Marshal Point
"The posse will need a secure place from where to slice into the Eclipse base and prepare for the eventual raid. Rangers Onn (@Eccles), Emblai (@Kestrel) and Hackett (@The Good Doctor) will be responsible to establish this safehouse. Rumors say there's a network access point somewhere in the lower levels, close to where those zombies had ravaged the area. Maybe that'd work?"___________________________________________________________________________________
The elevator down to the utter lower levels of Nar Shaddaa was rusty, rickety and smelled like feces. Not to mention there was graffiti on every wall warning you to go back or get bit by zombies. The criminal splendor of the upper levels and its debauchery did not travel down and the lower levels weren't the residential complexes for the poor like on Coruscant. No, here on Nar Shaddaa the poor slept on the streets, alleys and abandoned warehouses of the levels slightly higher than the ones the rangers were descending to. It had a positive, ofcourse, because no one would bother them while the planned for their raid on the Eclipse base.. the downside was that their cries for help would never be heard and their bodies never found.
Heh. Let's focus on the positives. "According to these old blueprints," Darmus turned his Personav around to show his fellow rangers the blueprint and the small access point in the bottom left corner. "That access points still handles network traffic going to the upper levels." which meant that given time he could slice his way not only into the Eclipse base, but most likely also in every shady network on those levels as well... Too bad Nar Shaddaa's networks were protected by the likes of Gori Xaa Hafven and his Crymorah Syndicate. Gori was a peerless slicer who used his skills on the HoloNet to rise in the criminal underworld and to become a crimelord. A much more valuable skill than being able to quickly draw a blaster, or so Darmus thought. With Gori around trying to slice into Five Syndicate networks on the upper levels was a pipe dream.
The rickety lift came to a halt and the doors creaked open. Darmus suddenly felt his age, close to fifty, and looked at his younger companions. They had a live that was still worth living and here he was, leading them into their deaths. "Have each other's backs," he warned as he took his blaster pistol from its holster and tried to determine in which direction the personav told them to go.