Little Birds

[Munin]

[member="Huginn"]

"That's the way of things commander." A garbled voice said through a glaring holoprojecter, flickering blue shifting slightly as the signal was interrupted by some far gone cosmic event. "I can only provide the information. It is you who chose not to act upon it."

The man 'before' Munin was tall, though his shoulders were broad there was a bit of portly fat hanging from him. He reminded Munin of some cartoon character, his face expressive and his eyes beset as though he could only ever look forward. That very thought amused the young man, a shift of his weight coming as the Commander's hologram made to move as though he would step forward.

"You're saying this is my fault?!"

The hologram screamed, echoing slightly in the oddly empty chamber.

"I am, Commander. I cannot force you into actions. You were told where the rebels were, what they were doing, and why they were doing it. You stamped out their main base, but you did not address the underlying problems for their rebellion. Again, I gave you the information, you simply chose not to acknowledge it." His tone of voice was flat, matter of fact, no argument or heat to it. Munin was stating a simply statistic, as though he were rattling off the number of deaths that had occurred over the last year from falling ladder. It was a tone that the commander did not appreciate in the least.

"You listen he-"

There was a sudden flare of the hologram, and then the system shut down.

There was no point in arguing with a man like that, he would just claim he wasn't responsible.

Besides, the good Commander would soon find himself out of a job anyway. The rebellion that was taking his planet by storm moved more swiftly then even Munin could have guessed, just yesterday they had seized the worlds largest industrial city and by this weekend they would likely control the capital. He had warned the Commander months ago about this problem, the man had simply taken an approach that wasn't effective. There was nothing to be done about it. Munin shrugged, and then slowly turned to leave the holo-projection room.

 

[Nadir]

[member="Munin"]


“I took our payment for the services rendered out of his account,” Huginn informed the man as he entered the office.

Well, office. The room was more or less one big computer, with countless screens lining every flat surface not occupied by datapads and paper. Yes, even paper. A good broker does not discount any means of acquiring information, even if they are obsolete and outdated. Perhaps, Huginn would venture, because they are obsolete and outdated.

“The rest is getting frozen as we speak.” The infochant gestured towards one of the wide displays, and as if on cue four camera feeds appeared. The footage wasn’t exactly high-quality, but it gave the viewer enough of an idea to piece the rest together themselves. The government was falling apart before their emotionless eyes, looting and anarchy galore on every street.

The Commander really ought to have listened.

“Next up is this First Order politician,” Huginn continued, and a dossier replaced the grainy video. “Velken Malchior. Exactly what you’d expect. He’s got a couple of the usual skeletons in the closet in case things go south.” Pictures of the councilor with a woman who wasn’t his wife. A number of high withdrawals and deposits to an alias account on Tatooine. An illegitimate child with an iyra prostitute.

The broker arched a brow at that.

“He wants the dirt on a couple of political opponents. Elections are coming up. Here.”

Four other files popped up on different monitors, giving the pair of infochants full overview of their employer and their targets.

“Where do you want to start?”

 

[Munin]

[member="Huginn"]

For a moment Munin simply frowned. There were decisions still to be made for their fledgling operations, what would garner them the most gain, what would allow them to grow and expand, most importantly what would allow them to earn the most amount of money. For a moment a frown touched his lips, his fingers slowly running over the edge of one of the data-terminals that already housed untold petabytes of information. There was much in this galaxy that was hidden, much in this galaxy that needed to be told.

"The One Sith." Munin said softly.

That wasn't something Huginn had mentioned. "There is opportunity there."

There was value in recognizing opportunity, and right now at the core of the galaxy Munin saw more then a little bit of opportunity. The Alliance was quickly carving into territory there, and with war came strife on an untold level, strife that they could exploit for their own gain. His frown slowly slipped from his lips, his eyes casting over towards one of the screen in the corner of the room. There was a constant back-play of the events of Coruscant that were still ongoing even now.

"There is a prize to be claimed there." He pointed towards the screen. "We have to try and access it. Everything else can wait."

He looked towards his partner, eyes leveling. There was of course work to be done now, the politician and his wants could not be ignored, not when he was a client, but they also had to make sure to keep their horizons broad. The Fall of the One Sith was an event that was sure to create lots of little birds.

 

[Nadir]

Huginn’s expression soured as [member="Munin"] spoke. The broker glanced down at the datapad on the desk. Specifically, at the schedule carefully planned and laid out for the whole week. Their kind of work required order for a reason. You couldn’t just poke around networks willy-nilly and hope to dredge up some secrets.

You had to pry them from clinging fingers and encrypted folders and dead men.

“Very well.” Tight-lipped, the infochant altered the hourly entry and moved the politician up into the next empty slot. Certainly, one required a schedule, but Huginn had spent enough time in this business to allow for some flexibility.

Capitalizing on opportunity, as Munin said, was paramount.

The broker reached out with one arm and quickly reorganized the main displays in front of them. As the screens rearranged to allow for better viewing of the massive amounts of data on the totalitarian regime, Huginn was twirling about the workstation to collect personal findings over the course of the last month.

“The destroyed power grid is probably our best option. The Alliance haven’t repaired it yet, and it left gaping exploits in their network.”

There was one problem, of course.

“We’re going to need on-site access, though.”

 

[Munin]

[member="Huginn"]

"There is an orphanage." Munin said simply.

There wasn't a lot of leeway to morality when it came to their line of work. Many information brokers were scum, or next to it. Munin liked to think they weren't scum, at least not the worst kind, but that didn't mean they weren't capable of exploiting something no one else was. Besides, they had once been orphans, they knew the pain of hunger, the despair of being alone. Purpose. That was what one needed in such a situation, that was what one ultimately wanted above all else. There was a simple fact to such things.

"Run by one of the Sith." He continued. "I expect that will have experienced some chaos. Those within will require work. Work that no others are suited for. We can teach them. Pay them. Offer them something to do in this time of strife and unknown futures."

He spoke as though he were attempting to inspire Huginn, but then that was always his manner.

Huginn needed no inspiration of course, but Munin knew how to talk, knew how to weave words to retrieve a favorable outcome. It was only natural that he would continue to speak in such a manner, a way to garner practice even when not communicating with their clients. He shifted slightly and moved towards one of the screens in the far corner, summoning a holographic keyboard from one of the consoles. There was a slight shift and he keyed in a certain few commands. "Here."

The orphanage popped up on the screen.

 

[Nadir]

The broker considered Munin’s idea, fingers drumming against the smooth metal surface of the table. Given the number of hands doing it, the sound was a veritable thunder, driving mad any that weren’t used to hearing it. Since the only company the infochant kept was [member="Munin"], that had never been an issue.

He’d long grown accustomed to Huginn’s various quirks and peculiarities, and the same went for the other broker. Perks of growing up together.

“Why not combine both? Give the kids a purpose and a skillset, set them to task on the grid. Nobody’ll look twice at an urchin.”

They never had when they poked around systems they shouldn’t have. People tended to ignore that which was unpleasant, and acknowledging poverty and the less fortunate was high on the list. That lent them an innate aura of invisibility that couldn’t be bought with any kind of specialized training.

 

[Munin]

[member="Huginn"]

"Of course." Munin said simply. "A public service."

He mused for a moment, considering whether they would have to go there and do it themselves. A trip to Coruscant would be...unfortunate in it's current state. There was danger, war, and in truth neither Munin nor Huginn were greatly geared towards fighting in wars. He moved towards the panel to his right, shifting so that he could pull up a small list of orphans that were contained within the grand house built by Sith. It surprised him to see the amount of them, not because of the fact that he hadn't expected so many Orphans, but because he hadn't expected the Sith to be taking care of them.

"There." Munin pointed to one of the list. His datafile was immediately pulled up.

"This one." He began. "This one will be the first."

Why that particular boy? He was popular. His file noted that he tended to lead the other children, something that had been flagged by the staff of the Sith Orphanage. It made sense that they would, where better to find leaders then in the children you were raising. Of course, for their own purposes the boy would do very well, they would just have to give him the resources that he required.

 

[Nadir]

Practiced eyes scanned the document in seconds as [member="Munin"] pulled it up. Potential, skill, good speaker… Huginn could immediately see why the broker had singled him out. If they nurtured his innate talents, the two infochants could make a pack leader out of him in mere months. After that, the boy would continue to spread their influence of his own volition.

That was the real beauty of their little birds.

Huginn nodded, slowly, and added a few notes to the datapad on the desk.

“Raven 12 is currently in the undercity,” the broker spoke, and the screens flickered again. “He’s available to make contact with the kid.” It would include a vague introduction and some techy goodies to give the boy incentive. After that, the tasks would start coming. It was pretty simple, really, and that was exactly why it worked so well.

“Raven 87’s update from the Alliance FOB,” Huginn pointed to a different display. “They’re taking over. It’s a good chance to plant some eggs into high positions.”

 

[Munin]

[member="Huginn"]

He mused for a moment, deep in thought. A part of him did not like to send criminals to deal with children, for good reason. Vagrants and those of the underworld weren't often the best when it came to child care, and number twelve was most definitely a vagrant. Oh the man was certainly reliable when paid enough, but did Munin want to hand him this task? He frowned for a moment, musing and then looking at the screen capped image of a burning Coruscant.

There was no choice.

"Send Twelve." He said. "The children can take care of the FoB later."

Munin pointed out the fact. "Most will go there naturally anyway, searching for safety. It will be easier once there is a crowd."

The thought was a dark one, but a truthful one. The Alliance meant well, that was certainly true, but there would still be destruction, fire, death, that was only natural to war. Those lowest on the totem pole would suffer, and those lowest were often children. The Alliance was not the Sith however, and unlike last time Coruscant fell this time even the lowliest wretch would be cared for. With the way the Alliance had puffed themselves up Munin was entirely sure of that.

He looked at the screen, nodding to himself.

 

[Nadir]

“Very well.” Huginn was a succinct individual. Two keystrokes relayed the command to R-12, and the deed was done. Though their business was inherently complicated, the way the worked was not.

“Coruscant is still too unstable to tell where the major players will settle after this,” the broker continued. A series of prominent Alliance individuals and their files came up on different screens, accompanied by various flags and notes from the two infochants. “Little birds already tell us that the bigger crime enterprises are getting the hell out of dodge. The Alliance will no doubt crack down hard on those who remain.”

When they had time, of course. Reports of riots and scavenging galore kept pouring in. The white knights would have their hands full for a good while.

The galaxy was distracted, its gaze firmly fixated on the core worlds and the tide that was finally turning from darkness to the light. Huginn and [member="Munin"], though, they kept their eyes on the prize. Namely all the connections they could sneak in under everyone’s noses while the do-gooders liberated the metropolis.

 

[Munin]

[member="Huginn"]

He thought for a moment, then answered. "It's Coruscant."

That was really all one had to say.

"Perhaps it will take a month, a year, but it will return to normal." There was no arguing that. "Coruscant is the center of the galaxy, there are a trillion people living there, surviving, thriving. It doesn't matter how much crime the Alliance wipes out, there will always be something else. That's the nature of a world with so many layers."

He amused himself with the analogy, though it was depressingly true. One couldn't take the crime out of Coruscant more than they could take the people off of it. There was an unthinkable amount of lives all happening on the city world at once, to try and take certain things away from them? Impossible. Not to mention that there would be remnants of the Sith, stalkers in the deep, Sith Lords who had refused to run and were still skulking about.

No.

Coruscant was not finished.

"I wouldn't worry too much about that." He shifted then looked towards Huginn. "What do we know about the Mid Rim?"

It was an area that they had always sadly lacked in, something that they should soon change. More and more Governments were popping up across the galaxy now, some powerful, others weak. The Alliance had spawned from Sullust, now others were quickly following their lead. Munin knew that soon they would have to turn their eyes upon the smaller aspects of galactic Governance. As the titans of the One Sith fell things would get very interesting.

 

[Nadir]

“Certainly.” A small smile curled the thick lips of Huginn. All that was missing was low lighting and a cigar. “I merely remark upon a situation rife with opportunity, @Munin.” The broker dipped a wide chin towards the myriad of screens, flickering with data and imagery.

“Ah, Mid Rim.” A curious limbo of sorts, and a veritable paradise for those on the wrong side of the law. It was the fringe of civilization; the border between the high-tech, well-developed worlds of the Core and the wilderness and lawless aggression of the Outer Rim. Tax oases, credit-laundering, and lobbied trade regulations.

In other worlds, bliss.

“Let’s see. The Triumvirate just fought off a planetary invasion by the Sanctum. They’re rebuilding, strengthening the defences.” The infochant scowled at the screen. “We don’t have as many Ravens in there as I’d like, to be honest. Something to look into.” Huginn made a note on the datapad, then moved on.

“The Sanctum is slowly creeping into Mid from the Outer rim. Their foreign policy is… in flux. Certain elements seem far more militant than others, but the leadership core maintains their stance. News is scarce.”
“The United Mandalorian Clans…” the broker trailed off, looking up at the man, “what have you got?”

 

[Munin]

[member="Huginn"]

"Nothing." Munin said honestly. "The Mandalorian Empire is a different story, but the clans..."

He trailed off a moment. "They do not turn on each other easily."

"Mandalorians can be annoyingly self righteous." That was certainly true. "They don't make good spies."

No. If they wanted information from the clans they would have to get it another way, that was for sure. There were a few malcontents of course, Death Watch and the like, but in truth Munin had no more an in with them then he did any other clans. It was a troubling problem, especially because among the Mandalorians wouldn't couldn't even recruit Children to spy. There was an odd lack of orphans within societal culture of Mandalorians, perhaps because of the lack of blood importance within their society.

"There is rumblings of a war, unrest. Clan Spar's leader was recently broken free of a Sanctum prison. They have never been the most...stable." That was the extent of what Munin knew of the situation, something that pained him. He had always prided himself on being well informed, but it seemed this particular niche of the galaxy preferred to keep to itself, holding fast and steady in order to keep itself from falling towards outsiders.

Though that would hardly matter if they tore one another apart.

 

[Nadir]

The other broker hummed in agreement, facing a similar problem. The pair of them worked together, yes, but they each had skillsets that the other had perfected more. When they encountered difficult situations such as the one with the Clans, they always attempted to approach them from different perspectives.

It hadn’t worked so far in this case, however. The Mandalorians were… disgustingly prideful and honorable, to the point where the only thing more common than loyalty was machismo.

“Yes. Recently one of the smaller clans was… vanished, or so it seems. Their outpost shows no signs of struggle, but also no signs of life. The superstitious tremble, but I suspect something far more corporeal is afoot.” The infochant called a few images to another display, showing off the ghost town left of the clan’s home.

“What of the Empire? They are far more volatile, I hear.”


[member="Munin"]

 

[Munin]

[member="Huginn"]

There was a thought. An entire clan Vanished? Even the small ones didn't do that. Munin might have had a distaste for the culture, but he could give them credit. Mandalorains were grand warriors, perhaps the best in the galaxy. Many thought them capable of taking on Jedi and Sith in single combat, and as entire armies? They were a fearsome lot. Munin knew that from his studies of history, even from his studies of recent events. Things had not changed much for the Mandalorians over the eons.

"Volatile." Munin parroted. "Perhaps."

He thought for a moment and turned towards another screen. "Less predictable I think."

"They are not ill-meaning." That was certainly true, most governments weren't. "Though their goals and brashness clash with those of the Clans. I believe their Mandalore was rejected by the heads of the United Clan's, thus the split. Something that will perhaps be exploited by someone, though by far it is not secret information."

Therefore it wasn't valuable.

They would have to find an in, search for something that would allow them to monetize the situation.

 

[Nadir]

“Well, if there’s a war brewing…” the finger drumming picked up again. “Someone, somewhere, is going to make money off that war.” First rule of business. “We find out who, we have our customers.”

They needed something worth paying for, of course.

“Defenses, perhaps? The political climate, certainly. Family secrets, known members, blueprints, shipments, suppliers. The possibilities are endless, @Munin.” Theoretically endless, at least. They didn’t have the resources to tackle all those aspects. Not yet.

Huginn frowned at their screens, feeling unusually useless. “We could… piggyback on their communications.”
A shot in the dark. The first idea was never the best one, but they needed to start somewhere.

 

[Munin]

[member="Huginn"]

"It will be random chatter." Munin said flatly. "But it's better then nothing."

They had to start somewhere, and if the Mandalorians were about to go to war? That was something they had to be involved in. The Mandalorians were not the Alliance, and they certainly weren't the Sith. There was opportunity there to poke and prod, to gain something, they would just have to figure out what. He frowned for a moment, looking back towards one of the other screens that showed footage of Mygeeto, a recently conquered Mandalorian Empire World.

"Do we know anyone from the clans?" Munin asked quietly.

They didn't have to be important, they didn't even have to have a name for all he cared. "Someone we can speak to."

He doubted they would get anything valuable, but a Mandalorian contact of any sort would offer them valuable insight into what the clans were doing. If war was really coming, then Munin would expect it to come from them. The Mandalorian Empire had spat in their face after all, and it would make sense for the United Clan's to strike at Isley for what he had done.

It was only logic.

 

[Nadir]

Huggin gave the other broker a slow shake of the head. No, they didn’t know anybody from the clans. Their best chances to find someone, however, were at a certain shadowport near Mando space. As of recently, they had a new authority. Flash takeover, or so the birdies spoke.

The infochant said as much to the man even as an excessively blurry shot of Point Nadir flickered to life on a nearby display.

“We stand to gain plenty by establishing a presence there. Not only because of its proximity to various epicentres of change, but also because of the… clientele that frequents the port.” Huginn quirked a lip, but the smile never sparked a twinkle in those expressionless eyes.

“If we’re to find an in with a crooked Mando, that would be the place.”


[member="Munin"]

 

[Munin]

[member="Huginn"]

He frowned for a moment. Munin so hated going to that place. It was...dirty. There wasn't really any other descriptor for it, except perhaps decrepit, falling apart, devious, and downright scummy. The idea of spending more time there then necessary was...unpleasant to say the least. For a moment he looked around his clean work environment, staring at the screens and then turning towards Huginn. There was really no way to avoid going.

"Fine." He said simply.

They would have to go.

"We'll need someone smarter then the average Mandalorian." Munin said simply. "Someone who won't get caught."

That was probably asking for a bit much given their culture, but Munin was one to hope. In order to be a spy, a little bird, one had to have a modicum of intelligence. They had to learn when to listen, when to speak, and when to leave. A spy that didn't know those three things would not last every long in any environment, much less one that was filled with deadly warriors. Munin frowned again, realizing that this was probably more difficult then he had first thought.

Then again, that was half the fun of these things.

 

[Nadir]

Huginn could understand @Munin’s displeasure. Hell, the broker felt an eye twitch at the very notions they were entertaining. If they’d had any other choice, the two infochants would’ve taken it over direct involvement with such an unsavory cesspool of crime and villainy. Certainly they had ties to this world; roots in it, even. Despite the nature of their operation, however, the pair weren’t nowhere near as keen on getting their feet wet.

It simply wasn’t their style.

“Needs must what needs must,” Huginn spoke in a solemn tone, collapsing their displays to a single multiple-screen image of the station.

“We ought to take a gander about the place, put some feelers in. There is bound to be at least one Mando willing to sell his loyalties and artifice for enough money.”
Huginn rose from the chair, stretching the many arms protruding from the proud torso.

“Everyone has a price.”