Kamda

Practical matters were needed to be attended to now. The hulk of a Karkarodon entered the Bounty office. His eyes scanning the instructions, and turning down a hallway, he found a terminal. The Apex Predator began to scan the open bounties...

There were lists and lists of them, names and data-files. Every type of scum, murderers, dealers, thieves and beyond that were those that were more.. Dissidents, primarily non-human, bail jumpers who appear as if they are merely poor. All of them work for pay that probably wasn't worth the risk, but it was pay.

However, among the list is a special marker on a peculiar job. No file, and no approximate pay listed just the instruction to seek the clerk for further details.

It wouldn't behoove someone to just leave unanswered questions left hanging. Tranq kept his mouth pursed, his eyes narrowed as he focused on the out of place data. He took the information, and moved to a Clerk.

"What's this one about?" He handed the datastick over to the clerk.

The clerk, however, seemed to be busy typing away. Though he was easily able to see Tranq in his peripheral the man almost seemed not to care for a moment.

Tranq was patient for a moment, then hunched over the table. Both hands placed on it, long, webbed fingers splayed out. His eyes looking to the face of the Imperial Clerk. Too-sharp teeth displayed, as he spoke a bit louder, that infrasound that spoke of predators in the dark reverberating through his words.

"Excuse me. This bounty. What are the details." His voice was gruff, deep, vocal chords stronger than most from being adapted to speak underwater.

There was a hint of fear in the air, a smell to it. Pale skin as the man froze up for a moment. Rushing his hand to his collar he adjusted it slightly and cleared his throat.

"Right.." he said, shifting in his seat so that he was facing Tranq, a small scowl on his face. "Ah.. that one is, well, it has been on the records for years. A research base out in the desert if I recall," he said, shifting again and looking through some folders. Taking one he extracted the files from it and reviewed, a patience to the way he moved.

"Ah, here," he said, "Yes, it would appear for some years now that the station has been reporting extra losses of rations and equipment than otherwise projected. Upon investigation the soldiers stationed there have had no answers," he skimmed a page and read from it, "new rotations of guards, same reports, not theft or incompetence," he pulled from the page.

"A mystery.." he remarked, a grin as he looked at the page and laughed. "Seems many of the troopers there tell ghost stories for the disappearances. What ridiculous rubbish."

An almost inaudible sound as Tranq listened to the man, a slight amount of pleasure at seeing an Imperial officer bristle with apprehension, and even fear. Fear that plagued those who survived the betrayal. Fear that gripped the Galaxy. Fear that was now focused on this clerk. It was not the Jedi way. But it had been a long time since Tranq had considered what a Jedi was. What he was.

He stood taller, taking the information. "Anything else of importance? What are they wanting solved and what's the pay?" He had learned in the few years since the end of the war, that one couldn't leave a chance for payment up in the air, all questions had to be answered.

"Payment," he looked through some notes, "is dispensed purely on what the problem is. That it has gone on so long without being answered there is a sizable bonus to the reward, 5000 credits," he said, his eyes widening at the figure.

"It would appear command is rather put off by the constant drain of resources of this mystery," he looked back to Tranq, read him from head to waist as the rest of him was hidden behind the high desk. "Are you certain you're up to the.. task? Somethi-.." he paused, caught his throat, "One like you hardly appears the investigator. Is it only you? It is rather dangerous out there, in the sands."

"Looks can be deceiving." He responded without humor, regarding the Imperial as if there was blood in the water. "Any relevant data on the base that can be shared with the public? Location, any local flora or fauna causing problems?" His hands never released the data that was handed over.

"Might determine how much of a team I gotta assemble."

"R-right," he said, choking on his collar. "Location will be supplied, and you may know that the station is intended on research. I am afraid all other information about the station is classified, however. For the region.." he looks through some data-screens, "ah yes, the desert regions on this planet are notorious for their deadly wild-life. So as reported, but I imagine that it shouldn't be much of a problem once you are inside the station itself."

"Once you arrive on the station you should report to the lead scientist," he taps away at the data-pads. "Which would be one Randall Tarkin. Prestigious name," he remarked to himself.