Session export: Some Kind of Test
Sacha checked his syndicate datapad for the second time since his arrival in the Praça da Cinza, the heart of the planet’s commercial district. Was this really where he was supposed to meet this new contact? His handler had assured him that the meeting would be discreet, but he could scarcely understand how such a busy place could qualify as such.
Adjusting his polarized glasses to ensure none of the sun’s harsh light upset his sensitive eyes, he found a seat at an empty table atop a balcony overlooking a busy promenade lined with neatly-trimmed hedges. Not far from where he was seated, his BX-series Commando Droid and his Ascendant Drone moved through the crowd, their myriad sensors keeping an eye out for potential signs of danger.
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The Praça da Cinza bustled with the kind of ceaseless energy only commerce could inspire. Even on a backwater planet like Mol’leaj vendors hawked wares from streetside stalls between the more established shops and restaurants. The crowd, the constant thrum of different languages, the planet situated parsecs away from any Clan space—it all added up to the perfect neutral zone for a discreet meeting between potential business partners.
Katrila eyed the Arkanian from an abandoned stall. While she generally preferred not to mix her enterprise with Brotherhood business, her contact in the Shroud Syndicate assured her this slicer was worth a jaunt to the Expansion Region. Still, the situation required caution. He recognized that, too, or he wouldn’t have brought droids to patrol.
By the second time he pulled out a datapad, Katrila figured he’d been thrown off enough and she’d observed all she needed. She approached his table just behind his droids as they began their next circuit, letting the chair scrape as she pulled it out.
“Mr. Tolares, I presume.”
Sacha lifted his gaze from the datapad’s display to regard the woman who’d addressed him. The first thing he noticed was the blaster she was carrying. Understandable given their line of work. He had made similar preparations in the event that this meeting went sideways or was a trap – the twin vambraces worn on both armors looked heavily modified.
“Yeah, that’s me,” he said before doing another quick scan of his surroundings. One could never be too careful, especially when working with other people he met through his Shroud contacts. These kinds of jobs paid well, but frakk did it mess with his nerves. “You were looking for a slicer, right? For some kind of job?”
Katrila tilted her head, an extended claw slowly tapping the table. There was caution, then there was paranoia. This man’s nervous energy could go either way. Still, she let a faint smile flicker across her lips. Best to keep an air of warm amusement.
“That’s right, I do need a slicer. But not for one job.”
She leaned back in her chair and adjusted the matte black folds of her robe, maintaining a patient gaze on Sacha’s polarized lenses. Her words hung in the air like tendrils feeling for some spike in mood or subtle movement that would betray more of his character.
A beat later: “I sense you value directness, so here it is. I’m building something. A network, if you will. A list of talented associates I trust to whom I could refer clients of certain means and connections. That means interesting work and credits that don’t come with Brotherhood strings.”
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“I’ve never liked that word, crazy,” Katrila said through a sly grin. “It’s so subjective.”
The Togorian folded her hands on the table. “Let’s just say I deal in problems that require elegant solutions. And the kinds of people that come to me with those kinds of problems….well, they have the means to ensure they’re solved by any means necessary.”
Katrila kept her eyes, unblinking, fixed on Sacha. It wasn’t a predator’s stare, exactly. But it wasn’t not one, either.
This sounded like the kind of work that could land him in some serious trouble, either dead or in a New Republic prison. And why was she looking at him like that?
As much as he didn’t like the idea of getting involved with another shady employer, he needed the credits. How else would he afford the trip to the Dajorra System, and a place of his own once he got there?
“Alright, fine,” he said with a sigh, “I’m in. What do you need me to do?”
The implication was clear: he was ready, no, he needed to work now.