The Godless Matron is home to many, resembling a micro-society for those who wish to live outside the typical rule of the galaxy. The Lucrehulk-class battleship's massive hangers have been converted into dwellings as a result. Chute Town is the most notable of these makeshift towns. Many shops and storefronts have been constructed to take advantage of the higher volume of foot traffic. In addition, many ships and crews arrive into Chute Town to sell their "well-earned" commodities, weapons, or artifacts. It is commonplace to find the best and the worst gear the galaxy has to offer — it’s only a matter of how big your pocketbook is. The streets are patrolled regularly by the crew of the Matron itself, leaving would-be miscreants to be more wary, lest they find themselves on the receiving end of a pirate's sense of justice.

It is built mostly out of spare durasteel panels from derelict ships, dismantled machinery, or any other source or material the pirates could scavenge. It spans the length of the massive portside hangar of the Matron, reaching from its heavily protected reactor — hidden behind triple-reinforced blast doors and a guard retinue — all the way to the hangar entrance where the many incoming ships unload their cargo. It is more than a mile long, over five hundred feet wide and up to three stories tall, covering most of the floor. Chute Town's streets are a miniature maze, weaving in between buildings on several levels. Verticality is key for the masses of shops and bars to operate without interfering with one another. The main street is nicknamed Murder Alley, mostly because all the weapon shops are prominently opened there.

Illumination banks are staggered along the walkways and buildings to provide enough light for the society to function. Still, the streets are left dim with a low hanging fog built up from the collective humidity of so many people in one space. For those calling it their home, there is no such thing as off hours. A large crowd bustles along at all hours, an exotic assortment of individuals from countless planets and the warring gangs that divvy up the territory within. It's the perfect place for those looking to disappear in the crowd.

Chute town; a dwelling of back alley beggars and black market traders. Rhylance had never seen a truer collection of dregs, scoundrels, and miscreants. The Chiss scientist looked at the goings-on around him as he sat at his small table, enjoying a tumbler of fine Corellian whiskey. Drug deals, weapons sales, and other illegal activities went on around him, with none of the town's "guards" stopping any of it. The law-keepers were quickly paid off by those in charge of the disreputable behavior that laced the Godless Matron.

Rhylance had delved into these dark depths in search of new research specimens. He had acquired precious samples from many a smuggler and profiteer in his quest to achieve superior scientific knowledge. But those conquests were not his reason for being here today. No, today he was here because of a woman.

"My dear, he is late. Are you sure you should remain in the open for much longer?" The Chiss spoke cooly and with a level head, years of training allowing him to keep his emotions in check.

"Why, darling, is this you showing that you genuinely care about my well-being? Or are you just trying to get back to your lab?" Lucine knew of what she spoke. She just liked to tease the scientist whenever she got the opportunity to do so. Their relationship had gone a more public route since the Spring Festival on Selen, and she used that to her advantage. "Yes, we are waiting a bit longer. The information that this man has for us could help us with our ‘god’ problems back on Selen."

"True enough. Then we wait, but no longer than ten more minutes. I dislike being out in the open like this. Not with those fanatics running around."

Rhylance thought back to the latest incidents on Selen. The temple, overrun by the caxquettes. The awakening of the old gods of Selen. The turmoil in Celeste. So many problems had arisen since that damnable planetary alignment. Lucine was forced to put more time and effort into her role as Consul, an unfortunate consequence in Rhylance's perspective.

It had been enough to bring the Chiss out of retirement from Clan leadership and back into his role as Proconsul of Arcona. It was a situation that meant more time dealing with the needs of the people and less time for his experiments. He could thank the 'gods' for that disruption. It truly was an inconvenience.

Rhylance was broken from his thoughts as a wary human dressed in rags and torn leathers approached Lucine's table. The man hastily sat down across from her, his back to the doctor. Rhylance listened in on his communicator, recording everything that was said on his datapad.

"You're late," Lucine spoke with authoritative annoyance. "Why did you keep me waiting so long?"

"I do apologize, Lady Vasano. I had to be sure I wasn't being watched or followed. The Scions are growing in numbers. They are a threat to all of us, not just you Arconans," The man responded, fear lacing his voice.

Rhylance scoffed at the mention. The Scions of the Seven were a cult of Selenians who followed the old gods. They hoped to bring their rule to the system once again. A nuisance, to be sure, but they did have resources at their disposal, and that made them a threat.

"I am not worried about that group of heathens at the moment, Ai'Kir. You promised me information on the whereabouts of a way to defeat these false ‘gods.’ Do you have the information or not?"

"Of course, of course." Ai'Kir glanced around before lowering his voice. Rhylance could barely hear what he said next. "There is a temple in the southernmost tip of Apaec. Within the temple, you will find a mural that will show the key to the Seven's destruction."

Rhylance glanced up from his datapad in annoyance. Another temple he thought to himself. As he glanced in Lucine's direction, a flash of silver drew his attention. Ai'kir was holding a knife. Immediately, the Chiss stood from his table and walked towards the two seated individuals.

"Thank you for your information, Ai'Kir. But I don't see why we needed to meet here for this. Why not just come to us. We could offer you protection." Lucine had always tried to put diplomacy first. Unfortunately, she felt something was off. His information seemed a bit too convenient.

"Because here," Ai'Kir's face turned stone cold as he quickly rose from his chair, "No one will care when you die. For the Seven!"

Ai'Kir brought his knife up to stab the Consul, but pain sprouted through him as a blaster bolt tore into his back. Choking as he gasped for air, the human fell to the ground, dead. Rhylance stood behind him, his silenced Synergy WLD-5 Peacekeeper in his grasp. Lucine met his gaze before getting up from her seat.

"An assassination attempt. The Scions are getting bolder." the Consul stated as she brushed her red locks from her face.

"I fear we need to get moving, my dear."

As Rhylance spoke, a hail of blaster fire came their way. Six members of the Scion of the Seven were firing at Arcona's upper Summit members. The Matron's guards became alerted to what was happening and moved towards their location as well, with security batons and blaster rifles drawn. Rhylance and Lucine took cover from the barrage behind a nearby half wall.

Lucine snarled in anger before she brought out her lightsaber. She activated the emerald blade and held her position behind the wall. Waiting for her opportunity, she stood up and deflected three of the following shots, one of them hitting a Scion. The dead cultist fell to the floor. Lucine dropped down again before seeing an alleyway nearby. Motioning to it, she and Rhylance ran towards it, nearly getting hit by more blaster bolts. The streets of Chute Town were too open, so they needed to locate shelter. But most of all, they needed to find a way off this damned ship.