Post by captainford on Jan 2, 2014 11:36:41 GMT -5
Cylar Maltrus recently made a deal with some offworld weapon dealers in order to try and gain an edge over the Zenochs. However, the Zenochs caught wind of his plans and so Cylar has hired a smuggling crew to transport the goods from the dealer to a secure landing pad within the Moridebo District. However, the smugglers are going to have to contest with the Zenochs’ lieutenant Lanfar Drond who is tasked with making sure the shipment is either destroyed or acquired for the Zenochs. But it’s not just the Zenochs the smugglers will have to worry about, local Republic forces, under the command of Corporal Sashur Veilt, are always looking to apprehend smugglers.
Ford was faaaaaaaar from home, and he had to admit that he was a bit apprehensive about it. Metellos looked an awful lot like a more metallic Mos Eisley; just as grungy, just as crime-ridden, just as pitiable. In that sense, it was a bit easier, but at the same time, all the worse. Even so, this was a lucrative opportunity for him: this was not a cheap operation, and if successful, he'd be a fair bit closer to his ultimate goal. But that wasn't all... it was clear the citizens around the district were in a bit of a tense panic. Never spoken, but it was obvious they were nervous about the gang violence about to erupt. He felt bad promoting it, but at the same time, a job was a job. Besides, if he played his cards right, he could have quite the opportunity on his hands; after all, being a smuggler meant he snuck both things AND people under the radar. And with all the desperate civilians in the district, he stood to make a steady profit and clear his conscience all at once.
Ford's light freighter was currently docked in a small port a few miles from the secured landing zone his client had given him. Much as he would've liked to dock directly there, he had to go through customs first, and this was the closest one with a Republic customs office. His droid co-pilot kept the engines running on standby as Ford stepped out down the loading ramp and surveyed his surroundings. People were scurrying about as they saw to the various ships landing and leaving the port.
Ford found his way to the closest custom's officer, a datapad at the ready to show him his ships cargo... or at least, what it was supposed to be. In reality, what was meant to be several large boxes of spare electronic replacement parts was the shipment of weapons he was meant to be carrying. Thankfully, on such a faraway planet from his home, he should have a relatively clean reputation, and shouldn't arouse any suspicion from the Republic officials. His chief concern was drawing the attention of the gang rivals he was supposed to be avoiding...
Ford was faaaaaaaar from home, and he had to admit that he was a bit apprehensive about it. Metellos looked an awful lot like a more metallic Mos Eisley; just as grungy, just as crime-ridden, just as pitiable. In that sense, it was a bit easier, but at the same time, all the worse. Even so, this was a lucrative opportunity for him: this was not a cheap operation, and if successful, he'd be a fair bit closer to his ultimate goal. But that wasn't all... it was clear the citizens around the district were in a bit of a tense panic. Never spoken, but it was obvious they were nervous about the gang violence about to erupt. He felt bad promoting it, but at the same time, a job was a job. Besides, if he played his cards right, he could have quite the opportunity on his hands; after all, being a smuggler meant he snuck both things AND people under the radar. And with all the desperate civilians in the district, he stood to make a steady profit and clear his conscience all at once.
Ford's light freighter was currently docked in a small port a few miles from the secured landing zone his client had given him. Much as he would've liked to dock directly there, he had to go through customs first, and this was the closest one with a Republic customs office. His droid co-pilot kept the engines running on standby as Ford stepped out down the loading ramp and surveyed his surroundings. People were scurrying about as they saw to the various ships landing and leaving the port.
Ford found his way to the closest custom's officer, a datapad at the ready to show him his ships cargo... or at least, what it was supposed to be. In reality, what was meant to be several large boxes of spare electronic replacement parts was the shipment of weapons he was meant to be carrying. Thankfully, on such a faraway planet from his home, he should have a relatively clean reputation, and shouldn't arouse any suspicion from the Republic officials. His chief concern was drawing the attention of the gang rivals he was supposed to be avoiding...
