Log:13:10 to Y'toub
"I didn't know it was possible for a creature to be that drunk and also not be dead."
"Is he trying to RIDE that landspeeder or... uh... mate with it?"
"We have to bring him down to the station. But... how are we supposed to carry him down there?"
"I don't know man, that's a Hutt. If we put him in jail, there might be like... politics or something."
"Damn. That's a good point. Well... shit... uh... maybe we just put him on the next shuttle back to the Y'toub System? Let the Hutts sort him out themselves?"
"Not a bad idea! Let's put the word out that a Hutt needs help getting on... let's see... there's a shuttle leaving for Y'toub at 13:10."
"That'll work! Put the word out. Somebody will come to help him out. Let's just hope he doesn't have any enemies that would take advantage of his inebriated state to try and get revenge for a past wrong which he may or may not have committed during his extremely long lifespan. That probably won't happen, right?" Platform 618, in the Zergnux City shuttle station.
The city of Zergnux is a relatively thriving town on a relatively barren rock out near the fringes of civilized space. From orbit, Zergnux City looks about like a pulsating pimple on an otherwise clear, extremely round ass. But from the landing platforms at the city's biggest depot, it looks about like Nar Shaddaa with a lot less smog and a lot more smiles.
Try the Frozen Yakgurt, a local delicacy made from... you know what? Just try it. It's probably better than the delicacy from YOUR culture, you judgmental so and so.
"Is he still trying to climb up that wall?"
"No, I think he's sleeping now. Too bad, for a second there I actually thought he might make it. You know, like one of those zooch slugs on glass."
The two unfortunate security officers monitor their post, cups of steaming coffee in one hand and resting their other on blaster handles. From their bleary expressions, it looks like it's been a particularly long shift.
"Well, we got him almost all of the way there... hopefully the Cartel will send some more people to collect him, or... uh... hell... I don't know what we'll do with him. No way we can hide a body THAT big, right?"
The shuttle depot is as crowded as usual, with shuttles arriving and departing like clockwork. Digital clockwork. But those who are boarding the shuttles on Platform 618 are faced with an unusual obstruction: A Hutt, lying on his back, with a rancher hat pulled down over his eyes.
"Snnnnnnnzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz..." Lord Makooja's social commentary is as barbed and witty as ever.
"Dammit... it's almost 13:10. Did you hear anything else about that gang of Trandoshans the chief was talking about?"
From over near Platform 618, the Hutt stops snoring long enough to mutter Something Helpful.
"Trandershan... heh... sounds like... snnnnnnnnzzzzzzz...."
Standing there studying the form of Mak the once previously Hutt, now no more than a drunken disorderly slug obstructing the normal flow of busy traffic on the one city this whole planet has to offer. He's nonchalantly shoving some of the aforementioned frozen yakgurt into his mouth one one of those little dainty spoons they give you with a to-go container. "You want me to get some salt and like... pour it on him?" He asks the two locals tasked with dealing with the Hutt. "I mean... I could just shoot him too." He didn't quite understand how delicate the situation was. He was here to work some trade deals between this world and his, having taken the shuttle here from Y'toub and now... was going to be late for his shuttle back. Other than that, he had no idea what was going on. "Oye... Mak, move your ass, PARDNER." He shoves some more yogurt into his mouth messily, sloppily gumming it around noisily. He gives a hard flance to the security officer... "Trandoshan's?"
It's hard to know why Jacali is here in this place, watching a sleeping slug inconvenience many. Maybe she figures she'll get some biological sample, maybe she's really into slime, maybe she really likes to help, or maybe, and remember, this is just a maybe ... it's the money offered.
Too bright eyes turn to look toward Sajin, then slowly creep toward the security folk, and finally to Mak. What has her life come to? Where did it all go so damned wrong? She takes in a slow breath through her nose, exhaling it in the most exasperated of sighs, her brows furrowing as she stares in relative silence. It's possible she's trying to figure out how to move him. One hand reaches into one of her many satchels to pull out a datapad, lifting it to tap something to log some sort of information. There's a squint of her eyes, her head lifting at the mention of salt, turning to look toward the man that offered it.
"Does that work?" A whole new world has opened up to Jac.
And then, there's the mention of Trandoshans. She opens her mouth to ask, but the other fellow beats her to it.
While he has encountered Mak the Hutt several times, this was a rare occurance for Kryll to be here specifically to protect the big food and snack and other item devourer. He has his helmet on and is armed as usual, offering a nod to Sajin who he has not seen in some time. <"It has been a while since I have seen you on the field. I am glad you are doing well."> he says through the modulation of his helmet, he looks about to the others assembled here and rests a hand on the grip of his rifle, but doesn't raise or ready it for now. <"Just how many people do you believe don't like him?">
"Man... we thought about shooting him, but Murf here says that all the Hutts are related, so he's probably somebody's cousin or whatever."
The non-Murf security guard nods sagely, looking at the napping Hutt with a mixture of pity and annoyance.
Murf, however, is in an exposition mood. "Yeah! I read somewhere that they all used to be humanoids until they all started marrying their siblings." He points at the giant mound on Platform 618 "That's what a billion years of incest will get you... a drooling sack of melted turds."
Still laying on his back like a drooling sack of melted turds, Lord Zlurbo Qwig Makooja releases a very loud belch into the atmosphere.
Murf continues with the exposition. "Can't imagine what this gang of Trandoshans wants with this guy... but it's a whole family of 'em or something. The Vibro Gang, I think they're called?"
Slowly leaning forward, and trying to roll himself into a more upright position, the King of Smugglers tilts his hat away from his bloodshot, bulbous yellow eyes.
"Did sumbuddy say somethin' about the Vibro Brothers? Them nasty sumbitches been doggin' me for MOMFS!"
Patting at his chest, he looks for his nonexistent blaster, and then his eyes start lazily drooping shut again.
Which is exactly when three musclebound Trandoshans step off of one of the recently-arrived ships on Platform 618.
"It'ssssssssss the Vibro SISTERSSSSSSSSSSS! And we're here to collect the sssssssssssssorry sssssssssssssack of ssssssssssssssshit that callsssssssssss himsssssssssssssssself Mak the Hutt!"
Murf and Not Murf look around nervously. This is clearly above their pay grade.
"Yes? I think... no wait..." Sajin says to the Orange haired Arkanian, finishing off his Yogurt, savoring that last scoop of deliciousness. He holds the spoon up in front of him once he's done. "Yup... totally works, one hundred percent of the time." He puts the spoon in the paper cup and tosses it over his shoulder. "Oh thank Pravus..." Sajin exclaims as Mak starts to wake up and get moving, not really listening too much regarding the trandoshans. He knows Mak's pissed off a lot of people in the past and likely has a number of enemies. There is a cry of, "Come On!" As Mak falls back asleep. Thankfully there are the Vibro Sisters to interrupt his imminent spew of complaints. "You.... YOU." He points his finger at them, closing his helmet, his voice trembling with righteous indignation. "Get the Krif out of here before I make you your wookiee slaving ass my next pair of boots!" The King of Drik was a friend of the Wookiee and had fought off Trandoshan slavers a number of times. Suffice to say, he might hate them more than the Hutts.
"Actually, should there be billions of years of incest," Oh god. Jacali is precisely this kind of person. "The lines would have died out a long time ago, not result in extracorpulence, nor heightened excretion of bodily fluid. You see..." What follows is a rambling explanation of what incest does to the composition of genetics over an extended period of time that stops only when those Vibro Sisters appear, her head turning that way to observe them evenly. Her lips purse, that vague puckering only giving her expression an even more sour bent to it in her blatant consideration of the newly arrived villains.
A gloved hand moves toward her blaster's grip, a soft sniff given as she taps away at the datapad in her hand with her thumb, eyes darted toward it until she finishes and puts it away some time during Sajin's threats. Now her gaze focuses fully on them, a predatory hunter fattening her pupils, her shallow breath almost fully stilled in her denied excitement. "Did you know," She begins, quickly wetting her lips. "Trandoshans are capable of regrowing severed limbs?" Breathing intensifies. "Lost organs?" Mm. "Reportedly, notoriously difficult to afflict with particular toxins or diseases..." Where is she going with this?
When Sajin tells them to leave, and it looks as though his threat might hold, her brows lift and crease in some sort of mockery of a puppy-dog eyed expression, "Oh... oh, no, don't leave," The safety is turned off, "Please, don't leave."
Kryll turns as the Trandoshans make an appearance, and then, Sajin is telling them to go away. He looks back at Sajin, and the Trandoshans, Sajin, Trandoshans, and back to Sajin. <"That actually works? I feel like perhaps we have been going about this all wrong before. I am more used to people shooting before the drop of the hat, not, telling someone to stop and them listening. Is this a new thing this year?">
The Trandoshan Sisters (calling them the Vibro Sisters just encourages them...) look at the King of Smugglers with obvious hatred. Then they look at the King of Drik with obvious fear. And then at the Arkanian Moodkill with obvious confusion.
Then they look back at each other.
"Thissss issss... weird. Let'ssss go. He'll be drunk off hissss asssssss again by nexssst week. We'll jusssssst kill him then."
Turning around, they head back up the ramp to their freighter, and begin their preflight checks and ensuring the safety harnesses work properly. Just because they're horrible people doesn't mean they have to fly like it.
Murf and Not Murf look very relieved.
"Well... shit fire... I was sure that wouldn't work. But... there they go! What did I tell you, Steev? Calling for help was a great idea! And look... here comes the 13:10 to Y'toub!"
The shuttle descends toward the landing pad, a few meters away from Mak, and apparently Not Murf's name is Steev.
"Say... you guys wouldn't mind helping us... uh... well... he's really heavy. Maybe you could all help us roll him up the freighter ramp?"
Lord Makooja slumbers soundly. It sounds like this: "Snnnnnnzzzzzz-pb-lb-bl-pb-pm-ssssssnnnnnnzzzzzzzzzzz..."
Sajin puts his hands on his hips and watches the Trandoshan's leave... under the helmet he's just as flabbergasted as Kryll is. "I... I guess it does. What the hell HEY!" He's too late though, the Trandoshan's are already trying to take off in their freighter. The Hapan sighs, his shoulders dropping before he turns back to Murf and his officers. "Help... push him up the ramp?" He stares at them a moment, likely blinking. "Don't you have like a lift or something. Isn't this a shuttle depot... don't you have a kriffin' forklift you can put him in the steerage." There is another moment before Sajin sighs loudly... "ALRIGHT." He scuffs his feet against the durocreet and then ramps full speed into Mak... not budging him once... "A LITTLE HELP HERE!"
Jacali's hand relaxes against the grip of her pistol, large eyes only vaguely misty with the tears of what dreams may have come. She shoots a look to Sajin then, a clear indication of her ever-burning hatred for the man she barely knows, her lips pressing to a bloodless line as she frowns in his direction.
He's ruined this for her.
When they ask for help, the orange haired woman approaches, looking over the semi-lifeless form of drunken slug. Her hand moves toward another of her satchels, retrieving a large metal ball with occasionally snapping blue light rippling over the surface of small strips that tell well of their active state. Jacali turns it a few times, looking over it, inspecting the integrity before she begins on an even pace toward Mak, one gloved hand reaching for his tail.
Nobody likes where this is going.
She stands poised to locate and assault his exhaust port, absolutely lubeless, but still wearing gloves so you know it's all above board. With a deep breath in and some top notch bracing, she ... wait. Forklift? A brow quirks, her attentions drawn toward Sajin, the hutt's tail released so that her hand can hang limply at her side, her thumb pressing on the button to deactivate it. Who knows what it was? Could be a grenade, really.
"You." She scowls across at Sajin. "You are a ruiner of things."
Kryll watches the Trandoshan leave, then looks back at Sajin and Jacali and the sluglump. He watches them try to lift and move Mak but considers this for some time, standing very still. Then he disappears for several minutes, and comes back with a couple of large bags. Spotting the Hutt still in the same position he nods to the group. <"I have been told to work smarter, not harder." he hands each of them a bag. "Leave a trail of food and snacks towards the destination, with the remains of said treats where we need him. Perhaps this will work.">
"Sumbuddy say BOOZE!?"
The Hutt pushes his hat back away from his eyes again, peering around with a hungry expression on his slime-covered, froglike face. He licks his lips, or whatever Hutts have that's vaguely liplike, and tries once again to roll himself over.
He fails, but makes a bit of progress before collapsing back on himself like a drunken garbage bag with low self-esteem.
"Food! Feed me... I'm so weak... haven't had ANY food in HOURS!"
Murf and Steev look at each other, but decide to remain silent. Instead, they get closer to the especially slimy Hutt, preparing to help push the Hutt up the ramp with everyone else.
They seem to be rolling up their sleeves, verrrrrrry reluctantly.
Steev speaks first. "I think I get where you're going with this, ma'am. And since you folks were good enough to help us out..."
Murf begins to tear up, as looks at the corpulent creature on Platform 618. "No Steev... don't do it... you've still got so much left to give. And we..."
Steev places a finger over Murf's lips, gently silencing his partner before turning to Jacali and taking the device from her.
"There's no time... it's already past 13:10! The shuttle is about to leave!"
And with that, he shoves the device into a part of Mak's body that is not visible when his tail section is down. And he keeps shoving until his elbow is buried. Squeezing his eyes shut, he presses the button.
The response is immediate.
"WOOOOOOOOOOO! SUMBUDDY'S STEALIN' MAH EGGS!" The Hutt perks right up, every inch of his flesh seemingly vibrating as he pulsates with energy!
"GANGWAY, BIPEDS! AHM ABOUT TA DROP A RANCOR! HERE IT COMES!!!!!"
There's really not much time to get out of the way, as the Hutt hurriedly scrambles up the shuttle ramp, with Murf dragging behind him, still elbow deep.
"Huh?" Sajin says through his vocorder, turning his head as he pushes against the sluggish fat massive huge girthy form of Mak, his helmet and shoulder kind of penetrating into a fold of fat on the space slug. "My Wife calls me that... in bed." He looks her over a moment before his vision turns towards the rest of the star-port. He backs up as the Hutt tries to get up again, only to look at Steev and Murf's tender interaction with complte and utter befuddlement. The Hapan's head moves watching Steev move over towards the Hutt in crisis and then... Sajin tried his best but he can't hold it in. Turning away abruptly, he hurries in pulling off his helmet and vomiting right in front of Kryll. It's the color of the Yakgurt he had been eating along with a bacon nurfburger and some chips still being digested. It takes a while to get it all out, his wretching echoing across the platform.
With her plan to fist a sleeping hutt foiled, and the trandoshans no longer available for her medical curiosities, Jacali is looking mighty disgruntled. This whole adventure has been an absolute bust. Kryll then delivers unto her a -bag-, with treats, that she's supposed to put on the ground. For several long moments she just stares at him, unblinking, practically humming with malicious intent. With everything else that has transpired in the last while, this was apparently the straw that broke the camel's back.
Without moving her eyes from Kryll, she takes the bag and marches onward toward the front of Mak before reaching into the sack and pulling out a treat. She bends toward his drooling head, and begins -eating- the treat, loudly, lipsmackingly, -tauntingly-. Her eyes narrow, watching the treat-giver the entire time.
When the hutt snaps awake, she gives a bit of a start, eyes wide and flicking toward Mak as she scoots a step away to avoid his flailing limbs, mouth still full of glutinous treat, a dusting of powdered sugar across her lips and up one cheek. She's about to say something when Steev begins. She looks to him, then to Murf, and back to Steev as he takes that device from her and does precisely what she was going to do. "That's not how you..."
That's hard to watch.
She squints as that response kicks in and the hutt comes 'charging' up the ramp hollering something about eggs. Surely she knew about the eggs. She stands there like a deer caught in the headlights, despite her brain screaming to flee. When Mak makes contact, she grabs on for dear life, deciding to take a ride on the Hutt rather than being fully run over by him. "Someone help meeEE~!" She shrieks into the distance, her rage a palpable thing.
As he speeds up the ramp, moving faster than a greased Twi'lek, Mak looks around frantically for the shuttle's restrooms before quickly realizing that they are NOT Hutt Accessible.
So he makes a very quick decision, prodded by the urgency Jacali's device has filled him with.
Unfortunately for Murf, that's not all he's filled with.
But he isn't filled with it for much longer. Grabbing the doors of the shuttle, the King of Smugglers braces himself for an extremely urgent evacuation, his tail section still hanging down the shuttle ramp, and Murf hanging below that. Murf is screaming frantically and trying to dislodge himself, but his elbow is held in the vicelike grip of the Lord Makooja's Sphincter.
The explosion of gas and partially-digested boozeslop is something that will be remembered in the history books that kids from Zergnux City read hundreds of years from now. And the sheer volume of the matter that rolls down the shuttle ramp could feed a whole family of Twi'leks for about a decade.
Unfortunately for Murf, he's part of the rolling pile of waste, his screams stifled as the Hutt Poo rolls over him.
Sajin is just wiping off his mouth from the spew he's conjured up, looking to Kryll with Hazel eyes. "Sorry... man." Once more he closes his helmet and straitens up. Just as he turns to look towards the shuttle again is when Mak releases his overbearing load. There is a gag and a burp from Sajin as a reaction but somehow the Hutt shitting in public was far less disgusting then watching Steev penetrate the slimy slug with his arm. "Oh Prevus help us..." He whispers, turning his eyes away.
Kryll looks at the vomit near his feet that Sajin hurled and offers the man a shrug, <"I have been in too many battlefields to count, I have seen all manner of human contents on the outsides when they should have been inside. This is of little concern."> he bows his head to the man. He points to what is happening at the rear of the hutt, <"That however is very concerning. I do not believe that he is supposed to go in there.">
His cargo dropped, the Rugged Smuggling Hutt pulls himself the rest of the way into the shuttle, using the ramp to wipe himself in lieu of any sort of Hutt-Accessible Refresher Facilities. As his rear section passes through the doorway, the sensors clear and the doors begin closing slowly.
Turning around, Mak gazes upon Zergnux City with bemusement, nostalgia, and some slight residual gas. "DAYUM! This is the LAST time I eat the yakgurt... sheeeeit... I feel like my colon's been..."
He grows silent as he sees the two weeping humans trying to dig their way out of his enormous turd pile. Steev seems to be missing an arm now. It'll probably turn up somewhere in the waste, but he might not want it back.
"HOT DAMN! I don't remember eatin' any HUMANS! Did they really come outta ME!?"
Waving with his hat held above his head, Mak disappears behind the doors, and the shuttle begins its preflight checks. Moments later, it's lifting off of the ground and back toward the Y'toub System, just a bit later than 13:10, local time.