It had been almost a year since Melech had opened his shop. While it was rare for him to be there himself, it did occasionally occur. For the most part, orders were taken by an automated system that would send Melech messages whenever someone needed him for a job. So far, this method had acquired him work exactly three times, with the cost of rent and overhead combining to work out to three credits in total profits from the business.

The shop itself was nothing special. A simple hole in the wall that looked in on a small work shop. When he was away, all the tools inside would be taken with him, and the automated system would be pushed into the hole, flush with the wall. Nothing particularly valuable was kept there, as the automated system did not accept currency in any fashion.

Truth be told, he kept the place as more of a summer home than anything. Whenever he needed to stop by the port, he would stay two days or so and keep the shop open, telling himself it was all business. In reality, it gave him a chance to spend money on things he didn't need and amuse himself as he saw fit. For most men of his kind, that would mean alcohol, drugs, violent sports, women, or any combination of them. Melech, though, spent his free time sitting in front of a journal, making sketches and writing down equations, formulas, and measurements.

Likewise, that was the way he would be found now. Anyone with the desire to do so could shake him from his thoughts, but it would require some effort. Not that he was expecting anyone to come by. Those who had sought him out here in the past always did so through recommendation from the Hutts. While the notorious crime family used him as a smuggler, they also knew him as an engineer with little care for safety concerns, and would send people his way when the urge struck them. If he had not made a habit of accepting new tools as payment, he likely would have much more profit to show for his work here.