"Well, this rock isn't quite Coruscant" Noddian said to himself "but it'll have to do." How many years he had been working out of this place, and yet it still went against his grain. Now it was even worse. Now it was back to the beginning. He wasn't quite a poor man, but he wasn't much more than most of the people who walked the streets of Nar Shaddaa. He walked into a set of slums and sat down on an empty cot. Well, how he got there seemed very inconsequential. Brogen would have him declared dead despite the fact that he probably knew he wasn't, so now he was merely a face in the crowd. He had a ship, he had some money. All things pointed to piracy. Only one thing remained. He needed a weapon...