“I have a few other bits of business that I must handle, Murrl”, said Sorzen, butchering Mrrowl’s name with an oily smile that was finally beginning to get on the Togorian’s nerves.
“Underssstand.” Mrrowl said, then pointed to his empty whiskey glass.
“Of course! Have as much as you want.” Sorzen indicated the Twi’lek that had caught Mrrowl's attention earlier. “My personal, erm, assistant will take care of you, and when you’re finished, she’ll show you where to stay for the evening. I’ll fetch you tomorrow to take you to the Dirty Mynock.”
The Togorian again displayed his sharp teeth, and Sorzen decided that was he was probably smiling. Beckoning a ‘Swooper Lieutenant over, he stood, and Mrrowl’s nose wrinkled as a melange of sharp scents filled the area. From the scents, the Lieutenant received a message - “This one will prove useful. Make sure the lads stay away from him tonight, I don’t want him damaged.”
Nodding to Mrrowl a final time, Sorzen dismissed the ‘Swooper with a wave of his hand and disappeared through a door at the back of the bar.
----
Quiet broke over the stairwell like a wave as the shutting door blocked the raucous sounds of the bar. The false smile left Sorzen’s face as he hurried up a flight of stairs, carefully stepping over a few he knew to be completely rotten, and stopped at the second floor landing. An unlit code pad hung limply on exposed wiring in front of an unmarked door. Movement of the air generated by Sorzen’s approach caused the pad to swing slightly back and forth, adding to a shallow arc shaped groove worn into the wall plaster.
Stabilizing the pad with one hand, the Weequay entered his code with the other. Metallic thuds from a number of bolts slamming back into grooves resounded throughout the quiet hallway, belying the sturdiness of the outwardly rickety looking door, which swung inwards on reinforced, silent hinges, exposing a room strewn with debris and broken furniture. Crossing the floor, and picking his way around scattered junk, Sorzen tugged the corner of a vanity, which swung aside on recessed casters, revealing a four foot high hole that had been knocked out of the wall. Loose bricks lined the short passage, with jagged edges like broken teeth exposed by the crumbling plaster.
Ducking through the hole, Sorzen entered a new room about the size of a small storage closet. Pausing a moment to pull the vanity back into place, he turned and entered a code into the panel guarding a door opposite the wall he entered through.
The hallway into which Sorzen emerged was everything that the building containing the bar was not. Sparkling marble floors, plush furniture, and fine art on the walls greeted him as he gave a small sigh of contentment. The only apparent access to this set of rooms was the passageway Sorzen had taken, though he had a secret bolt-hole in the event unexpected visitors were to try and corner him.
The bar made an excellent front, it’s dilapidation and rough clientele assuring that little attention would be paid to his operation, however, one had to be civilized about one’s living conditions. The clicks of his boot heels echoed in the corridor as he proceeded a few doors down the hallway, manipulated a keypad, and stepped into a room dominated by status lights, computer screens and a small holonet transceiver.
Punching in the Galactic Access Address for the Dirty Mynock, Sorzen listened as the connection tone sounded, followed by the harsh electronic screech of the encryption modules on either end exchanging their one-time codes for synchronization. Assured of the privacy of his communication, the Weequay waited until a slightly pixellated Trandoshan appeared in the air in front of him, digital interference occasionally causing the image to stutter as the signal strength fluctuated.
“Zesh, “ Sorzen snapped, “where is Viggo?”
“Zorzen, not expect you call.” Zesh lisped, “Viggo buzy, I run ship today.”
Sorzen frowned, his anger rising at the laziness of the Mynock’s Captain. “Fine. I have a new crewmember for you down here. Another of those Togorians seems to have...wandered...in. He’ll prove useful on the Mynock”
“Already have full crew!” Zesh whined. “Not need troublezome cat on board, not need bad cat zmell!”
Rolling his eyes at the lizard’s tone, Sorzen’s voice became hard, and he jabbed a finger at the flickering holo of the Dirty Mynock’s First Mate. “You do not have a full crew. I think Survee is about to have an accident while fixing the airlock no?”
“But Zurvee Zurzen nephew, Zurzen blood!”
“Don’t you tell me who he is, don’t you think I know?!?” Sorzen bellowed, slamming a clenched fist into the edge of the holotable. “I want him spaced, right now. You don’t even like warm bloods as it is!”
Zesh’s slitted eyes rolled back and forth, looking for help. He fervently wished Viggo wasn’t busy having “fun” with a couple of units of their latest acquisition, a dozen freshly purchased Twi’lek slave girls for Sorzen’s Dnalvec pleasure house. Convinced this was a warm-blood trap, Zesh’s brain was feverishly scrambling to find himself an out.
“Look at me you scaled sack of bantha dung!” Sorzen raged, his voice getting so loud it was beginning to overload the audio pickups on the table, warping the sound of his voice with crackles and hisses on the bridge of the Mynock. “You’ll do as I say by the time you make port, or I’ll make sure you and that utterly worthless Captain you serve are both sold to the spice mines on Kessel, after I order my latest acquisition to break every bone in your bodies!”
Zesh was finally looking somewhat cowed, and he seemed to fold into himself somewhat as he quietly hissed “Yez...Zesh do.”
Taking a deep breath, Sorzen very quietly added, “And you’ll remove that Togorian hide from your cabin wall. I don’t care where you put it, just make sure it’s locked up well out of sight. If our new friend sees that, it will cost me a lot of credits in damages and lost profits, and I shall be sorely, sorely disappointed.”
The Trandoshan’s eyes went wide in shock and rage for a moment, but at an answering cold look from Sorzen, finally responded with a dejected nod. “Wookie peltzzzz?” he quietly hissed, his eyes looking up hopefully from an anxious face.
“Leave those up if it makes you happy, I couldn’t care less. Kill this one before I order it, however, and you’re finished. No excuses!” Pausing to give Zesh a final glare, Sorzen slammed his hand into the call disconnect before stalking from the Central Command Room.
----
Carefully de-selecting the Captain’s Quarters from the Comm Control Panel, Zesh pressed the button to sound the “Attention” tone in the ship.
“Zurvee, bring tool, report airlock two, getting bad cycle indicator light.” Zesh hissed into the audio pickup.
Across the ship, a young Weequay turned off the holo he was watching and grabbed a battered red metal toolbox. Stopping a moment at the door to bark, “I’m on it!” into the comm unit, he cycled the door and turned towards the port side airlock, softly whistling a popular Tandalion song as he bumped the box against his leg in time to the music.
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