NAR SHADDAA
DUMPSITE - SECTOR 23:C
16:42
"Didn't I tell you Quark?" the ruddy-faced Rodian held his prize up for his companion to see. In one hand, a fist-sized chunk of rust-colored mineral shone dimly beneath Nar Shaddaa's slate sky. "Ever since the Jedi took a run at Kessel, them Pykes are so panicked they can't even check their trash properly. There's a fortune of spice here!"
The Rodian and his comrade, a particularly grubby-looking Gran named Quark, stood atop an earthen summit of detritus in the middle of one of the Smuggler Moon's tractless dumpsites. Beneath their feet, a vast collection of boulders, stone, and sediment runoff from Kessel's infamous spice mining operations.
In the distance, an endless stream of garbage scows filtered through the carcinogenic haze, drifting towards the junkyard's surface to deposit their freight. Looming towers of debris and assorted junk of all stripes erupted from the landscape in a chaotic jumble that seemed constantly on the precipice of collapse into the turgid, scum-slicked rivers of runoff that snaked their way through the mountains of trash. Much of the garbage originated off-world, its owners paying hefty disposal premiums to Nar Shaddaa's overlords. The Hutts had little regard for environmental matters Gran reflected sourly.
"Yeah, well lets keep it to ourselves." Quark sneered, sifting idly through the dirt. "Honestly Kaloji, the way you blather on when you're spiced up, you'll have the Pykes around our ears in no time. Or the Spicelord himself."
Kaloji gave a dismissive snort and dropped the chunk of spice into his satchel.
"Hey, I welcome the chance to meet him." He gave the blaster at his hip an affectionate pat. "Claim that bounty and I'd be set for life. Retire on some Core World. Live out my days on a Pleasure Yacht."
Quark stood and gave the Rodian a bemused stare.
"Claim the bounty?" he repeated incredulously. "On the Spicelord?"
There was a resonant thrum as one of the garbage scows propulsion systems engaged and it ascended into the smog-choked skyscape above. Kaloji gave a wounded look.
"Yeah that's right. Why not?"
"The Spicelord and some rando-Mando drove off fifty Jedi by themselves." Quark said. He aimed a disdainful finger at him. "You'd end up a blastmark against someone like that. Get back to digging. Fool."
The Rodian fell into a sullen silence as the scavengers returned to their digging. They worked wordlessly for some time with only the ambient drone of the scows to fill the silence between them.
"Quark! Look at this!" Kaloji exclaimed, excitedly brushing the dirt and rock from some unseen object. The Gran trudged over begrudgingly and examined the enthusiastic Rodian's prize.
There, half concealed by the sooty detritus lay a filthy, but seemingly intact, 2-1B Series Medical Droid. It's pale-green chassis tarnished a dull brown and peppered with a littany of divots and dings. Such superficial damage could be buffed and repaired easily enough. Despite their age, 2-1B's remained among the most highly sought-after pieces of hardware in the healthcare industry.
The Rodian's accidental find was potentially far more valuable than a few errant nuggets of spice.
"A fool am I?" Kaloji chuckled.
"A lucky fool." Quark clarified.
----------------
The walkway was in an alarming state of disrepair with its glaring gaps of paneling and conspicuous lack of lighting. But on the bright side, it fit in with the general motif of disrepair and decay that was the decor du jour of the moon's lower levels. Weaving it's way through a maze of decaying superstructures, the path terminated at a long row of cheaply priced storage spaces. An endless row of dingy blast-proof doors stretched in either direction, the contents they guarded silent, abandoned or largely forgotten.
A single door sat opened, a wan light eminating dimly from the unit's interior.
Within, a Rodian nervously paced the largely empty space while his Gran companion busied himself rechecking the power couplings that ran to a still lifeless medical droid.
"I don't like this." the Rodian announced for the umpteenth time.
"You don't have to." Quark replied dryly as he jiggled an errant cable. "But she's connected with the Zaa Fenn. Who's gonna give us a better price than them?"
Kaloji ceased his pacing and studied the 2-1B for a prolonged moment. Even cleaned up it didn't look like much. It's battered chassis and still, lightless photoreceptors did little to convince the nervous Rodian of its inherent value. And it certainly didn't convince him that whatever price it might fetch made meeting a member of one of the galaxy's most notorious crime families a sound idea.
"Yeah, or she might just scorch us on the spot and drag the droid over our smoldering dead bodies." he said. "The Zaa Fenn went from the verge of being wiped out to running the Crymorah and they didn't get there by making square deals."
Quark looked up from his work and let loose an exasperated sigh.
"This the same guy who was ready to gun down the Spicelord himself?" he chuckled. The Rodian didn't react to the barb but stood nervously regarding his companion. Quark sighed again. "Look, I have it connected to an external power module and switched off its interal backups. She tries anything shifty, we pull the cord and this thing isn't worth scrap."
"Comes to that, we won't be worth scrap." the Rodian mused miserably. "Why couldn't we just f.."
"Can it!" Quark hissed abruptly, rising to his feet. His trio of eyes scanned the unit's entraceway. "Someone's coming."
@Pidge Batana