Galleros stood on the roof of the four story building, staring down the entrance to a building across the street through a pair of macrobinoculars. The building in question appeared to be a seedy gentlemen’s club with two burly Human bouncers at the entrance. He had been trailing his quarry for two days and the trail led here. The Priest closed his eyes and reached out through the Force. The target was inside, he could feel it. Taking a moment to savor the cool night breeze and the glow of Nal Hutta in the night sky, he stowed the macrobinoculars and made his way down the fire escape to street level.
The two bouncers looked like they could have been brothers: tall, fair skinned, well built, matching military style haircuts, wearing immaculately tailored black suits with matching ties. The only immediate way to differentiate them was the bouncer on the left had red hair and the one on the right had raven hair.
“Members only.” The red haired bouncer stated forcefully in Huttese as he blocked the Priest’s path.
“I’m sorry I don’t speak Huttese.”
The raven haired bouncer rolled his eyes. “He saaaid, members only. So get lost greenie.”
Blowing off the bouncer’s casual racism, Galleros subtly waved his hand in front of the bouncer pair. “I am a member. You don’t need to see my card.”
Both bouncers blinked and shook their heads slightly like some long forgotten fact was slowly emerging from their memories. “You are a member. I don’t need to see your card.” The pair stepped aside to allow the Zelosian to pass.
Too easy.
As he made his way through the club, Galleros took stock of the atmosphere. The club was dimly lit with a rainbow of lights flashing in sync with the beat of the music. A group of female Twi'lek dancers were performing on stage, completely nude. Male and female servers scurried about the floor of the club in skimpy outfits, though the males at least had bow ties to match what could generously be considered shorts. The clientele ranged from wealthy looking traders to groups of gangsters. There was even a Muun in full Banking Clan regalia at a booth with small entourage.
The Zelosian closed his eyes again to drown out the flashing lights and terrible pop music to feel his quarry through the Force. He moved toward the back of the club when he saw his objective. Turel Sorenn, the man Galleros was here to find was walking and talking with what appeared to be a very androgynous Zeltron. The Zeltron had pink skin and dark blue hair cut very in a very trendy fashion; short on the side but left long and messy on top. Turel’s stylish companion wore dress shoes, very very tight black pants, white shirt and black tie with a form fitting black vest and obscenely puffy fur coat. Galleros wasn’t sure if the Zeltron was a performer, proprietor or Nal Hutta street pimp.
Turel wore his black boots, pants and jacket “street thug” outfit. Though, the Quaestor looked like hell, he clearly hadn’t cut his hair or shaved in the three weeks since Korriban. Galleros was here to find and bring Turel back to Selen, but wouldn’t shed a tear if the Human put up a fight and didn’t make it back. The Zelosian followed the Human and Zeltron into a back room lounge.
“You’re coming with me Turel!” The Priest announced as he burst through the door to find Turel lounging on a sofa.
The human lazily looked up. “I’m on leave, go away.”
“You’re being recalled. You shouldn’t have turned off your holo communicator.” Galleros was lying, partially. Turel had been incommunicado during his leave, but the Krath suspected the Obelisk was double-dealing with criminal elements against the Clan’s interest.
Turel chuckled, unusually cheerful and probably intoxicated from what Galleros could tell. “The whole idea of leave is to get away from work. Kinda pointless if they can just call you for some silly Clan drama.” He patted the spot next to him on the sofa. “Sit down, our host will be back with drinks shortly.”
“I’ll stand, thank you very much.”
“Suit yourself.” Turel said with a scheming grin.
Galleros was confused for a moment, but only a moment as he felt the sharp bit of two metal prongs in his back and his body began to convulse with electric current. As he collapsed to the floor he saw the Zeltron step over him.
“Is this green man bothering you sweetie?”
“He was. Be gentle with him, I’ll want to speak with him when our business is concluded.”
The Zeltron plopped down on the sofa and got uncomfortably close to Turel, gently placing a hand on the Templars chest. “Ohh I love it when you get all Cartel boss on me.” He snapped his fingers. “Boys, take our uninvited guest to the back.”
Galleros was struggling to shake off the effects of the Zeltron’s very high powered stun baton when he heard two sets of heavy footsteps entering the room. Before he could rise he felt another stun baton hit him at full blast. The last thing the Krath remembered before blacking out was being drug out of the room by two pairs of strong hands.
--*--
“You’re awake I see.”
The Zelosian slowly peeled his face off a cold duracrete floor and stood up. Curiously his hands and feet were not bound. He was in what appeared to be the back store room of the club. Dimly lit, duracrete floor, pallets of various liquors and non-perishable food off to the sides. He lay in a three to four meter squared open area in the center of the storeroom. Either his hosts had cleared a place for him or they kept it clear for unsavory “business” that needed to occur away from prying eyes.
Galleros recognized the voice and the figure pacing in front of him as the well-dressed Zeltron from earlier. The Zelton was examining the Krath’s purple lightsaber as he paced. “Oh, but where are my manners? We haven’t been properly introduced.” He bowed wish an elaborate flourish, “My name is Galaxia, the proprietor and hostess of this fine establishment.” He finished the bow and gazed directly at Galleros expectantly. “And you are?”
Hostess? Huh?
The Zelosian hesitated for a moment, thoroughly confused. He could sense Turel was in the room with them, most likely behind a stack of pallets or something. There was only one exit from the room which “Galaxia” was in the way of. He couldn’t sense any guards nearby. It all seemed a little too convenient; he was unbound in a room where his actual target was his only obstacle to getting away.
“Who I am is not important.” Galleros reached out his right hand as his lightsaber flew out of Galaxia’s hands and into his own. “Now stand aside.” He ignited the saber.
The Zeltron stood with his hand on his hips, thoroughly unimpressed, “Well, that’s just rude.” He sashayed directly up to the Krath standing in a textbook ready position and bit his index finger in a sensual manner. “Hmm.. that’s an impressive saber you have there.”
“I don’t think he wants what you’re selling,” Turel coolly remarked as he stepped out from behind a stack of crates in one of the dark corners. Galaxia made a pouty face. The Obelisk moved directly opposite the Krath in the center of the room. “Sorry about the stun batons, but you shouldn’t be here. I’m giving you one last chance to leave me be and return home.”
Galleros closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again to stare directly into the Templar’s. “You will tell me why you are really on Nar Shaddaa.”
Turel winced for a moment as if he were resisting the Priest’s command. “I’m. I’m here to.” He hesitated. “I’m here to track down Ethran.”
Ethran? By himself?
“I think he just did some kind of Jedi voodoo on you sweetie.” Galaxia stated as he turned to the dazed Templar who immediately realized what had just happened.
“You invaded my mind?! How dare you!”
Galleros stood firm, rooted by his conviction. “I’m still bringing you in, you’re operating without sanction.” Galaxia stepped off to the side, sensing the growing tension and likely trying to slip out to alert the guards.
Turel smirked and ignited his own saber. “I gave you a chance to leave on your own. Now I’m going to have to send you back to Galeres with some bruises.” Before Galleros could reply he was fending off a barrage of saber strikes from his Templar target.