The cantina was quiet enough to hear the rain striking the transparisteel. Not actual rain, of course, but condensation from the atmospheric processors suspended high above the settlement. Droplets crawled down the outer surface in uneven trails, distorting the neon glow beyond the glass into long streaks of blue and orange. The effect gave the impression of a world perpetually caught between industry and decay, a place trying to become something better even as it was dragged backward by what it had once been. It was the sort of establishment people came to when they wanted to be left alone, which was precisely why Shade had chosen it for the meeting.
She occupied a table near the rear wall where she could observe the entrance, the exits, and most of the room without appearing to watch any of them. A cup of caf rested untouched before her while a datapad lay dark beside it. Neither held her attention. Instead, her crimson eyes followed the subtle rhythms of the cantina itself. Conversations were lowered when certain patrons passed nearby. Servers who took familiar routes through the room. Individuals who looked at the door too often and those who never looked at it at all. People often assumed observation required movement. In reality, the most effective surveillance was usually conducted while appearing completely still. By the time her contact arrived, she already knew which patrons were locals, which were travelers, and which were pretending to be something they were not.
The message requesting her presence had arrived three days ago. Brief. Anonymous. Expensive. Those three qualities rarely accompanied anything worthwhile. Still, curiosity had brought her here. Curiosity and the substantial advance payment that had arrived through channels clean enough to satisfy even the most obsessive financial investigator. That alone had made the offer unusual. People willing to spend that kind of money for information were rarely interested in simple answers, and people who hid their identities while doing so were almost always hiding something else as well. The question was whether the deception surrounded the target or the contract itself.
Several minutes after the agreed-upon time, a figure approached her table. Late, though the lateness felt intentional rather than accidental. The individual wore a dark coat with the collar raised high enough to obscure most identifying features. Not a professional disguise. A civilian's attempt at anonymity. Which meant either arrogance or inexperience. Shade had not yet decided which. The stranger lowered themselves into the chair across from her without invitation, and neither of them spoke immediately. The silence stretched comfortably between them, neither hostile nor welcoming, each quietly evaluating the other before deciding how much truth would be exchanged.
Eventually, the newcomer reached into their coat and produced a small datachip, sliding it across the table until it came to rest beside her untouched caf. "Have you heard of Darth Engel?" The name meant nothing to Shade. Sith names rarely remained obscure without reason, and that alone made it interesting. Her gaze lowered briefly to the chip before returning to the stranger's face. "Should I have?" The reaction was immediate. A hesitation. Concern. Perhaps even fear. The sort of expression people wore when discussing something they did not fully understand. The stranger leaned back slightly before answering. "She is becoming a problem."
That statement earned the first flicker of skepticism. Not visibly. Internally. People described Sith in many ways. Dangerous. Violent. Powerful. Unstable. Problem was rarely the first word chosen unless there was more to the story. "Explain." The stranger glanced around the room before continuing, lowering their voice despite the fact that nobody nearby appeared remotely interested in them. "She negotiates with people she should kill. She honors agreements. She compromises." The words came one after another, each carrying more concern than the last. Shade remained silent, allowing the explanation to continue without interruption. The final accusation lingered between them. Compromise. As though the concept itself was somehow more alarming than slaughter.
Now that was interesting. Not because Shade believed any of it. Because the speaker clearly did. The datachip remained between them, waiting. A Sith who behaved that way was either very dangerous or very misunderstood. Perhaps both. Shade finally reached forward and picked up the chip, turning it over once between her fingers as she considered the implications. "You are not asking me to kill her." The stranger immediately shook their head. "No." Good. That answer had been expected. The truly dangerous contracts were rarely the ones that began with murder. They were the ones that began with questions.
Shade slipped the datachip into her pocket and finally reached for her caf. The cup was still warm. Outside, artificial rain continued to crawl down the transparisteel while the neon glow of the city blurred beneath it. "Then I will find out why she concerns you." It was neither acceptance nor refusal. Merely a promise to investigate. Yet as she lifted the cup to her lips and took her first drink of the evening, she already suspected this would become far more complicated than either of them had intended. Somewhere in the galaxy was a Sith Lord who apparently honored her agreements, negotiated when she should have killed, and frightened people simply by refusing to behave as expected. For Shade, that was more than enough reason to start asking questions.
She occupied a table near the rear wall where she could observe the entrance, the exits, and most of the room without appearing to watch any of them. A cup of caf rested untouched before her while a datapad lay dark beside it. Neither held her attention. Instead, her crimson eyes followed the subtle rhythms of the cantina itself. Conversations were lowered when certain patrons passed nearby. Servers who took familiar routes through the room. Individuals who looked at the door too often and those who never looked at it at all. People often assumed observation required movement. In reality, the most effective surveillance was usually conducted while appearing completely still. By the time her contact arrived, she already knew which patrons were locals, which were travelers, and which were pretending to be something they were not.
The message requesting her presence had arrived three days ago. Brief. Anonymous. Expensive. Those three qualities rarely accompanied anything worthwhile. Still, curiosity had brought her here. Curiosity and the substantial advance payment that had arrived through channels clean enough to satisfy even the most obsessive financial investigator. That alone had made the offer unusual. People willing to spend that kind of money for information were rarely interested in simple answers, and people who hid their identities while doing so were almost always hiding something else as well. The question was whether the deception surrounded the target or the contract itself.
Several minutes after the agreed-upon time, a figure approached her table. Late, though the lateness felt intentional rather than accidental. The individual wore a dark coat with the collar raised high enough to obscure most identifying features. Not a professional disguise. A civilian's attempt at anonymity. Which meant either arrogance or inexperience. Shade had not yet decided which. The stranger lowered themselves into the chair across from her without invitation, and neither of them spoke immediately. The silence stretched comfortably between them, neither hostile nor welcoming, each quietly evaluating the other before deciding how much truth would be exchanged.
Eventually, the newcomer reached into their coat and produced a small datachip, sliding it across the table until it came to rest beside her untouched caf. "Have you heard of Darth Engel?" The name meant nothing to Shade. Sith names rarely remained obscure without reason, and that alone made it interesting. Her gaze lowered briefly to the chip before returning to the stranger's face. "Should I have?" The reaction was immediate. A hesitation. Concern. Perhaps even fear. The sort of expression people wore when discussing something they did not fully understand. The stranger leaned back slightly before answering. "She is becoming a problem."
That statement earned the first flicker of skepticism. Not visibly. Internally. People described Sith in many ways. Dangerous. Violent. Powerful. Unstable. Problem was rarely the first word chosen unless there was more to the story. "Explain." The stranger glanced around the room before continuing, lowering their voice despite the fact that nobody nearby appeared remotely interested in them. "She negotiates with people she should kill. She honors agreements. She compromises." The words came one after another, each carrying more concern than the last. Shade remained silent, allowing the explanation to continue without interruption. The final accusation lingered between them. Compromise. As though the concept itself was somehow more alarming than slaughter.
Now that was interesting. Not because Shade believed any of it. Because the speaker clearly did. The datachip remained between them, waiting. A Sith who behaved that way was either very dangerous or very misunderstood. Perhaps both. Shade finally reached forward and picked up the chip, turning it over once between her fingers as she considered the implications. "You are not asking me to kill her." The stranger immediately shook their head. "No." Good. That answer had been expected. The truly dangerous contracts were rarely the ones that began with murder. They were the ones that began with questions.
Shade slipped the datachip into her pocket and finally reached for her caf. The cup was still warm. Outside, artificial rain continued to crawl down the transparisteel while the neon glow of the city blurred beneath it. "Then I will find out why she concerns you." It was neither acceptance nor refusal. Merely a promise to investigate. Yet as she lifted the cup to her lips and took her first drink of the evening, she already suspected this would become far more complicated than either of them had intended. Somewhere in the galaxy was a Sith Lord who apparently honored her agreements, negotiated when she should have killed, and frightened people simply by refusing to behave as expected. For Shade, that was more than enough reason to start asking questions.
