Warlord Vincent Brujah sat at the command chair at the table within the War Room of Steelstrike Garrison. Noticeably missing was his usual counterpart, the Mandalorian Jaz Holden. The younger man still resided within the recovery center of Gooi-Moord on the Taldrayan system Kasiya. The previous mission had nearly killed him, and Vincent had given the staff at the hospital the time that they needed to ensure that Jaz returned to form. Still, he seethed at the memory of the event every time he thought about it.
At least the mission ended up being successful. Gans Hruber was captured and handed over to the ISB for interrogation. While the tactics of the ISB were second to nearly none, Vincent had seen to it himself to “interrogate” the karking fool, going so far as to use his connection with the Force to burn the man starting with the tips of his toes and working his way up his body until he talked. Talk he did, and as a result Vincent now had the name of a turncoat Imperial spy who was working for the Collective and the system that he was primarily working out of.
He had discussed the matter with Empress Rayne. While an orbital strike sounded tempting to the both of them, the logical conclusion was to put a bounty on the man’s head. It wouldn’t just be mercenaries that were after him. Vincent had pinged the comm frequencies of every member of the Clan and provided them with the opportunity to join the cause. Now, all he could do was sit here in the Rock and wait for the arrival of those who would seek out further revenge.
A timid woman walked into the room rolling a cart with her. It was still the early morning, and Vincent had sprung for two large pots of caf, some fried and sugared dough bites, as well as a plate of assorted fresh fruits and carafes of fresh fruit juice. He nodded to the woman as she set them up on a separate table behind him and then quickly made her way out of the room.
Brujah checked the time. Only five minutes remained before the meeting was set to start. He tapped his fingers on the table as he awaited the arrival of those who would stand for the Empire.
The door slid open as the bulking frame of Guardsman Tazrek Vashu entered the room. While his height was tall for a Rodian he was shorter than most humanoids. “Tazrek Vashu, reporting as ordered.” He saluted and walked crisply over to the Hand of the Empress presenting his orders.
He stood at attention with the ease of a sentient who had been trained since birth to serve Scholae Palatinae.
Vincent raised an eyebrow at the Rodian. He wasn’t opposed to the formaility, just hadn’t gotten used to those so… committed to it. He gave him a light salute back without standing.
“At ease, Guardsman. There are drinks and food on the table to the back if you are interested. Otherwise, have a seat and we’ll begin when the others arrive.”
Tazrek had not expected the informality of the situation. His antennas twitched as he considered the choices and whether all these covert ops would have catering.
After a moment he decided it would be better to take a seat. He didn’t want to be the first one to eat amongst what may be other leaders of the clan.
As he took a seat in the overly padded chair he idly situated his feet so he could do calf stretches.
Kole gave a quick polish brush to his boots, stood up and made sure his uniform and flight suit armor sat correctly before looking at himself in the mirror. This was his first mission since his “Master” had disappeared. He had been assigned to the Sith Sykes Jade as the man’s personal pilot for years and now that he was gone, Kole wasn’t sure how to think about his new role. He had been assigned to a special group within the Clan supporting ISB operations.
“Let’s go ID.” He spoke and the little droid gave a sinister blip as it floated over and attached itself to the back of Koles armor. He made is way towards the command room, his helmet under his left arm. As the doors opened, his blue eyes took in the sights in front of him. Nervously he made his way to the table and saluted the PCON. “Major Newberry reporting, Sir.”
Sýrra entered the room accompanied by KX-series droid with an imperial issued data-pad at her side as she reinserted her code cylinder into her pocket. She and her droid placed themselves quietly along the wall and stood in accordance with protocol, prim and proper and observed the room as new arrivals made their way in.
Vincent watched as the two new arrivals entered the room (four if you count the droids, which he certainly didn’t). He lazily returned the salute of Major Newberry, and then eyed Sýrra. He pointed to the table behind him and the refreshments.
“I can only really speak for myself, but I do hate these morning meetings. If you’d care for something to eat or drink while we wait for everyone to shuffle in, feel free. If not, have a seat. We will get started soon.”
<@800517155389046794> <@971875986654257162>
Kole dropped his salute and looked around. He wasn’t used to this. Lord Jade had been a hard taskmaster but fair to him. “Ok.” He muttered. He stepped to the side and found a cup to pour some caf into
The doors to the war room slid open with a quiet hiss as Morvyn stepped inside. His eyes scanned the room. He noted that there was no one he knew in those already gathered before settling on the Hand of the Empress at the head of the table. He inclined his head respectfully before moving across the room.
He paused briefly at the refreshments table and poured himself a cup of caf before turning slightly back toward the others. I don’t recognize anyone except the Hand. He made note of the fact that his usual annoyances were not in attendance. His attention returned to Brujah as he took a small sip as he settled into his seat.
Sýrra gave a simple and respectful nod as she made her way to a seat and placed herself there with her KX unit standing next to her.
She made note of the respective members present in the room.
Kole. She didn’t know much about him personally, only what little there was on his file. He is known for a few things but he was most notably Sykes Jade’s personal pilot for quite some time.
Morvyn. A notoriously short tempered Sith who has made an example of himself on a few occasions and lost his arm to none other than the Justicar’s daughter herself. Though she also knew nothing about Morvyn personally, she found him to be foolish.
Tazrek. He had made quite a name for himself as guardsman go. She had seen him around very briefly on a few occasions but never spoke to him. Being the personal guard of the Emperor is quite a feat.
Steelstrike Garrison, Reiden mused to himself. I never thought that I would find myself here again.
He vaguely remembered the way to the war room but asked for directions just in case and followed them. As he made his way through the halls, he thought about the last time he had been here, for some official thing back when he was the Quaestor of Acclivis Draco. Of course, this made him think of his own headquarters, Havoc Base, which was named after the base he had as Battleteam Leader of Krennic years before that. He had a lot of memories there and was glad that many of the troopers were still around and valued members of his usual team.
He shook off the memories that had just begun to form and reached into his pocket to produce an astrolabe. He held the device to a sensor on the wall beside a slot for a code cylinder. A moment later, a chirp was heard and a message flashed on the screen before the door opened.
Identity confirmed. Palpatine authorization recognized.
He stepped into the room and Blitz hovered beside him, quickly moving to the opposite wall and closer to the ceiling to keep the space clear - they didn’t know who might be showing up. He immediately saw Vincent and inclined his head to the Proconsul. His eyes scanned the room and he spotted Morvyn next. That made for at least one familiar face. He didn’t know who the pilot was, nor the Twi'lek, but did recognize her uniform as belonging to the Imperial Security Bureau. Whoever she was, he would have to remember to ask some of his friends there about her when this was all done. There was no telling when it could be helpful to have someone to call upon for a task.
Then he caught sight of the Rodian. Tazrek Vashu, he recalled. The Guardsman had been assigned to him before, although they only had a professional relationship, if one could even call it that. He loathed being guarded, preferring to handle things on his own or picking the person himself. But he understood the importance of having someone close by, and also keeping up appearances. The man had a good record and was competent. He nodded to him as he found an empty seat.
This could turn out to be a good team after all.
Vincent looked back at the table of food and drinks as everyone began to find seats. The freezer in his personal chambers was still filled nearly to the brim with food from his previous party at the Wolf’s Den that would have otherwise been wasted. Now the crew here had mostly avoided his kind gesture as if he had poisoned the lot of it. He turned in his chair and grabbed a carafe of juice, pouring himself a glass before turning back to the table. He took a big drink and then cleared his throat, setting the half empty glass on the table before he spoke.
“Thank you for joining me this morning. Though most of you were not with us on our recent mission, you have no doubt heard the rumblings of it. We have captured Gans Hruber and for the past several days he has been in ISB custody.”
With the press of a button on the table the lights in the room dimmed and a holo projector showed an image of Gans in what would have certainly been better times. A large grin covered the man’s face as he held a slugthrower in his hand. A moment later the image switched to one of the same man, now imprisoned. He wore a raggedy brown jumpsuit that looked to be scorched up to the knees. What could be seen of his legs looked terribly burned.
“Usually, I would allow the ISB to do their work and gather any intelligence left within the man’s miniscule brain. However, I took this mission a bit… personally. It only took me two interrogation sessions with him to extract some useful information from him.” The Sith smiled a sick smile as he recalled the interrogation sessions. “Rumor has it that he wasn’t even questioned in the first session.”
His eyes seemed to sparkle just a bit red, but he quickly pushed that away and regained his composure.
“During our second meeting he gave me the information that I wanted. The name of the contact that was feeding The Collective with information on Imperial weapon and material shipments.”
The Sith reached down and grabbed his glass of juice once again, taking another big drink before placing it back on the table.
“Unfortunately, it is one of our own. A rogue ISB agent that was tasked with hunting down and infiltrating The Collective forces. His name is Iferick Telgorian.”
The image on the holo projector changed to show the target. He was a pale white skinned man with long jet black hair, red eyes, and pointed ears.
“As you can see, he is a Nagai, which means he is both quick with his reflexes and very convincing with his speech. A perfect candidate for the ISB. It would seem that he was doing his mission well, but was somehow found out by The Collective. Rather than be executed, he was given a deal to supply them with information on our freighters or anything else that would weaken us.”
A sneer crossed the face of the Hand of the Empress as he continued.
“He has tried, and due to the nature of his persuasion, has been mostly successful in playing both sides. He still regularly checks in with the ISB via secure communications, but the intelligence he has been feeding us has become unreliable. He may very well have played this game for years if not for our successful capture of Gruber.”
He looked over the members of the party and gave them a moment to take in what they had been told.
“I have more information to share, but before we move forward. Are there any questions?”
Kole sat down at the briefing table and listened to the briefing the Hand gave. With a flick of his finger ID1OT detached itself from his back and plugged into a terminal to download the relevant data of the briefing.
He raised his hand and when the Hand nodded to him he spoke. “Sir, is this a kill or capture mission? Where do we need to go and what environment can we expect?” He looked around at the other members of the team and considered them. “Is this supposed to happen quietly or is this a proper strike team that will go in loud? What kind of support assets can we expect?”
The Warlord turned his head towards Kole, his face stoic.
“This is a kill mission. We have no further use for Telgorian and he has proven that he cannot be trusted with our secrets. For that, he must pay the ultimate price.”
Vincent slowly turned his head, meeting the eyes of each individual at the table as he continued.
“Our intelligence has pinpointed his location to Salis D'aar an Bakura. He is maintaining his secrecy within the confines of the capital city, blending in within plain sight among the many travelers from nearby Batuu. The Empress and I have considered many options for disposing of him. We even briefly considered an orbital strike on his location, but we cannot risk starting a war with tensions so high in the Galaxy at this time”.
The Warlord sighed. He really had enjoyed the thought of raining death on the planet.
“So, this will be a quiet bounty mission consisting of those of you at this table. We cannot offer much in the way of support, as it would cause too much suspicion. Instead, those of you here will be transported to Bakura. You will work together as a team to hunt down Telgorian and eliminate him. If all goes well, you will leave the planet as quietly as you arrived. Upon your return to Seraph, you will be rewarded for your efforts.”
Kole brought his datapad up and searched quickly the planet Bakura. A horrified expression crossed his face and he looked at ID10T. “Looks like I have to keep you in hiding buddy.” The Bakruans had a strong hatefulness to droids. He looked up at the Hand. “Sir, there looks to still be a good amount of Ssi-Ruuk in the area of Bakura. It’s still a battleground. Do we have access to the armory? Because as Imperials we will not be welcome there. Do we have weapons that can even defeat them if we run into them?”
Brujah raised an eyebrow at the pilot and scoffed.
“The Ssi-Ruuk were defeated and run off years ago by the Alliance. I can’t absolutely guarantee that the planet is totally free of them, or that they aren’t somewhere nearby plotting a new attack, but I think you’ll find the planet quite hospitable.”
He raised his glass of juice, finishing the rest of it.
“However, considering all things, it would be a good idea to open the armory and stores to you all. Before we launch, you will be given access so you can make yourselves less conspicuous and better armed, if you so choose.”
Kole sat back and nodded. He would have to change into a new armor set and he could feel himself becoming uncomfortable with this mission. This was not what was trained for.
“Thank you, Sir.” His mind was racing. What was he doing here? Why had the Clan called on him. He was just a pilot after all
Tazrek glanced at his armor and cloak. It was all he’s worn since he graduated from the cadet uniform. After a while he shrugged. He’d be fine. He wasn’t the only Rodian out there wearing a cloak after all.
“Sir, do you have a tracking fob for our query or a local contact we will be meeting?”
Reiden listened and nodded. The situation was understandable and the plan made sense. There was no point in drawing more unwanted attention than would be necessary if they could help it. And the pilot had raised good points. He was no stranger to hunting down bounties, and working in the Outer Rim was usually better in that regard. People see things go down and don’t ask as many questions, keep to themselves. Still, he looked at his own armor for a moment.
“This is a bounty mission, so I feel the need to ask this,” he said, turning his gaze to Vincent. “Exactly how quiet do we have to be, and how inconspicuous?”
Tazrek pondered this thought as well. “Sir, if you don’t have a contact…I know someone who is there that could assist us.”
Vincent turned his attention first to Tazrek, and then to Reiden, then back to Tazrek as they made their queries.
“We believe that Telgorian has disabled the tracking beacon that the ISB uses to monitor their agents. In recent communications he noted that it had a mechanical failure, but we believe that to be a cover. His communications have been traced, however. Every time he contacts us he is within the Danisai Ring, usually within one of the cantinas close to the Old Hemei Gardens.”
The Warlord thought to himself for a moment before continuing.
“We have avoided sending any further ISB agents to the system for now. We don’t want to spook him and cause him to go on the run deeper into Wild Space where we may never find him again. If your contact is one that can be trusted, and one that won’t ruin this operation by outing themself, it would be good to have a set of eyes on the ground that could assist with the hunt.”
Brujah turned to face Reiden.
“Just quiet enough to get the job done without finding yourselves in the Salis D'aar Penitentiary. Our presence on the planet shouldn’t raise many suspicions among the locals. They are used to travelers, and it is Wild Space. The planet is used to violence and disputes, but we do not want to make this look like an official Imperial mission. We want to get in and out before the Collective realize that their double agent has been eliminated.”
<@232396983854301187>
“This contact is trust worthy and comes with the full support of the Empress.” Tazrek looked around the room. “We should get going.”
Sýrra had been inputting data from the briefing while listening quietly.
“I concur. The longer we sit here, the longer this takes and I suspect her majesty would like this done as quick as possible.” She said plainly.
Morvyn watched the last of the briefing in silence before his gaze settled on the fading image of Telgorian. “Your contact may help,” he said toward Tazrek. “But a man who has played both the ISB and the Collective this long will already assume someone is hunting him.”
He rose from his seat and placed both palms on the table in front of him. “This sounds like fun.”
“I assure you, no one will assume my contact is hunting them. In fact, I’d assume he’s already deep under cover.”
Vertical Transition Wipe
Tazrek led the group of assembled humanoids through the Bakurian street. “He’s inside.” Tazrek gestured towards the illuminated signage of a local tavern.
As the group entered the haze was that of any other tavern. Denizens of all shapes, sizes, genders, and species crowded around tables, booths, and a long bar. It was exactly what they expected when they were told a contact was waiting for them. Where else would a character so cloaked in the shadows of intelligence and governmental intrigue to conceal themselves?
Tazrek’s bulky frame allowed him to wedge a path towards the booth in the rear of the tavern. The lighting flickered in the lone, dust covered, bulb hanging from the ceiling. A lone character was seated in the booth from what Tazrek and his companions could tell.
“Ah, you got my message.” Tazrek pulled back his hood. His antenna twitched. “I present, Derc Kast, my contact.”
<@693983046197706842>
Derc looked up, his sharp green eyes peered over the rim of his tortoise shell sunglasses. His simple clothing belied the celebrity’s typical “center of attention” presence. He appraised the group for a split second. Familiar faces, some. Others, unknown to him.
“Sit down.” He commanded. “Before you cause a scene.”
He gestured to the open booth. There’d be room enough for them all to sit, if they didn’t mind surrendering a bit of legroom.
“Non-humans tend to stick out around here and the last thing I need is to be recognized.” He added.
He waited for the group to scooch down the vinyl seats until they were in the round.
“You lot are a long way from home and already calling in favors. While I’m on holiday, nonetheless. So, let’s make this quick. What brings you to Bakura?” He said, leaning into his glass of brandy.
“Iferick Telgorian.” Tazrek spoke as quietly as he could be to heard above the den of the tavern.
“Bless you.” Derc paused, realizing the Rodian had not just sneezed.
Derc looked over the group once again. He’d had passing exchanges with Tazrek. He was one of the Justicar’s hounds, when he still fancied himself as Emperor. Reiden and Vincent he knew well. He looked at the other human among them, he didn’t know him by name, but reckoned he could read him well enough.
The rigid posture said military. His short trimmed hair screamed pilot. Derc half smiled.
The others were a mystery to him.
“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” He added.
“He’s a wanted man. Wanted by the Empress.” Tazrek tried to keep his voice down with everyone crammed in around him at the booth.
“Oh, he must be a very bad man indeed. Listen…Bakurans have a keen eye for folks that don’t belong…” Derc looked directly into Tazrek’s lifeless black eyes.
He pushed his sunglasses back up onto the bridge of his nose and leaned back.
“Country folk would call the constables, swiftly. Sure, tourists make their way into the Arden ring from time to time, but your guy isn’t here for sightseeing. He wouldn’t venture far beyond the D'aarmont”
Derc slid a small holoprojector across the table. It blinked to life revealing a miniaturized version of Bakura’s capital. The city was sprawling, far larger than a pidling outer rim outpost. Comprised of 3 concentric rings, the city was a marvel of civic planning. It sat atop a massive plateau, split by two winding rivers. To the south, a massive starport sent and received a neverending parade of repulsor trams. Outside the city, a massive oblate building sat as a towering monument of Bakuran pride.
“Don’t have much for you. But I know that he’s stuck to the Bakur ring, near the spaceport, to the south. The guy is a pro. He doesn’t keep a set schedule. Hard to track.”
Derc lifted his glass and sipped.
“Its mostly light industry out there. Plenty of places to hide out. Especially, after Bakur Mining Group moved to up to the Arden. That side of town can be a little rough, miners and factory workers. It’s lit up with red lights.”
Derc tipped his glasses down again.
“You have questions.” He said confidently.
Kole looked at the man and sipped at the local brew that he had picked up. The sunglasses and bomber jacket he had picked up from his footlocker covered his white shirt and shoulder holster well. He had been smart enough not to bring his ID tag necklace with him.
He tried to keep his voice low to prevent others hearing but still kept his eyes out for anyone that might “What can we expect from the local security force on the mining guild? Or is mostly just city cops?
“It’s not so much a guild as it is a monopoly. Bakur Mining founded this world. To wear their badge is to be an extension of Bakura herself. They’re trained well enough, but they aren’t professional soldiers. But, they’re hardworking folks just like the rest. A little…grease…goes a long way.” Derc said.
“They work long hours. Long shifts with no namana would make any Bakuran cranky. A little nip of some namana liquor and a handful of credits turns eyes away from corners they should have been watching.” He added.
He nodded a bit and settled back into his seat. “Good thing they gave us a good account to work with.” He continued to study the hologram. “What’s the best way in, do ya think? Speeder or just go ahead and land at the spaceport? What if any Ssi-Ruuk presence has been going on?”
“That’s not a word you want to be throwing around here, friend.” Derc replied curtly.
“The P'w'eck certainly don’t like mention of their former slave masters. Nor do Bakurans. This world is Bakura, not Xwhee. Remember that.” Derc chewed down his temper.
“Perhaps we can come back to how we can move freely through the city without attracting attention.” Tazrek flexed unconsciously trying to straighten his shoulders.
“I’d say get yourself a couple speeders. Bakuran repulsors are the best in the galaxy. Even the old models still run great. Couple thousand credits will get you something inconspicuous.” Derc said, pounding down the last of his brandy and letting the verbal slight slip from his mind.
“I assume you have a seller.”
“I don’t do inconspicuous when it comes to my rides…” Derc replied.
“You’re on your own for that.” He added.
“Don’t you…” Tazrek fumbled over the title he had thought to say.
“I’m not giving you my Street Boss, bug brain. Besides, I have a holoshoot and a celebrity polo game tomorrow. I gotta show up in style.” Derc replied.
Tazrek recognized this tone. He’d heard it during nearly all the conversations between Thran and Kamjin. “Fine.”
Kole rolled his eyes at the man. Who does this guy think he is? He thought to himself. “Anything we should concern ourselves with if we end up able to grab this guy? Air defense or anything like that?”
“Assuming you didn’t fly in on a bantha… Nothing you can’t handle, champ. Simple AA, some patrol craft. Try spinning. That’s a neat trick.” Derc said
“If you manage to get out of atmo and you see a cruiser sized vessel…maybe fly a bit faster. Bakuran ships aren’t like Imperial or New Rep craft. They’re compact and fast. Get to your jump point and get out a-s-a-f-p.” he added
Tazrek turned to his companions. “We should get moving. I’m not certain there’s more help to be found here than what’s been offered and our query will soon be aware of our presence here.”
“Reiden…Keep both eyes on these galoops. Make sure they don’t mess this up…There’s a good man.” Derc patted on the table with his palms, affirming Tazrek’s declaration.
“Well…good luck to you all. Undoubtedly, you’ll need it. Adieu and good evening.” He said with a smile before pushing himself free of the booth.
He hesitated for a fraction of a fraction of a second, as if hoping one of them would call out begging for his help. It didn’t come. Their loss. He carried his veiled anonymity out of the bar behind his dark sunglasses. He disappeared into the streets of his home world, back to sorting whatever matters had instigated the return of Bakura’s prodigal son.
Vincent nodded appreciatively to Derc as he hopped out of the booth and made his way out of the tavern. He then gave the group a look over, making sure to stop his head turn briefly on Kole and give him a clear “told ya so” look. The Sith pulled a datapad from his pocket and began entering some information. After a moment he looked up from the pad and spoke, his voice now returning to its normal volume.
“Well, Derc was right about at least one thing. Bakura is known for their repulsors. It is the home of Bakur RepulsorCorp. It shouldn’t be that difficult to find a speeder or two around here.”
Almost as quickly as he had finished the last sentence a man approached them with a big smile.
“I couldn’t help but overhear you, friend. Looking for speeders are you?”
Vincent’s gaze turned from the group to the bold man that had approached them. He raised an eyebrow and then nodded at him.
“Wonderful! I happen to know of a place where you could acquire whatever it is that suits your needs. Exit the bar, hang a right, follow the street three blocks down and on the left you’ll find Herould’s Landspeeder and Repulsorlift Emporium! You can’t miss it!“
Vincent looked at the man skeptically.
“And to what do we owe this information?”
The man smiled back.
“Oh, let’s just say that I’m an investor. They make credits, I make credits, you get the craft you need for… whatever it is you are doing here.”
“Well then, thank you for the information.” the Sith said, waving a hand at his side. “You will forget you ever saw us here.”
The man’s smile went blank and he repeated the word back at Vincent before turning and walking to the bar. Vincent turned back to the group.
“You heard the man. We better get moving.”
The walk was just long enough for Tazrek to begin longing for some cardio. As they rounded the last corner what could best be described as partially inflated Kowakian monkey-lizards with their long ears and gangly arms being inflated, waving, and deflating. It was hypnotic in its shock and awe on the senses.
Strobe lights pulsed to the beat of some hidden music. Tazrek looked at the people inside the dealership where an overly enthusiastic salesman appeared to be shouting to be heard. The potential patrons tilted there head. Shook it and opened the door to leave.
The street was bombarded with the haunting tunes of Zax Keevo’s Acid Fizzz music. Tavrek’s antenna drooped.
“This can’t be the best option.”
Reiden recognized the music as soon as the door opened. He was unable to stop an involuntary eye twitch and he let out a groan. He remembered the Trandoshan that made the music and had been wanted by Imperial authorities. He couldn’t recall the exact reasoning for it, but he did remember rumors going around that it was specifically because of his music. And later rumors that he had disappeared. Whether he was in hiding, had been captured, or killed, he didn’t know. Nor did he particularly care, if he was being honest about it. He had always wondered if the musician had some sort of criminal ties as well.
He pushed all that aside and shook his head, stepping forward. “We need transport and we don’t know where else to look. We’re already here, so it’s as good a place as any. May as well just get it over with so we can move on. We don’t need the best option, just the quickest. Even if they do have horrible taste in music,” he reasoned, taking considerable effort to say the last word.
Sýrra and her KX unit followed in behind everyone else. She only barely heard what Reiden had said.
“Reiden is correct,” the Twi’lek spoke in her thick native accent.
We only need temporarily stability and speed to get to our destination. However, time is running out and we need to make a decision quickly. She thought to herself without a change of expression.
Tazrek rubbed his snout. None of these people knew how to negotiate. Now these sleemos would jack the prices cause they knew they were in need of a speeder.
From within the building a man took a look outside the window as he was making rounds on the showroom floor. He almost kept walking but then did a double take at the group standing outside. A huge smile crossed his face. He straightened his violet shirt and took a look at his receding brown hairline in the reflection of the window. He brushed some of the hair from the back of his head forward with his hand before he popped out the door at nearly a running pace. As the door whooshed open the group noticed that the song had changed.
”I said ooooh ooooh, come on baby turn the lights off…”
The music was abruptly interrupted as the door closed and the man approached the group.
“Well, hello friends!! What a beautiful day for speeder shopping, and you’ve come to the right place!”
He reached out and grabbed Tazrek’s hand and shook it firmly and furiously.
“The name is Halvin Cobbes, and speeders are my specialty. So, what are you fine folks looking for? Something fast? Something sexy? Something to party in? We. Have. It. All!”
From the back, Vincent sighed and stared at the man, completely unimpressed. He’d let the group do the talking, unless they found themselves in over their heads.
Halvin looked around the group taking note of all the members until he felt a very distinct crushing pain in his hand. He looked down at his hand with a very visible mix of shock and fear covering his face. He then looked up to the Rodian who sneered at him. Quickly Cobbes let out an audible yelp and jerked his hand away from Tazrek. He used his other hand to wipe some sweat from his forehead as he shook the likely injured hand. For his part, he did his best to play it off as best he could, but it was very clear that he was in pain.
“Wowzers! That’s quite a grip you have there!! Work out a lot?” he said with a very forced chuckle.
From the back of the group Vincent smiled at the man’s agony. Maybe this Rodian wasn’t so bad.
Morvyn followed the group in silence. Observing this group of unfamiliar people. The Rodian was interesting to say the least, but a little up tight.
He wanted to speak up, but was more curious to see how this played out. For now he remained hooded and in the back just in front of Vincent.
“Lieutenant, Would it not be faster if we just took it by force? We certainly have the capabilities, given our group’s collective abilities.” The KX unit spoke.
“Quiet. We do what we are commanded.” Sýrra replied quietly.
Morvyn began to get irritated this was taking too long, but wouldn’t step out of line. From the back of the group he channeled the Force and focused on Halvin.
”You are going to freely give us all Bakuran repulsors that won’t draw attention and run well.” Morvyn repeated these words under his breath a few times until he saw them sink in to the merchant’s head.
The hooded Togruta remained still while the others continued their conversation.
Halvin’s facial expression went blank. His body shook ever so slightly, as if he was trying to fight off whatever it was that was influencing the decision he was about to make, but it was of no use. After a moment, he smiled and looked to the hooded Togruta.
“Tell you what. I’m going to freely give you all Bakuran repulsors that won’t draw attention and run well. Follow me.”
He led the group behind the building to a small warehouse. He pressed a combination of buttons on the keypad next to the large entry door and it whooshed open. Within the building was a large number of speeders and repulsorlifts. He pointed to a corner of the building where a group of about 10 T-85 speeder bikes sat.
“They aren’t much, and they aren’t armed, but if you’re looking to be inconspicuous, these should do the trick.”
“Odd thing for a salesman to say. They’re not armed. Why would he assume his customers would need that?” Tazrek squinted at the man. Shrugging it off, he moved to take the driver seat given he’d spent the last few years driving people around on guard duty.
He popped the locks on the speeder he got in and gestured for everyone who could fit to get into his.
Morvyn watched the exchange in silence as Halvin led them to the warehouse. The moment the man turned away, the Togruta allowed the tension in the Force to fade. His eyes drifted over the line of speeder bikes.
“Good enough,” he said simply as he stepped toward one of the bikes. His gaze briefly followed the merchant before returning to the group. “Let’s not give him time to reconsider his generosity.” Morvyn swung onto the speeder, ignited the engine, and gave it a couple revs. He positioned the bike the corner of the building while he waited for everyone else to be ready.
Vincent looked over the group, nodding along with what Morvyn had said.
“He’s right. That trick won’t last forever. Everyone grab a bike, and let’s get out of here.”
The Sith hopped onto one of the T-85s and fired up the engine. He wasn’t much of a pilot, but how hard could it be? With a press of a lever with his foot the speeder was in gear. He watched as the others hopped onto their own bikes.
“Alright… to the Bakur Ring. I’ll lead the way, stay close, and don’t do anything stupid that might get us discovered.”
Before Vincent went to leave, he waved a hand at Halvin.
“You will forget every detail you know about us. When your bosses ask where the speeders went, you will tell them that you donated them to local children.”
Halvin repeated the words back to the Warlord. Vincent was satisfied for now. He turned to the group and pointed to the door.
“Let’s roll!”
He gunned the throttle on his bike so hard that the craft quickly lurched forward but then stalled out. He never turned to face the group, instead, he started the craft again and took off, more gently turning the throttle this time.
Vincent led the group through the streets until the pale yellow lights of the Danisai Ring switched to the deep red lights of the Bakur Ring. He took them South, as Derc had recommended. After a short and mostly uneventful venture, they found themselves in the extended parking area of the enormous starport that Kast had mentioned before. They all parked their bikes and hopped off.
The area was bustling with activity. Ships were near constantly shooting off into orbit, while others slowly descended into the landing area port. Even the parking lot itself was busy with travellers and locals alike. Some of the members of the team got their first real looks at P'w'eck as the brown colored saurians moved to and fro.
The group received some odd glances from local security forces, but none approached them, at least not yet. Vincent looked the group over. He took in a deep breath and spoke.
“Kast hasn’t steered us wrong yet. If his words continue to match reality, Telgorian should be somewhere nearby. I suggest we grease some hands, as Derc recommended. See what information you can gather from the locals if you give them a bit of incentive.”
He gazed over the group.
“And for kark’s sake, I don’t mean to actually grease up their digits… credits talk in an area like this one where industry is king. Everyone is looking to make a living. Making that a bit easier for them might just garner you some information on where we can find our Nagai.”
The Sith pulled a deathstick from a pocket on his belt and fired it up. He took a large pull from it and felt himself almost immediately relaxing.
“I’ll stay here for now and make sure no one runs off with our bikes. I suggest you all get to work.”
Kole looked at Vincent with disgust as he lit the death stick. What is it with these Sith and their drug use? he wondered to himself. His former “Master” had been an avid user as well and he truly did not understand their obsession with them.
He dismounted his speeder bike and took in the scenery. The little P’w’ecks were strange to him and gave him an uncomfortable feeling watching their strange gait. He shook his head and looked at the rest. “I think the local security office might be the best option to start looking.”
Tazrek had been in these situations before. Information was all around them though most of it would be absolute drivel. They needed to move quickly. Already he could feel the digits rolling off the chronometer. If he had the words to name the feeling he’d have known it as anxiety.
For all the high praise that Derc had given them about Balmorra it was the same as any other planet in the galaxy. There were those living in poverty trying to eek out a living near the local law enforcement office.
Turning, Tazrek scowled at the building. Naturally there were also those seeking to reach beyond their station in life. Tazrek’s heart beat faster as he looked between the gutter and the almost unnaturally clean law enforcement building.
“Give me a moment.” He left his companions and entered the building. The Force led him to a specific person. Unshaven, clothes in disarray, chewing on some sort of sweetened dough that was covered in more sugar than any sentient being needed to consume.
Tazrek met his eyes. His armor spoke more than his words. The Rodian gestured towards the corridor and the man followed. In the packed corrider their conversation wasn’t heard. Nor was the slight of hand that deposited the healthy weight of credits into the man’s breast pocket.
A grin, a hand shake, and the deal was done. Tazrek returned to his companions. “I have the location.”
Vincent raised an eyebrow at the Rodian, tossing his deathstick to the ground and crushing it with his foot. Just that quickly he had gotten a location? Perhaps he was more useful than he looked. The Warlord waved Tazrek over and listened as he gave him the address. Without hesitation, Vincent entered the coordinates into his datapad and pulled it up on a map. He grinned.
“Well, if your information is good, and that’s probably a pretty big if, he’s based out of what looks to be an abandoned warehouse about two blocks from here. Barely a big enough walk to get your heart rate up. No need to take the bikes, they’d just alert him to your presence.”
Vincent pressed a combination of buttons on his datapad and nearly simultaneously every member of the team got a buzz on their respective devices. The information provided showed the location of the warehouse as well as satellite and ground level imagery of the building. It was a fairly large building, but it looked to be only one story tall. The windows were boarded up, but the door appeared to have the boards removed from it.
“Alright, folks. Time to earn those credits.” he smirked. “I’ll be here waiting. If you find yourselves in an emergency situation, ping my comms. Otherwise, I’ll be making sure we have a clear path to our transport out of here.”
He placed the datapad back into a pocket of his robes.
“My suggestion is you go in quiet, but make it hot in there real quick. Remember, he’s smart… and convincing. Don’t give him the chance to talk his way out of his fate. When the deed is done, get an image or ten of the body to return to the ISB for confirmation. If all goes well, you all walk away with a nice pocket full of credits. Now get to work.”
Tazrek starred at the building, his antenna twitching a familiar rhythm.
Visions of a possible future flashed through his mind. Exhaling, he shared this with his companions and, taking the saber polearm hilt from where it attached to his back, did some casual curls as he prepared for the fight.
Morvyn’s gaze rested on the warehouse as he went still, letting the world around him settle. The hollow structure of his montrals picked up faint shifts in the air, subtle disturbances that did not belong to an empty building. Something inside had moved recently.
“This feels like a trap,” he said. “Except the one caught won’t be us.”
His attention shifted briefly to Tazrek as the Rodian prepared himself. His quiet focus and readiness not going unnoticed. I like this guy. Let’s see how well he fights. Morvyn returned his gaze to the warehouse, his mechanical hand flexing once at his side before grabbing his lightsaber hilt. “Let’s end this.”
Tazrek felt the burn in his biceps…it was time. He gave the hand signal that he was going to go in.
The door seemed to be safe. No wiring other sophisticated trap was set. The Rodian placed his hand on the door and opened it.
He felt the stab in his brain the moment after he had pushed the door inward. Fool of a novice, they had set a basic noise trap. Some sort of wrench was falling through the air.
Tazrek reacted on instinct. He kicked out his boot, bouncing the heavy device back into the air where he snatched it with his hand.
Exhaling quietly, he gently set the tool down to prop the door open and stepped into the building.
True to Tazrek’s vision, Iferick Telgorian slept on a cot in the back of the warehouse. He was covered in a thin, gray woolen blanket. On the ground next to the cot was a rare Verpine Shatter Rifle, loaded and ready to fire in a moment’s notice. Like any good agent, he slept lightly and when he could most afford to. His missions with the Collective mostly happened at night… mostly. So sleeping during the day when he most risked being spotted seemed the best strategy to him.
The Nagai had become paranoid. The ISB had started to get short with him on check ins. He was certain that they were on to him. He had set up a BARC Speeder to be pointed at an old loading/unloading dock at the back of the building, near his cot, in case he ever needed to escape in a hurry.
The group had made it through the door, while nearly setting off his most rudimentary of noise traps. Fortunate had smiled on the party as Tazrek was able to catch the durasteel wrench before it clanged loudly off of the ferrocrete floor of the warehouse. Though the warehouse was large, the group was less than 50 meters from Telgorian’s location. All that stood between them now were rows and rows of old shelving units that looked to have been previously used to store products that the warehouse made.
Tazrek had envisioned more traps, including some that were hooked to blasters. They would need to be smart, careful, and precise with their movements if they hoped to get the jump on the double agent.
Tazrek had that old tickle in the back of his mind. Time was running out.
Looking back quickly he made up his mind. They’d know what to do. He clipped the lightsaber pike to his back and rushed the nearest stack of shelving units that stretched towards the roof of the warehouse.
He grunted with effort as his muscles were stretched beyond their limit. His boots dug into the ground pushing dust out of the way as the shelving unit began to give way.
It was almost imperceivable at first and then the whole unit tipped over. The boxes clattered to the floor before it collided with a crash into the next.
The shelving units cascaded like dominos of increasing speed until they all were on the ground.
A shout could be hurt as the last unit clattered to the ground.
“Go!” Tazrek had pulled his pike back off his back and ignited it as he raced towards their pinned prey.
Morvyn moved the moment the shelving began to fall. The impact resounding through the warehouse as metal crashed into metal and debris sprawled out across the floor. His eyes shifted to Tazrek as the last shelf came down. There was a brief pause in Morvyn’s stride as he watched it settle. This wasn’t just dumb luck like he had been used to seeing in the clan. This was as thought out as it was dangerous. I like this Rodian!
He turned his attention forward again as he stepped through the debris. Scattered pieces of durasteel and broken crates crunching under his boots. The warehouse was no longer still. Their target was awake now and moving somewhere deeper inside. The collapse had done its job. The silence they had before was gone. However, they had traded it for pressure and force. This option was more Morvyn’s preference.
Morvyn’s mechanical hand flexed once before he brought it up and ignited his lightsaber. The red blade snapped to life with a controlled hum. His attention narrowed to the movement ahead. Some of the men had caught on to what was happening and prepared to fire on the team.
He did not need to look back to know the others were moving with him. Instead he rushed head on to put and end to the men standing in the way.
Reiden watched as Tazrek began to act. His intent became clear and Reiden pulled his lightsaber from its holster and ignited it, the green blade crackling to life. He sprang into action with Morvyn, the Togruta’s intent clear. He eyed some guards off to one side, moving to intercept them.
What he really wanted to do was go for the target, but they needed to deal with his people first before they had a hope of accomplishing their mission. He could have tried to take them all out. It would have been an easy feat, having taken note of their positions with both his eyes and the Force as he moved. Or he could even bypass the guards and execute the traitor directly and see what other actions would be needed - would the guards fight or cut their losses and run, having most likely already been paid? But he had to remind himself that he was part of a team, and not even his usual one or people he had worked with before. Besides, he did this for duty, not glory. He had earned plenty of that on other missions.
He tightened his grip on the hilt of his lightsaber, brought it back, then hurled it forward. The blade spun through the air and cut down two guards, wounding another. He noted that his aim was off, otherwise all three would have been handled. But a lightsaber wound was no small matter. He had been lucky that the guards were clustered together.
Always room for improvement, and it got the job done, he reminded himself.
“Deal with them.” Sýrra’s silky voice spoke directly.
“With pleasure, Lieutenant.” The KX unit accompanying her immediately began marching towards a small group of armed men while Sýrra retreated into the shadows without being noticed by her enemies and slowly crept around in the darkness in search of the perpetrator.
The droid effortlessly lifted a pair of men up into the air and slammed them together with great force before hurdling the two now lifeless bodies at their comrades, causing them to get knocked off their feet and slammed into the wall with great vigor.
Meanwhile, Sýrra moved liked a serpent in a field, closing in on its prey only with a blaster in hand.
Tazrek kept his eye on their target. The others were a distraction they could handle only for as long as he remained trapped…and that wasn’t for much longer.
He watched their prey fighting to get free but it wasn’t just his body he was fighting for. His hand was groping for the blaster that was buried a few finger lengths away.
Tazrek sprinted, he took two starting hops and then leapt into the air. His scarlett blade ignited on his lightsaber pike.
He spun his hilt with practiced ease and brought the blade crashing down through his target as his body landed hard, breaking the bones of the pinned now.
The objective was secured. The rest was just for fun.
Almost as soon as Tazrek’s blade pierced the chest of the Nagai, what was left of the guards lost their will to fight. Those who weren’t intercepted by the team rushing out the door never looked back. The person they had been hired to guard was dead, and nothing remained in that warehouse for them except their own demise.
As the last of the guards scuttled out and the team began to deactivate their sabers and holster their blasters, a slow clap came from a dark corner of the room. Vincent stepped out of the shadows and approached the team as they gathered their breath. As he looked down at the body of Telgorian, a smile crossed his face.
“Well done, team.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled a datapad, snapping a few quick pictures of Telgorian’s body. He then placed the datapad back into his pocket and pulled out another deathstick and his lighter. He plopped the deathstick into his mouth, then spoke to the group.
“Get back to the bikes. I’ll follow behind you. We need to get to the transport and get out of here before anyone figures out what just happened. I’ll buy us some time with a distraction.”
The group began to exit the warehouse and Vincent lit his deathstick. With a wave of his free hand he pulled the flame from the lighter and expanded it before throwing it onto the fallen stack of shelving units. Old boxes and papers caught first, but soon the whole building would be aflame. Any tracks that the team had left behind would be destroyed with the bodies and the building. Satisfied, Vincent turned to return to the bikes, and ultimately the transport.