Chapter 9: Nubs

The nauseating lurch of our ship exiting hyperspace sends my breakfast ration pack threatening to make a second appearance. After four days trapped in this metal coffin with a hyperdrive that sounds like it's powered by asthmatic banthas, I'd kill for solid ground beneath my feet.

"Finally," I mutter, leaning forward in the co-pilot's chair as Circumtore materializes before us.

My first glimpse of the massive space station is... underwhelming, to say the least. It hangs in the void like some cosmic architect's rejected concept art, a sideways ring structure with buildings protruding upward along its surface. Unlike the elegant ring worlds I vaguely remember from sci-fi back on Earth, this monstrosity has none of the natural beauty or elegant design that made those fictional constructs so awe-inspiring.

'The buildings aren't even on the inside of the ring.'

"It's just so uninspired," I say, unable to keep the disappointment from my voice. "I mean, they had the entire vacuum of space to work with, and they built... this?"

Vae glances at me from the pilot's seat, her crimson features arranged in mild amusement. "Not every location in the galaxy can be aesthetically pleasing, Ty-Lar."

"I know, but..." I gesture toward the viewport where Circumtore dominates our view. "It's literally a giant metal donut. No greenery, no water features, just durasteel and permacrete as far as the eye can see."

The station grows larger as we approach, revealing more details that do nothing to improve my first impression. Countless lights flicker across its surface, illuminating the dense urban sprawl that covers every available inch. Ships of various sizes flit around its perimeter like insects circling a rotting fruit.

"This place is essentially one massive city," Vae explains, her fingers dancing across the control panel as she begins our approach sequence. "Built by the Hutts as a trading hub, then expanded over centuries without any cohesive plan."

"Just like Boston," I mutter, watching as a particularly ugly freighter lumbers past our viewport. "Planning and aesthetic consideration don't seem like Hutt priorities."

Vae's lips curl into a small smile. "They prefer function over form. And the function of Circumtore is to make money."

Our comm system crackles to life, a bored voice speaking in heavily accented Basic. "Unidentified vessel, this is Circumtore Control. State your business and transmit registration codes."

Vae leans forward, activating our transmitter. "Circumtore Control, this is The Handsome Gentleman requesting docking clearance." Her fingers tap a sequence into the console, sending Bana's old clearance codes.

There's a tense moment of silence while we wait for a response. I find myself holding my breath, wondering if these codes are still valid or if they've been flagged since Bana's death.

"Handsome Gentleman, you are cleared for docking at Bay 47-C, Level 8. Transmitting approach vector now."

I exhale slowly as Vae acknowledges the instruction. "See?" she says, shooting me a confident look. "Nothing to worry about."

She guides our ship toward the indicated docking bay, navigating through the congested space traffic with practiced ease. As we draw closer to the station, I can make out individual structures, towering spires, blocky industrial complexes, and what look like residential zones stacked on top of each other in precarious arrangements.

"So this place is basically a giant space ghetto," I say as Vae expertly guides our ship into the docking bay, the landing struts touching down with barely a shudder.

"Exactly," she replies, powering down the engines.

I peer through the viewport at the dingy docking bay. Maintenance droids scuttle about, and sketchy-looking characters lurk in the shadows. "Is our ship going to be safe here? This place looks like it has a theft problem."

Vae turns to me. "If the ships weren't safe, no one would come here to trade. The Hutts understand the economics of security, if nothing else."

"That makes sense," I nod, unbuckling my restraints and standing to stretch my cramped muscles.

Before we prepare to disembark, Vae retrieves a bundle of black fabric from her storage compartment. She unfurls what turns out to be flowing dark robes, draping them over her crimson form. She pulls the hood up over her horns, casting her face in shadow.

The effect is both intimidating and, I have to admit, incredibly alluring. The black fabric accentuates her body quite well, the mysterious silhouette somehow making her more enticing, like elegant wrapping on a dangerous gift I can't wait to unwrap later.

'Sexy and sleek assassin vibes.'

"Ready?"

I grab my blaster pistol and secure it in my holster. "As I'll ever be."

The landing ramp hisses as it descends, releasing a cloud of steam that mixes with the recycled station air.

We make our way down the ramp, my boots clanging against the metal. A maintenance droid rolls up to us, its optical sensors flickering erratically.

"Refueling and basic maintenance?" it inquires in a tinny voice.

Vae drops a few credit chips into its collection tray. "Fill her up," she commands, not breaking stride.

"At once," the droid chirps, already extending its fueling apparatus toward our ship.

I follow Vae's confident stride across the docking bay. We navigate through corridors that seem designed by someone with a pathological fear of straight lines, each passageway twisting and turning without apparent purpose.

"Where exactly are we headed?" I ask, dodging a pair of Rodians who barrel past without so much as a glance.

Vae's hooded figure glides beside me, her movements fluid despite the crowded conditions. "The Drunken Mynock. It's a cantina in the trading district."

"Let me guess, we're meeting your mysterious contact there?"

"Yes." She turns down yet another corridor, this one wider and bustling with more diverse foot traffic. "We're looking for a Sullustan."

I raise an eyebrow. "Any particular Sullustan, or will any random one do?"

"He has a missing arm," she says matter-of-factly. "Left one."

The Drunken Mynock announces itself with a cacophony of sounds that spill into the corridor, alien music, raucous laughter, and the occasional crash of breaking glass. The entrance is marked by a flickering hologram of what I assume is a mynock, though the image is so distorted it could just as easily be a diseased bat.

We pause at the threshold, and I lean closer to Vae. "So, this one-armed Sullustan, did you cut off his arm?" I whisper, only half-joking. After witnessing her casually decapitate someone for trying to suck my dick, it seems like a reasonable question.

Vae actually laughs, the sound low and musical under her hood. "No, Ty-Lar. I don't just go around cutting off people's limbs. He was like that when we met." She steps into the cantina, adding over her shoulder, "I believe he was born without it."

"That's wild," I respond, following her into the dimly lit establishment.

The cantina is packed with the usual assortment of space scum, smugglers, mercenaries, and various other individuals who look like they'd sell their own mothers for the right price. The air is thick with smoke from substances I probably shouldn't be inhaling, and the floor sticks to my boots with each step.

After a minute of weaving between tables, Vae suddenly stops. Her posture shifts subtly, like a predator that's just spotted its prey. I follow her gaze to a small table tucked in a dim corner where a lone Sullustan sits nursing a glass of something amber. Sure enough, his left sleeve hangs empty, pinned neatly to his shoulder.

"That's our guy?" I mutter, and Vae gives a nearly imperceptible nod.

We approach the table, and the Sullustan looks up. His large, dark eyes blink slowly as he takes us in. He seems remarkably composed, even offering a slight nod of acknowledgment as we slide into the seats across from him.

"Mind if we join you?" I ask, though we're already seated.

"Not at all," he shoots back. His jowls quiver slightly as he speaks. "What can I do for you?"

He seems so relaxed that for a moment I wonder if Vae has the right Sullustan. Then she pushes back her hood just enough for him to glimpse her crimson features, and the transformation is immediate and terrifying.

The Sullustan's calm demeanor evaporates like water on a hot plate. His large eyes widen to impossible proportions, and he nearly knocks over his drink as he jerks backward.

"V-Vaelix?" he stammers, voice jumping two octaves higher. "No, no, no, you told me you were going to leave me alone!" His breathing comes in rapid, shallow bursts. "We had an agreement!"

Vae leans forward slightly, her voice silky smooth. "Things have changed, Nubs."

The Sullustan's dewflaps tremble with barely contained panic. He glances frantically around the cantina, as if looking for escape routes or potential witnesses.

"What do you want then?" he asks, deflating slightly. The resignation in his voice suggests he knows resistance is futile.

"Information," Vae replies simply. "Do you know the location of any high-value targets currently in circulation?"

Nubs looks like he might faint. "Come on, Vaelix," he pleads, leaning in and lowering his voice. "If my contacts find out I sold them out to a Sith, they'll kill me. You know how this works."

Vae's eyes narrow beneath her hood. "No," she says, her voice like silk over steel. "You misunderstand our arrangement."

She points a crimson finger directly at me. "He's a bounty hunter. Not Sith. Your contacts never need to know about me."

Nubs lets out a strangled laugh. "A bounty hunter? That's worse! They'll kill me all the same, especially if they find out I'm feeding information to some random hunter!"

Vae's finger taps the table once, the sound unnervingly loud in the suddenly quiet space between us. "Alright then," she says with chilling calm, "I can just kill you right now instead."

Nubs' large eyes somehow grow even wider, his jowls quivering with terror. "Ugh," he groans, slumping back in his chair. "Of course, the woman who cut my arm off will end my life."

I snap my head toward Vae, confusion washing over me. "Wait, you told me you didn't cut his arm off."

Vae's expression shifts, her predatory focus momentarily broken. She looks genuinely lost, her brow furrowing beneath her hood. "I... don't think I did," she says slowly, as if sorting through distant memories.

"Really?" Nubs exclaims, his voice a mixture of disbelief and indignation. "The worst day of my life wasn't memorable enough for you?"

A laugh bubbles up from Vae's throat, low and dangerous. "You're lucky it was just your arm," she says, her momentary confusion replaced by dark amusement.

I look between them, struggling to process this revelation. "So you cut his arm off and then... forgot about it?" I ask, trying to keep my voice level despite the horror creeping through me.

Vae shrugs, an elegant roll of her shoulders beneath the black robes. "Sometimes I was too busy thinking about meeting you to pay attention to my surroundings."

The casual way she connects mutilation to thoughts of me sends a chill down my spine. I glance at Nubs, whose expression has shifted from terror to resigned disgust.

"Just give me some locations and I'll leave you alone," Vae says with a sarcastic tone. "Forever this time."

I catch the subtle emphasis on "forever" and wonder how many times she's made similar promises to poor Nubs.

The Sullustan's jowls quiver as he stares at Vae for a long moment, then at me, then back to her. His shoulders slump in defeat.

"Fine," he mutters, reaching into his pocket with his remaining hand. "Not like I have much choice."

He pulls out a datapad. I watch as various profiles flash across the screen, faces of different species.

"I don't know who's got what bounties these days," he says, still typing. "Market changes too fast."

A soft chime sounds from Vae's robes. She pulls out her own datapad, scanning whatever information Nubs just transferred.

"If these are all poodoo, I'll get the money I need by selling your other arm."

Nubs barks out a laugh that contains zero humor. "Yeah, yeah," he sighs, tucking his datapad away. "Just remember our deal. This is the last time."

"Of course," Vae mutters, but there's something in her tone that makes me doubt the sincerity of her promise.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat, feeling like I should say something.

"Thanks for your help," I offer lamely.

Nubs gives me a look that's equal parts annoyance and confusion. "You're welcome."

Vae stands abruptly, pulling her hood lower over her face. "We're done here," she announces, already turning to leave.

I scramble to follow her, nearly knocking over my untouched drink in the process. As we weave through the crowded cantina, I can't help glancing back at Nubs. He's watching us go, his large eyes filled with a relief so profound it's almost tangible.

"So, that went well?"

Vae doesn't slow her pace, forcing me to jog a few steps to catch up. "Better than expected," she says, her attention already focused on her datapad. "Nub's gave us several promising leads."