Star Wars: A New Sound

So Long Nar Shaddaa - Hello Teth!

Ship’s Log: Fortune’s Favor

ABY 3.1.11, Primeday
Sector: Hutt Space
System: Teth

Crew:
Captain Val Holiday – The Face/Lead Vocals
Jas Tuso – Band Agent/Percussion
Neelo – Medic/Hallicset
Besh Viridux – Pilot/Gunner/Slitherhorn
R7-01 – Mechanic/AV Tech
Gloumi – Summer Intern/Shellhorn (ugh)
Shorty – Muscle/Security

Passengers
Zelda the Freakshow

Current Cargo
Band Gear (what’s left of it)
20 Slave Collars
30 barrels of pesticide
1 mini Hutt repulsor sled

Pilot’s Log: – Besh Viridux

Well, we barely made it out of Nar Shada in one piece. Val had set us up with a pretty sweet gig at this spacer dive bar called “The Slippery Slope” in the mids of Lil’Corellia. The place is run by a half pint Twi’lek called Lib Fortuna. Val knew her from past dealings of some sort. R7 and I had spent a couple days posting holo flyers on the shadow hubs in and around the area so we were expecting a pretty good turn out. Jas had worked some connections in the neighborhood too so we weren’t surprised when the place got packed right before our set. We might have done too good of job of advertising because right before we were about to go on stage, Lib came in and told me that some KanjaKlub goons had been around asking about me! All the way out here in Hutt space! I just can’t shake those guys.

Anyway, Val got us started off just right and man we were in the groove with only a few hiccups. You could feel the heat in the room and everyone was all in. Val had the crowd eating out of our palms for three songs. We were aiming for a huge bonus when some dikut gangsters came in and shot up the ceiling, giving everybody a warning to not come back to the bar. Turns out the Slippery Slope was right in the middle of a classic Kajidic Hutt Match. Just our luck. The heavies left and no one got hurt too bad but the room was dead for the rest of the night. Jas had to do some smooth talking after our set just to get us the money Lib owed us for the show. That two timing tailhead was going to snub us 50%! I was surprised when Val offered to help her get off planet.

Afterword, we were schlepping our gear out the front and one of Gorga the Hutt’s minions popped up and tried to pressure us into another gig at some other slime pit bar. Before we had a chance to tell him to go crink himself, two swooper dweezers popped out of the lower alley and 66ed him into green mist. We started backing into the bar, wanting to avoid a fight with whoever these sleemos were, but they weren’t having it. Before we knew it, they were shooting up our repulsor sled with all of our prime AV gear. Thousands of credits down the head, just like that. Jas got hit pretty bad before he fell back through the cantina doors. Neelo sterilized the wound with some Nabooian brandy left on the counter and topped him off with a stim pak. I barely made it back myself before they blew out the windows and wrecked the place. Needless to say, we grabbed Lib and made a hasty retreat out the back.

We offered Lib a ride off Shaddaa on the Favor but she had some arrangements to make. Instead, she sent us one of her “girls” to get off planet. I wasn’t feeling too bad about getting one of Lib’s dancing girls on board our tight quartered ship, but then the “girl” turned out to be some cyborg albino freak named Zelda with barrel eyes and a bad attitude. I tried being my usual charming self but she just gave me the kung-eye and told me to kriff-off. So much for love.

On the plus side, Jas ran into some Imperial carbon-douche out on the landing bay and he got us a gig all they way out on Teth. Turns out the Imperials got a bunch of bucketheads out there that need entertaining. Our reputation precedes us! 5 days, 500 creds a day, and we get to play an officer gala. Heh-Heh, I can’t wait to wail some jizz at those crinkers. They won’t know what hit him. Thing is, Jas also arranged for us to “transport” some contraband for this Imperial chap. They’re slave collars, and not the kind that I like. These things are for actual slaves AND they’re rigged to blow the poor sods’ heads off if they try to run away. This is some evil sith kung. It was 400 extra creds though so we took the job. I know, I know, it sounds bad, but dig this: we had a band meeting and R7 and I got the go ahead to disable those things – all 20 of ‘em. Who knows, maybe we’ll give whoever ends up in those things a fighting chance. Besides, it gave me and R7 a couple days of quality bro time in the cargo hold and an opportunity to hone my mechanic chops.

Our deal with Lib was to drop Zelda off at Outlander Transit Station just outside of Teth. Man, that place is a dump, but a deal is a deal. Good thing too cause I was getting a bad vibe off that chica and I think Val was thinking of hiring her on. As if we needed another pathetic lifeform on this ship. (At least Gloomy is smart and can play that sea shell thing he’s got). Stopping at Outlander gave Jas a chance to pick up a couple of small cargo jobs going out to Teth too. Looks like we are adding a mini Hutt Sled and 30 barrels of pesticide to the manifest. How apropos.

I’m glad we sent Shorty with Jas to scout Outlander Station. On the way back to the ship, Jas stumbled into this Aqualish spacer and his Trandoshan moof milker. Jas tried talking his way out of it (as usual) but that Aqualish wasn’t having it and tried to make a move. Before they knew it, Jas blasted a whole in the aqualish and our friendly wookies’ viboraxe came out. Shorty hamstringed that trandy kung face right in the back of the knee. Snikety-snik! Damn that Wookie is one badass crinker! I think Shorty and Jas were going to leave it at that but according to Jas, our passenger Zelda popped out of the shadows and broke the trano’s neck. Scary! I think we’re better off without that uptight albino freak on our ship. Who knows what she’s capable of? I’m glad we departed on good terms with her. If we run into her again, it will be too soon.

Well, we’re almost to Teth and I still have to do my daily jizzercise workout and write a comm to Anra and Ramud. I don’t know what to expect on Teth. I’ve heard some nasty rumors out on the space lanes and these slave collars give me a bad feeling. Furthermore, what the kriff do the Imperials need with 30 barrels of pesticide and a hutt sled? I thought Teth was just a swamp ball with an Imperial listening outpost on it. I guess we’ll find out when we drop off the goods and get our 5 day gig set up. Creds a cred at the end of day.

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Dear Anra and Ramud,

Hey Guys! How’s my favorite niece and nephew! I miss you guys so much. Are you two doing good in school? I don’t wanna hear about either of you two skipping classes, understand me? Anyway, how’s Pop-Pops and the garage? You guys keeping my swoop clean? Don’t forget to keep it waxed and don’t let your mom catch you riding it around. She’ll kill me.

Yeah, so I hope it didn’t take too long for this package to get to you. Uncle Besh is waaaaay out on the edge of Hutt Space at a place called Outlander Transit Station. We’re heading to a swamp planet called Teth. It’s where Hutts are from! How exciting is that?! The more you know kids. I’m telling ya, there are lot of interesting things to see and learn about out here.

We just left Nar Shadda. What a crazy place guys! I included a couple snap shots I took on my datapad (don’t show your mom, she’d blow her power core):

Nar_Shadda.jpg

This is the cantina where your Uncle Besh played a couple days ago. It’s called The Slippery Slope. It’s in a very nice part of town. Lots of important people came to hear us play. Turns out we only got to do the one show but it’s all good. Mr. Holiday keeping us on our toes.

night_out_on_nar_shaddaa_by_dendory-d60qhj8.jpg

Uncle Besh met some very nice ladies in Nar Shadda. This is Candy, Thumper, and Snipper-Snap.

Hey, I also put in some Hutt Brittle (its so gross, I dare you to eat it, ha ha) and there’s 50 creds here too. You guys keep 5 each and then give the rest Pop Pops. And no shorting Pop Pops. I will find out if you do!

You two keep each other out of trouble and keep feeding Stinker for me. Give my best to Grans Ena, Uncle Bannis, Uncle Pluno, Aunt Gless, Uncle Zoz, GG and Nanny, oh and your mom and dad too. I’ll write again soon. I love you guys! Don’t do anything Uncle Besh wouldn’t do!

Uncle Besh

p.s. R7 says hi too!

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BV to RT - Encrypted Transmission #1
KK Still Active

RT,

BV here. I know you said to only use this holonet address in case of emergencies, but I felt it was important to give you a heads up. I was on the Smuggler’s Moon last week in the Corellian Sector. Some kriffs from KanjiKlub caught up to me, asking questions at a gig I was going to play. I was able to avoid them but it gave me a bad feeling. If they are all the way out here in Hutt Space, then they could be anywhere. In other words, you need to stay low.

Kanjiklub.jpg

Listen, I know you got something that they want, and I agree that I’m safer if I don’t know what that “something” is. But here’s the catch, I’m having a pretty long string of bad luck out here. As if KanjiKlub isn’t enough, we got the Imperials probably pissed at us, Trilock the Hutt is probably pissed at us, and maybe even the Rebel Alliance is pissed at us. If you get any idea as to how I can get these KanjiKlub monkeys off my back, feel free to let me know. I get the sense they’re not going to give up so easily.

You can leave me a message at this secured holonet address. I’ll check it every so often.

BV signing off, MTFBWY;)

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To Kip

I was pissed. I spend a day finalizing a contract for our second real gig, and the stupid Imperial punks can’t even get the grace together to look at it! What’s the point of doing gigs if there is no contract in place? I thought the Empire was all about bureaucracy and they cannot even give me a minute to look over my paperwork! Disaster!
Well, disaster also comes to mind with the whole Rebel attack thing. They came out of nowhere and blasted the Teth outpost to shreds. Who are these guys? Where’s that firepower coming from? They disrupted some serious credit building on our end. At least THEY didn’t shoot at us. Ugh, I need to get some serious jobs set up so we can get the Fortune’s Favor repaired and back up to snuff. Damn TIE fighters.
All of that pales in comparison to my dream or vision or whatever it was. You know I don’t buy this whole “the force is a mystical presence” thing. The only aspect of the force I know about is touching minds of people. Hmmm…maybe some freak did that to me? But wow, did they ever! My dreams and aspirations were on display! More than ever, I feel that I am destined to bring the Hutt Worlds into an era of prosperity and greatness!
Speaking of the force, I may have made a mistake. In a moment of sheer desperation, I used the force to try and get the Duros pilot to steer us to some weird temple that the dream beckoned me towards. I dunno, it was calling for me like a credit sitting on the road at my feet. It’s hard to explain in words, but I needed to get there! But, my mind touch didn’t fully work and I can feel the mistrust in the ship growing at every point. I need to prove my worth with some shrewd dealings or I fear Val might leave me behind and secure another agent/drummer for his ventures.
I hope all is well on Nar Shadaa! I heard the whole turf war thing was heating up. How exciting! I think Val wants to keep a low profile or else I’d be there to help you guys out!

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Creep Radar is Way Up
Gig in a dive sounds pretty nice about now.

We’re empirically effed.

We barely stumbled out of Teth with little more than our heads on our shoulders and even then…. Jas was contrite about – whatever he did – hypnotizing(?) Besh, but claimed earnestly that dreams were compelling him. And then R7 jumped in with his own bit of crazy, babbling about ghosts in the ship’s computers. Ghosts?! Dear Maker, would my conspiracy prattling parents have a field day with that one! Also, are we seriously considering keeping the little weed-brained ewok? He just sat there, fiddling on his base as we staggered into the mess to regroup.

Besh decided some hot soup was the answer to all the tension and alarm bells going off, and he proceeded to place a bowl into each of our dumbfounded hands before casually asking me to tend a horrible laceration on his shoulder, like it was an accounting query. He’s so determined to keep the peace! He even claimed to have heard of Do’oktra Skull when I mentioned it. Do’oktre Skull took place in a tent with twelve students and lasted two Socorran years. No one has heard of Do’oktre Skull.

We limped back toward Outlander Transit Station only to find it deserted and totally dark. All of our guts told us to keep moving, but the ship was in dire condition and needed repairs done immediately. We pulled in and, sure enough – no power, no gravity, no kumbaya. It’s too dark here! I’m so used to the long days and open desert of Socorro, these black hallways make my hair stand on end. What in the galaxy happened here? The station is shredded! The whole station! To think how many throngs of beings crowded the halls and corridors of this station just a few days ago…

When we played the Slag Pits earlier this week, I avoided my old stomping grounds, where I spent a few years working the Perdix Pub, avoided some old frenemies, but now – nothing is recognizable. We were forced to suit up and squeeze through a claustrophobic tunnel in order to make our way to the power converters. Despite his nerve-burned state, R7 transmitted himself to Guloumi’s data pad to navigate.

I have to give Shorty credit for all the patience he displayed today. He barely fit into that suit, and when eager young Guloumi recognized and impulsively reached for the absolutely caustic Nope smeared all over the walls, thus starting a chain reaction of insane panic…. Well Shorty just anchored down and put us back into order like this wasn’t his first Falumpaset rodeo. Rathgar eggs, Guloumi explained about the slime. I was all for heading back to the ship for a quick cowering session, but we trundled on through into the engineering room.

More dark. I must have started to feel a little frenetic, because I started to think about set lists and key changes, fiddling with the settings on my propulsion pack and slowly convincing myself I was just having a weed-jacked nightmare, while Guloumi and Besh nonchalantly skipped up the platforms to pull the breaker switches. I’d like to say I was really laying down the cool whip, but when the gravity came on and that mutilated body dropped and almost clocked me, my squawk was just as much out of terror as it was surprise. It was ripped apart and bore the clear marks of a fully grown rathgar.

If I ever get home, I’ll see what psychiatric contacts Jar Tuck has in his little black book. To think of all those times I metaphorically gazed out the window, singing Moon River like there was something more positively exciting than the dirty dealings of the Juicy Tooth and the drug-addled mess that was Jar Tuck’s clinic.

The power wasn’t making it to the docking bay. We needed to find the blockage, but first we headed toward the cargo hold for possible supplies, and we found a family. A whole pitiable family with beseeching parents and sick children. They’re Alderaanians, a little backward but innocent enough. I tended the children, who were suffering from oxygen deprivation, and we fixed their generator. They couldn’t tell us what happened because they’d been stuffed in the cargo tote like so much luggage. We brought them back to the landing bay where they thankfully found a little cruiser that would suit their needs, and putting some newfound tractors to use we headed out to find and fix our power problem.

Happy Birthday! It was mynocks! We were lamely under-armed, juggling Val’s gun like we were passing around a hookah pipe as we took turns scrambling for anything else to help us. They attacked and latched onto Val and Jas. Shorty impressively and cleanly axed one, and someone blasted another. I dim-wittedly tried to use my shock glove before I remembered they like that shit and stood up, hysterically ready to resort to fisticuffs when Val, ever the cowboy, snatched his gun back and blasted the mynock at point-blank.

Just like that. They were gone. We were somehow, miraculously not dead. Someone asked me to see to the ripped up hull because they were busy patching suit breeches. I can’t really remember rewiring or finding clean transporters, but the next thing I know, I was sealing the panel and the power flowed cleanly to the docking bay. Is this what battle fatigue feels like?

Upon our return, we found R7 dutifully working away on our poor busted boat, playing clueless when we brought up the “ghost” he fretted about earlier, because our whole day kind of felt like a horror novel. He acted like we were the crazy ones, what were we talking about, repairs had been going smooth the whole time we were gone, but then he pulled a three sixty and began to wig all over again, crying ghost ghost!

I’m fixing myself an extra strong drink and taking a nap. Where’s that smelly ewok? I can’t bother to care right now.

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"Cap'n's Log, star date ... whatever"
S.S. Huckleberry, Log Entry 0001

“Yep, things are finally lookin’ up. Like I was tellin’ Gloumi, changin’ ships is sure to change our chances. Fortune’s Favor was a bit on the nose for Lady Luck; she likes a good show of confidence but you don’t dare get presumptuous. I was definitely drunk when I picked that name. Hey darlin’, I got your message. We play a gig at Lib’s bar on Nar Shaddaa, blowed up. We play a gig at an Imperial base, blowed up. We head to Outland Station for repairs, blowed up. Plus my drummer who’s been setting up these oh-so-sweet gigs starts talkin’ about weird dreams and tryin’ to pull mind tricks on my pilot in the middle of a damned dogfight! And the droid starts beeping about a damned “ghost in the system.” I got it, darlin’, I got it. But I’m gonna show ya that I’m still your huckleberry, and now this nice new YT-2400’s my Huckleberry.

I knew those Alderaanians were more bad luck. Dunno why Besh got so attached to ‘em so fast, he’s a bit of softie under all that spacer pose. And what happens? Blowed up of course. Sure I’m sorry ‘bout it, but better them than me. Dunno who that starfighter belonged to, but I sure wasn’t gonna wait around to find out when he brought back buddies. Real shame we couldn’t take more of those abandoned ships; Shorty keeps grumblin’ about that turtle-shaped one, we gotta get him a pet or somethin’. But the Wookiee’s really not too bad to hang with when he lets himself lighten up, and damn if he don’t know some choice curses. Gloumi’s still a bit too quiet but he’s got a good head on ‘im, and he came up with someplace I never heard of to lie low. Hell, I don’t even know what Shorty and Number One are sayin’ without the intern around to translate. At least the droid’s been back to normal with not a chirp about any ghost. Glad that’s done with.

Rest of the band’s still on the Fortune for now, we had to leave in a hurry. Probably sell it off when we get to the junkyard, if it ain’t blowed up before we get there. That was just a joke, darlin’. Kinda nice havin’ all this extra space with just four crew … I think we gotta have another band meeting when we we’re outta hyperspace. Besh and the Doc are solid, but that Ewok’s got too much Teth vibe on him, and I want a fresh start, clean slate, new leaf, all that. Plus I don’t feel his slappy bass fittin’ into the Carbonite groove … damn, it’s been too long without a gig.

And then there’s Jas. He promised he’d stop with the Force nonsense, but on the station he was talkin’ about voices in his head again. Either he’s a damned delusional or he really has some Jedi in him, and neither of those are good for business. Yep, time for another meeting …"

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Jas' Journal
An excerpt found from Jas Tuso's Hololog

What does it mean to be a Jedi? Besh said I was one, but what does that all mean? The only Jedis I have heard about are General Obi-Wan and Aayla Secura, but they are long gone from this galaxy of ours. My uncle once told me that they all perished. My experiences as of late challenge such an assertion.
After Teth, my mind started humming. I was feeling things: life, other people, great temples. I was having vivid dreams, I was acting rashly. Then, to find out I was being haunted by some sort of Jedi ghost who tried to rip apart the ship all for me!?! Things are getting crazy. I must confess, without Besh, I would not be here. He told me to relax and focus within. My instincts were telling me to fight and lash out despite the evidence that such actions were a detriment to the Fortune’s Favor.
As I calmed my mind, I felt something. Maybe the Force? I don’t know. But, I managed to calm away the ghost. Does that mean the ghost was a part of me or does it mean that acting calmly is the weapon of choice against ghost Jedis? As I meditated, I started being able to feel the ship; I could feel Besh and Neelo; I could feel their fear, their uncertainty. It was like feeling that family on the space station, but now I could tether that sense and hold on to it.
Who am I?
I am still Jas Tuso, future billionaire of Nar Shadaa. I am no Jedi, nor do I ever want such a moniker. The title of Jedi is reserved for those long extinct or for the trophies of bounty hunters. But, I can no longer hide that I am more than I was when I first joined Val. I have some sort of gift. Whether it helps or hinders by ascent to greatness, I’ll have to wait and see. For now, I must use my gifts to help right the wrongs I have caused on the entire band. I must help them regain the prestige of being the best damn Jizz Band in Hutt Space. We must make some coin!

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Capn's Log: We are the Champions
S.S. Huckleberry, Log Entry 0008

“Well hells yes, we did it. We won the battle of the bands on Nal Hutta! It weren’t no easy thang; we got shot at on stage and lost the first round against that Ithorian metal band Rage Against the Empire, but with the help of Jas’ buddy Kip we got another chance after someone blew up Alderaan Duran.

After an intense practice session, we came back and walloped a clone band from “Down Under,” then went up to bury Rage with an epic set that brought down the house and gave us the prize. Nods to Shorty for “disarming” that rabid fan and Number One for winning the slicing war behind the scenes. Everyone came through when it counted and now we’ve finally made the big time, and pretty soon we’re off to the secret Hutt planet as Jabba’s personal musicians.

Well that’s all for now, I’m still hung the hell over from last night … what a night. Been seein’ a lot of Holonet coverage about our show … I hope Dad doesn’t notice …"

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Computer log 3.14159265359

01010111 01001111 01010111 00100001 00100000 01010111 01101000 01100001 01110100 00100000 01100001 00100000 01110111 01100101 01100101 01101011 00101110 00101110 00101110

Everything started out great! Won race around the junk ring, spent some time with a twi’lek who is great with her hands (mechanically), and wrapped it up with winning a battle of the bands to win the slot to become one of Jabbas personal jizz band. Not everything went according to plan though. After that close call with KanjiKlub we decided to hightail it to Nal Hutta for the battle of the bands and the first thing I hear over the comms is that damn recall of R7 droids from Industrial Automan. Only this time, they are saying that were going to explode like a thermal detonator! With some quick thinking, and some fine mechanical work from Neelo, we were able to disguise me to look like an old R1 unit and get around pretty freely. Once we got into the competition, we were matched up against the band who were expected to win and it came down to a close call but unfortunately we lost. Now Val was pretty upset but with some quick negotiations, a thermal detonation, and an intense practice session we were back in it and won the competition. I may have pushed it a little too far though and I just know those monitor droids noticed me during that last battle against Rage Against the Empire. Well, if Industrial Automan what to play hardball and hunt me down that badly, then lets play.

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Tou Wanna Wonga Anra and Ramud,

Hey Kiddos,

Ol’ Uncle Besh checking in. I know I haven’t written in a while but I was pretty busy with the band and some other business we had to square away. We’ve had a a couple eventful gigs since you last heard from me. We even got a new ship. A YT-2400. Pretty nice too. R7 and I have made a lot of special modifications to it ourselves. The Fortune’s Favor was starting to have some problems so we decided to sell it and trade it in for this one.

We picked the new ship up on a crazy place called Barrab III, way out on the edge of the Outer Rim. The gas planet was surrounded by a ring of junk ships and a space station built right into the core of an old asteroid mining facility. I saw so many old ships, even some pre-Clone War models. It was all pretty wizard. There were ships that I had never even seen before. We even got to see an old Pyron Solar Cruiser in mint condition, or that is, it was in mint condition.

Anyway, the big news is that we are made our way back to Nal Hutta and our band competed in the “Granwey Nukta” just this past week. After a lot of practice and working really hard we made a big impression on the competition judges and we won. Mr. Holiday was very happy and we celebrated all night long. You might see some footage of our performance on the holo vids coming out of Hutt Space. Now we get to tour for three months as Jabba the Hutt’s house band. We’re going to be going all over the Outer Rim spreading that cool jizz where ever we go! Pretty cool, huh? It just goes to show you what you can accomplish if you work really hard and stay in school.

How are things back on Pellezara Station? I hope the garage is bringing in good business. I wired 400 credits to Pop-Pop’s account. Tell him he should spend it to upgrade the security system. You know, just to be on the safe side. “Cheespa bo Coopa” as the Hutt’s say, you know what I mean. There are a lot of bad dudes out there.

I also wired 50 credits to your mom for the both of you. You have to spend it on something “educational.” Go to the museum or the library or something. You got to keep up on your studies ok. Love to everybody for me. Stay out of trouble, you know what I mean. I’ll write soon,

Uncle Besh

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