Log:New Rebellion: Old Fashioned Logistics
Rebel agents meet smuggler captains to discuss cooperation and commerce.
OOC Date: September 2, 2024
Location: The Wheel
Participants: Qutha Buvu Pah, Rey, Zalon Bo as GM
While other sections of The Wheel has progressively been improved upon and commercially progressive, the Lower Ring has long maintained is reputation as a seedier locale upon the station. Throughout the Lower Ring the thump of music can be heard practically shaking the structural integrity of the old station. Through the busy causeways a small number of individuals travel among the foot traffic of bulk freighter crews, bounty hunters, mercenaries, thugs, and pickpockets.
The New Rebellion has began and that means that the agents of the Rebellion and their allies, the Jedi, are on the move. The Wheel is the location of a secret meeting between those elements of the uprising and some of their oldest allies. The years that followed the fall of the old Empire saw those same underworld elements sought out by those who utilized their services when the Rebellion became the New Republic; times change. The Republic has fallen for a second time and once again a new rebellion seeks to establish ties with the underworld.
Chasing Tails is alive with activity. Music thumps, flesh dances, drinks flow, and laughter abounds as a few crews occupy tables and booths within the establishment.
A large table sits near one of the dance stages. At the edge of that stage a female human and male twi'lek work their trade, seeking out compensation for their barely clothed performances.
On one side of the table three men reside. They're clearly the contacts that the team of rebel agents is intended to meet with, as their appearances match with those dossiers that were provided.
In the center seat of the three is Captain Mogrosh, a Gamorrean smuggling captain that acts as one of the three heads of the smuggling consortium. He's said to be rather scrupulous and clever, despite the stereotypes one might expect of his species. Though he is also the one most likely to seek a fight. Which, really, just aligns with the stereotype quite well.
To the right is Captain eryn Da'deir, a bothan smuggler and captain within the consortium, who was allegedly once part of the Bothan spy network before he decided to go into business for himself. Making use of the skills he learned from that point in his lifetime, no doubt.
Finally on the left is Captain Briyan Odaan, a human smuggler from, you guessed it, Corellia. He's the cockiest of the three and perhaps the most self-absorbed. So he's just a Corellian.
The three seem to be speaking quietly among themselves for the time being, awaiting the arrival of their contacts.
Ambling, the tools on his belt swinging and smoothing his hands over the vest worn beneath the hooded cloak, Qutha walks towards the assembled by way of wandering counter clockwise. Angling as if concerned with being caught up in the middle of the activities if he dared abandon being a wallflower.
Gem like eyes flit from point to point, the dancers, the bar and the trio at the table again as he nears. Head turning slightly towards Rey, sending thoughts in her direction but not yet fully approaching, let alone sitting down.
Being that Rey had one of the largest standing bounties in the galaxy, she had come to be used to blending her appearance in to the place that she was occupying. The more dangerous the place, the more blend she tried to put in her attire. This place/ It was pretty dangerous...
Rey wore a dark black leather halter top, over a baggy shirt with long baggy sleeves of all the wildest colors of a wild nebula cluster. Black leather trousers, tall black boots that went up to her knees, and an elaborate criss-cross utility harness that strapped over her shoulders, lined with ship tools, and blaster ammo packs. A bright pink wig was worn over her natural brown hair, with glittering makeup adorning her facial features, including deep sparkling violet eye makeup that crossed over her eyes like a domino mask. Gloves adorned her hands, to hide the fact one of her hands was artificial, and as Rey moved, she scanned her eyes about the club.
She looked like any given spacer, who frequented clubs of this ilk. Her sway was confident, and she followed along with Qutha and Zalon, to ensure she looked as though she were apart of their crew.
Rey noted that not everyone in the club seemed to fit, as though a fair number of them were guards, here on duty... and likely for those trio of important types at that table. She didn't linger her masked stare for long, as she shared a look with Qutha, then flagged down a serving droid to get herself an icy drink.
"Lovely place." She noted, paying some attention to the dancers, since that is part of the experience, right?
For his part Zalon Bo wouldn't be present for the meeting itself. His role within the operation was to watch the thoroughfare outside of the night club for anything of note and relay that information to those within. Should something be noticed worthy of such a warning.
The arrival of two new presences in the form of a more elaborate disguise worn by Rey and a classic disguise worn by Qutha, is sure to garner notice. Many eyes seem to glance their way. Even those that otherwise seemed quite taken with watching the unfolding dance between the two entertainers. Eyes stray toward the pink-haired Rey and others toward the other spacer in the form of Qutha.
The Gamorrean deposits a small translator unit to the tabletop before himself and following a brief series of whines, grunts, and snorts the unit begins to speak for the Gamorrean smuggler, "You looking for secure logistics support?"
Both the Bothan known as Teryn and the human known as Briyan exchange a glance, along with a small smile at the Gamorrean being so straight forward in greeting whom the three seem to have pegged as their contacts. For good reason, too. Given that it's entirely possible that the smugglers had bought out the club for the next hour or two. Just for this little meeting. Or to provide their crews with some entertainment. Or both.
The Bothan speaks up, gesturing both of the incognito Jedi toward the table as he speaks up with a voice like honey, "I believe what our associate is trying to say is: please, join us, if you're looking to talk business."
"Reckon." The zelosian murmurs to open air, brow raising and turning another brief look towards Rey before he actually makes to draw out a seat for her, not settling in until Rey has.
"I's here as the whims've fortune carry. I done 'spect, she'ns the one who might done have a tetch'a business." One side of his turning up, making his expression lopsided. For the moment turning his gaze on the bar before he seems to zone out. Eyes glassy and his expression is far away.
"But I's done think that the angle've your partic'lar trade is a source of contention wit' a bunch'a various organizations with far reachin' shad'rs..." Lips pursing, "I cain' done say y'us kin goes one way t'nother. But I won'er ifn' it might benefit t'lot've y'all... Knowin' specific clientele means more price control eh?"
Rey's glittered stare lingered on the stages, as she enjoyed the glowing blue drink that was passed in to her hands, even her fingernails were adorned in multi-colored paints, while fading black shade trailed back her fingers like they had suffered some intense burns, but really it was just meant to contrast with the leather material worn on her person.
She spared a glance toward Qutha, when he offered her a chair. With a small smile, she accepted it, and found herself slipped down upon its edge.
Her eyes went to the trio of contacts they were here to talk to, and although Rey would never consider herself an expert negotiator... she surely has had her experiences over the past decade and a half.
Rey's eyes were covered by contact lenses, that were actively changing colors, as she stared at the Gamorrean, Bothan, and the Human. She afforded them an even smile, while Qutha spoke, her drink given another sip.
"This is about credits." Rey said, loud enough for the three to take in her words. "We want you to have more of them then you're making now. There really is not much else beyond that. We're looking for a mutually beneficial partnership here. One where we do not threaten, or harm your interests, and in return, we provide for one another..."
She showed a cocky grin, something very uncharacteristic for the generally stoic Jedi Master. She had a arrogant allure expressed across her painted features, and with it, she added one last thing. "I'm Flare, by the way. Nice to meet you all."
The three smuggling captains turn their attention toward Qutha when he begins to speak. It's clear that they strain to follow along. They sort of absent mindedly nod their head every few moments, as though some sort of subconscious reassurance to themselves that they were in fact following along. Though they hear clientele and price control throughout it all and that seems more than enough to draw a smile to the Bothan's face.
The Gamorrean's expression seems to sour a touch and he grunts and squeals out another remark. Judging by the length of this one, he's got a fair bit more to say. Which the translator unit offers up in its soft, mechanical tone, "People like us helped the New Republic take over once. Then they started cracking down on work in the outer rim with their outposts and patrols. That sounds like a betrayal to me".
The human captain among the three spares a glance toward Mogrosh and even the Corellian seems rather surprised by the fact that he, likely, agrees with the the Gamorrean.
The comment out of Rey, masquerading as Flare, does earn a nod from the Bothan who seems to chime in with some words of agreement, "Precisely that. Work is why we're here," he says toward his compatriots, "and credits talk."
The greeting offered by Flare earns a nod from both Briyan and Teryn, though the Mogrosh the Gamorrean seems far more standoffish and his translation unit doesn't speak up in response to the greeting.
"Wail... Done reckon, th'trade that benefits when it's aligned f'r'm at the time, compared t'it continuin' in terr'trees they done govern like had a reasonin' f'that. Legtit'met gubbmint, n'all. But mayhap a request f'amnesty in a new future... might could make it better. But I f'see it bein' aught to continue. Tell true." Qutha's hands fold on the table and his expression seems to remain perpetually swimming in and out of focus.
"But supposin' one thinks t'talk in terms you done prefer. I'd think it'd be the time now t'make y'us money. Then in the af'ermath y'have all them savin's t'live well wit'out the hubbub'a dangerous lines a work, wouldn'cha say?"
A faint smile touches his expression and the zelosian lets his drifting glance rest on the porcine green skinned captain.
While the trio responded to them, and Qutha followd-up, Rey took another drink of her glowing beverage. She paid another glance toward the stage to her right, with her left hand resting in her lap, and her right holding her drink. She looked back to Qutha on her left, before her shifting colored pupils returned to those they were here to negotiate with.
She smiled sweetly toward them, her eyes down upon her drink. "The New republic is gone." She quietly said, loud enough for them to hear though, of course. Her head shook side to side. "It has been fifty years since it was established too. The woes of the Galactic Civil War are long behind us, and the failure to launch properly of that era are over."
She paused there, and sat her drink glass down. Both of her hands came up, the black leather gloves that covered them creaking quietly as they were tightly fit to her hands. She placed her hands palm down on the table, and leaned forward in her chair to stare at the three contacts.
"Democracy is what matters most." She said, her naturally husky voice drawing out those words with her Core Worlds accent, an accent she got from a mother who shared it, and the Imperial holo-records she grew up viewing back on Jakku.
Rey's right hand turned over, palm up. "Democracy for the galaxy."
Her left hand turned over, palm up. "Or a government who blows up entire worlds.. just because they disagreed with them." She added, her voice slowed a bit, as she shook her head softly from side to side, her pink wig gently swaying against the sides of her face, the stylized strands of light pink locks barely long enough to reach her jawline.
"There really is no choice." She lastly whispered, before she reached for her glass again. "Except more Credits..." She added, before the drink glass' rim touched her painted lips once more, the purple lipstick glossed in pink shimmers.
The three captains seem to take in all that Qutha has to say and even find themselves nodding along with agreement. Briyan, the Corellian, in particular seems taken in by the idea of future amnesty and high profits now, only to retire into a comfortable life when the heat might turn up. Captain Mogrosh, the Gamorrean, seems to once again have his wits about him as he grunts a few short grunts and squeals a time or two, though the sounds come across as curious more than aggressive. The translation unit offers it services anew, "Forgiveness out of another Republic is good and all, but that what about the Empire now? We get caught now, we get arrested and jailed. We get caught working with your kind and we'll be executed without question."
Meanwhile Captain Teryn, the Bothan, seems to take a renewed interest in Flare. He studies her for a moment. It's clear that he's searching his memory for a face. The look of someone trying to remember someone that they recognize from having met a long, long time ago, perhaps. A moment later and the Bothan seems to come to terms with the fact he can't remember and he returns his attention to the business at hand, "Our venture has 14 transports of varying sizes and capacities. We're capable of moving a lot of equipment and personnel at once, or in small batches, as a contract requires. What sort of rates can we expect? Will they be per ship, per shipment, dependent upon the cargo type, or...?" the Bothan then trails off, likely allowing for the prospective employers to offer their answer.
"Caught'n jailed now. But they's closin' theys grips. How long till its destroy on sight?" Qutha looks to the gamorrean again. "T'least un'er the Republic they only jailed? N'I s'pect t'were easier t'bribe officials." Then his eyes are on the Bothan,
"I also figger it'd be based on what's the cargo, 'pendin' on who ye workin' with n'what they's lookin' hauled." Brows lifting again, "After all. Why'd ye wanna set a specific rate, when that done means sommat could possibly just abuse it n'have 'ee haul sommat far more valu'ble than you done agreed t'be paid."
Not that Qutha is paying. He's here because the Force directed him here. Wars were for others, but if the Force willed he be present to render aid in any form or fashion as he thinks it may have... He'll do that bidding before drifting to the next point in the galaxy he's meant for.
"But I reckon ain' many aught'd provide safe harbor ifn' y'us had picket craft on ye trail. Mos folk'd letcha twist. I reckon people like these rebels, well. They's gonna look at yer survival right most more important than some gangster lookin' fer some bauble inside of Imperial space."
'Flare' spent another moment to stare at the stage, while she listened to qutha respond to the smuggling consortium reps. When she regarded them again, she motioned to Qutha beside her, as if emphasizing his words with just a hand gesture. Her glass of glowing sky blue beverage was returned to the table's top, and a smile was sent to the Bothan, before she glanced to the others.
"If we believed that any of you, or your people, were going to get caught, we probably would not even be having this meeting. You're good, each of you in a different way. this is why we desire your aid."
Anothr glance was given to Qutha, before Flare crossed her legs and drew in a light breath of the smoky air, tanged with the various sources from which those smokes were coming from.
"The intelligence network, of whom we represent, is rapidly growing vast. We hold a number of aces up our sleeves, including ... those who wield the Force... You see, what I'm dancing around, is that even if you were captured. We would be able to find you, and extract you, before something terrible might happen. Remember, this is about benefiting one another... We won't turn our back on those who help us."
Can she really vouch for that? Probably not. This war was as nasty as wars before it, but she knew they'd do everything they could, at least.
"As for contracts, I would imagine those would come job to job. I now the money transactions would be swift, and secret. We've learned from the best, when it comes to slipping credits through supposedly secured channels."
More eyes have strayed from the two dancers on the stage and have shifted toward the three captains - their three captains - amid their negotiations. While some continue to enjoy their night, cheer on the pair of dancers writhing together on the stage, and celebrate a night of revelry with their fellow crew; there are some others that seem intrigued by the fact that the captains seem to be so deep in conversation.
The pair of dancers seem utterly oblivious to the conversation unfolding nearby. They're far too busy with their craft and entertaining their audience, together.
The bartender seems to be wearing a concerned scowl rather openly. It's clear that he's concerned that the revelry could spiral out of control. Spacers are known for getting a bit rambunctious after all.
Qutha's words seem to satisfy Captain Mogrosh and the Gamorrean seems to answer the point made by Qutha with a grunt of acceptance.
Captains Briyan and Teryn seem to consider Qutha's answer with a few nods and they seem to be warming to the idea. Their concerned expressions seem to become fewer and far between.
Though when Rey follows Qutha's answer with her own, this seems to act as the icing on the cake that Qutha's fashioned together.
The assurances made draw a smile out of Captain Briyan, the Corellian, and he offers up in typically cocky Corellian fashion, "Hey, you know what they say about Corellians and odds. This sounds like a good bit of fun and a greater bit of profit". It seems he's been won over.
Captain Mogrosh likely has as well, judging by his acceptance of Qutha's answer.
Which leaves the alleged former spy. Captain Teryn Da'deir strokes thoughtfully at his goatee while he seems to study both Qutha and Rey both. While he looks to Flare, the Bothan's amber eyes seem to twitch. There's a spark of recognition. He leans forward slowly with his eyes fixed upon Flare, studying her openly and without reservation. By the time he begins to lean back, his expression dances between concern and thoughtfulness.
Teryn speaks after a moment, with both Captain Briyan and Mogrosh watching him with open curiosity, "If you speak true that your friends are going to do right by us, now and into the future? Plus give us our rightful profits? I'm willing to accept your word on it. We," he says with a toothy smile toward both Briyan and Mogrosh, before his attention turns back to Rey and Qutha, "learn to trust our guts in this line of work. My gut has a good feeling..."
"Then I can only assume all can progress in am'cable faishon, reckon." Qutha nods again, "Trust y'feelin's, eh?" Looking again to Rey before his gaze slips over the trio of captains. "Er'thin' is balancin' on the edge've a Sarlaac. Doin' right by others'd be beneficial t'y'self as much as those y'aidin'."
The Zelosian makes to stand, keeping his hands where they can be seen. No random movements, nothing quick.
"I's certain Flare done have the other inf'mation for who's you needs t'speak wit' in the future." Smiling, almost drunkenly by how lopsided it is, "I's travel where I's needed n'I felt I's needed here t'day. I done hope you folk will be able t'feel the tug t'go where y'us needed." Head bowing slightly.
"Do as right f'those who need, you'll find whatcha require when y'us in the same field."
If Rey believed that the Bothan had identified her, she didn't openly show it. She did glance at him, briefly, but she was evenly distributing her gaze between the three of the smuggler bosses. She spared a look to her companion on this meeting too, before she raised her drink up for another sip.
At what they seemed to be agreeing on, Rey leaned back in her chair, her right hand draping across her lap, as she held her drink glass in her left.
"I imagine you'll be hosting events in the upper levels of this station soon enough, there-after, this deal is settled in to duracrete." Flare told them, giving them another cocky grin.
"provide us with your best contact routes, channels, frequencies, and holonet addresses. From there, well, the furthest hyperspace lane, will be paved in pure credit profits for you, and yours."
She showed another grin, before she raised her drink up in a most brief of cheers, before another sip was sampled.
The trio of captains seem to exchange a glance. A few tilts of heads and nods are offered among them. Finally the Gamorrean seems to offer the final nod. As though it was his word that carried the most weight among the three. Captain Mogrosh speaks again in a series of low huffs, higher grunts, and even a light squeal or two as the translation unit picks up the slack, "Keep your word and we'll keep ours. We may be criminals, but we've got our honor to us. Otherwise no one would work with us".
Then Captain Briyan speaks up while he's depositing a few credit chits to the table, likely intended to pay for their drinks and as a signal that the negotiations were concluded, "We'll reach out to our contact and express our interest in working with your people".
Captain Teryn moves to stand, though it's done with a broad smile as he offers a polite bow of his head toward both Qutha and Flare at once. The smile does not falter however as he confidently and with a sense of bravado offers a polite farewell, "We look forward to doing business. May the Force be with you". The words only seem to cause the Bothan former spy's smile to grow a little more prominent. Meanwhile Briyan and Mogrosh seem to look toward the Bothan, clearly confused by the remark. At which point Teryn displays that there may be some truth to that tale of his being a former spy as he sets about to explaining that it was once a creed of the Rebellion from nearly a century back.
The agreement is forged and one more connection in the New Rebellion's fight against a New Empire is arranged. While the smugglers may not account for all smugglers across the galaxy, this group offers at least some symbolism. A symbolism that has long been a cornerstone of the Rebellion, both old and new.
