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They had worked their way through every Mos, which was a designation used to denote a town on this planet, in a matter of days, using their Force powers to try and discover a trail for the illegal slave ring. A few of the Mos were actually somewhat decent, being built around large farming communities. Others were the exact opposite, cities developed and used by as spaceports for spacers. And two in particular were controlled lock stock and blaster by the two Hutts who made their homes here.
After finding out which one of the two Hutts was more involved in slaving, both the legal and illegal sort out here there really wasn't that big difference between the two, they concentrated on Mos Eisley, where Jabba the Hutt had more power than Gardulla. Quinlan and Aayla again began to look around, trying to find a trail, only to run into a dead end. It turned out that while Jabba owned much of the spaceport here, he only used it for his peripheral business dealings. He had a fortress of his own complete with a small hidden landing bay where he conducted most of his business.
Eventually Quinlan and Aayla decided to insert themselves into Jabba's fortress. There were too many other races around here besides the Hutt who was immune to Jedi mind tricks, so they couldn't simply go there and blend in with the crowd.
Flashback:
"But then how will we go about it? I shouldn't have to tell you this master Vos but even looking like this, I will be too tempting a target." Aayla had gestured down to herself and her currently white skin, with a few scattered dots of darker color.
"No you don't have to tell me, and I understand your concerns. But we are at a dead end here Aayla. If Jabba is involved one way or another, the only way we can move forward with this investigation is to get into his palace somehow." Quinlan scowled, shaking his head. "I could go and ask for work from him, but I doubt an itinerant smuggler without any connection to him, or at least the Desilijic clan and that would take years to set up, could stay there without being noticed. And Jabba is always within the main hall, he could see through any attempt to hide myself. I suppose I could sign on as a simple thug, but even then it's doubtful they would trust me to stay within the palace. I could manipulate a few of his men to vouch for me, see if there's work for a thug, but…"
"Given the fact we've talked to a few such and they all report being forced to leave every night, it's doubtful that doing so would get you access to what we want." Aayla finished sourly.
Quinlan began to pace the small cockpit of the tramp freighter they had been assigned for this mission, then frowned. "So, I can get a job as a gunman, that'll get me an in to the palace at least. As for you…" Quinlan's frown disappeared to be replaced by a slowly growing smile. "Tell me Aayla, that color changing trick of yours, can you do other things with it? Specifically look like you have a skin disease?"
That idea made Aayla narrow her eyes speculatively for a moment then she nodded. "Yes I can master, and I even know which one to use…"
The next day, Quinlan approached Bib Fortuna, Jabba the Hutt's majordomo who had come into the city with several dozen men in order to terrorize a few recalcitrant smugglers who had held back Jabba's tithe from their latest runs. They had done so at Quinlan and Aayla's mental suggestions for just this purpose, though it hadn't taken much nudging. They were an arrogant lot.
Quinlan approached him under the persona he'd taken so long constructing, a down on his luck smuggler, clothing matching the image, as did his lank hair and nearly beaten expression. "Lord Fortuna, may I speak to you?"
Reaching into Bib's mind with the Force, Quinlan subtly made him more susceptible to healing Quinlan out, empowering his greed and arrogance further as well. "Speak quickly human," the Twi'lek said. "I am a busy being after all."
"My name is Xevec, I am the owner of the Maze Jumper. It has developed a problem with its engines and I need money to repair it."
Bib's face contorted into a sneer, obviously recognizing the name. He was about to refuse to pay for its repair whatever percentage of ownership 'Xevec' offered, but Quinlan spoke before he could. "I, I have a slave girl, gifted to me in payment on a recent run. She is beautiful in form, and well worth the money needed to repair my ship. I wish to sell her to your Lord Jabba, or to you personally."
Of course Bib couldn't own his own slaves and Quinlan knew it. He was almost as much Jabba's property as any of the slaves. However, Bib could make use of his master's slaves within reason, and looking past Quinlan's shoulder he spotted the slave in question, waiting docilely behind Quinlan.
"Her name is Sarn'vetuca, she has been trained as dancer, pleasure slave, and waitress. All yours for the price of repairing my ship…" Xevec wheedled, reinforcing his words with the Force.
For a moment Bib simply stared, his long manicured nails clicking against his side. The girl was young obviously, but amazingly well-formed despite her rather lackluster color, her breasts perky and legs unblemished and long. Her Hazel eyes were also alluring, and her submissive stance told Bib she had been trained to serve since birth. For a moment he was tempted to try out the merchandise before buying, but decided against it. Lord Jabba might well kill him for that effrontery. "I believe that we can come to some deal here…"
Later that same day Bib scowled angrily, shaking his head as the medical droid moved away from Jabba's newest acquisition. It was common practice to make certain a slave had no diseases upon purchase, though some professional slavers presented papers to that effect. This time it had saved Bib from a virulent skin disease called Filthy Hide. Though beginning on the planet of Ord Padron among the humans there, it could spread to any near-human species and was particularly ugly on reptilians. "Her master cheated me!"
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