter 9: The Corellian Mark

Darra brought the ship down into the lower levels of Coruscant, and onto a landing platform jutting out from the wall. The bay door opened slowly onto the permacrete floor. She sighed. A service droid rolled into the ship as Darra walked out into the infamous lower levels of Coruscant. She walked for several minutes down a long catwalk, gazing at the flashing holosigns above most likely illegal cantinas and weapon venders. Music blasted out from one of the cantinas. She turned a corner and walked in. A rough-looking vulptereen stood at the counter, wiping out a plasteel mug with a filthy rag. Darra scanned the perimeter with her thermal detector built in her visor. No weapons showed up readily, but in a place like this, any number of the customers could be armed to the teeth. She strode up to the counter and sat down on a stool. The vulptereen slowly made his way toward her.

"What can I get this fine-looking visitor of mine?" he wheezed out with a deep rumbling chuckle.

"Blue milk," she replied bluntly. Some of the customers turned around and stared at the newcomer with newfound interest. No one just walks into a bar and orders milk.

"Will that be a small, medium, or a large?" asked the vulptereen as he reached for a pitcher in the ice box behind him.

"I'll have a large with a touch of perspective," she replied, resting her elbows on the bar surface.

"Eh? A touch of what?" he asked turning his head around. Darra placed the needed credits on the bar, and then added a few more extra.

"There, this should be enough to pay for the drink and the topping," she said as she slid the stack across to the puzzled vulptereen. He placed the large cup in front of Darra, then looked her up and down.

"I can drink this entire thing, don't worry," she said glaring at his amused warty face.

"Now, where is my perspective?"

"Well miss, I don't rightly know what you mean," he said with a furrowed brow.

"Info, I need info," she sighed softly. This species wasn't known for being the sharpest blade on the rack when it came to critical thinking. Or any thinking for that matter.

"Oh!" exclaimed the vulptereen as it dawned on him. Then he leaned in close. Darra could smell his awful breath through her helmet's air filters, but she remained still.

"And what you like to know, my pretty lady?" he wheezed. Darra reached for the vibroblade imbedded in her gauntlet.

"Don't call me pretty," she stated coldly. The vulptereen stared at the blade with widened eyes. Then he chuckled.

"Of course, of course. Anything to please a customer. Now, what would you like to know?"

"What can you tell me about the local slaving company?" she asked.

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While all this was happening on Coruscant, Kad awakened from his dreams with a start. He jumped and slammed his head on the top of the bacta tank. "Dank Farrick!" He yelled, inhaling bacta. He rummaged his hand around the edge of the tank and slammed his hand against a button. The bacta slowly drained out of the tank as he jumped out and onto the wet floor. He slipped, but barely caught hold of the tank and regained his balance. A few minutes later he was pulling his flight suit on over his bacta-covered skin and slipped into his armour. He twirled the hilt of his lightsabre in his fingers and hooked it to his belt. The door swished open, and Boba walked into the room.

"Jate vaar'tur, ad'ika. How was the bacta last night?" Boba asked.

"Vaar'tur, buir. Bacta was good. My shoulder is feeling a bit better now," Kad said, sliding his feet into his boots.