Kajidii - Arrival at Smuggler's Moon

Smuggler's Moon. People handed the discolored jewel that name in such a simple way. They knew it by the vastness of its markets, by the profligate merchants it bore. If you had cargo, the world had a buyer. If you needed to run, the world had an escape. Why they had focused on the smugglers, Oqokag could not say. Humans were drawn to such daring creatures as much as they were drawn to crime. They loved them like distant stars, romanticizing them.

Yet the world was so much more. It was an escape from nearly everything. The pleasure districts provided a bustling experience of unregulated activities for both gambler and degenerate, an escape for the dissatisfied fool. The flesh markets provided such an array of wares, so varied with both the trained and untrained, that they satisfied both authority and sadism alike. The jewel was so entrenched that no law could fully penetrate it, no outside eye truly understand it. Only the Hutts knew of all its secrets, that Oqokag could say with some measure of certainty.

To them it was Smuggler's Moon. To Oqokag it was Nar Shaddaa, moon over Nal Hutta. To Oqokag it was a second home.

The transport shuddered as it fled hyperspace, though the Hutt was already awake. He consulted the wall-mounted chronometer, narrowing his eyes briefly. They were on time, but only just. A thick hand clutched a datapad as the Hutt reviewed what he knew before the landing. The shimmersilk canopy, shifting tassels ending in sun-like orbs, glimmered unnoticed. The steam bath, hidden behind thin curtains of woven aurodium, hissed quietly.

A Hutt had pleaded some time before. Oqokag had the precise wording of the plea before him, had watched the holo-message enough that he could imagine all of the Hutt's expressions in the minds eye. The matter did not, from his view, seem as dire as that Hutt had made it seem to be. The Empire had begun construction of a refinery of unknown type on Nar Shaddaa, that was plainly known, yet the Hutt had tried to portray it as an invasion in his message. He had advocated that the other Hutts lend their strength to destroy the refinery. It came as little surprise that none followed the foolish endeavor. Oqokag had learned the Hutt had invited others outside the clans to accomplish his deeds.

The Hutt was named Oxus. Oqokag already considered him a fool. He'd read reports on Oxus, as it was common for him to keep tabs on potential rivals, and the results Oxus had achieved in five centuries did not impress. While Oqokag took the underworlds of developed Core worlds, cemented himself in the black markets of ecumenopoli, Oxus had seemed content to dwell in the periphery of the galaxy. His peanut industries were amusing, not impressive, and though Oxus could boast of being well traveled he could not boast of being rich. It was clear Oxus lacked the business spark of most Hutts, though Oqokag still considered the being to be a potential rival. It did not take a genius to become lucky in the Unknown Territories, especially when such strange business could be found there.

Another shudder as the transport lurched to port. Oxus would need to be talked to, an economic method put forward instead of his militant one. If his attempt was to conquer, he would fail as the Imperial armed forces would break him. If his attempt was to drive them away, he would fail as they massacred without remorse. If his attempt was to die, he would succeed. In Oqokag's opinion, Oxus had become numb and unaware of the violence the Empire was capable of unleashing.

He adjusted himself as he moved to another item, a list of reported inconsistencies in Gorensla operations on Nar Shaddaa. Five tons of glitterstim were missing from the Diob-Ko Docks...Oqokag could hire a hunter for that, the records said it was becoming far more common than he dared like. There was a leak there, the Hutt could smell it. Fuel siphoning in the Kabid Districts were likewise increasing...more patrols should aid things. A ship had been refused to land...Oqokag listened to the communications log. The voice was unfamiliar, the Huttese terrible, and he could barely make out what the human was saying. Some parts of it still scratched at his curiosity. Who is refused to land on Nar Shaddaa before that refusal is suddenly rescinded? What traffic controller did the act, why, and how was it so amateur-ish? Oqokag bristled at the thought. It wasn’t one of his…his spaceports were open. That was the whole point of Nar Shaddaa, that it be open for all, that any being could access its services. He’d assign a platoon of Vodran to the task of finding what fool was responsible, who had followed orders other than his. Not every spaceport was Oqokag’s, but none would be so stupid as to violate such a simple, sovereign law. They would learn. They would always learn.

The group…flight manifests said little and were clearly forged, Oqokag thought. They were always forged. Something told him that the ship was not targeted at random, however, by the sheer fact that it had occurred. There was an unknown variable at play and the Hutt hated unknown variables. They would be followed, quietly of course, and information gathered. Several other reports soon followed before solutions were made and put into play. Nar Shaddaa ran well.

A light knock on the metal door, a dull beep. “My lord?” The monotone of a droid sounded through the speaker, Oqokag peering up under his brow at the chronometer. They were early. The datapad was softly laid aside on a cushion, screen fizzling into static.

“Report,” was all the Hutt rumbled in return.

“Lord Noglaman reports your escort to be ready, my lord. Preparations to land are complete, per your instructions.”

“Very well.”

The dais thrummed to life. Soon he would feel Nar Shaddaa air again and some part of Oqokag smiled.