”Come in Morningwalker. I hope you’ve got your cargo loaded. I’ve intercepted comm traffic coming from the sector a level below you. It seems someone tipped off customs, you’ve got a patrol headed your way right now.”
Search Posts
The Bluebird retrieves the data pad, thumbs in a few keys, then hands it back. A message flashes showing several transferal statements: your advance payment. The manifest is adjusted to account for your new cut of 5%. "The goods are en route to your ship's hangar as we speak. The droid service team will assist you with loading. Do not worry. Their memory cores are programmed to dump all recent data as soon as the hangar is empty. In the meantime, feel free to enjoy yourselves upon Gorba's many pleasures. A valet will be waiting to take you to your ship whenever you are ready to leave." He slides a platinum gambling chip across the table to you. "Just show him this."
"I can see you are a man who knows his business." The shadow replies. "I am prepared to offer 5%, with two thousand bonus up front - a show of your good faith, yes?" The eyes glint in expectation.
The glinting eyes narrow fractionally and the hat tilts to the side. "The Cargo is here on Nar-Shaddaa. This entire system is controlled by the Cartel. Even the imperials are here, sticking their noses where they should not. Here and now, the enforcers keep civility, and noses where they belong. Once you leave this establishment, we cannot be so certain." Though cryptic, you can tell the bluebird is speaking the truth, possibly from experience. "As for the cargo, the buyer pays well for the middle man to remain ignorant. The less is known, the better for all. No loose ends, yes?" A shriek comes from somewhere outside the booth, followed by laughter and voices making lewd comments. Using the momentary distraction, the Bluebird slides a datapad across the table to you. The glowing letters on the display screen have the details for a shipping manifest.
Perception or K(Bureacracy) DC 20:
The document is a forgery, made to emulate a real shipping manifest. It looks reasonably convincing. Hopefully it will still fool a customs agent, but if you were able to figure it out, then it's possible an imperial customs officer would be able to as well. Dice, no looking:
The bluebird's voice gives no indication of of loosening, but he continues in the same cool tone. "As you say," another puff of smoke issues from invisible lips, "we all strive to be the best at what we do. From what I hear of yourself, you have held onto a ship and a crew for a number of years without relying on any affiliations, and done well. I'm hoping you can continue to hold up to that reputation." He takes another drag on the lho-stick before continuing. "I represent an interested party, in the market for some... valuable goods. The goods belong to a private party, unaffiliated with the cartel. The buyer is a cartel rogue, not well respected by other cartel members. If they were to find out about this transaction, they would exact levies. The buyer wishes to avoid this, and so he comes to me. Then the private party approaches with the goods. I make the sale, and a middle man ferries the goods. The middle man is compensated for his part. A small percentage of the sale; an incentive for secrecy. Do you understand?"
”Greetings” he says, in a deep, masculine voice that is both cool and relaxed: the mark of a practiced negotiator. His accent would mark him as one more highly learned, perhaps of the core worlds. Under his wide brimmed hat it is too dark to see his face, but occasionally some stray beam of light glints off his reflective eyes. He puffs a lho-stick in one hand, and in the other holds a martini glass with dark-purple liquid. ”Please, have a seat” he motions with the glass for all of you to sit.
Darkvision: Those of you with darkvision, while you cannot see in complete colour can make out the shape of the figure. He appears to be a Duros with noticeable scar over his left eye. |