[ TT ] `` Everyone here is running from something . Me ? I 'm ... ''

# # # # # # [ ] ( # dropcap ) 
 
 *Me? I'm running towards it, same way a shark smells blood in the water. * 
 
 The place reeked of fear, that and unwashed bodies. The smell of piss-sour beer and rather dubious meals only added to the general distaste that clung in the air, the space station's air scrubbers not up to the task of cleaning the stench of tens of thousand of beings who in all likelihood had never heard of the word refresher. The occasional whiff of void-lubricants and burnt power coils were a nice change of pace at least to Tomess Ghast's olfactory organ, his human noise going blind to the worst of the smell. 
 
 A pint of questionably drinkable beer sat half-finished in front of him, a plate of something that looked like insects as snacks besides it. He was n't too sure to be completely honest; the things were so deep fried and then covered in a layer of chili powder that he would have accepted any answer from the waitress. 
 
 Wist Nay'tu, younger than him by a good standard decade and a half took everything in with her aquamarine eyes, sorting and cataloging it all for later use. She wore a conservative jacket of black leather, the material pairing well with her Bothan fur so pale it was almost white. 
 
 `` I still do n't understand why we're in this place, Tomess. It almost burns my snout.'' 
 
 Ghast shrugged, tipping a bit more of the pale ale into his mouth. He swished it around, taking comfort in its likely bacteria dissolving abilities before swallowing it down. 
 
 `` Everybody's running from the Imps. The First Order's star is on the rise and if there's one thing I know, it's how to make a credit. The Galaxy's changing, Wist, and both sides are gon na be clamoring for guns and those with the skills to use them. Us Ord Ivarners have been waiting for this moment since the Confederacy of Independent Systems was crushed at the end of the Clone Wars. This is vindication for our mistreatment by both the Imps and the Republic.'' 
 
 Wist's fur rippled in a way indicating wariness. 
 
 `` So we're just gon na be mercenaries? That hardly seems glorious and honorable.'' 
 
 Ghast chuckled, stretching out against the back of the booth they sat at. 
 
 `` Nope. It's a thankless profession with poor odds and worse pay, and when you do succeed some other person or group rushes in to steal the credit. But hey, them's the rocks. As long as I get paid they can say whoever the hell they want did their dirty work.'' 
 
 
 Wist said nothing, and instead carefully took of sip of her drink. It did n't take much to convince her that drinking the local water was a poor decision. 
 
 `` You still have n't told me why we're here.'' 
 
 `` An old acquaintance, a friend of a friend you might say. He's got his slimy little fingers in every pot here in the Western Reaches and more importantly might have a job for a man of my talent,'' Ghast said. 
 
 `` What talent?'' 
 
 Ghast winced. 
 
 `` Ow, now you're just being harsh...'' Any other words were cut off as a half-dozen blasters were aimed their way, pull out from under cloaks or behind backs. One of the wielders, a particularly ugly looking Zabrak with metal-tipped horns pressed the barrel of his blaster into Tomess Ghast's chest. 
 
 `` Funny seeing you here, Ghast... considering you have a shoot on sight order on your head from Gorgia the Hutt himself.'' 
 
 Tomess smiled, a queer thing at odds with the deadly weapons aimed at his head. 
 
 `` Bero-Lo! I was hoping you'd show up; saves me the trouble of having to explain to whatever dog you got watching the front gate to let me in. How's the leg? Last I saw you were crawling after me, shooting and hollering.'' 
 
 `` Yes, thanks to you,'' the Zabrak said icily. `` You nearly blew my leg off.'' 
 
 `` Tom,'' Wist murmured but he ignored her, saying instead, 
 
 `` Wist, this is Bero-Lo, enforcer for the esteemed owner of this station. The owner being that friend I was mentioning about. Me and him go way back.'' 
 
 The ganger was not amused. 
 
 `` Get up. we'll let Gorgia figure out how to deal with you.'' 
 
 Ghast merely smiled once more, picking up his beer and finishing the dredges with a long gulp. 
 
 `` Tastes like piss from a sick being. Speaking of which, did that doc finally clear up your kidneys? Do Zabraks even have kidneys?'' 
 
 He barely even grunted when the fist came flying towards his face. 
 
 
 
 

