Arriving at the lower levels of Coruscant at night, one would find police patrols everywhere. Here, criminals were countless, but Coruscant civilians also lived here, making it a complete melting pot. You would never know if the person you brushed past was on the Republic's bounty list or a gang's bounty.
Cort disembarked from his landspeeder, instructing the droid to wait for him and tossing some credits to the protocol droid. "Thank you for the tip. I will wait for you here."
The entire lower level had a cyberpunk feel, with neon lights and various tubes flickering everywhere, dazzling the eyes. Many people even had prosthetic limbs, and the alleys were filled with drunkards or individuals who looked like thugs.
"Let's experience the local customs first." Cort thought, seeing a roadside stall run by a Pyke. He sat directly on a stool. "Boss, a bowl of food please."
"A Mandalorian?" The Pyke immediately recognized Cort's species. After all, even without a helmet, the beskar steel armor allowed a gang-affiliated species like the Pyke to identify him at a glance.
"Uh-huh. What, you don't serve Mandalorians?"
"No, no, no, just curious. I didn't expect there to be Mandalorians on Coruscant now. After all, they all ceased operations a year ago. You are the best bounty hunters in the Galaxy, and even we Pykes often need your services." The Pyke quickly waved his hands, indicating he meant no offense, and immediately began preparing a local Coruscant specialty.
"So, do you have that kind of channel?" Cort leaned in and asked softly.
"What kind of channel?" The Pyke was confused.
"The kind that violates Republic law."
"Then you've come to the right place. Follow me after you finish eating." The Pyke finished cooking and placed the food in front of Cort.
Cort tasted it; it was average, very ordinary, but he still finished it. Standing up, the Pyke walked in front of Cort, leaving a Weequay to mind the shop.
"Fak Guerrero," the Pyke named Fak said, introducing himself.
"Keep it confidential. Just call me Mandalorian," Cort said, not revealing his name to avoid exposure.
"OK, Mandalorian, we're here." Fak turned left and right, entering one alley after another, until they reached a smoky establishment. Two Pyke guards stood at the entrance, their hands resting on their CC-420 blaster pistols.
"Another newcomer?" the guard at the entrance asked Fak.
"That's right, and a Mandalorian at that." With that, he walked straight in.
Upon entering, they found various alien humanoid species in the main hall, and sexy Twi'lek waitresses serving spice to people. There were also many small rooms nearby, where everyone held different long, tubular objects to inhale spice.
"Wait, is this for spice?" Cort asked, puzzled.
"Didn't you come for this?" Fak retorted.
"I'm here to smuggle weapons. What do you think a Mandalorian would look for from a gang besides buying weapons and equipment or taking on missions? Do you think he'd inhale spice? And is spice even illegal?" Cort was full of questions. This should be a common stereotype and knowledge throughout the Galaxy.
"None of that is illegal in the Republic. No police or Judicial Forces will even pursue you for it. After all, that's just killing someone. Spice is far more serious and profitable! And who in the Galaxy doesn't know that we Pykes deal in spice? We don't smuggle firearms; that stuff has too low a profit margin." Fak was also bewildered that a Mandalorian would seek out Pykes but not for spice.
"Alright, alright. No firearms, but do you have a channel for design schematics? The finder's fee won't be small." Cort found a seat and asked Fak.
"You'd be better off asking for firearms. Design schematics are something bounty hunters steal and then sell. Are you even a Mandalorian?" Fak was confused, too. How could this Mandalorian lack such basic knowledge? But he also sat down, thinking about who might have design schematics for sale.
"Alright, alright. What I need are starfighter design schematics. As long as you have the connections to get them, I have the credits."
"A big shot, huh? Hmm… While we Pykes don't have that kind of business, the Black Sun did have some news about these because the previous buyer was killed, so it's been put on hold. I'll contact them for you. You wait here for a bit; I'll take you to a private room." Fak led Cort to a private room. After all, there were too many people outside, and even though most were high, it was better to be careful.
The two entered the private room, and Fak began inquiring with his smuggler and arms dealer contacts about weapons. Not long after, the door opened, and a human man walked in.
"Need weapons? Then you've found the right person, Fak. Oh, it seems this is the customer. I'm Joel Hawke, former Republic officer, at your service." Joel took out a datapad from his waist and pushed it directly in front of Cort.
"This is the most capable arms dealer I can connect you with. His connections are beyond what ordinary people can achieve," Fak said.
"That's right. Whatever you want, as long as you have the credits, I can get it for you. But for now, let's look at the items on the datapad." Joel sat on the chair and immediately began inhaling.
Cort looked at the items on the datapad, scrolling page by page. "The Aurek-class A-wing is good, this CR-90 is also good, and the hammerhead-class is an old classic. The Naboo N-1 Starfighter, these are all good things."
Cort finished looking at the ship models, then looked up and asked, "Do these have design blueprints?"
"Cool!… For blueprints, you'll need to pay extra, at least an additional two hundred thousand to two million credits, depending on the item." Joel took a deep puff and then replied.
Cort selected the Aurek-class A-wing starfighter and the hammerhead-class cruiser, tossing the datapad back.
"Good taste. Even though these are old equipment, after generations of upgrades and modifications, they are completely on par with current various fighters. So, how do we trade? A total of ten million. Minerals, credits, spice, all are acceptable."
"Outer Rim Mandalore space, Shukut, thirty Coruscant standard days from now. Cash on delivery. Here's a thirty thousand deposit for you. You know what happens if the goods aren't delivered." After saying that, he transferred three hundred thousand credits via the network, then tossed twenty thousand credits to Fak.
"There's nothing to learn. Just follow your own path." Cort looked at the decadent Coruscant underworld and pulled on his hood.
After leaving the Pyke stronghold, Cort returned to Satine's apartment and began asking his Electronic Adjutant about the progress of the blueprint modifications.
"It's still going quite smoothly, but it will still take more than a year to complete. However, we have already collected tens of thousands of tons of minerals and mined a considerable amount of beskar steel."
"Would having blueprints for other ships in this Galaxy speed up your modification process?"
"Of course, Commander. With those, I can immediately modify even better ships. Currently, the starport is producing more viking fighters; they have been completely modified, and people are undergoing more training. The entire colony now has tens of thousands of personnel, and a person named Mourto Vizsla is serving as the temporary Commander of the entire colony," the Electronic Adjutant reported on the current situation.
"Oh, Uncle Four, perhaps this really suits him. Just keep me updated in real time. Continue training new Mandalorian warriors."
"Understood, Commander."
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