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Astoria Downport - Drydock 133





With a loud 'clang!' the airlock finally opened, and with it the hiss and rush of stale air. Slowly and rather ungainly, Kullum exited the aging transport, looking untidy, and with a whole face full of stubble.

Taking a moment to gather himself, he looked around his eyes gazing upwards at the vast roof of the downport itself, and whistled in awe...

"this is one big son of a..." (his voice trailed off as he continued to look about)

It felt so good to finally get out of the freighter he had spent the last two months in, in fact at one point he swore he was losing it.
Being confined for that amount of time was not healthy, any spacer would tell you that, it wouldn't be so bad if you had someone to keep you company, but Kullum had been all by himself, and he was itching to see what this place had.

He had heard about it on the Holonet, and almost immediately he'd set a course, well he thought he had, he'd actually gotten a bit lost along the way after taking a route to him recommended by a fellow compadre...

..Last time I follow Gorbo's directions...damn stupid furball (He swore once more to himself....)

At one point he'd only just narrowly avoided becoming man pate, after resorting to a shortcut that had left him exiting hyperspace far too close to a black hole , which he could have sworn hadn't been there the last time he had taken it...

Alas the shortcut , aside from nearly killing him, had also ended up adding an entire week on his journey time...

...Knew I shoulda taken a right at that Red dwarf... (he rebuked himself)

Still, things were looking up, he was here now, and in one piece, which was something in itself.

Turning to take one last look at the transport, he had 'aquired' after a recent job went south...one could call it 'compensation' , but it had served its purpose now, and he no longer had a use for it.

Besides, if he needed to , he could always just steal another.

The rather scruffy looking rogue turned heel, and ambled off with a slight spring in his step...it was time to see what this 'Astral Astoria' could offer an enterprising fellow like himself...

Astoria Bazaar





Walking out of the marketplace, Kullum smiled to himself. The freighter had made him a respectable amount of cash, enough in fact , to pay his way onboard, at least for the time being. He'd flogged it to some Correllian spacer called Reese who had shown an interest. Yet another drifter who'd found his way onboard, (Kullum had liked him instantly).

Kullum congratulated himself, for not only had he sold the shabby freighter for a price far more than it was worth, but he'd also managed to lift the man's wallet after.


Sucker.


Now, thanks to this Reece, he'd had enough to book himself a room, and found himself with a little leftover , what he liked to refer to as ‘play dough’

As he sparked up a smoke, Kullum looked around for any suitable entertainment that would suit a modern and discerning adult such as he.

Grabbing the attention of a passerby, a Twi’lek, Kullum smiled amiably,”hi er, just wondering where a guy can get a drink around here”

The alien smiled a toothy grin, and replied “Hades Hive, 111th floor, the bar district, but watch your step, I hear it can get rough”

“sounds like my kinda place” Kullum retorted quickly, causing the Twi’lek to laugh somewhat ominously.
Kullum just figured it was down to cultural difference, and decided to let it go…” so how do I get there?” He asked, “use the shifter” The alien responded, whilst pointing to a booth not too far away.

“right, gotcha, the shifter” He repeated, unconvincingly…

The Twi’lek’s grin widened “ you do know how to use them yes?”

Kullum’s face turned into an elaborate pantomine, as he did not want to come across as a complete newbie to the stranger, “me?…sure!…use ‘em all the time” he blurted out, and as if to reinforce this, he started to walk in its direction, thanking the stranger with a kind of salute.

Glancing over his shoulder to ensure the alien wasn’t still watching, he made his way to the shifter booth.
As he watched other Astorian’s come in and out, a look of puzzlement spread across his face.

Gingerly he entered the booth, there were two technically, one was an exit and the other was an entrance, (he’d figured out that much after some careful observation) He looked at the keypad and jumped as the Station’s onboard computer spoke.

Destination?

“Hades Hive? er..bar district…um…please”

Complying...




Bar District - 111th floor





In a brief white flash, Kullum found himself in a completely new section of the station. Blinking for a moment he exited the booth quickly, perhaps too eagerly since he attracted a few curious stares from a couple of passing locals.

Still slightly disorientated, he straightened his jacket collar and looked around then threw the innocuous looking shifter booth a suspicious glare…

…given a choice he’d probably prefer the stairs.

With a short toke he wandered down the street until he saw what he was looking for , a glaring neon sign serving only to confirm he’d found the right place…

‘Hades Hive’

Making his way through the slightly inebriated crowd of people all out for the same thing, Kullum entered the bar.
The place was in serious need of refurbishment, that much was clear but despite this small fact it had a warm homely feeling to it, ‘lived in’ one could say.

A band of some description was playing on a small stage at the back, which seemed to attract most of the bar’s patron’s attentions , though of course Kullum’s entrance had not gone unnoticed by everyone, there were a few curious glances and ominous gazes here and there.

After making a point of holding some of the strangers stares for a while, Kullum turning his attention to the bar instead , that was when he noticed the bartender. A stocky surly looking horned alien of some description…

Kullum was mindful to not let his face betray his thoughts…

...ugly looking motherfucker!…

In the time it took for him to approach the bar, he had already decided this wasn’t someone he wanted to mess with…

…a tabs out of the question then… He lamented inwardly…

Leaning against the shiny metal bar surface itself , he nodded in acknowledgement to the large burly bartender , and he returned the greeting in kind…

“ got any Brandy?…” Kullum asked , as he eyed the various horde of bottles behind the bar, big and small, exotic and plain, there was surely something here he might recognise...

"Got any Brandy?"



Calibos looked at the unkept human before him and grunted a monosyllabic affirmative, then gestured with a thumb over his shoulder...

"Yeah, got some good Correllian shit in just yesterday..."

He'd watched the human enter with mild interest, he was another new face, but there was something about him , (other than his scruffy appearance) which he instantly liked...

(Calibos was like that, he could tell usually within seconds whether he was going to like or hate someone)

"yeah sounds good, leave the bottle..."

Calibos grinned, leaving his cigar dangling dangerously from his mouth, as he reached for the bottle and a glass...

"...just arrived?..." He asked, attempting to strike up some form of conversation...

The human seemed to take this comment warily...

"is it that obvious?"

Calibos laughed as he poured the brandy...

"its written all over your face mate..."

The human smirked a little at this and downed the drink in one...

"not bad.." He said hoarsely, visibly grimacing at the taste...

The grin on Calibos's face grew bigger...

The human spoke this time...

"..The names Kullum..."

Calibos looked down to see the human offering his hand, and as he looked back up at him, he shook it firmly...

"Calibos..." the bartender stated, as he refilled the man's glass...

"why are there no droids in here Calibos?...make life easier..."

"Ah, but I prefer the personal touch.....know wot ahmean?" Calibos answered quickly...

Kullum then seemed to freeze for a moment as if considering something important, then spoke again, his tone implying ulterior motives...

"you seem to be a guy in the know, Tell me, Calibos, where does a guy like me, find work in a place like this?..."

Calibos eyed the human suspiciously...

"that depends on two things..." He replied ominously...

"oh?"

"one, what a guy like you does..."

"and two?.."

"...what type of work you're after..."

"ah"

Kullum leaned in closer as he spoke, "lets just say, I'm a jack of all trades..."

...and with that winked, before downing another glass of brandy...

A feral like grin crept across the barkeep's face...

"I see..."

cute...

Calibos poured Kullum another drink, as he considered the question...

"ok, see that ugly looking fucker over there..." Calibos gestured with a sharp nod of his head...

The barkeep watched as Kullum followed his gaze, to a rough looking alien seated opposite to them...

"three eyes?"

"yeah..."

"one with the scar across his face..."

"yeah"

"...."

"you're right, he is an ugly looking fucker..."

Calibos laughed...

"...well he's your man...or alien, or..come to think of it, I dunno wot he is..."

It was Kullum's turn to laugh...

"how much for the drink?..." he asked after downing another...

Calibos grinned...

"its on the house, you made me laugh..."

Kullum seemed surprised at this...

"thanks..."

"don't thank me, its the cheap crap I give to all the tourists..." The barkeep replied with a sly grin.

Frelling Kullum!






The man behind the bars stared at the woman on the other side.

"Moni!" he began weakly but the other woman put up a finger. "You know I've hated that nickname from the beginning, Oman."

Oman bit his tongue before he said something that would send his 'partner' Monica Francis away.

"Sorry, Monica. Look, I need to get out of here.." Being imprisoned was bad. But being imprisoned on Tatooine was simply humiliating.

The plan was a good plan!

"Sorry, Oman. But you know these military types. They hate spies." she smiled sweetly and Oman's recent thoughts that had turned to why he was in prison to begin with began to resurface and, as he glanced in her eyes, he suddenly knew.

"It was you! You fracking bitch!" both of his hands grasped the bars as the woman laughed at his expense.

"Finally, after how many months of being caged you figure it out?"



The plan was painstakingly simple. After securing (a fancy word for conning) several investors into setting he, Kullum and the traitorous bitch Monica Francis into heading up a mapping company called StarQuest, Inc., he proposed riding the Outer Rim Sovereignty's entire transport circuit mapping out planet locations to sell to the Empire. The war between the Coalition and the Empire was shaping up to include the Sovereignty at the time and Oman wanted to cash in.

And so the trio arrived on Tatooine, one of the few planets known to be in Sovereignty hands and while Kullum went to secure the transport berth, he and Monica went to arrange their new identities within the faction.

Unfortunately, as he was dickering with the alien creating their identities, Sovereignty MPs had come crashing in. Oman went for the back entrance and tried to make it to Kullum when the chasing authorities finally caught him in sight of the transport. Kullum, seeing Oman captured averted his gaze to focus on something else and walked onto the transport.

Oman gritted his teeth as the transport lifted off and as he was hauled to a holding cell and interrogated as if he was an Imperial spy.

He was just looking for a quick credit. An answer that seemed even worse than if he had been an Imperial spy.

And so he'd been thrown into prison and the war escalated without him. He had not seen Monica Francis since that fateful day and now here she was and, by the looks of things, faring very well.

"Why?" he asked hoarsely. "What did you get out of it?"

She laughed again bringing him back to the present. "With Kullum on the run and you in prison, who runs StarQuest but little ol me? I liquidated the assets, ran off with the money and left the investors mad at you and Kullum. They can't find Kullum but they do know where you are."


Oman stood there shocked. It's frelling brilliant!


"When I get out of here.." he started but she just laughed.

"Not any time soon. The investors have made a deal with the Outer Rim Sovereignty that will keep you in this cell for a very long time."

She smiled pleasantly and leaned in with a throaty whisper, "I just wanted to thank you.."


And with that, she threw her furred scarf over her shoulder and walked off in triumph.





As the old Oman luck would have it, the Outer Rim Sovereignty collapsed after the victorious campaign of Theren Gevel and the surrender of the Coalition.



As Tatooine passed too, ironically the Empire, Oman found himself an opportunity to make good on freedom with or without his watcher's permission. In the interim of changing alliances, new politics and parole, he found himself back on the streets. If you could call them streets on a desert planet.



And no fucking plan.

No fucking money.

No fucking Monica Francis..

...and no fucking Kullum.



As he had thought, and as Monica stated, the StarQuest, Inc. had gone bankrupt and there was nothing he could do to salvage it.


And so, he conned a waiter out of his tips and purchased a one-way ticket off the ball of sand to a place called the Astoria.



Unfortunately, the transport was hijacked by pirates. Oman got in good with them to further his own monetary requirements and had made a decent living until their pirate activity was used as an excuse for the Empire to invade the planet of Tynna, where Oman had stashed his booty.


And to further his luck, the shady bank that held his credits was one of the few buildings hit when Grand fucking Admiral Telan fucking Desaria's ships fired on the planet.

And so, another one-way ticket from the victory parties going on at Tynna to a place he'd heard about but never been: The Astral Astorial.





And so he sits in a bar with some freakzoid alien bartender that hated him when he walked in. Apparently, not everyone loved his flippant manner and sarcastic humor.


Their loss..



He was about to down his bilge-water special when a familiar face walked in.




Frelling Kullum!

I don’t fucking believe it!




As Kullum picked up his bottle of brandy and turned to walk towards the alien Calibos had pointed him towards , he had quite literally frozen mid-step.

Kullum’s eyes had settled on a familiar figure seated across the room. He hadn’t seen him when he had first entered but it was him alright, there was no mistaking that mug…



…Frellin Oman!…




As the two met eyes, Kullum tilted his head to one side as a look of astonishment began to spread across his face…


...Of all the damned places!….


He strode up to Oman’s table “you sly son of a…what the hell are you doing here!?”

Oman seemed just as surprised as he was, and simply stared at him dumbly for a moment…

Kullum couldn’t help but grin in return, he was actually pleased to see him, but the grin started to fade a little as suddenly Oman’s face seemed to harden somewhat…

The rogue cocked his head to one side and held his hands up as if to ease his old compadre , his eyes narrowed as he spoke…

“Hey now! you’re not still sour at me about what happened at Tatooine are you?” He asked cautiously...

*

Oman stood up as Kullum was speaking and hauled off and hit his former partner in the chin. Kullum went down dropping his drink.

"That's for the six bloody months I spent in a Sovereignty gulag!" Oman bit out.

He kicked at the fallen Kullum drawing onlookers in the bar.

"That's to remind you to kick me if we ever get in league with any frelling bitches like Monica Francis!"


Then he frowned turned to a nearby gaping alien. "What the frell are you looking at? Can't you tell we're two old friends?"


The gaping alien turned back to his own business and Oman helped Kullum up. "What am I doing here?" he asked motioning some skanky looking alien over to replace the other's lost drink.

"I heard this station full of funky smells was the happening place to make a quick fortune or two. So far all I've seen are well dressed law enforcement officials, a pretty clothes boutique, a bunch of graffiti from some gang called Typhoid 7 a couple of levels down.

Still," he glanced from side to side, "This place does look ripe for fleecing."

He glanced at the smug look on Kullum's face.

"What?" he inquired.

Take that as a yes!...


Kullum nursed his sore chin as Oman helped him up, and was about to retaliate but thought better of it...besides, to be honest he had missed the old arse-ache...

guess I deserved that...

Kullum grinned, took a seat opposite his friend and listened as Oman moaned about being on the station...

"What?"

"For a start! Starquest was your bloody idea! not mine, not my fault you got jumped...and I never trusted that bint from the beginning.." He rubbed his jaw again as another drink was brought to the table.

"besides..."

(he poured himself a glass of brandy)

"I'd knew you'd get out of there..." He said with a smug grin as he lifted his glass...

"theres never been a jail that could hold you for long.." He smiled wryly...

"to pastures new..." He quipped then downed the brandy...

He looked up to see a curious glare from Oman, and couldn't help but smile..."As for this junkheap, lets just say, it appears you haven't been looking in the right places my old friend" His eyes darted conspiciously to the alien the Bartender, Calibos, had pointed out...

"see that ugly looking fucker over there..." He watched as Oman followed his gaze, and continued as his old friend studied the subject in question...

"A man in the know, apparently...in fact I was just about to go and speak to him when I saw you"

They're all ugly fuckers, thought Oman as he tried to see where Kullum was pointing, stealing a glance at the bartender in the process.


"What? That fucker with the scar?"


"A man in the know, apparently...in fact I was just about to go and speak to him when I saw you" Kullum replied sagely and Oman turned to his old friend in surprise.

"And what is he going to 'know' when you go up to him other than you need a job and will work for food?" Oman murmured sarcastically trying not to draw any more attention to their table.

"He's a fucking bottom feeder," Oman whispered. "He'll give you the lowest job and still take a cut for his services. If he points you to a crew, he'll still get a finder fee for your muscle and guess where that finder fee will come from? Out of whatever measly take they let you in on."

He turned to Kullum expectantly.

Kullum raised his eyebrows in surprise...

"What am I?..stupid?..." He asked indignantly...

He leaned closer to Oman as he talked, whilst keeping his eyes firmly planted on the alien in question.

"I mean look at the guy!...you don't have to be a 'swami wonder' to see he's the bottom of the pile..."

Kullum poured himself another drink as he spoke..."hell, even the bartender thought he was ugly , and THAT's sayin somethin!..."

Kullum's comment drew a grin from his friend...

"give me some credit" He muttered off-handedly, before downing the rest of his drink...

The spacer then lowered his voice to almost a whisper...

"bottom line is, evidently, somebody's running things around here and I'm betting he knows who , and if he doesn't, he'll know someone else who does..."

Oman relaxed as he saw that his old partner still had a few marbles left in that wiley brain of his.

Ignoring the ugly look the bartender was throwing his way, Oman's eyes went to the alien appraisingly.


"Kind of a slippery look to him." Oman mumbled to himself but, after a moment of thought, he had to admit Kullum had a point.


He gave Kullum a grin, "Well don't let me keep you from finding out what we need to know."

Already his eyes were moving around the seated masses wondering if the alien had a partner hidden among them. He would watch for any wary movement as Kullum approached the alien.

And so he finished the rest of his drink gripping his grog cup if the need came up for a quick projectile.

In a bar like this one could never tell.