| abstract | - In all this chaotic nauseous desolation, somebody is building an island of order. Some two hundred yards from a the old Fortuna 420, a Twi'lek in spacesuit has set his tools on a large hull plate. He is fixing a rusty loadlifter, with the help of a R1 astromech; pieces are surrounding him like he was the center of a solar system. The sound of repulsorlifts makes Okran looks up, though there's not much to see in the pollution cloud overhead. "What is it, Rizzo? You pick up anythin'?", he asks his droid. "Woop woop doo.", the droid answers negatively. "There it is... it's a civilian ship. I thought I was the only on crazy 'nough to swim down here.", he says, making out the Sliver Fish. The ship that the Twi'lek and his droid has spotted parts the fogs as it descends, bringing a few and very rare streaks of sunshine to the trashscape. But soon the haze closes above the V19 Typhoon, casting everything in darkness. A landing light is lit on the vessel's front before it lands on the top of a garbage heap, its motors winding down with a low-pitched whine. The cockpit opens and a dark-haired female in a boiler suit jumps out. She takes a few moments to gain her balance. "Okran!" Karin waves and smiles, voice muffled by the breathing gear that she wears. "I thought my scanners picked you up. What are you doing down here?" Okran blinks. "Karin? Mind your steps, lady. I'm fixing a droid. Look at all the parts!" He turns ninety degres left, then one-eighty right, looking at the landscape. "A bit of scroungin' through Veriline and Cybot Galactica's files told me there's at least one shipment of unused labor droids burried somehwere. I'm hittin' jackpot. What a fine lady like /you/'s doin' in a place like /this/?" Karin carefully makes her way down the little mountain of trash. With a groaning sound the Silver Fish settles deeper into the garbage. The lady's one boot emerges, stuck inside an old jar; brown and foul-smelling liquid spraying from it as she shakes the leg to free herself from the debris. "Why, meeting up with an old friend." A wide smile is offered to the Twi'lek and she reaches out her right hand to pat the other's shoulder. "Next time, /I/ get to pick the spot, however. Say, are you interested in a small job? I hear you quit Bespin." "I thought my whereabouts to be a secret... ah well." Okran shrugs. "Yeah, I quit. Can't take care of both a colony and my sis, the choice was easy. What job you offer me? Or are you callin' in a favor?" "It is a job." Karin carefully moves to seat herself on a rusty container, but flicks a look at the contents and quickly stops herself. She straightens up and hooks her hands comfortably into her pockets, looking to Okran with laughing eyes. "I need someone to transport some goods to Ord Mantell. Food and other supplies. Needless to say, it will have to be kept beneath the Hutts' radar." Reaching for Karin to stop her from touching bio-hazard hospital trash -namely morsels, used gauze and needles-, Okran chuckles. "I could do that. Braken's an ol' friend of mine, I just need to ask him for access, bring him a crate of booze I... borrowed from Bespin. Were it 'nother planet under lock up, like Ryloth, I might have had to decline. The Fortuna's not perky stealth ship." "I'm not sure Braken should know, but I'll leave that up to your own good judgement." Karin nods her raven head at Okran, adjusting her little breathing device with a wrinkle of her nose. "I have contracted a group of people to hide the children on Ord Mantell. I have set up a secret camp far from Worlport, and it is to this site that I need a regular flow of supplies." "Hmm.", Okran does. "Y'know, the best trick's to hide it in plain sight? I'll label the food crates with the Wing Guard stamp and mark 'em for Kashyyyk.", he thinks aloud, glancing at R1-Z0. "No, the other one, Rizzo.", he recommends, pointing at a pair of motivator. R1-Z0 picks the other one. "We have Wookie workers, on Bespin. I'm still enlisted in the Wing Guard. Some Wookies asked to be reunited with their families. I'll stop by Ord Mantell to say hello.", Okran explains to Karin. "The Wookies'll even help unload." "Fair idea." Karin's eyes twinkle with amusement. "The campsite will need supplies about once every month. I will pay you per delivery. What would you deem a fair price for this?" R1-Z0 big eye rotates to stare at them humanoids. "Bleep?", it asks. Okran grins under his Nubian rebreather, as show the wily wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. "Don't mind my droid, he's a greedy bastich. For the orphans, right? I can't ask you full price for such a right cause. Risk premium only, two kays a delivery. One more thousand if I have to ship things out Ord Mantell." The lady casts a scrutinizing look at the astromech droid. A sly smile slowly forms on her lips, remaining in place even when she turns back to Okran. "I will give you four thousand per delivery," comes her dark voice. "If you ship garbage and the occasional injured sentient away from Ord Mantell again. Deal?" Okran looks at Rizzo. Rizzo looks back at Okran. The droid gives Okran the 'thumbs up', using both pincers. "Agreed.", Okran says, nodding and smiling to Karin. "Not a word of this to my sister, ok? She thinks I'm runnin' a legit scavengin' biz." The woman laughs at this, usually a pleasant and hoarse sound; but now the hazy trashscape sucks up all noise and makes the silence eerie. "If you talk legitimate, then working against the Hutts should be perfectly alright. At least in Republic space. I'll need you to do a run with tents and supplies there in not too long, and you seem busy with your new ventures so... payment in advance." Karin's fingers pick out a datachip from her pocket. She inserts it into her datapad and presses on it a few times, then the chip is retrieved and offered to Okran. "Shh.", Okran urges on a low tone, picking the chip and palming it into disapearance. "Laughter wake up the trash beasts. Vibrations." He falls silent, listening to the stale air for a moment. Nothing but a sheet of plasteel hitting with rythm on a hull in the breeze and the distant mutter of air traffic overhead. "Thanks a lot, Karin. Where should I pick up the supplies?" Karin's dark eyes scan the area warily, peering into the mists beyond their little pile of garbage. Then she continues in a much lower voice. "The Morrow holdings own a container in the Kuat driving yards. They are marked 'Aurora supplies' and will be ready for you to pick up in a week. I will fly with you the first time to show you the landing area, if need be. If I'm not available, I'll find a guide." "Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! Wro*", cries a big modulated voice repeatedly before shutting up. Okran jumps a bit. Rizzo says, "Doo doo dee doo brrrt.", holding the broken voicebox's cables. Okran sighs. "Damn it, I hate this place.", he comments. "Space blames me if I can't locate a container, Karin Morrow. I should be doin' ok. You can come 'long if you wish, though. No scoundrel syndicate will sue me if you pick up a few tricks o' the trade." Karin visibly starts and rips a blaster from the holster at her thigh, pointing it at the voicebox. A sheepish look flits past her eyes. "Then that is settled, then." Her alto sounds amused as the weapon is put back into place and secured with a light pat of her hand. "I will let you know the destination as soon as I can. Good day, Y'yssa Okran." And with that, and a wave of her hand, the lady turns around to negotiate the trash mountain where the Silver Fish is parked. The ship now towers at a visibly lower level than when it first landed. "Careful, Karin.", Okran recommends, his voice carrying without echo over the trashscape. "I'll leave you a holo, when I'm leavin' here." He waves to Karin, immitated by Rizzo.
|
