>>5510494>>5510506>>5510508>>5510516>>5510561>>5510583>>5510626>>5510666>>5510668>>5510807KesCorp had been founded by the Senate to monitor any and all activity on the planet – incoming persons, the mining of spice, and research into legitimate pharmaceutical ends. Alas, Larid’s intelligence on KesCorp report that the criminal underworld had slowly taken over the company’s reigns. “Glitteryll”, a cut of cheap Rylothian ryll mixed with Kesselian spice, had been none-so-discretely exported with the medicine to buyers and criminal enterprises all across the known galaxy.
In theory, Kessendra’s spaceport is heavily monitored, with Republic Navy Vessels routinely patrolling the Kessel Trade Corridor. Ships were regularly screened, often times boarded to check for any contraband or smuggling holds. But gradual disinterest from the Senate had pulled the patrols away, made them less frequent, and the outbreak of the Clone Wars was the final knell in any prolonged Republic scrutiny.
Prisoners make the bulk majority of the spice miners. However, there had been enough gainfully employed miners to justify building basic infrastructure on Kessendra. The local economy is barebones and pitifully underdeveloped compared to any other world, but it makes enough to support the miners, or the overseers of the prisoners. Luxury is almost a foreign concept, with much of the market dominated by more pragmatic goods – bars of soap, dried rations, repair kits, water purifiers, and rebreather canisters.
In a pinch, Kessel serves as a refueling station for traders going down the <span class="mu-i">Pabol Sleheyron</span> hyperspace route. Admittedly out of the way, but one that could be legitimately used. Even now, carefully hidden in the shadow of an alley, you can spy tramp traders and merchants haggling over the cost of coaxium, hyperfuel, and other victualing supplies…as well as your mark arguing with a moisture farmer about the cost of water.
As far as disguises went, Jedi Knight Ma'kis has done better than most. The uniform blue of his clothing admittedly stands out, but that’s only a mild quibble. His hip is devoid of his lightsaber, but it’d be a sucker’s bet to say that he doesn’t have it read at a moment’s notice. Interestingly enough, the Nikto looks remarkably composed in spite of all that’s happened.
<span class="mu-i">Must be the Morgukai training</span>, you think wryly. <span class="mu-i">Or has he always been this calm for a firebrand?</span>
The Force trembles as Ma’kis discretely waves his fingers in what could’ve passed as a gesture of exasperation. All of a sudden, the moisture farmer relaxes, visibly leaning back as he mumbles something about paying a fair price for a canteen of water.
That’s when you make your move. Peeling away from the alley, you start your walk into the spaceport’s market square. You move with the crowd, easily inserting yourself with the flow of traffic as it brings you closer towards the Nikto…
(cont.)
