1.4 An Inauspicious Beginning P5

<div id="i4c-draggable-container" style="position: fixed; z-index: 1499; width: 0px; height: 0px;"><div data-reactroot="" class="resolved" style="all: initial;"></div></div>Coruscant.

48 by 32, sublevel B, Westside.

I put a bit of chook inna bun and pass it to the sprog.

The little Twilek grins at me as the next hungry child shuffles fowrd and points at a particularly green lump of seared animal flesh.

You see every year or so Coruscant holds a martial arts championships. The competition is divided into different sports, fencing, sword and board, marksmanship, grappling and about a dozen different non jedi fisticuff variants (more than half of which are mandelorian) of which the winners are showered in applause, money and affection.

This isn't that competition, that competition formally begins in about three months time.

This is the Sublevel B fourty five through fifty, row thirty two, under twelve old republic fencing championship after competition barbecue.

Total catchment area has almost fifty million people but this sport is rare so we only had fifty competitors make it to this round.

I did not compete for obvious reasons.

"So Chanim you're doing pretty well. You're certainly more prepared than the first time I went scavving so tomorrow lets head out to the Maru Junkyard over at fifty south, It should have what we need for Ryan's latest order."

"Junkyard diving? Really?" She asks petulantly, wordlessly passing what passes for a sausage in this place to another tired and bruised fighter.

"Yeah, I mean Maru's is a pretty well managed place and there's pretty much nothing to be worried about there but it is a good place to cut your teeth on. They've got a square kilometer, almost three hundred meters deep of wrecks going back almost a century. iI'm fairly certain we can find at least three items on the list."

"But Junkyard diving?" the teen asks in a tone of voice best described as distilled fifteen year old.

"What's wrong with junkyard diving? The view's nice, object lessons in history and minimal chance that you'll come to a sticky end." I say.

"it doesn't seem very y'know." she says dolling out another morsel with overlong tongs held between her small hands.

"Bowel voiding? panic inducing? Terrifying? Mind shattering? Impendingly horrifying?" I remark offhandedly.

"Nooo." She grouses and a allow myself a little smile.

"It ain't glamorous work kiddo. Like not at all. Lots of following breadcrumbs followed by liberal doses of intense panic and the occasional fresh set of clothes." I flip the fresh meat on the grill as another child turns up.

"I would like this one." A pink child points to a near raw haunch of bird.

"It's still raw kiddo."

The child grins at me, long needle like fangs filling it's mouth.

"Ah, you like it that way?"

The child nods and I deposit the still bleeding lump of meat onto their plate. "'nk you." They mutter, shuffling off to their group of friends.

"I, Didn't think it would be glamorous I thought it wo..." Chanim's ears flatten against the back of her head suddenly.

This isn't uncommon with her. It's the third time something like this has happened since We've started working togeather. I reach accross and give her a scratch behind her ears as I open my ears for the distinctive noise.

*Tromp Tromp Tromp*

Yup, jackboots right on cue.

"Keep serving, those who have nothing to hide have nothing to fear." I say, running the line over and over in my head as I watch the precession of stormies march right up to the official enterance of the Gymnasium.

"Nothing to hide, nothing to fear." Chanim mutters under her breath as she lets her ears rise up and her heckles lower.

The gym is a curious structure, the primary outdoor area is on the roof and 'Outdoor' is very much a misnomer, it only really opens to the cavern above and the untold thousands of electric lights from the houses and industriles peppering this level. Below us is the nomina road level, A road filled with a full dozen strong stormtrooper section. The bucketheads stand to attention on each side of the road as two officers in Imperal Waffenrocks, stride with purpose to the rooftop ramp.

"Djingo, is the music ready?" I call over to where the mechanic is chatting up a young twilek. The black man looks at me quisicly before leaning over and turning up the volume on his stereo. The sudden music distracts the children for long enough for the two officers to reachrooftop level and make a beeline towards me.

"Alexander."

"Leu.. Captain Larbort. I believe congratulations are in order." The man's rank insignia having changed since the last time we had met.

"Thank you scavanger. I have a job for you." The man states with an imperial finality.

"Fan'Fing'Tastic sir. Would you like some game bird, fresh as anything and humanely killed." I offer.

"Humanely killed, a strange sentiment to be applied to an animal." The other man, a lieutenant says with a sneer.

I offer a bun of white breadlike substance to the captain and he takes it in spotless white gloves and places the juiciest lump of meat I have on hand into it.

"The Scavenger... Sorry Alexander, The Action Archeologist here strives for professionalism in all things, Second Lieutenant you could stand to learn a good deal from him in that if nothing else."

"Save my language sir, it's fucking horrible."

"Quite." The Captain says primly taking a measured bite from his chicken.

"Your own spice mix Alexander?" He asks inquisitively.

"Yes sir. Specifically chosen to provide a feeling of vitality, wit and endurance." I say with a small bow.

"Wonderfull, I will, of course, require the recipe. Food aside Alexander, Second lieutenant Terra as my adjutant requires a sword for public events and the like." The captain says primly.

"Well I have a wide selection available for purchase. I haven't a catalogue on me unfortunately." I say, patting my pockets, looking for the nonexistent price list. "But I can assure you that every blade I provide has the finest providence from only the most venerable ruins." I quip.

"You expect me to believe that scavenger." The second lieutenant sneers.

'Terra, Down." The captain says quietly and his minion snaps to attention. "I have made several purchases in the past from my associate here and he has always provided good service and impeccable documentation."

"Thank you sir, I hope I can continue to provide the level of service you require into the future sir." I say quickly, licking boot like my life depends on it.

"We require a different service this time Alexander. The Lieutenant here is courting quite an old associate of mine, but he does not yet have the accolades to place him ahead of the pack as it were."

"Ah." I say wordlessly.

"Quite, Lieutenants Dettin and Tosh are suitors among others so I fear that simple trinkets will not be adequate."

"Well that's a bit of an embuggerance if you don't mind me saying sir." I quip.

"It is indeed, If only I knew someone who has a firm supply of adventure on tap as it were to provide, let us say, some adventure." The captain says conspiratorially.

Shit.

"If only." I say quietly, the bastard only smiles quietly.

Shit shitty poo titty fuck.

"Sir, If i may, this is not the appropriate place to be discussing the details of an expedition sir. A formal expedition require extensive planning and preparation in order to stave off disaster sir." Well at least it would if I didn't have magic to take the edge off the dangers.

"That is quite alright Alexander, I am prepared to offer a dozen times your going rate to do this task properly and do it soon." He says flippantly.

"Ohhhhhh." the noise escapes me involuntarily, A blade, a good one like the one the Captain is wearing on his hip is easily worth twelve hundred credits, he knows this, a distinctly nozero part of the deposit on my new ship came from that very blade.

"Wonderful. I will trust the pair of you to sort out the details." He says with a smirk and strides off.

The other man sneers at me.

"Hello, My name is Alexander The Action Archeologist of Alexanders Action Archeology. Would you like some Game fowl?" I ask with bated breath. The officer gives me a long, hard look over, noting the gun on my hip and the light blue apron tied around my waist.

"If I must." He sneers out.

Wanker.

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