[The Exchange][Flashback]Mischief on Naboo

[Aaron Corinth]

Clark had somewhat made a home for himself on Naboo. His cover and day job was as a medical provider for the citizens of Theed. However, his real job was manning the station that the Exchange had created nearby and maintaining its secrecy. It was known to most in the city as a simple mining compound pulling minerals out of the swamps. Only a few knew the true purpose behind the structures and they were typically the buyers of the wares that were trafficked through the area.

He was somewhat surprised to receive the call while at work. Most if not all the people at the compound knew not to bother him at work unless it was an emergency. He answered the phone snapping, "What!?"

"Sir, we apologize for calling you at work, but our contacts have let us know a ship was recently impounded at the spaceport. The tags come back as a freelancer and they were running goods which we provide. You told us to let you know if anything of the sort happened," the man replied timidly.

"You are correct, thank you for the information I will handle it," Clark replied punching the disconnect button for the holocall.

He slammed the receiver back into the holder. Just what I wanted, I had a nice day going and this guy had to go screw it up. Now I've got to go find him and right this before the police get too interested in why the ship was here, he thought placing his chin on his crossed hands. He stood returning to the front a smile cracking across his face, "Hello, there, come in. Tell me, what is the matter today," he asked waving his next patient into one of the several patient rooms.
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His day ended at the clinic and it was time for the real job to begin. He headed first to the police station, smoothing ruffled feathers over the ship making it to Naboo. He put credits in the right hands and the charges and impound had been dropped and turned over to him. It was good to have friends in high places. He pocketed the impound chip and headed for where he suspected the man might be, the only bar serving the seedy types in Theed, The Bantha's Head.

The door slid open quietly and Clark slipped inside. He headed straight for the bar and spoke in muffled tones to the owner who pointed him to a booth in the back. He took a seat in the booth and ordered whiskey, it always seemed to help his nerves and improve his attitude. He scanned over the bar glancing at each person in turn trying to find who the man was who owned the ship. It was registered to an alias known as "Storm," and it was someone he needed to find.

 

[Stormthroe]

Dmitri clenched his fist tightly as he walked out of the impound where the Tempest's Fortune had been locked up by the Naboo Security Force for suspected smuggling affiliation. Not two hours earlier, he'd been working a 10 hour shift as private security for some fool of a business official that had his head so far up his exhaust port, Dmitri had held to restrain himself from putting a bullet in him for the goons and thugs that he had been hired to protect the man from, but that didn't stop the local authorities from taking advantage of his offworlder status to try and set their own people at ease about some spice trade or arms dealing problem or some such. Gritting his teeth as he walked, he looked for the first local cantina he could find, needing a drink and a good fight to blow off some steam from the annoyance of his day.

Spying a sign that read The Bantha's Head leading to a shadier location down alongside one of Theed's canals, he walked down, his weapons locked in their holsters and helmet clamped on his hip as his blue Egis armor's smooth protective plates reflected the soft red light slightly as he opened the door. Walking in, he grabbed a seat at the bar, ignoring the glances of some of the alien patrons at his large form, as he purposefully pulled out his dog-tags in their site, the United Mandalorian Marines' emblem dominating one side, the other bearing only his callsign, "Storm" in imprinted letters on the thin metal. They quickly turned back to watching the single main dancer as a Bith band played their electro-swing melody in the background.

"Whiskey, make it a double." he spoke without waiting on the bartender to greet him, holding up his index and middle finger to face the Duros behind the counter. He nodded in return, pouring the liquor into an expensive looking crystal glass. Sliding them down the bar to him, Dmitri quickly lifted the it and took the alcohol in two quick shots, the alcohol making his eyes water slightly as it burned his throat and he clicked the crystal glass to the bar as he finished. The Duros raised an eyebrow at him from the corner of the bar, eyeing the dogtags carefully. Subtly, the Duros gestured in his direction while Dmitri's drinks kept him distracted. The bartender approached him from the side.

"Rough day?" asked the alien. Dmitri's lip curled slightly in a smirk as he looked up, replying to the Duros.

"You could say that, pal." answered Dmitri, his eyes focusing on the mirror behind the Duros, where he noticed a man sitting in the shadows behind him at a booth, scanning the patron's at the bar.

 

[Aaron Corinth]

Clark watched the man enter the bar. He could certainly fit the description of the man that he was looking for. The wave from the bartender confirmed his prediction. As the man spoke he saw the glance into the mirror in front of the bar where their eyes met for a brief moment. He stepped out from the booth and approached the bar, carefully watching the man's hands. He wasn't the greatest of fighters but his blaster had put down many men before. He reached the bar with his drink before speaking, "Hello sir, would you care to join me for a drink."

He caught sight of the dog tags the man appeared to be very proud of. From his travels he gauged them to be mandalorian and the ship matched. However, the contents were the problem this evening. He pointed to the booth before speaking to the bartender once again, "Bring us another couple of drinks would you."

He waved for the man to follow before retracing his steps to the seat against the wall facing the entire bar area. He swallowed the last of his drink and slid the empty glass towards the end of the table. "So, to get formalities out of the way, I am Clark. What is your name," he said in an inviting but impatient tone.

 

[Stormthroe]

Dmitri raised an eyebrow as the man approached him, speaking with the bartender. His fist curled for a moment before Clark introduced himself; being the first to get hit in a bar-fight was never the best route to take.

However, his hand quickly relaxed after Clark spoke, and gestured to the booth nearby, inviting him to join him as he eyed the dog-tags hanging off his chest. Dmitri gathered them, their thin, metallic surfaces clinking off each other as he stuffed them back under his armor, though they still sat over top of the pressure suit layer that made up the inner-most portion of the Egis suit. Pushing them under the ceramite carapace of his chest, he turned to the bartender before following Clark.

"Make it a Tihaar." he spoke, promptly gathering up the potent liquor and following Clark to his table. As he sat, Clark had already taken back his drink, and was pushing the empty glass away as he introduced himself. Dmitri stared at him for a moment, analyzing him, debating how to reply. He lifted the sweet, but violently strong liquor to his lips, sipping it lightly. He then rested the glass on the table, keeping his hand around it. He placed his other hand in his lap, below the table, not making any motion for the machine pistol in its holster, but nonetheless prepared to draw in case of trouble. He clicked his tongue as he swallowed the hard alcohol, savoring the burn of the Mandalorian drink. It was his favorite.

"Just a traveler, burc'ya." he spoke, his smooth accent flowing through the mando'a word for friend, "The name's Dmitri. Most people call me Storm." he smiled, slipping the thumb from the hand on his lap into the chain that held his dog-tags around his neck, indicating they had his name on them. He sipped the liquor again, swishing it from each side of his mouth before swallowing hard, exhaling raggedly as it stung his throat, never taking his eyes off of the man before him.

 

[Aaron Corinth]

Clark watched the man's actions with curiosity. As always, he had someone on his side and the bartender would eliminate the other man should anything happen to him. However, the thought passed from his mind as the man took another swig of the powerful drink he had ordered. "Dmitri, huh. Welcome to Naboo. Now, let's skip the bullshit. I know your ship was impounded and I know what the cargo was. I want to know who you were running for and how loyal you are to the group," he asked directly.

He expected the man to be surprised or even draw on him after spilling what he knew thus far. However, he hoped being direct would play to the soldier in the man. Roundabout news never went over well with these types. He met the man's eyes carefully gauging his reaction.

 

[Stormthroe]

Dmitri raised an eyebrow at the man, suddenly glaring at the man who had called him out, knowing about his day. He placed the drink down, leaning forward, his broad chest puffing slightly, sizing him up. Slowly he began to speak flatly.

"If you know my ship is impounded and what I was carrying," he began, staring into the man's eyes, "Then who I work for and my loyalties to them aren't the concern. I was called for a contract, which I took. As long as I'm getting paid, my client doesn't exist to questions from strangers. And since my ship is impounded," he paused, scowling at Clark, "I'm not getting paid. And what's worse is I have a feeling you know about that." Dmitri placed a fist into the palm of his hand, cracking his knuckles lightly.

 

[Aaron Corinth]

A smile crept to his face as the man spoke. He did seem the type to be perfect for the company. After the man cracked his knuckles, Clark full on laughed, stifling it with some difficulty. "You my good man are smart and show initiative," he said poking the man's armored chest.

His tone instantly returning to the dry, expressionless one he had used before he continued, "Anonymity is key when in situations like this. The company that happens to be my employer is looking for strong men who will not sell the company out or use the company to their own ends. With this company, I can assure you that nothing of this sort will happen again. We have major stakes in almost ever spaceport between here and sith space and almost as many law enforcement agencies. Now, your options are quite limited, but I would like to extend the offer to join our company."

He looked the man over gauging his reaction before finishing the statement, "The company is The Exchange and your ship is actually already out of impound. How much it will cost or how much you will make is up for you to choose. I can assure you, The Exchange would pay handsomely for your cargo as well as the individual who brought it to the planet."

 

[Stormthroe]

Dmitri held his drink up as leaned back, contemplating the man's offer. He ran his finger along the rim, the armorweave glove running smoothly over its edge as he stared at the man for a moment.

"Phwoar," he cursed, taking back half of his remaining drink quickly, then wiping his mouth on the ceramite plate on his forearm. "It's not like I have any other jobs lined up anytime soon, and if you've already done me the favor of getting my ship out of impound, what's it matter." he said, raising his glass to Clark. "Sounds like you're my new contract." Dmitri grinned, gesturing a small toast to Clark before finishing his drink.

"What do I need to do?" he asked as he finished the glass of Tihaar, setting it on the table and leaning forward on his elbows while looking attentively to Clark.

 

[Aaron Corinth]

Clark watched the man carefully expecting him to jump to violence, but surprisingly the man didn't. He raised his own glass with Dmitri's and took a deep swig. "Well it helps to have friends," he said with a wink before continuing, "Glad to hear you are considering our offer, I think the credits will keep you coming back."

"Well, the first order of business is of course going to get your ship back. However, I'd like you to join us at a promotions party here on Naboo, first," he said briefly describing how to get to the compound.

"It will let you meet most of the guys and the few women that have joined the organization. I would advise you dress nice," Clark added.

 

[Stormthroe]

Dmitri nodded, clinking the glass on the edge of the table as he stood to leave. He was unsure of his new employer, but he had his ship back and an opportunity to make credits, and that was good enough for him. As Clark finished inviting him to the promotion party, he smiled. It'd been a long while since he'd been a guest at any formal event.

"I think I have something." he laughed. Turning on his heels, he headed for the exit, in much better spirits than he'd been when he walked in. He frowned, however, at the thought of being involved in a crowd, and wondered how much he'd have to press his old uniform.

 

[Aaron Corinth]

Clark inclined his head as the man stood to leave. "Well, I hope to see you there, Dmitri," he told him, moving from the booth.

He headed back towards the bar as he had nothing of particular interest in the works. He ordered another whiskey and sat sipping the strong drink. He smiled inwardly as he thought of the recruitment. It had been a gutsy move to take the man's ship hostage, but in the end it seemed to pay off. He thought of the toydarian he had a similar exchange with and shook his head. Maybe he had a knack for recruitment.