Catering exclusively to exotic clientèle, the Jekk’Jekk Tarr Cantina on Nar Shaddaa isn’t just unwelcoming to Humans—it’s deadly. Unlike some establishments that have gained a sordid reputation, the Jekk’Jekk Tarr Cantina’s patrons don’t often bear criminal charges. Instead, circulated cyanogen fumes and pollutants that are toxic to Humans provide a buffer against less desirable company.

Instead of serving drinks, the bar serves "nutrient chemicals" to its clientèle, who pay large sums of credits for the privilege. Five sections emulate the environments of different worlds preferable to certain species and are colour-coded to signify the types of gases being vented into the chambers. The sections are divided by short halls designed to function similar to an airlock so as not to contaminate the different chambers.

The first chamber, favored by species that could perceive the infrared, such as the Devaronians and Trandoshans, is lit with red lights and doubles as the cantina’s entrance to the far more dangerous yellow and green rooms.

Simulating the harsher climates of worlds such as Ryloth and Sriluur, the yellow-tinted room to the west is still poisionous to Humans, due to the amount of concentrated gases, but leaves some near-Humans, such as Twi'leks and Weequays, unaffected.

Identical rooms lie to the east of the infrared chamber, both bearing green color-coding. Exclusive to the insectoid Gand, these chambers filter in ammonia-based atmospheres that are toxic to most other non-insectoid species. The fifth chamber requires passage through the two ammonia-based rooms, but unlike the others, the private lounge is not harmful to Humans.

In some cases, measures have been taken to circumvent the harmful toxins, including the use of breath masks. Alternatively, a control panel located in the private lounge can purge the chemicals from each room to allow Humans to pass through unhindered in dire situations. All of the rooms bear the usual outfit of an unadorned cantina—arrangements of chairs and tables set within a hexagonal space.

“Just once, I would like to be assigned a mission in a pleasant locale. Someplace with a beach, perhaps. Or at least somewhere that serves decent wine,” Lucine said. “But no, it is always slums and dive bars.”

There was no reply. She glanced up to see that Rhylance was intently studying the people who were entering and exiting the Jekk’Jekk Tarr Cantina. “Any luck, dear?”

The tall Chiss spared her a glance before turning his attention back to the cantina. “It seems this place is popular tonight. But no, I have not seen any Trandoshans that meet your description. Are you certain that your information is accurate?”

The Sith heaved a heavy sigh. “For what I paid for it, it had better be accurate.” She retrieved her datapad and began to look through the information she had gathered pertaining to the mission.

A few days ago, she had heard whisperings of a Trandoshan by the name of Thrater, a Collective defector. He had stolen the schematics for a set of experimental cybernetic replacements to fund his escape. “Word is that he has a few interested parties lined up, and was going to try to sell the schematics tonight,” she said at last. “I doubt he would simply not show unless something has happened to him. No doubt the Collective would send someone to retrieve the schematics.”

“Possible, but it is just as likely that he arrived before we did,” the Chiss replied.

Lucine sighed heavily. “Well, I suppose there is nothing for it. We will have to go in looking for him.”

“Excellent! I was hoping to study the effects of cyanogen gas up close,” Rhylance said with a rare grin.

“Cyanogen?” Lucine repeated with growing horror.

“The gas acts as a desiccant when inhaled, causing significant inflammation and preventing oxygen and carbon dioxide exchange on the alveolar level,” he said. When Lucine raised an eyebrow at him, he added, “It burns the lungs and causes suffocation.”

“That sounds horrifying!”

“And excruciating,” Rhylance added helpfully. “We will need breath masks.”

The Sith sighed and raised a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Lovely.” She fell silent as she considered the likely places they could obtain breath masks at this hour. Surely one of her contacts on Nar Shaddaa could provide something, but it would take precious time to procure them. She was about to start looking through her contact list when a greasy-looking man sidled up to them, eyeing her appreciatively. “How much?” he asked.

Lucine stared at him, mystified. “How much for what, darling?”

The man grinned broadly, displaying an alarming lack of teeth. He shuffled in a circle around her, looking her up and down. “Two hours? Maybe three?” With surprising quickness, he reached out and traced a hand along her waist. “Figured you might be offerin’ a discount or somethin’. High-class girls like you don’t come down here that much.”

This earned a dry laugh from Rhylance. Realization dawned on Lucine as she realized what it was the stranger was implying. Her cheeks burned, and her expression darkened as she slapped his hand away. “Why you— ”

She cut herself off abruptly when her eyes fell on a breath mask hanging from his belt. The change in her demeanor was immediate. Her eyes lit up, and a coy smile curled upon her lips. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rhylance slink off, but was too focused on the stranger to say anything. “Well,” she purred. “I do see something I like. I think we could work something out.”

The man’s grin widened. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yes,” Lucine murmured. “But before we do, darling, may I see your breath mask?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, sure,” the man said. With a puzzled expression, he unclipped the mask from his belt and handed it to her.

The redhead accepted the mask and examined it closely. It appeared to be in serviceable condition. “Yes, this will do nicely. I take it you were going to the cantina?”

“Not unless I got something better to do,” the man replied with a leer.

“About that,” Lucine said with a disappointed pout. “I am afraid that Chiss fellow and I have already made plans. But perhaps I could catch up with you inside?”

The man’s bloodshot eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Schutta tease. Gimme back my breath mask!”

Lucine raised her eyebrow at him. “This is my mask, darling.” She drew upon the Force, directing it to give weight to her words. “I gave yours back to you. You are already wearing it,” she said with a dismissive gesture.

The man’s face went blank as her suggestion, and he slowly reached up to touch his pockmarked face. She wove tendrils of darkness into an illusion, causing him to feel the weight of the breath mask on his face, and feel it beneath his hand. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he brought his hand away, but still looked confused. “I guess I did,” he said at last.

“Well, then, it is settled,” the Sith said brightly. “You head on in, and I will see you shortly. Do not worry, darling, you will not be waiting long.”

“Yeah. Yeah, all right,” he said faintly. Without another word, he turned and crossed the street, heading toward the cantina.

Lucine did not bother to watch him go; instead, she focused on examining her prize. “I cannot believe that cretin thought I was a prostitute. Of all the nerve,” she muttered.

“Did you manage to get yourself a date?” Rhylance asked as he emerged from the alley behind them.

“Oh, hush,” the Sith snapped. “Where have you been?”

The Chiss shrugged. “Obtaining a breath mask.”

She peered over his shoulder in the alley and saw a Pantoran sprawled upon the ground. The still-smoking hole on his chest made it clear how he had died. “You shot him?” she said incredulously.

“It seemed more expedient than pretending I was a prostitute,” Rhylance replied with a smirk.

“Charming,” the redhead said dryly. “Well, since we both now have breath masks, perhaps we should go see if we can find our Trandoshan friend?”

The Chiss followed the redhead towards the cantina. He saw the Arconan woman place her gift from the degenerate onto her head in preparation for the gas inside. After inspecting his newly acquired property for defects, he placed the gas mask upon his head to avoid the harmful effects of the deadly mist inside. Momentarily he considered why he would even be walking into this cesspool, but the sheer prospect of Lucine owing him a favor was just too intriguing of an idea to pass up. As the two companions approached the entrance the bouncer, an abnormally large Gamorrean, stepped forward blocking their way while grunting and snorting, drool dripping from his slightly agape mouth.

“We would like to enter this establishment, that is if you don’t mind darlin,” Lucine explained, her voice muffled slightly by the mask.

Rhylance resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the woman’s attempt to sweet talk the obviously uninterested bouncer. While the Gamorrean blocked their way, several others simply walked past the hulking figure without an issue.

“Good day to ya, Gorask.” one Devaronian said, sauntering through the doors earning a friendly grunt from the aforementioned bouncer.

“My word, this is just ridiculous,” the annoyed Chiss moved in front of Lucine, much to her dismay, and pulled out a small card. “How much is it going to cost for our entry?” his voice was also distorted as he spoke, though his cadence never broke its stride.

The Gamorrean stared at the medic for a moment before taking a quick look around and pulling out a small handheld scanner. Taldryan’s Consul watched as the porcine humanoid entered his access code. Typing into the machine Gorask presented the number to Rhylance giving a small squeal.

“You are going to charge 1,000 credits for our entry? I believe that is a bit ridiculous. Surely we can come to a better understanding than that.”

“Rhylance,” Lucine voice dropped to a whisper as she leaned into the Chiss’s ear. “None of this is necessary, just let me take care of this.”

“My dear Vasano, I know what I am doing, so if you do not mind, let me finish this transaction.”

Gorask rubbed his double chin before typing in something new into his scanner. He let out a series of grunts before again showing the Chiss.

“500 credits is far more reasonable. I knew you were a fair and upstanding creature. We will not be in long, and no trouble will come from us.” As he spoke with his silver tongue, Rhylance could feel Lucine’s gaze on his back as she impatiently waited to begin their mission. “You are a Gamorrean of integrity my friend. Thank you for your cooperation.”

Gorask merely grunted in approval before stepping aside, and the two entered the establishment, becoming engaged in the feverous bustling of the gas-filled cantina.

“So, you mind telling me what that was all about?”

“Lucine, violence as you know is not always the answer in these situations. Neither is the Force, my dear. I do believe that you tend to use your connection far too frivolously at times—and I must admit—while it is at times a beauty to behold, the way you manipulate the mind tends to make more enemies for you than necessary.”

Rhylance noticed a subtle shift in the way she held herself, to which his training in the behaviors of others told him she was somewhat miffed by his words. The Chiss grinned slightly, amused by the way Lucine seemed to actually care about what he thought.

“Besides, my dear Vasano, I have a plan,” he said with the shrug of his shoulders.

Stepping into the cantina’s main area, Rhylance was welcomed by large tables of patrons enjoying their “nutrient chemicals”. A couple hologram dancers strutted, swerved, ground and bent atop the table projectors to the enthusiastic attendees. The Chiss scanned the area looking for the very same Trandoshan Lucine had shown him earlier. Although the room was abuzz with a boundless number of the scale covered lizard men, he did not see Thrater anywhere.

In one corner of the room, incessant laughter could be heard, which perked the attention of both Lucine and Rhylance. The two approached the area to see a flailing human on the floor. It was the same toothless trash who attempted to purchase a good time with the Arconan redhead. He gasped for breath with pained squeals as the Cyanogen gas filled his lungs. The toxin burned the imbeciles lungs and he suffocated to death on the floor as Rhylance watched with morbid fascination.

The crowd dispersed and the Chiss knelt down beside the still warm body. He pulled out his medpac as well as a scalpel and his dagger. Lucine was slightly taken aback by the Consul’s actions in the midst of their mission.

“Rhylance, do we really have time for this? We need to find Thrater,” she asked with a distorted voice.

“Vasano, I don’t get this type of opportunity often, so why don’t you go look for the Trandoshan, and I will meet up with you shortly. This specimen could be most useful for my research.” The Chiss had a one track mind as he spoke not even bothering to look the Arconan in the eyes as he waved her off.

Lucine walked away as Rylance cut the man's shirt and jacket open, exposing his chest which was still; all signs of life non-existent. He pulled on a pair of gloves and took off his coat to keep the garment clean. Grabbing his scalpel, the medic made a quick and precise incision from the left clavicle to the sternum, and again from the right clavicle connecting the lines at the same midpoint. A slow flow of red seeped from the lacerated skin. The Chiss the cut down from the center point of the sternum to the man's waist, then from that central point, he cut a horizontal line across the navel.

Rhylance took his time correctly opening the dead man’s chest before exposing his lungs. Using his scalpel and a pair of medical tongs from his medpac, he removed damaged sections of the deceased’s lungs, storing them in plastic bags from the same kit. Rylance stood up, removed the gloves, tossed them in a nearby trash receptacle, and put his equipment away after quickly cleaning the tools. He stood away from the body and put his coat back on before turning to see a small gathering of clearly disgusted patrons who had seemingly watched the organ harvesting.

“You all act as if you’ve never seen a dead body before.” his voice still muffled by the gas mask broke the silence they all had been locked in.

A few large Trandoshan stepped through the crowd followed by a Devaronian in an expensive looking suit. The nicely dressed humanoid looked significantly angry.

“You just bloodied up my establishment floor Chiss. Who is going to pay for the cleaning and damages that might be suffered by this act of indecency? And what of my angry patrons? Who is going to rectify this?”

Rhylance looked impassively at the owner of the cantina before he pushed his glasses back up to a snug hold over his eyes with two fingers of his right hand. The glasses reflected a sheen of light from a nearby neon display.

“Advancement requires sacrifice, my good sir. Today that sacrifice just happens to come at your expense. I have more important matters to attend to.”

As he tried to walk away, the Trandoshans blocked his path.

“Uh uh, you are going to pay for this, Chiss, somehow, someway. Pick a mode of collection. I’ll give you the choice.”

Well this is going to be a problem. Rhylance thought to himself.

Lucine restrained herself from rolling her eyes as Rhylance waved her away. Honestly, that man has a one track mind, she thought in annoyance. But there was nothing for it. She would simply have to focus on finding Thrater herself and hope that the Chiss finished his ‘experiment’ quickly.

She slowly scanned the red-hued room, searching for her quarry. It was crowded, and more than once she had to stop to study a particular Trandoshan carefully. But her searched turned up nothing; Thrater was not in the room.

If I were a Trandoshan on the run, where would I hide? the Sith pondered as she pushed past the growing crowd of onlookers who were watching Rhylance with morbid and horrified fascination.

A quick search of the yellow and green rooms proved fruitless. Lucine suppressed her annoyance as she crossed the second green-room, moving toward the lounge at the back of the establishment. It was the only other place Thrater could be.

The private lounge proved to be relatively uncrowded. Two humans were having a whispered conversation with a Rodian at the nearest table, while a trio of Nautolans enjoyed nutrient chemicals at another table. In the far corner slumped a familiar Trandoshan, bearing a scar down the left side of his face.

Lucine reached out to Thrater with the Force as she crossed the room and settled down next to him. The Trandoshan glared at her but said nothing, allowing her to concentrate. His thoughts were a swirl of apprehension, anger and creeping despair. She could definitely work with that. “What is the matter? Are you not going to say hello?”

“I’ve got nothing to say to you, schutta.” His reply came in a sibilant hiss, full of venom.

Lucine tsked quietly. “Why so angry, darling? If you recall, I tried to help you. I offered to put my resources at your disposal when you decided to flee the Collective. It is hardly my fault that everything went wrong when you decided to go your own way.”

“I have it under control, now leave me alone!”

The Sith tsked softly. “Do you? Because from here, it looks like you are in over your head. You alone and friendless, with kill squads and bounty hunters on your tail. Even if, by some miracle, you manage to sell the schematics you stole, what would you do then? Do you even have a plan?”

Thrater said nothing, but his silence said it all. She patted his arm consolingly, before continuing, “Last chance, darling. I can help you, and all I want in return are the schematics that have caused you all this trouble.”

The Trandoshan gave a derisive snort but did not answer immediately. “Fine,” he snapped after a pause. “Get me out of here and you can have the damned thing.”

“I am so happy you decided to see things my way,” Lucine purred. “But before we shake on the deal, I would like for you to prove to me that you actually have them.”

“Yeah, can’t do that. See, I decided to make it so they wouldn’t be easy to steal,” Thrater said with a toothy grin as he patted his stomach.

The Sith could only stare at him as the implication sank in. “You swallowed the schematics?” she gasped.

“You seem surprised. What’s the matter, were you thinking about stealing the plans and leaving me to die?” the Trandoshan asked with a raspy chuckle. “Sorry, but you’re just gonna have to keep me around for awhile. At least a couple of days.”

Before Lucine could formulate a suitable reply, the door to the private lounge opened to reveal a Kiffar woman, with long dreadlocks and a Nightsister bow slung over her back. The woman’s dark eyes scanned the room, falling at last on Lucine and Thrater. “There you are,” the Technocrat Huntress said with a feral smile.

“Oh, Sithspit,” Thrater growled at the sight of the Huntress.

“That is one way of putting it,” Lucine said as she adjusted her cloak to hide her lightsaber. She rose to her feet, being careful to keep herself between the Kiffar and the Trandoshan. “And, being the tactical genius that you are, you had to choose a hiding place that had only one exit.”

“I didn’t think they’d send a frackin’ Huntress after me!” Thrater snapped.

“Oh, they didn’t just send me,” the Huntress said as she drew a stun baton from her belt. “I just happened to find your first. Now, hand over those schematics and I promise I’ll kill you quickly.”

“You should let us pass, darling. This is not the Trandoshan you are looking for,” Lucine purred as she made a peculiar gesture with her free hand.

The Huntress’ eyes took on a blank look as her mind fought the Sith’s suggestion. At last, she gave an annoyed tsk and gestured curtly toward the door. “Get out of here. You’re not the one I’m looking for,” she snapped at Thrater.

“You heard the woman, darling. It is time for us to go,” Lucine said as she hauled the Trandoshan to his feet. The two of them stepped carefully around the Huntress and into the short hallway that separated the lounge from one of the ammonia-based rooms.

“I can’t believe that worked!” Thrater said gleefully as the door closed behind them.

“Hush,” Lucine snapped as she drew her breath mask down over her face. She hastily drew her breath mask over her face, before glancing through the porthole at the Kiffar. “Hurry up and get your mask on. We need to vacate the premises in a hurry.”

“I’m serious, that was amazing. What, are you some kind of Force user or something?” the Trandoshan pressed as he fiddled with his mask.

“I said— “ Lucine paused when the Huntress suddenly whipped her head around to look at them. “Oh, damn. Go!”

Though her voice was muffled by the breath mask, it did nothing to hide the urgency in his voice. He yanked his mask over his face and slammed his hand against the interface to open the door into the yellow room. They were almost to the far side of the ammonia-based room when the door to the private lounge opened behind them. Lucine whirled with her lightsaber in hand, expecting the Huntress to fire her bow at them.

But instead of bolts of energy, the Huntress hurled a small, spherical object through the portal toward them. Lucine’s eyes widened as the Force screamed a warning, and she extended a hand toward the bomb. It froze in midair, before sending it sailing back toward the Huntress.