No one said it was going to be easy

[Nisha Decrilla]

The beauty about being unaffiliated with anyone is that people paid you little attention, after all, in the grand scheme of things, what were you but a bug beneath a boot? Remain unaffiliated and take yourself off the grid for a few years and people no longer look twice. A ship docked in the orbital shipyards, owned by a Lady Apoleia, linked with a trail of some casinos and bars across the galaxy. If someone looked harder they might find trace of a rumour that Apoleia Inc was owned by a sith. Might even find more than that, something solid, like a sighting in a battle against some Jedi somewhere at somepoint.

In truth, the guy in the dock didn't care when a purple skinned twi'lek, followed by a kiffar with a stern expression, sauntered off the ship. He cared even less when she slapped a credit chip in his hand with enough to pay his days wage four times over. "Make it shiny. Take your time."

Anaya Fen was not so bold that she would saunter onto a Galactic Alliance world wearing her own colours. Glamour gave her disguise and she made herself as small as possible in the force, padding with her companion across the shipyards to pick up a shuttle down to the surface.

Fondor was a big planet to hide a big safe, but one way or another, she'd find it.

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

A massive slug slithered through the orbital shipyard. Four armed Vodrans flanked him, though he did not appear aware of the fact that they existed. A protocol droid wobbled ahead of him, a walking mouthpiece. Gorba the Hutt did not deign to talk directly to the lesser species, though he understood their language. He found their tongue revolting.

The fact that he was out and about in the galaxy spoke to his importance among the Hutt families, or rather his lack thereof. The fools on the Council had let Vermilic's actions against the Bareesh go unpunished. He would have to crush the rival clan on his own. It would take time, but Gorba was young, only just over two hundred years, and he was patient. Vermilic would pay. The Hutt's tongue wiggled out of his cavernous mouth and traced the bottom of the scar that took his eye.

His good eye swiveled and locked onto a passing Twi'lek female, appreciating her curves. He released a snort through his nasal slits. She would look better in chains.

[member="Anaya Fen"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

The guy at the dock didn't care about [member="Anaya Fen"] because he already knew who she was. Sarge might not have been active as he once was, but he had his methods. No one had ever truly attempted to ascertain how he knew where to be and when, but the secret lay in all the people one didn't give a second thought to in their daily routine. Had she known what to look for, she'd have found the tattoo of a three headed serpent coiling up the edge of his neck from out of his uniform.

As it was, he took the credits and set about cleaning her ship as requested.

But not before sending an encrypted, coded pulse piggybacked on a routine maintenance form, where it was picked up, relayed several times, only to be deposited onto the 'desk' of a Major Hastings.

Though, no Major Hastings officially existed.

 

[Nisha Decrilla]

She felt is eye upon her, following the her curves upwards and with each sweeping action of his eye her nausea rose. Anaya really did not like hutts. She halted her progress across the shipyard, turning both her eyes upon the great slug she glowered at him. She looked at Parla, the kiffar HRD and jerked her head towards the hutt, before continuing.

As vile as they were, hutts were incredibly useful. Provided you knew that any deal that sounded to good to be true probably wasn't, and hutts were out for one thing only; Benefiting themselves. The Kiffar approached the hutt as Anaya sauntered off seeking transport to the planet.

"Greetings." The kiffar said as she approached the hutt, her huttese fluent. "The Lady Apoleia asks that you stop leering, else you might miss out on a business proposition and lose your good eye."

[member="Mobius"] [member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

She turned and stared directly at him. Gorba ran a tongue across his lips. The Twi'lek sashayed away. Gorba watched her go. Suddenly, the being she'd been conversing with approached.

A chorus of clicks sounded as the Vodrans raised their weapons and trained them on the Kiffar. The Hutt's eye rolled to fixate on the horned nuisance as it spoke. Gorba gave a phlegmy snort of disdain.

"Choy bargon? Hi chuba da naga?"

The protocol droid did a little wobbling turn until it faced the Kiffar. "The great Gorba asks what deal you propose of him."

[member="Anaya Fen"]

 

[Nisha Decrilla]

The Kiffar did not even blink at the ripple of weapons being raised in her direction. Organics perceived her as organic and as such assumed such things would be capable of utterly destroying her. "There is a large container, here on this planet, within it is a large quantity of a weaponized chemical." Specifics were not important. "Once it has been located, it will need to be removed and doing so will not only be dangerous, but fortunately, some of your more pathetic men may die in the fight. In return for your services, the contents will be split, fifty fifty."

She took a step forward and bent to lean in to whisper in the hutts ear. "A monopoly on the trihexalon market is a valuable commodity." Parla Vos did not trust the hutt, but she trusted his men even less. She drew back and waited for his response.

Meanwhile Anaya Fen had found a public transport to the surface. She drew her cloak a little tighter around her, watching the other passengers out of the corners of her eyes. There was of course one person on this planet who would pick up the trace with ease. Maybe, just maybe, she'd avoid confrontation with him.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"] [member="Mobius"]

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

Gorba's pupil dilated, a sliver of black in the midst of a yellow-orange sea. The protruding eye swiveled to stare at the Kiffar as she stepped away from him. Gorba had been about to order her beaten for stepping so close to him, but trihexalon? Here?

He rubbed his belly, thoughts filled with greed. There was still time to kill this Kiffar and her friend and take the trihexalon himself, but killing people at the first proposal was bad for business. Besides, who knew what other opportunities she could provide? Gorba did not like the idea of sacrificing his soldiers, but they served him utterly. In Vodran culture, there was no higher reward than dying in battle in the service of the Hutts, as was proper.

Sadly, Gorba did not like the idea of becoming embroiled in a firefight in Alliance territory. It seemed an easy way to be thrown into a Republic prison.

"Grancha. Wata," he beckoned to the droid, which produced a commlink and handed it to the Kiffar, "Rundee joppay tee-tocky."

"The mighty Gorba says this is very good. Here, activate this when it is time."

While he might not personally be there, Gorba had resources he could call upon to help with their extraction.

[member="Anaya Fen"] | [member="Xian Valart"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Hastings blinked as the aide set the message at his desk. Brilliant emerald eyes shifted, scanning it over, before he snorted.

"Get me the Inquisitor." He says flatly, shaking his head. "And mobilize squad Shen."

That made the aide pause. "Shen?"

Hastings gave a slow nod. "Looks like we're actually going to have more to do than take down insurrectionists today." That made him smile.

[member="Mobius"] [member="Anaya Fen"]

 

[Nisha Decrilla]

The kiffar accepted the comm link bowing to the hutt as she did.

"The Mighty Gorba, has my word he will not be disappointed."

With that she left, tucking the com link into her jacket pocket, as she made her own way towards a transport ship, opening her own comm link to the twi'lek on the surface.

"Exit confirmed, though I have doubts."

Smirking at the HRD's logical stance on everything, Anaya exited the shuttle station. "Always the pessimist Parla. Get to the surface and start hunting, do whatever it takes to locate that stash."

"Affirmative."

Anaya set off on foot, the purple skinned twi'lek vanishing into a crowd of people. Beneath her hood, Anaya dropped her disguise. If he did come for her, he would come with force, the more force he brought and the longer she kept him busy, the greater chance there was at finding it.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"] [member="Mobius"]

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

Gorba slithered away, Vodrans in tow, and went about his business with a smile on his face.

A few minutes later, the Twi'lek slaver named [member="Xian Valart"] received a job, with the promise of a handsome bonus upon completion. All that were needed was a freighter, a hold full of Ganks, and a few Helix rangers.

[member="Anaya Fen"] | [member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge looked up from where he was cleaning a battered old slugthrower - decades old, actually. It was a careworn piece, nickel-plated, and of a model introduced for a war that'd devolved into a gridlock of breastworks and automatic weapons. It made him smile, still. A smile that faded when his datapad went off. Frowning as he recognized the randomized number he'd assigned to Hastings, he activated the terse, coded wording.

Miss Fen. How... peculiar.

A slow smile spread across his face, and a light that'd long ago faded began to shine in his eyes like the first rays of dawn. A hunt was afoot.

"Just what are you after..." he murmurs, wondering how they'd not found out before she'd landed. Well, you couldn't know everything.

<Have the Masses keep an eye on her and anyone she speaks with. I need confirmation of what she's looking for.>

Find the treasure, find the pirate.

[member="Anaya Fen"]

 

[Nisha Decrilla]

Anaya's feet ran on autopilot, she let them carry her to wherever the path led them letting the force be here guide. She stopped outside a cantina, muted music drifting from within.Bartenders had wonderful eyes and ears. Smiling, she slipped inside, lowering her hood as she did. She met the few eyes that drifted her way, making them look back at their games or drinks.

Settling herself upon a stool at the bar she waited for her turn to come. The bartender gave her a wary look before coming over. "What can I get you?"

"Something that burns on the way down." She replied with a sweet smile, it seemed to do the trick, the bartender relaxed a little, reaching beneath the counter for a dusty bottle and pouring an amber liquid into the glass in front of her.

"What brings you to Fondor then miss?" He asked, sliding the drink towards her, she slid a credchip back in return it a contents was enough to pay for the bottle.

"I'm looking for an old friend. Pyre soldier, any ideas on where i can start my search?" The bartender, eyed the credchip then the twi'lek again.

"You here to cause trouble?"

Anaya's eyes narrowed slightly, another credchip slid across the bartop. "See, I'm not a fan of trouble, not sure if I can help you."

Anaya snorted derisively, picked up the drink and knocked it back. "I'll buy the whole damn bar off you if you want me to, sweetness. Could do with somewhere to keep an eye out."

He leaned on the bartop. "That'd put me out of a job."

Smirking Anaya leaned forward. "I'll give you a new one." A business card settling on the bartop between them, the bartender eyes dropped to look at it, widened then came to rest back upon the lethan.

"You want the South district, be warned though, miss, there's a lot of eyes."

Anaya slid off the chair. "I expected as much. An associate will come to see you either today, or in the next couple to conclude our business."

Anaya slipped back out of the bar, heading south. Where are you Sarge?

She activated the comm in her ear. A click answered her. "South." Another click acknowledging and her HRD would be on route to do a recon run.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Where was Sarge? That was a good question.

He wasn't going anywhere... not for now, at the least. [member="Anaya Fen"] wasn't going to show here unless she wanted something, and if she wanted him, she'd have come straight for him. True, she'd begun to opt for subtlety in recent years, but that wasn't saying much.

All around Anaya, the Eyes set upon her. Nothing suspicious, truthfully. A merchant here, a homeless man there, a security camera or three as they panned. It was impossible to track someone a hundred percent of the time, but Sarge didn't expect a miracle.

She'd show her hand sooner or later.

Continuing to clean his weapon, he blinked as a message floated across his screen.

<She's looking to meet with mercs.>

She wasn't here to hire. She wouldn't be that dumb.

"First card played, then, Miss Fen." He mutters, tapping his finger on his desk as though staying a new card from being played. "Hold." He mutters to himself, and busies himself with the pistol again. Elsewhere, Hastings and the men began to assemble.

 

[Nisha Decrilla]

Anaya drank it all in as she made her way through the city, eyes that lingered too long. At first she put it down to the fact that she was, after all, beautiful if a little terrifying to look at. But the feeling of being watched followed her with every step she took. She made a detour, down a back alley and the feeling eased away, until she stepped back out into another busy street. She moved into its centre, letting herself be jostled slightly by the crowd and turned slowly on the spot, scanning everything.

A merchant's eyes lingered for too long, dropping the moment she caught them. She continued to stare long after he had looked away, spotting a tattoo on his neck, a thread headed serpent. She blinked and looked away, the image of the man who'd taken her credits at the dock. There'd been a tattoo on his neck, had there not?

"Kark."

She lifted her eyes above the crowd this time, looking for mechanical eyes. Not one, but two security camera's pointed her way. She offered one a smirk and a small wave and continued on her way. She pressed a finger to her ear to activate her link with Parla. "I think I'm being watched."

"Problematic, but not impossible to overcome. Orders?"

"Walk about, see what you can and find me a cafe."

"Understood."

Anaya's hand dropped and she blew a sigh out of her nose. She made a mental note, that if she ever had the opportunity to kill Sarge, to do it. Yes he may have been, for a time, something she considered a friend. And yes, she may, at one point have loved him as a friend.

But, feth it all, he was a nuisance, and nuisances were not permitted to live. It would have been far easier if she could wind him up and get away with it, but Sarge shot to kill. Every. Single. Time.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge smiled, watching the feeds.

A Rodian with a third eye tattooed onto his forehead walked past her, bumping into her with a murmured apology. She wanted to play games, he could too. Her immediate reaction would be to ascertain who had bumped into her, why, and figure out if he'd taken anything.

He hadn't.

Sarge was just playing with her.

<Target seems to be looking for a bolthole.>

A nod, and he sent back the signal for an affirmative. Some had serpents on their necks, some went for a third eye. He even knew a few that had inked mouths on their cheeks. Always in threes. Threes were easier to overlook than a brand mark or a tattoo. She might even find that clothing came in threes - three men in the same coat, or three women studying the same pair of shoes.

Much harder to spot. Who were friends? Who were just playing a part? It was easier to watch a tree than it was to watch a forest, at least in so far as people were concerned. <Keep me appraised.> He sends back suddenly. <We need to know what she's after.>

[member="Anaya Fen"]

 

[Nisha Decrilla]

The cafe was across the street from the Pyre Tower, tables spilled out onto the walkway and Parla had positioned herself with her back to the tower at a table close to a wall. She did not look round as Anaya approached, settling herself into the chair opposite the HRD. Only once a waiter had brought her a cup of caff did they speak, Anaya chewing her tongue with irritation, paranoid eye scanning every person that wandered past.

Parla spoke first pulling the comm that the hutt had given her, out of her jacket and sliding it to her. "The Mighty-" she stopped at a glare from Anaya. The HRD smirked. Not that the droid felt anything, but it was something she'd seen Anaya do a hundred time when someone was irked. "For our extraction, should we need it."

"No chance of infiltration?"

"The fact that you are suggesting such a ridiculous notion, shows that you are no longer thinking logically. I suggest we reassess."

Anaya picked up her caff and took a sip, eyes still following the people. "Vos, if I am being watched, it is likely that I am heard. That savage git doesn't do anything by halves. Do we have a location?"

Parla sat back. "Possibly." The move was subtle Anaya followed it, staring briefly at the tower.

"Are you fething kidding me?"

"This was why I suggested we reassess."

"Eyes inside?"

"None."

"Entries?"

"You are looking at it."

"That's not possible."

"One way in, and out is a far more efficient way of handling security. Not to mention much more easily defended-"

"You're ruining me with your logic right now."

"-our chances of success are less than ten percent."

"With assistance?" Parla merely blinked at her in response. "Potential infiltration?"

"If you are correct in that we are being watched-"

"I am."

"-then none."

"I really hate you."

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

<Target is outside the Tower.>

Sarge turned his head, monitoring the exterior feeds. He smiled.

It was a smile without humor or happiness. "Excellent." He says, reassembling the weapon and sliding the clip into place. Racking the slide, he settled back, drumming his fingers on the arm. Pushing himself upright after a few moments, he decided to head for the armory.

"If you aren't looking to meet, what are you looking to steal..."

<Keep me appraised.>

<By your Will, Inquisitor.>

[member="Anaya Fen"]

 

[Nisha Decrilla]

"I could just walk in."

"Unadvisable."

"Why?"

"You'd be dead within five minutes."

Anaya took another gulp of caff. "Only if I kill first." The HRD raised an eyebrow. "We need intelligence from the inside do we not?" The HRD nodded. "Then I need to get in there."

"If your friend is as brutal as you claim-"

"He is. I've got numerous scars to prove it."

"Then as your advisor, I advise strongly against it. I'm well aware of your ridiculous desire to get yourself killed but we have not yet finished your work. Premature death will not help our cause."

"No, it won't. But this will, trust me. I have a plan."

"Are you going to share that plan with me?"

"Get out your datapad and start looking up insects." Anaya got up, ignoring the simulated sigh from her metal companion. Draining the last of her coffee she looked down at her. "Trust me." she handed back the comm link.

"That would be stupid of me."

"Thank you for your vote of confidence!" she called waltzing away. Something stirred in her pocket, crawling down the lining of her cloak and flying towards the building. Several more followed suit, flying away low and rising high into the air before heading towards the building. The guards adjusted the grip on their guns as she approached, exchanging glances. "Afternoon, I've an appointment with your boss."

"No you don't."

"No I don't. But he'll see me anyway."

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[HK-36]

One of the beings conducting their natural or staged business was a rather tall slender being clad in tattered robes and cloaks that concealed most of his body. He was standing near the impressive stairs leading up to the Tower of the Pyre, or as he liked to call it, the Protector's Knob, and clutched between his bandaged six-fingered hands were two boxes of a holo-accordion, connected by folding armorweave bellows.

From time to time the disguised machine would press the boxes together, compacting the bellows as cheerful melody poured out from his instrument into the rhythm of some ancient long forgotten alien song he was reciting, it was pretty much all gibberish but at least it sounded good.

From time to time there would be a flash of silvery metallic faceplate from beneath the hood and glow of red photoreceptors visible, the droid wasn't trying to hide that one of Lord Protectors was now posing as a street musician, although he may have been one of the briefest Lord Protectors, taking the position, passing and enacting all the reforms he wanted to, and then stepping down in a month or so claiming that he already did everything he wanted to. Or perhaps he decided that the pressure and danger of running a faction under siege was too much.

Either way, the droid didn't seem to have any weapons on him but those who knew him could anticipate something hidden under his robes, plus the arsenal built into him. But he wasn't there as one of the mercenaries hired to meet with Anaya or part of Sarge's security. He was posing as a street musician out of his own interests because he could decide how to spend his retirement on his own.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

[member="Anaya Fen"]

Standing in the armory, his arms outstretched to either side of his body, he was mid-way through having his armor attached when the comm unit in his ear buzzed. "Sir, we have a Twi'lek who wants to talk to you."

Of course you do.

"Give me five minutes. Keep her in the lobby. Lock down anything that isn't the main floor."

There was a long pause. "Sir?"

"Do it."

"Yes sir."

-----

Five minutes later, Sarge came down, looking every bit the walking tank he always did. Helmet on, his red eye lenses glared with an almost malevolent light. You could hear him well before he came into view, a bolter mag-locked to his thigh, the purr-growl of his power armor as it moved heralding him as much as the weight of his suit did whenever his boots clanged onto the floor. When he spoke, his voice was barely recognizable behind the static-laced snarl of his helmet's exterior speaker.

"Gave up on hiding then." He says.

No 'hello,' but at least he wasn't aiming a gun at her. Not yet.

Elsewhere, the building was locked down, and Hastings was keeping an eye on the sublevels.