Over the next few hours, the unlikely rag-tag group of survivors found ways to keep themselves busy during the relatively slow journey to Nar Shaddaa; Some slept, cleaned up, attempted repairs, scavenged what little in the way of food or drink was available or simply checked their weapons in quiet contemplation of whatever was to come. A few exchanged brief small talk or made vaguely witty remarks about the situation while secretly trying to gauge if the people around them could be a useful ally or were just a threat that they'd be better off without. Everyone was thinking the same thing: this ship could be mine - a lucrative business opportunity, perhaps a way to enact vengeance or even become a home. At the very least it was worth its weight in credits even second or third-hand. The closer the YT-2000 came to the Smuggler's Moon; a neon orb criss-crossed by amber streaks denoting the visible megaloposises covering its surface, the faster the reality of the situation set in. This place was infamously dangerous, especially to those unfamiliar with its streets and the fragile political structure between the Hutt cartels and other crime syndicates which could barely be considered a real form of governance. It was a place of endless opportunities and a place to disappear - either into hiding or six feet under the ground.
The comms were filled with hundreds of broadcasts ranging from solicitations for various unscrupulous services to various light-weight chancers attempting to demand some kind of toll without the means to back it up in their rustbucket scrap fighters. A quick swivel of the laser cannon scared them off quickly. These were just the bottom feeders hanging out in high orbit trying to prey on the weak or the foolish. They were also just the first of numerous parasites who would inevitably try their luck on anyone who appears vulnerable for even a second. The ship descended through the night sky, weaving past countless skyslums and all manner of airspeeders flying about with little to no regard for any kind of safety. Without many options, Zira set the corellian craft down at the nearest space port. It was a moderately sized landing bay in the Vorgano District in one of the smaller cities on the northern hemisphere - far away from the busiest and most dangerous parts of the moon. Of course, the bar was set incredibly low, so that wasn't saying much.
After the ship had passed through the rectangular hangar entrance and set down in landing bay K-7, one by one the crew gathered their things and descended down the ramp to survey their surroundings. A few astromech droids trundled around nearby carrying out tasks and a rotund man with an unkempt beard and scraggly receding hair approached the newcomers.
"Hello, hello, welcome friends," he grinned wolfishly. "Welcome to my humble port, a refuge for all weary travellers and a sanctuary for those in need of safe harbour. It would be my pleasure to assist you with any repairs to your ship and any advice navigating the local area..."
He paused, hands interlinked, as his eyes darted from one person to another as if expecting a response.
"For a modest fee, no doubt," Jirano grunted, folding his arms.
"Yes of course, my astute Nautolan friend," the fat dockmaster's toothy grin widened even further. "My name is Zimbar and I am a humble businessmen. I would be ever so delighted to avail you of everything my port has to offer as well as my wisdom of local affairs... I will just need a deposit of 500 credits for your docking fee, 250 credits gratuity tax and oh, just another 75 for the VIP treatment here at Zimbar's port. Very reasonable, yes, to guarantee the safety of such a valuable vessel, wouldn't you say..." It was clearly not a question, rather a veiled threat.
"825 credits, that is frakking ridiculous," muttered Karl. "Why should we pay even half of that to stay in this sad excuse for a port?"
"Ah! A very good question, my good sir," replied Zimbar. "While we've been talking my droids have attached magnetic clamps to your ship's landing gear... to ensure no one can steal your marvelous ship of course... and there are six autoturrets in this bay," he pointed to the ceiling and walls where the turrets were indeed mounted, "For your own safety... of course... We wouldn't want any vagrants coming in here and making anyone feel unsafe now would we? I am a humble businessman, I only expect to be compensated for my humble services..."
"But of course!" interjected Shakka before he could say it. She approached him with slow, deliberate steps, circling him as a predator would its prey, his attention entirely locked on her now. She flashed him a brief smile and then cast her gaze around the landing bay as if admiring it, before looking directly into his eyes and extending a single finger towards him, almost close enough to touch him. "Clearly you are a conscientious businessman and thoroughly thoughtful host, mister Zimbar. I assure you, we can be most appreciative of your generosity," the words rolled off her tongue like honey as she continued to circle him, rounding to stand on his other side. "My friends and I are more than happy to ensure you are fairly compensated, especially if you know how to be discreet," she purred.
Zimbar's grin had turned from wolfish to salacious in mere seconds. "Well, well, well, aren't you just exquisite," he remarked. "So delightful to meet someone who understands respect where it is due... I think I will enjoy your stay here very much."
"Of course darling, things can be very lucrative and enjoyable for you. In fact you are renowned far and wide for your hospitality and you wouldn't want to disappoint me, would you?"
She tilted her head slightly, staring intently at the squat harbourmaster. He momentarily seemed confused, looking into her eyes, before he snapped back to reality.
"Oh, well n-no, of course I wouldn't want to disappoint you.... of course not..."
"And surely your legendary hospitality and generosity means you wouldn't mind waving the fees for a few days," she whispered, her face only a few inches from his. A bead of sweat dripped down his temple. Behind them, Jirano had to force himself not to visibly react as he sensed a brief rush of energy flow through the force.
"No.. no I wouldn't mind waving the fees for a few days... of course, of course," bleated Zimbar. He was almost giddy with excitement.
Shakka suddenly recoiled several steps back, leaving Zimbar blinking confusedly at what had just happened. "Excellent. Off you go then, we'll summon you if we need any of your services."
"Um.. Right... Of course," Zimbar stared at his feet, equal parts clueless and absolutely, immediately, in love with the lithe Twi'lek. He rotated on the spot and shuffled away towards a small turbolift, presumably leading to the windowed office suspended high in the corner of the ceiling.
"How uncouth! That man does not observe satisfactory hygeinic standards," scoffed Ego with dismay.
The Vorgano District
This minor district, part of the city of Vyrrus, is one of the less obvious places to visit on Nar Shaddaa. It lacks the extensive commerce zones of the larger cities, but also significantly less scrutiny from the Hutt Cartels. Despite this, the area is still predominantly controlled by Gordulla the Hutt, a particularly cunning Hutt known for eclectic interests and a fascination for unique or exotic things far more than just sheer profit. His domain is rather small by Hutt standards, foregoing any ostentatious palace for the simplicity and pragmatism of a gilded tower at the heart of the district. It is heavily guarded and audiences are rare, except for those with something interesting to offer. Despite this, all the locals still pay tribute to Gordulla while enjoying the benefits of his general disinterest in local affairs beyond his own concerns.
Other key areas of interest include:
- the local Hunters Guild where all manner of mercenaries and bounty hunters congregate to find work and show off their trophies.
- the Marvelon Cantina and Casino, a five story monument to excess and greed filled with every type of wealthy degenerate criminal scum from all over the galaxy.
- Niva's droid repair, used ship salvage and junk shop.
- Gordulla's renowned arena where the finest warriors and most downtrodden slaves are pitted against each other and a menagerie of alien beasts for his own pleasure. Thousands come daily to place bets and revel in the slaughter while the truly brave or idiotic volunteer to fight for renown and vast prize money.
- Zimbar's port, the "most reasonably priced port this side of the moon"
- every kind of black market merchant you could ask for from weapons, illegal droid mods, drugs, brothels and anything else your heart desires. Of course, it's just a regular market on Nar Shaddaa.