Its forest were rich and full of life, its oceans warm and caring, and its cities few and splendorous. No blade of grass or errant grey cloud could conspire to ruin a day for one of the members of Kuati’s ruling families known as The Ten. Of course this perfection was built upon the labour industries of hundreds of thousands lower class Kuati, and all of that was dependent on the pleasing of their Imperial lords. High and aways from the pleasures of Kuat orbited the massive ring network of shipyards and transfer hubs. It was a world that had been building star ships, large and small, for thousands of years. A garden cultivated to produce a fruit that would sail the stars.
But all that Motti Grinder could see in the crate he opened was rotting fruit. The smell was atrocious, and Grinder didn’t even have to act for a second when he reeled back and bumped into the white armoured form of a Stormtrooper. The armour rattled, causing the three other troopers to look over from their own inspection of the mining ship’s cargo space. Grinder put on a show of buffing out the troopers armour, and rearranging his own uniform of a Kuati Customs Inspector. The job paid well, but the incentives to provide the grease to get things through Imperial customs paid even better.
“AH! Sorry there lads, didn’t think to check the stasis lock on that one.†He said, giving the rotting fruit crate a kick with his polished boot. The glowing red tell-tale at its corners was blinking slowly, the indication that the stasis field had failed in keeping its contents fresh. Looking around the cargo space there were seven other crates similar flashing red warning lights.
“I see. We’ll still need to check-“ the static laced voice of the Stormtrooper came to a stop as that scent wormed its way under his helmet, making him gag and take a step back. Grinder was impressed the kid didn’t drop his blaster carbine in the process. Grinder nodded knowingly, and walked to the next crate, beginning to work the locking mechanism.
“Wait!†snapped the gagging trooper, who had retreated with his fellows back to the cargo hatch “We’ve run this ship through with a bio sensor, and found nothing. I’m sure there’s nothing in there we need to smel-er...see.â€
“Oh, well then.†Grinder said, sealing the crate back up again “I’ll just finish up here and hand the ship over for port processing whilst you gents go about your due diligence eh? Don't suppose you could get me a cup of caf, I'm dying for some refresh...ment...lads?
The clatter of boots and curses to all miners in space was the only acknowledgement the corrupt Kuati official got. He smiled happily to himself, waiting for the hiss of the cargo ships airlock being sealed, and then pulled out a small spray bottle. He misted the air for a second or so, allow9ng enough of the chemical cleanser to rip apart the offending odour into a greasy mist on the air. But at least it was air that didn’t smell like a Bantha with the sewer guts. He then turned to the crates, eyeing the ones with their blinking red lights, and began to open them one by one.
“Hey, Jarion!†he hissed under his breath, a comical gesture made on a empty ship. The first crate he opened was empty.
“Where the Sithspit are you boy?†he frowned turning to another crate and opening it to find nothing.
“It’s your Uncle Grind-erk!†he sputtered, as with box number three a blaster pistol was shoved out of the lid and its barrel pushed up against his piggish nose. A man of average height, dressed in disheveled over all’s of the Kuati Mining Compact, stood up from the large crate and kept the blaster pistol formerly lodged and ready to illuminate his sinuses.
“We were in those crates for a day and a half.†The man with the blaster growled menacingly “The plan was we’d fly in as crew, not cargo!â€
“P-plan changed! Last minute like!†Grinder stammered, his nose burning with pain as the blaster twisted “Word came down from the Moff’s residence: no sentient in or out of the Kuat system for the next week! Some sort of security thing for this party his Imperial tight arse is throwing in the ship yard! Had to smuggle you in like this, a empty ship of scrap cargo with a droid pilot! Only way!!â€
As the port official yammered on the other crates began to open, and the Soggies began to emerge in twos from their crated existence. Some had weathered the confinement better than others, and some looked ready to tear people apart.
Caleb Dexon rubbed his thumb over the blasters power selector, running it from stun to kill and back again. He then looked over for Jarion, and nodded to Grinder in his fine lilac uniform of a Kuati Customs Inspector.
“Is this your contact?†he said, adding a little chill to his words to underline the nature of a negative answer.
TAG-Jarion
“Azaria, how is everyone?†he asked, and then nodded at the last unopened crate “Have everyone check their equipment and disguises. Just in case ‘Uncle Grinder’ here decided to help himself to something.â€
“Oh I’d never!†he sputtered, gulped hard, looking nervously at Azaria “I got me rules you see! And rule one is: ya get paid for a job, you do that job. Simple rule see?â€
TAG-Azaria and others: welcome to Kuati, a little out of the way space warehouse to help us get int the flow of things. Remember you’ve been in those crates for some time, so please feel free to be as cranky as flying in coach makes us all. Mel I suspect will be an expert on that
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