[hr][hr][center][color=silver][h1]Kabal[/h1][/color][/center][hr][hr]
'Specialist ordnance.' seemed to Kabal a roundabout way of saying 'big explosives.' Basic was a frustrating language that seemed to have ten different ways to say the exact same thing. Ubese was a far superior dialect, one that Kabal missed speaking greatly. He tried where he could, of course, but slurs and curses aimed towards his fellow crew members just couldn't compare. Planets like Anchorage served as a grim reminder of just how isolated he was. Even on Tatooine, the rolling dunes and desert plains felt much closer to home than desolate ice caps and frozen fields.

His initial confusion regarding Solace's words was quickly alleviated by her elaboration of acquiring a baradium fission device. Those weren't just explosives, they were planet-busters - superweapons; banned even by the Empire after enough bellyaching by the gutless pacifists on Alderaan. Kabal inclined his head down towards the table as Solace slid the handful of credits towards him. There was a pause as he seemed to process the exciting task assigned to him. Almost warily outstretching his glove-less hand, thin chalk-white fingers closed around the credits, drawing them into one of the compartments on his woefully light bandoliers.

With a lone nod, Kabal was off, swiftly departing from his seat and out the door, pushing past a few displeased spacers trying to come [i]in.[/i] Kabal gave no quarter and offered no mercy; anyone in his way would move or be moved. How one as small as he could shove with the strength of a larger man was puzzling--and shocking to those on the receiving end, but Kabal had disappeared into the streets long before anyone had the chance to find out.

Outside, the frigid cold met him like a punch to the gut, freezing the air in his weak lungs. Furiously planting bare hands in the folds of his clothing, Kabal pressed on, eyes peeled for any diminutive insects running around carting a nuke. The assortment of alien features all seemed to blend together into a repulsive kaleidoscope of too-many-limbs, enormous eyes, unnatural colors, and foul odors that only enhanced Kabal's biases. He had no point of direction other than the green ring, but with a baradium fission device on the line? Kabal [i]would[/i] find it.

After painstaking minutes of wandering, refusing to ask for any aid or directions, Kabal spotted one of the Gand in the distance: a diminutive sort, smaller even than he was, lugging around a cart-full of miscellaneous blaster parts and ammo casings in a hand-pulled wagon. Increasing his pace to harass the insect into telling him where the fission devices were, the Gand, unaware, turned a corner and disappeared into the crowded sea.

His frustration only growing in the meantime, Kabal was about to break in a full-on sprint when a guttural voice called out from behind him, slicing through the muddled chats and conversations of everyone else around: [color=darkviolet]"Come for th' baradium, have you, Stranger?"[/color]

Kabal froze, turning around on his heels to look up at a tall, imposing sort, garbed in enough layers to draw uncertainty whether he was human or not. The man was arrayed in a long, heavy cloak that draped down to boot-clad ankles, hood-and-cowl obscuring all but his eyes and the bridge of his nose. Hunched over with the weight of a backpack upon his shoulders, the man met Kabal's blank visor with a gaze piercing enough to make even the unflappable Ubese mildly uncomfortable.

Taking Kabal's silence as answer, the man laughed heartily: a raspy, gurgling sound that wheezed and popped like a machine booting up after decades of disuse. Recovering after one last chortle, the man spoke once more: [color=darkviolet]"My little Beetles have done a fine job in rounding up prospective customers, and you seem a discerning one, at that!"[/color] With a sweeping theatrical motion, the man opened up his cloak, revealing a baffling assortment of holsters and ammo pouches, all full to the brim. Hold-out blasters, heavy pistols, carbines, grenades, bombs, slugthrowers, the merchant carried enough on his person to arm a sizable militia, and that didn't even take into account what he carried at his stall. Rifles, light-and-heavy repeaters, flamethrowers, grenade rifles, portable rocket launchers, and, above the rest like a deity enshrined: a baradium fission device, dwarfing most grown men in size. Despite the array of outlawed and invaluable weaponry that'd make even the Empire blush, no one else around seemed to look at or even take notice of the merchant and his stall. 

[color=darkviolet]”Lot of good things on sale, Stranger.”[/color] The merchant acknowledged in what was the greatest understatement of the era. Beneath the frozen expression of Kabal's mask was pure, unadulterated [i]desire[/i]. His own stash, carefully acquired over months of scavenging and hoarding, couldn't begin to scratch the surface of what the merchant had before him. 

[color=silver]”How much?”[/color] Kabal asked, pointing up at the baradium bomb in hushed reverence. 

[color=darkviolet]”No set price, Stranger. Show me what credits you're willing to part with, and we'll see from there.”[/color] The merchant's tone was the growl of a seasoned businessman, keenly aware of any tricks of the trade. Even Kabal, for all his lowly opinion of humans, knew there'd be no lowballing this one. 

Reaching into one of his pouches, Kabal procured the full amount of credits Solace had given to him, holding them out for the merchant to take. 

Shoveling the whole pile in one hand, the merchant held up a single credit to his eyes, appraising the quality. After a moment or two more, he nodded decisively. [color=darkviolet]”This'll do, Stranger. Bomb's yours.”[/color] With a snap of his fingers and a command issued in an alien tongue, two Gand mysteriously appeared from the swell of the crowd, hopping up on the stall to carefully load the bomb onto a cart.

[color=darkviolet]”My Beetles'll help carry the weapon to your ship, Stranger. A pleasure doing business with ya -- thank you.”[/color] Once more securing his cloak, the merchant humbly bowed. Kabal, not saying a word, turned to leave, leading the Gand back towards port. Then he stopped. Somewhere in the deepest pits of his shriveled heart was a small shred of decency urging him to, for one of the first times in his life, thank another creature. But by the time he turned around to respond to the merchant, he, and his stall, had disappeared, leaving nary a trace but a single wanted holo-poster against the wall, with the biggest bounty Kabal had [b]ever[/b] seen: ten billion credits. 

Only taken out of his surprise by one of the Gand gently tugging against his sleeve, Kabal, after slapping the bug's hand away, continued on back to the ship, carrying with him the most valuable haul of his career.