The corridor outside your hangar is actually rather unpleasant. There is a lot of trash, spilled ship fluids, and junk in general. It is populated by spacers and slavers moving back and forth between the hangars and the junctions where you find a lift.
A sign smeared over with grime reveals that you are in the middle section of the Seat, where the hangars quite obviously are. There are two major sections below and above this one, also labeled.
The rickety lift is large enough to carry easily a hundred people, but for the moment only you three and a handful of others board it. It ascends and stops at the Accomodations level, and you see the criminal slavers' version of a space station hotel. Corridors stretch out before the lift and are lined with blast hatches.
The lift reaches the social market after a flow of passengers are picked up at the living quarters. It deposits you into an information checkpoint where thugs with guns are directing people. The social market itself is one enormous room at the top of the station, with all sorts of booths and stages and 'outdoor' bars stretching out across the corrogated and rusted metal floor. There is a cacophony of shouting and mayhem with the occasional zing of a blaster.
Wentar is speechless for a second, caught off guard by the size of this place. "Well then, lets go see what we can see for a start," he says, disembarking the elevator.
Not sure if we want to split up here. Sure we may find out more things but we may lose track of each other. What do ya wanna hit up first Vlad, bars or booths?
"Just make sure you keep me," Emso says, gesturing to one of the nearby booths. A man is shouting loudly as you walk out of the reception.
"Look at this fine specimen right here!" he shouts, shoving a Gamorrean forward. "This porcine fellow right here can lift a speeder! 2500 credits, starting bid, yours for 2500 credits. For an extra thousand we'll even throw in his piglet, come on, place your bids..."
The Gamorrean snarls at his handler, chained from head to toe.
In fact, at least half of these booths and stages are hawking slaves from all parts of the Galaxy.
Only a handful of booths don't have something horribly illegal. You spot one selling restraints that do more than just bind, and dozens with blasters and explosives that break all sorts of regulations.
There are a variety of bars in this place, in more permanent structures towards the edges of the room, near the lifts. You don't have to go far. All of them are in bad shape and filled with noisy patrons and loud music.
Not that you can tell. They all look the same on the outside- squat and abused.
Inside is no better, for the reasons mentioned before. The Gregarious is host to a number of card games around circular tables and many drunk ne'er-do-wells.
The bartender is a Toydarian, flapping around the bar.
"Ehh what cannah get for yous, ehh?" he asks when you step up. Then he notices Emso. "Ehh, what you doin! No slaves!"