There was a small thunk and Evelyn’s eyes snapped towards the sound. Her co-pilot noticed the movement and rolled her eyes as she removed her feet from the dashboard.
“Oh! Come on! Evelyn-”
“Wyvern,” Evelyn corrected her, the tone of the voice indicated that this wasn’t the first time they had this kind of discussion.
“I was just getting comfortable-”
“You were disrespecting your work space,” Evelyn responded flatly as she reached over to push some more buttons while Dusa rolled her eyes. They were about to land. The cockpit door opened with a soft hiss as another crew member entered. Evelyn wished Matcha was here instead of Dusa. Dusa wasn’t so bad but at least Matcha doesn’t test her patience constantly. She can hear the heavy footsteps from her crew member, Inra, approaching them.
“A’right, well, everything be lookin’ good, Waln down with the other peeps-” She pointed a thumb behind her to direct the location where there were a few members who were tasked with this mission that were waiting for the land.
“So Imma- Is that my shirt?!” The female Ferrorin yelped.
“So what if it is?” Her half-Rattataki co-pilot responded by flipping her off but not looking back at her.
“You-!”
“Thank you Inar, you may take your leave,” Evelyn’s voice was strong with a hint of warning as both of them became quiet. Usually Evelyn just let them bicker or fight it out but tone of the voice, they were reminded that they needed to be serious. Inar returned the gesture to Dusa by flipping her back and walked away, for a reason.
Deep down inside, both of the crew members feared that one day Evelyn would snap and throw them out in the air lock.
~
“Sirs, We have arrived.” Evelyn chimed in over the comm-link. The crew members of the ship do not have connection to the comm-link of theirs, only Evelyn and it would be for the best. The bay door opened silently, revealing to the team of their mission. Despite outside being pitch black, Coruscant’s lights flickered in the distance, beckoning the team to their success or their deaths.
Narman Losa shifted quietly in his seat, the tight straps digging into the remnants of a shoulder injury from a recent operation. Normally he’d be wearing his armor, but this specific mission called for more casual attire; not something the Lieutenant Colonel was used to. Once they’ve made their way through the entertainment district and rendezvoused with the informant, he could put on his gear; hopefully that process went smoothly. The Pilot’s voice came in over the commlink abruptly, informing them of their imminent arrival. Narman wasn’t familiar with her, but she came highly recommended. He looked over to the other two members of his team. He was surprised when he saw the former Lady Second would be present, but having seen her skills in combat firsthand, grateful to have her on the team. The Miraluka, Colonel Argentin, he knew by legend only, but what a legend it was. Narman already had a strong respect for the lifelong veteran.
As their shuttle cruised in for its landing, the unsecured bag containing Narman’s gear slid out from under his seat. He stretched his leg out to catch it and pulled it in close. The ship touched down with a slight shudder and the bay doors opened onto the landing platform. The Doctor was almost shocked by how dark it was outside as he unstrapped from his chair. He knew from the intel they had chosen a secluded location for the dropoff, but it was hard to believe anywhere on this planet could give you respite from the bright lights. He grabbed the bag from the floor, threw the strap over his shoulder, and jogged down the ramp.
Shanree and Cassandra had their heads pushed together as they exchanged hurried words. The others in the ship couldn’t hear what they were saying but the Colonel seemed agitated while the former Consul was as cool as she ever was. Their conversation ended with Shanree shaking his head and sighing as he walked away from her towards the cockpit. The two of them had a long working relationship at this point but they were very different people. Colonel Argentin was security-minded, focused on the mission and his people. Cassandra Orain was a politician who never said what she meant and never meant what she said. Though she drove him insane with her demands, he never failed to see them through. That was Shanree’s specialty– making the impossible possible.
Reaching the cockpit’s sliding door he rapped his knuckle on the bulkhead, moving aside to allow one of the Pilot’s companions to leave, “Permission to enter the flight deck?”
The Pilot, a Shevalian, was new to the Clan and while Shanree did not know her personally he’d been tasked with observing her performance and perhaps recommending her to be reassigned to OSI or SAG if she met the grade. Both organizations were woefully lacking in skilled pilots that could pick up, ferry, and of course extract their agents in the field. She had the background, but the Brass wanted a first-hand appraisal of the newcomer.
Evelyn glanced over her shoulder and nodded, “Granted, what can I do for you Colonel?”
“Just curious about our ETA, and if you’ve secured landing clearance? The credentials we provided worked the way we hoped, I hope?”
She confirmed that everything was proceeding according to plan. They’d touch down shortly on the Galaxy’s glittering jewel of a heart right in the center of its primary Entertainment District. He thanked her and returned to the Crew Compartment, passing the retired Medical Officer Narman Losa Shanree gave the man a reassuring pat on the shoulder as he passed. Narman would be the team’s medic and according to the dossier Shanree had read there was no one better to have with them if someone got hurt.
“Do You have much field experience?” Shanree asked him, leaning his head in as he sensed some pre-mission jitters in the man, “It always feels like this before the ramp drops. Just focus on what you’re here for, listen to Lady Orain and I, and we’ll get you back to your lab before you know it.”
Shanree shared a grin with the man who smirked back at the reassuring face. He knew Losa’s background, he knew all of their backgrounds having studied and helped select each member of the team, but there was no reason to scare them with the things he knew. The OSI were very effective at running background searches, and Shanree reminded himself that everyone in this line of work had skeletons in their past better left buried. Losa would hold his own, as would the Pilot Evelyn, and he of course had no doubts in Cassandra.
Even all this time later, well over half a year since they had last seen each other, it didn’t surprise her that Shanree still called her ‘Orain’. Given the time apart, especially in her period of self-exile, part of her had wondered if he would finally call her Oriana. As usual, when it came to him, she should have known better. The only reason she was here; was that this was a Council-ordered directive. And her openly avoiding everyone, still now refusing to answer what she has been doing or why, definitely irritated the Miraluka. Cassandra lightly shook her head, the conversation not going as she had hoped as he had done nothing but badger her with question after question before sighing and walking off. Honestly, she almost considered just renaming him Badger. Slowly she stood up and straightened her robes and checked the tightness of her armlets that kept the fabric on her arms up.
Even though she was no longer a politician, it brought back memories of those days just being on Coruscant. All the books she had read of the grandest world in the galaxy during its peak, before the empire and even back to the High Republic days, she had wanted to visit here. She especially wished the old archives still existed, as it would have been fun to peruse them all over a decade or two. With a few breaths through her respirator, she slowly made her way towards the un-descended ramp and waited.
“So,” she said in a modulated voice, “What kind of fun should we have for the afternoon and evening before proceeding on task? I haven’t really been the tourist type, so this is slightly a new concept.”
“We will have a significant wait before rendezvous. I’m not one for gambling, but I wouldn’t mind a decent meal.” The Medic replied before moving across the landing pad to the maintenance lift. He laid his gear bag down alongside the wall and set about removing the access panel. Narman was not necessarily proficient in slicing electronics, but this was just a simple 2-wire splice and he had prepared for it extensively. He heard the hydraulics of the ramp hiss as it lifted closed, turning to see the Colonel the last to step off onto the pad. He spoke into his commlink, on the team channel but directed at Evelyn.
“Hold station here and keep comms open. Report any suspicious craft that enter this sector. Stay ready in case our exit strategy is compromised.” Shanree turned to look back into the ship as the lift closed the last few feet. “ This city can derail even the best laid plans.”
“Confirmed. Will keep you updated on the air space activity.” Evelyn replied, her voice crackling over the commlink to the squad. The dark landing pad was briefly illuminated by a shower of sparks erupting from the access panel. Narman ducked out of the way and released the white-hot wires from his grasp. The maintenance lift door opened abruptly and released a blast of stale air; intel showed it had been unused for some time. He leaned forward and peered down the lightless shaft.
“Well, the door is open. Unfortunately, the lift is not here.”
Shanree leaned over the edge and looked down the elevator shaft, the warm air wafting up out of it rustled his brown hair below where it was tied behind his head, “I guess we’re not going down this way. Let’s take the passenger lift this time, just don’t look into the security cams.”
He led Cassandra and Narman over to the lift that would lead them out a more public entrance of the landing complex. It wasn’t ideal but there wasn’t much they could do about it at the moment. Cass hit the call button and soon they were on their way down. A quick hover taxi ride deposited them at a Casino the droid Driver had recommended for its spectacular entertainment venues and reasonable room rates.
The casino, which went by the name of The Emperor’s Palace and looked like a low budget holo-dramatization of a stereotypical building from the Imperial Era. It was gaudy and in bad taste but the Emperor and his Empire were far enough in most people’s rearview scanners that they didn’t care that casino security wore cartoonish Stormtrooper costumes and the waitresses pranced around in cocktail skirts reminiscent of an ISB uniform. It was bewildering to the aging Miraluka who remembered fighting men and women in that uniform for the Rebellion. This is what they’d fought for, he supposed, the freedom to lose your money at a chincy Imperial-themed casino.
Shanree was also not a gambler so he was in no hurry to hit the slot machines but he spied a Sabac table that he thought he might waste a few minutes on. He waved Narman and Cassandra on, letting them know they all had several hours to kill before they’d make their way to scope out the area of operation for the first time. He went over to the table after having procured a small dish of chips for betting. As he took a seat the Dealer Droid looked him up and down.
“What’s the big idea? You don’t have any eyes”, the Droid was blunt and raised his hand to summon Security.
Shanree, used to this sort of treatment in the wider galaxy, raised both of his hands in a calming gesture and pointed to the device in his hand, “Easy friend, I’ve got a Reader. Can I connect?”
The Droid made a sighing noise and nodded. Shanree connected the device to the table and through an implant he was now aware of the game and its face-up cards. After several hands he was a dozen credits less wealthy but he was having a good time. It amused him to know that if he wanted he could let the Force guide his bets but he chose to let the Synthenol brought around by the Cocktail Waitresses distract him to the benefit of the other players. The trouble was that one of the other players at the table was having a rough time of it and Shanree didn’t need to sense his emotional state in the Force to know that. He was agitated and his movements were jerky and sloppy from having drank too much. He cursed in anger and exasperation each time the Dealer flipped one more card and revealed his bet was a bust. It only grew worse after Shanree got genuinely lucky and won a good hand putting him up a lot more credits from where he’d started at that man’s expense.
“Who let the freak play at this table” he said with a venomous snarl, “He’s clearly cheating! He can’t even see the cards.”
The Droid Dealer attempted to placate the Player, “His Reader Device is assisting him in playing the game.”
“Oh! So you’re helping him cheat? This is just some big setup to take my money is it?” The man stood up, knocking over the drink of the patron sitting beside him, and he pointed a finger at Shanree, “He’s a fracking cheater!”
The Droid was in the process of summoning floor security, “Sir, please remain calm. You have had too much to drink–”
“Frack you Droid!” The Player picked up another glass and threw it at the Dealer.
Shanree was fast, and he acted without really thinking. He stood and snatched the flying drink glass out of the air as it sailed past him. The colorful liquid in it of course continued in flight and splashed all over the Dealer Droid but everyone’s eyes were on the Miralukan. Shanree put the glass down in front of him, collected his chips and excused himself from the table. Security was just arriving in their cartoonish costumes and were roughly handling the other Player as Shanree passed.
“This isn’t over you Freak! Frack you! Frack all of you! You don’t know who I work for! THIS ISN’T–” the man’s shouts were cut short by a muffled thump which doubled him over. Security had their arms under his arms as he collapsed, gasping for air, and they quickly shuffled him out of sight.
One of the Security men approached Shanree and smiled from under the hole in his oversized Stormtrooper helmet, “We’re very sorry for this experience here at the Emperor’s Palace, Sir. Please accept this Buffet Voucher as a sign of our sincere regrets and we hope this won’t affect the rest of your stay with us.”
Cassandra stode over to the bar and leaned forward on it with her elbows. With a raise of her hand, a red colored Twi-lek bartender made their way over.
“What can I get you, cutie?” he asked with a wink as he wiped off the inside of a freshly washed glass with a clean towel.
“Tsiraki on the rocks.” Cassandra responded with a smile in return. She didn’t have to wait long before he brought over her glass, filled with the famliar shimmering blue liquid she was so familiar with. With a small sip she reached into her clothes and pulled out a credit chit and flipped it to him. The flavor, while intimately familiar, was one which had not touched her lips for quite a while. It reminded her of bad memories, of times forgotten and futures broken over the last year.
Cassandra wandered toward the pazaak tables. The game wasn’t her usual vice, but it had the right kind of draw. It was something just calculated enough and required nerve, easily a place she could fit in at. She slid into a seat across from a Zabrak with a smug grin and a deck that had seen better years. Credits were exchanged, the cards were shuffled, and the game began. At first, she played conservatively, her brow furrowed, her focus sharp. But after her second glass, her shoulders eased. She began to smile, even flirt a little, tossing chips and quips with equal charm.
Three rounds in, she was ahead and feeling warmer than she expected. The Zabrak seemed rather irritated, even at one point smashing his fist on the table in frustration. A soft buzz danced behind her eyes, not unpleasant, just…unfamiliar. Cassandra never got tipsy. Not at meetings, not at dinners, not at any of the galas she was required to endure during her time as Chancellor. But here, beneath the hum of neon and the blur of chance, she let it happen. Just a little. Just today, for the sake of the mission. The pazaak table shimmered slightly at the edges, and her laughter came quicker now, as if pulled from a place that had been quiet for too long.
By the fourth round, Cassandra’s grip on strategy had loosened enough to let intuition take over. She leaned back in her seat, glass in hand, watching the dealer flip cards with mechanical precision. The Zabrak was starting to sweat, his smugness replaced by a twitch in his left eye and a twitchier hand. Cassandra smiled, slow and satisfied, swirling the last of her Tsiraki as if it held the key to her next move.
“You always this lucky?” the Zabrak grumbled, tossing a side card with more force than finesse.
“Not always,” Cassandra replied, her voice low and languid. “Just when it counts.”
The truth was, she wasn’t sure if she was playing well or just getting careless. But there was a thrill in not knowing, in letting the alcohol and atmosphere tilt the world just enough to feel new again. For once, she wasn’t weighing every consequence or calculating three moves ahead. She was just there, in the moment, riding the high of half-earned luck and half-finished drinks.
A crowd had started to gather around the table, nothing big, just a few other players watching from the periphery, attracted by her effortless charm and the small pile of chips growing in front of her. One of them, a young human woman with a face tattoo and a diagonal style haircut, offered to buy Cassandra another drink. Cassandra hesitated. She never accepted drinks from strangers. But tonight? She raised her empty glass, saluted the girl with a grin, and said, “Why not? Tsiraki.”
As the next round began, Cassandra noticed her hands had a slight tremble. Not from fear, not weakness, something…different. She welcomed it as it seemed to fit the current situation. The cards danced between her fingers as if they’d been waiting for this version of her, loose, bold, unbothered by what came next. Which, for her, was strange as normally she could handle alcohol like a seasoned master. Maybe it was her body’s way of just letting things go after all of the trauma she had the last year?
She might lose the next hand. She might lose the whole stack. But as the lights flickered across her skin and the dealer snapped out the first card, Cassandra laughed a full, reckless sound, and thought to herself. “Maybe I should come here more often.”
The new glass of Tsiraki arrived a few minutes later, delivered not by the bartender but by the woman with the face tattoo. Cassandra accepted it with a nod of thanks, but the moment she lifted it to her lips, something in her gut tensed just before the glass could make contact and paused.
She sniffed it casually. It smelled right. Spicy, sharp, with that faint citrus undercurrent Tsiraki was known for. She knew the drink literally inside and out. But there was a trace of something else in this one. It smelled almost metallic. Extremely subtle, but present. Cassandra tilted the glass slightly, letting the ice catch the light. The color was off by half a shade, almost with a slightly green tinge. Not enough that a casual drinker would notice, but she did.
Her instincts, dulled by the earlier drinks but not gone, snapped back into focus. She set the glass down slowly, masking her suspicion with a playful smile. “You know,” she said to the woman, “you got the ice just right. That’s rare.”
The woman smiled back, too quick. “House trick,” she said. “Enjoy.”
Cassandra gave her a lazy wink, then turned her attention to the game, letting the drink sit untouched beside her. Inside, the buzz of alcohol was rapidly giving way to something colder, sharper. The warmth that had made her laugh an hour ago now felt like a vulnerability, a soft spot exposed. She played the next few hands with eerie precision, winning two, folding one. All while keeping one eye on the drink. And the girl. And the Zabrak, who seemed oddly worried all of a sudden.
Maybe she was paranoid. Maybe it was just bad liquor and worse lighting. But she didn’t believe in maybes, not when her instincts were screaming.
After her next win, Cassandra pushed back from the table and gathered her chips with slow, deliberate movements. “Cash me out,” she said, flashing a tired grin. “I’ve had my fun.”
The Zabrak tried to convince her to continue, saying she just needed to relax a bit and drink, though she would have none of it. The others at the table gave her glances of mild disappointment as the show they had seen thus far was apparently the most entertaining thing they had seen all night. As she turned to go, the woman with the face tattoo stepped forward. “Leaving already?”
Cassandra smiled. “Yeah,” she said. “Too lucky tonight. I don’t like debts.” Her eyes dropped to the drink, then met the woman’s gaze. “Or poison.”
The woman’s face tightened up like a vice with complete surprise, as if someone had killed her Loth Cat. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” she responded with a darkened glare.
“I promise, there is nothing wrong with the drink.” the human woman said back with full confidence. The Zabrak watched them from the table with his own chips gathered now. With just a nod, Cass handed the glass to her.
“Then drink.”
“I couldn’t, not a drink of such eloquence. It’s not worthy of my-”
Cassandra cut her off as she placed the glass in her hand.
“Drink.”
Narman stood somewhat awkwardly near the entrance of the casino, not yet decided if he wanted to be in there at all. His two squadmates and superiors had gone off to seemingly ‘enjoy the evening’, leaving him to find his own way to occupy the time. However, ‘The Emperor’s Palace’ was not the kind of place he would have chosen to do so. The bright flashing lights, the endless flowing alcoholic beverages, it all appealed to a base instinct that he had no interest in engaging. A waitress walked past in her faux-imperial uniform, much more revealing than standard issue, and winked at the Medic with a smirk. He returned her smile with his own, albeit forced. After another moment of hesitation, Narman reluctantly advanced into the casino proper.
He walked quickly past the gambling machines, each unoccupied station springing to life as he did, triggered by the motion. One after another, the machines blasted out a catchy ear worm that progressively became more discordant. The blinding lights atop each station were like flash grenades in his periphery. The patrons planted in front of the machines seemed unaffected by the display, or maybe they were at such a high level of inebriation that they were unaware of its existence. Narman did his best to hide the repugnance on his face.
The card tables were much less abrasive, though they were not lacking in drunk patrons either. He spied the Colonel across the room at a Sabacc table and the former Supreme Chancellor sipping a drink at a Pazaak table not far from him. Both seemed to be relaxed and having a good time. Suddenly he felt a pang of guilt; perhaps he was being the difficult one in this situation. As he scanned the room for a waitress to ask about getting a meal, his eyes fell on a dimly lit entryway with a neon sign hanging above that said ‘Lounge’. Narman drifted closer, abandoning his search for food. It felt like something was pulling him there.
Crossing the threshold, his eyes had to adjust to the darkened interior. A moderate collection of chairs, only a handful occupied, were positioned around a small stage at the rear of the room. The only light was a ring of soft purple bulbs wrapped around the stage, projecting upwards, and the intense overhead spotlight, aimed centerstage. Illuminated in that spotlight was a beautiful Twi'lek woman with a long, flowing purple dress that rippled like waves. Almost as if she were waiting for Narman, though she didn’t acknowledge his entrance, she began to sing.
Her voice poured out onto the stage like a heavy mist and filled the room with its murk; Narman breathed it in deeply as it drifted up from the floor. It was hauntingly beautiful, sorrowful, yet somehow hopeful as well; Narman was transfixed. What was a singer of her caliber doing here, of all places? At some point he had shifted nearer to the stage and claimed a seat, but he couldn’t recall the action. He sat there listening to her song, quietly and comfortably, until the peace was broken by angry shouting from outside the lounge.
The outburst immediately brought Narman’s focus back. He stood and walked over to the entryway just as a figure pushed in past him, muttering curses under his breath. He watched him walk between the rows of chairs and past the stage to a small, black door in the back of the room.
“Curious.” Narman exited the lounge swiftly and spotted Shanree settling back into his card game as several of the gaudy ‘stormtrooper’ security guards left his table. The Medic approached and addressed his superior, motioning back toward the lounge. “Could I accredit that very angry gentleman to you?”
“I don’t think so,” the Colonel replied without looking up, “ Security just took away mine.”
“Perhaps he had an ally who was with him?” Narman theorized, looking back at the lounge entrance with a mix of curiosity and distrust. “ Something to keep our eye on.”
“Come on”, Shanree motioned with his head, and Narman followed.
The Colonel moved up alongside Cassandra, looping his arm through hers, and he began to walk her away from the table and her growing altercation. Cassandra held a cocktail glass in the hand attached to the arm he’d commandeered, and it sloshed slightly across his chest as he began moving her.
He smiled apologetically to the distressed waitress as he took the drink from Cassandra’s hand and he placed it upon her tray, “My friend has had too much to drink already. I’ll see Her to her room.”
Cassandra made to protest but she was beaten to it by the Waitress who was suddenly very cross, “No, your friend assaulted me. Yeah! We should get Security involved.”
“It’s true! I saw it! She spat on her and was very rude!”, a Zabrak at the table stood quickly and shouted his agreement.
Shanree groaned inwardly, suddenly very aware of what was going on. He didn’t need to feel the emotions of the Waitress and the Zabrak card player to know they were colluding, “You want to get Security involved? Sure. Call them over Sweetheart.”
The Waitress’s breath caught in her throat, “How about you just pay me what she owes on her tab and we’ll call it even.”
“No, I insist. Call Security over here. I think we have some questions that need answering”, Shanree made a show of looking Her and the Zabrak up and down, despite having no eyes, and he swung for the bleachers, “Let’s ask them first about whether or not you work here.”
“Of course I work here”, Her eyes shot to the Zabrak with a moment of fear. Bingo.
“And I have Green Eyes.”, Shanree hefted Cassandra who was beginning to slouch against him, “I’ll tell you what. I’ll pretend you didn’t try to drug my friend and we’re going to leave. If you want to push your luck I happen to have the business card of the floor boss on me. He’d love to talk this over with us all, I’m sure.”
The Zabrak spoke first, “Come on, Babe. We gotta go.”
The Waitress sneered at Shanree and Narman but took her accomplice’s advice and left. She dropped the tray she was holding, apparently done pretending to be a cocktail waitress any longer. Several nearby patrons, who hadn’t already been looking side-eyed at the brewing dispute, turned to look at the noise of the crashing tray and drinks.
The Colonel led them out of the Emperor’s Palace back to the taxi stand where he hailed a cab. Shanree gave the Chandrillan driver directions back to their Landing Complex. Cassandra was furious that her justice had been denied and Shanree became preoccupied fending off her verbal assault, so he didn’t notice they were being observed by two men. They were both munching idly on some street food that they’d purchased at a nearby bodega and as the taxi took off and joined the traffic above, they jumped on a single swoop bike and took off after it. Shanree rubbed the bridge of his nose to relieve the stress headache that was growing there.
He didn’t notice the swoop bike, and its two riders, who followed them all of the way back to the ship. The swoop took great care to remain unseen, so when the passengers of the taxi alighted and took a lift to their Landing Pad the two riders watched unnoticed.
They’d get back to the ship, wipe the slate clean, and figure out their next steps. They’d killed enough time already, it was time to get to work. That meant observing the mission location and making a plan.
Though the hover taxi ride from the casino had been anything but quiet, Narman was relieved that the ride in the lift up to the landing platform was. Whatever alcohol induced dispute that his two squadmates had was burnt up in the close proximity of a taxi backseat. The lift whirred steadily as it rose through the levels. Eventually it halted and the doors opened, a cool blast of fresh air from the high elevation a welcome greeting. It was a short walk for the trio over to the landing pad where they started. The Colonel activated his commlink and spoke into it.
“Captain Wyvern, please lower the loading ramp.”
“Affirmative.” The Pilot’s response was terse, a practiced trait hardwired over many years. The hydraulics of the ramp hissed as it lowered. Once down, the squad climbed onto the ship one by one. Evelyn watched on the rear camera, and once they were all onboard, lifted the ramp. Just as the last bit of light from the interior of the ship was snuffed out by the closing ramp, the turbolift doors opened once more, and four shadowed figures shuffled onto the platform.
Inside the loading bay, Narman looked between the faces of his two superiors. The relaxed states they had been in at the casino were completely gone, they were back to business as usual. It would be hard to tell they had been drinking at all if he hadn’t seen it first hand. The door leading to the cockpit slid open and Evelyn stepped through, hands behind her back.
“You’ve returned significantly earlier than anticipated. Was the mission a success?” Shanree shook his head.
“We didn’t make it that far.”
“The environment in the casino was tense, with separate altercations happening simultaneously.” The Medic chimed in. “I believe the Colonel thought it would be best to return to the ship and let the tempers die down before continuing the mission.” Evelyn started to speak, but was cut off abruptly by her subordinate, Dusa, on the open comm channel.
“Captain, we just had a proximity alert triggered at the rear of the ship. Looks like four individuals.”
It wasn’t long before Shanree, Narman, and Cassandra were back at the ramp to look down at the newcomers.
“Well, well.” one of the four spoke as he pointed at the Miraluka. “You owe me some credits, my friend. And this ship would be a nice addition.”
Shanree slowly stode down the ramp, raising his arms up horizontally with a shrug. “Come now friend, it was just a simple misunderstanding.”
“Misunderstanding? You humiliated me.” the man spat out as the other three pulled weapons of various melee variety. One had a knuckler, while two others had daggers. “And that, my friend owes something in retur-”
In the blink of an eye, a red and orange fireball struck him in the face. His facial hairs were singed, along with the hair on the front of his scalp. He stumbled backwards while trying to catch his breath. Shanree looked to his left, while Narman looked to his right, both at Cassandra…who was holding another fireball in her hand.
“Wait. Are you…holding…fire?” Narman asked, completely taken aback by this. His gaze was on the red and orange flame.
As the man started to inhale to speak again, she threw another one straight into his face just as he inhaled. The three looked down as he fell to his knees, gasping for air and coughing now that the flames had all but gone down his windpipe. As they were all distacted, Cassandra closed her eyes and a wall of flames grew around the four, encircling them and trapping them.
“Pyrokinesis.” Shanree said quietly, recognizing it almost. “An ancient Elementalism Taldryan force power, if I recall. The Taldrya thought it was all but forgotten after the fall of Karufr and its users having perished in the attack. How she’s managed to learn it though…”
One of the four stood up and advanced to the edge of the flames, her hands in the air. “Please!” she called out, “Forgive us, our friend knew not what he was doing!”
“Seemed like he knew exactly what he was doing.” Cassandra mused as she stepped forward, maintaining her concentration on the flame wall. “I don’t see how he wouldn’t have known, since he was…”
She turned to look at Shanree. “What was the word?”
“Owed.” Shanree added in.
“That’s right. Owed.” she said with a slight cheerful expression. “Just as now, Shanree is owed for you disrupting us.”
She looked back at him once more, with a slight bow. “The show is yours.”
“We’ll do anything, please!” another of the three yelled out, with the last one helping their air deprived friend. “Just…lower the flames and let us out.”
Narman chuckled and crossed his arms. “Right. As soon as we do, you’ll kill us and steal everything. What do you take us for, Jawas?”
Shanree descended the ramp amicably, “Really fellas, we don’t want any trouble. All of this was just… you’re working too hard.”
The four gangsters shuffled backward, unsure of what to make of the man approaching them. The one Shanree had embarrassed at the tables spoke up, “uh, yeah. I agree, the boss didn’t tell us you’d be–”
“Boss?” Shanree kept walking toward them, “He told you about us?”
Shanree looked over his shoulder at Cassandra who nodded and went back up into the ship without a word. Turning back to the four ruffians, Shanree stopped, “Let’s talk about that, yeah?”
Two of the men turned and made to run but the Colonel’s hand was outstretched in an instant. It was as if an unseen elastic band was slowly tugging them backwards despite their scrambling and efforts to get away. The two who hadn’t run watched wide-eyed in astonishment until one of them decided this was his chance to bolt. Shanree flicked his outstretched hand and the two he’d been pulled toward him lazily were let go and an invisible lash took the third’s foot out from under him before he had made it two steps. Overbalanced, and no longer being pulled backward, the first two tumbled to the ground at roughly the same point beside their friend. All three were groaning already when an invisible hand gently pressed them into the duracrete landing pad. The one that had troubled him at the table still watched, wide-eyed, and absolutely astonished.
“Your friends are fine and they’ll continue to be fine so long as you cooperate. We have some questions and all four of you will be joining us aboardship”, Shanree dropped his own physical hand and he allowed the gangsters to climb to their feet.
Suddenly his demeanor changed from friendly and amicable to stern and very pointed. Gone was the soft warmth in his voice, replaced in an instant with a commanding tone, “March, now.”
The four ruffians stumbled over themselves past Shanree and up the ramp towards where Narman stood. As they past Shanree pulled a weapon or two of each, casually tossing each over his shoulder. The men boarded the vessel and were marched to the cargo hold where Cassandra was waiting for them. It would be a long few hours.
————
Later that evening, getting late, the four mission operatives sat around the Upsilon-class shuttle’s barebones mess table. It was a fold out affair that looked as if it had been stamped out of a single piece of cheap Alumisteel and that any one seated around it could easily crumple it with a fist. They were sipping Caf processing what the lengthy interrogation had yielded. No one was happy.
“Our security breach is worse than anyone thought, they knew we were coming”, Cassandra wiped her face to relieve the stress.
Shanree was tense as well, “This mission is scrubbed. It’s a trap, the weapons might not even be here.”
“They said the weapons were here”, Narman spoke over the rim of his cup, contributing to the conversation but not wanting to get drawn into the moping the other two were delving into.
“They said a lot of things, and not all of it added up”, Shanree pointed out, “It’s not worth it, even if they are. We’d be walking into a prepared environment, it’d be suicide.”
Shanree turned to Evelyn, “Pilot, plot us a course back home.”
Evelyn’s eyes met with Shanree. Not that he would know that. Still, eye contact was respectful and to be maintained. She knows she should follow orders and yet she did not want this mission to be a failure.
Or send any of them to their deaths.
“A very well prepared plan that we now know of,” Evelyn started.
“And one that we can rip apart once we put our feelings aside and look at this from another perspective.” She took in a deep sigh and actually made a pained expression on her face for a moment.
“You will have to forgive me on this idea, it was mostly-”
“Mine!” Dusa chimed in, smiling ear from ear as she gave the team thumbs up and a wink. “I got to go get the stuff and I will be riiiiiight back! WE GOT THIS! WE ARE- Right, I’m moving now, Wyvern,” Dusa said sarcastically as she disappeared from view but not before giving the team two thumbs up.
“They do not know about me nor my crew. I can change clothes and meet up with one of them. Right now, Waln, my slicer and technology expert is making me a beacon. It will be remote activated. It will emit high pitch sounds that a lot of species hate enough for them to find where it is coming from and destroy it. When I was watching the body cameras, not only did we get some identities of the Quantum Shadow crew, I noticed there was an unusually high number of Shistaveans, Zygerrians, Kessurians, and Wookies. There is a wedding going on. Now, not all of them react to the same frequency but by my research there is one frequency the majority of them will react to-”
“Got the dress! You are a bit taller and smaller than me so it should fit you fine, with, well, maybe the risk of show your hooch-”
Evelyn cleared her throat as her cheeks flared red but she kept her resting schutta face on. For a moment, the team was silent.
“Oh, this is going to be great,” Cassandra broke the silence with a laugh.
Narman pulled the dingy cloak’s hood further down, obscuring his face the best he could. The drifter he got it from had clearly lived in it for quite some time, but a few bad smells was nothing he couldn’t handle. He traded a handful of credits for it, and the spot, and the drifter skipped down the walkway in search of a quick fix. Now Narman laid on the ground, surrounded by trash and broken bits of equipment the previous resident had gathered, doing his best to not be noticed.
Since his time serving in the Taldryan Republic, these sort of missions were becoming the norm. The plan falls apart and is quickly replaced with absurdity. Truthfully, he was shocked that Evelyn had suggested it. Though he agreed that they shouldn’t abandon the mission, he was unsure about the execution. She didn’t strike him as the ‘undercover’ type. But he didn’t really know her, clearly. Narman was no stranger to stealth and deception; during his time in the military he had gone on a number of classified operations that required proficiency in those skills. However, that was over a decade ago.
A pair of Quantum Shadows passed the Medic as they patrolled down the walkway, continuing to the right and around the corner. About 200 meters to the left, just out of view as the walkway curves slightly, was the doorway to the level 1077 server room. Another trio of gangsters stood guard outside, but there were likely more within, waiting for an ambush. They were in for a hell of a surprise. Narman scanned the vicinity before tapping his commlink.
“I’m in position.”
“Roger, hold position”, Shanree taped his ear as he spoke into the comlink.
Behind him Cass was flicking her fingers impatiently, a small flame would spark to life for an instant before vanishing only to be replaced by the next time her fingers made a snap. She noticed him taking note and stopped, “What? Can’t a girl have a hobby?”
Shanree said nothing, he just pursed his lips and shook his head in good humor. He returned to watching over the approach to the central office housing the servers they needed access to. He and Cassandra were atop a flat roof that overlooked the footpath that led up behind the building. It was unusually busy for what was, ostensibly, a municipal utility building. Sure enough there were dozens of beings milling around, hanging out, playing dice games, and passing out. The smell wafting up from the area suggested they weren’t always so good about relieving themselves in the ‘freshers.
“Colonel, Dusa and I are around the corner and ready when you are”, Evelyn’s voice now came over the comlink.
“Copy. Listen up all– it’s going to be chaotic for a few moments. Keep your head on a swivel, watch each other’s backs, no one gets hurt.” After a round of affirmatives from the team Shanree took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “Alright, execute.”
Two cloaked figures rounded the corner and began approaching the assembly area. Several goons looked up and noticed them, and one of them used the back of his hand on a buddy to alert him as well. Soon, activities ceased and all attention turned to the cloaked figures.
“What’s all this then?” A Zygerrians said with a notable Corsucantii Underworld Accent, “You two lost? Turn around and head back the way you came.”
“Weesa nosa lost, Yousa lost dis tho–” one of the cloaked figures held out their hand.
The Zygerrian looked down and saw a small object there. Puzzled, he reached for it and picked it up out of the stranger’s hand, “I didn’t lose nothin, what’s this?”
He brought it up to his face and examined it more closely, then he turned his head and put it near his ear. The Zygerrian gave it a little shake, but didn’t hear anything– until he did. The alien shrieked in pain and he dropped the Beacon. He was quickly joined by other gang members, Shistaveans, Zygerrians, Kessurians, and even a Wookie, who began howling and dancing in pain. Many of them covered their ears in an attempt to block out the highly unpleasant noise emitted from the Beacon. To Shanree’s ears it was just a barely high-pitched whine he lost track of once the gang members started caterwauling.
When one of the gang members dove for the Beacon, in an attempt to grab it and perhaps toss it somewhere else Shanree reached out with the Force and pulled it away from the guy. Shanree began pushing and pulling the small puck-like Beacon around the assembly area causing the maximum amount of chaos. The affected aliens ran one way and then another seeking a place where the piercing noise seemingly lessened, others ran away down the walkway and away from the central office where the servers were. Caught up to the tumult were some Humans who couldn’t hear the noise and were highly confused why their mates were now running around and acting wild. He lost track of the device when it slid out of view below him, nestling up alongside where a small Loth Cat was napping in and amongst some rubbish bins. It opened its eyes at the small device, and curious, it stood up on all fours and performed a big full-body stretch. The Loth Cat ignored the general mayhem going on and sat before the Beacon eyeing it curiously. It bapped the device twice with a paw, and seeing that it didn’t react, the Loth Cat decided to take the Beacon in its mouth and remove it to someplace more quiet, where it could be examined and played with in a more leisurely location.
A ball of flame lurched past Shanree’s head towards another rooftop. He ducked momentarily, caught off-guard, but quickly noticed the now-dead man with a smoking hole in his chest. A heavy blaster rifle dropped from his hands and clattered to the street below. Cass leaned forward, “I’ll try to warn you next time. Where’d the Beacon get to?”
Shanree quickly scanned the scene below, not sure where to look, but was caught off guard when he sensed the Beacon right away. It was moving, and when he scanned the scene below he caught a glimpse of why, “That Loth Cat has it! Right there!”
Eveleyn, down below, shrugged her cloak back and was suddenly enveloped in an armor of green fire and her companion produced a blaster pistol. Cass acknowledged she saw the Loth Cat loping away with the Beacon, so Shanree leapt down to the street and produced two emerald lightsaber blades from matching Wroshyr wood hilts. Meanwhile, a doctor in a shabby cloak picked his way carefully behind some crates, along a wall, choosing his moments to move carefully so that while chaos unfolded in the middle of the assembly he cautiously approached the now unguarded and unsupervised door to the central office. While everyone else was preoccupied Narman took something from his jacket and pressed it up against the security panel. A few heartbeats later the red ‘locked’ light turned green and the door to the office slid open with a hiss.
Seeing the cat gave Cassandra the most brilliant of ideas, honestly. She glanced around to make sure no one was watching her, and just like that…she disappeared from view.
As Shanree lept down to the street, his lightsabers engaged, he noticed another Loth Cat go running past him towards the other one. It hissed loudly at it, causing the Loth Cat that was playing with the beacon to scamper off. The newcomer glanced back at Shanree.
“Is it being helpful?” he thought to himself as he approached the beacon. But nope. The Loth Cat grabbed the beacon in its mouth and proceeded to run away just as some of the other gang members started to open fire on Shanree. He turned, deflecting the shots away as the chaos now started to reach him once more.
Several more started to chase the Loth Cat in an attempt to catch it, but it kept weaving between their legs and out of reach. Some even fell over as they bent downward far too aggressively. Shanree turned and started to chase as well, however even he was incapable of catching it. At one point when he tried to stop it in its tracks, a gang member stepped right into his path and he caught them instead.
In frustration he threw them to the side, only to see the Loth Cat leap up into an air duct and disappear with the beacon.
“Are you kriffing kidding me!?” Shanree yelled out in frustration, sending his fist into the wall directly below the duct. This mission was nothing but trouble, already they had a chance to recover things thanks to Evelyn but now it was once again out of their grasp. The gang members that remained were just as frustrated, and in that frustration they chose to try and take on Shanree to get rid of that frustration.
Wade turned to step into the room as the door hissed open.
The Loth Cat trotted down the duct and glanced around as it reached various passageways. “Hm. Should be an exit around here somewhere.” it thought to itself as it continued to maneuver around. At one point, it finally found an exit out onto several catwalks not far from an turbolift Once it hopped down, it suddenly morphed into a humanoid form. That of Cassandra, with the beacon in her hand.
“Bingo.” she said joyfully as she tossed the beacon into the air and caught it in her hand. She hated to leave them behind, but the mission was critical and she knew they would be fine. With the mission complete, the backup plan was to rendevous back at the ship and that was what she was going to do. She turned and proceeded towards the turbolift to return back.
The door closed behind Narman with a gentle click, muffling the sounds of combat and chaos that were growing louder by the second. The plan with the beacon had worked surprisingly well, all things considered. He won’t be the weak link. His team was hard at work causing a distraction, and he had no intention of wasting their effort. He had abandoned the drunken fool persona, but held on to the dingy cloak, just in case. Before him was a curving hallway, matching the curve outside, with sleek steel walls and a matte black metal grate floor. Bright white overheard fluorescents illuminated the space.
He pushed ahead, cautiously, with one hand resting on the handle of his blaster, tucked into the back of his belt. After descending a small staircase, an open security room came into view around the bend. Two gangsters paced anxiously within, watching the conflict outside on the console. One noticed the movement in the hallway and raised his blaster threateningly.
“Oi, you hold it right there!” The other gangster whipped around and also raised his blaster. They looked scared. Narman fell right back into the character, stumbling a few feet to the side and using the wall for support.
“Mjus lookin’ fer the pissah..” The Medic mumbled, continuing to move forward slowly.
“Just stay where you are! How’d he get in here?” The first guard turned to ask the second, who tapped a button on the console.
“I don’t know! Everything out there is-” Narman didn’t let him finish. He drew his blaster and put two shots into each of them with trained precision. One dropped to the floor and the other slumped over the console. He tucked the blaster back into his waist and ran over, grabbing the dead gangster and sliding him to the floor next to his ally. A quick pat down of the body and he found what he was looking for: an access keycard. He inserted it into the console and quickly scanned through the files, searching for the footage that started this whole mess.
“Finally!” He exclaimed out loud as the file appeared on screen. He promptly deleted it, wiping the system of its existence. Then he took a few steps back and drew his blaster, firing a bevy of shots into the console. He didn’t stop until it was a sparking, smoking ruin. Narman holstered his blaster and pulled the cloak tight, then headed for the exit. Hopefully the rest of his team would be waiting for him at the rendezvous point.
——————
Narman ran up the ramp onto the shuttle, removing the dirty cloak and tossing it to the platform. As he entered the cargo bay, he saw both the former Supreme Chancellor and Colonel Argentin already inside, both still catching their breath. They must have arrived only moments before him. The lift began to close as Evelyn’s voice came over the comm.
“Everyone onboard? Good. Moving out.” No sooner had the ramp closed than the ship shuddered from takeoff.
“Mission successful?” Shanree asked aloud, not turning to address the Medic directly.
“Yes sir. Footage - and console - destroyed. No trace.” Narman replied, removing his blaster and setting it down in the seat beside him. Shanree didn’t respond, just nodded his head in approval. He looked over to Cassandra, who gave him a small smile and nod as well. The Medic leaned his head back against the hull of the ship and closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath.