There's something here from somewhere else

[Coren Starchaser]

Flophouse.

That was what they were renting. And Coren didn’t care. He had a job to do, and unlike most, he didn’t need to get the best places. He wanted to blend in. What level was he in? 1327? Something like that. The man had gotten to Imperial Center the same way most people did, public transit. Once he got here, though, he and his student went out of their way to set themselves up. A really run down place, and Coren did what he did best, and procured a few things, some fake IDs, and a used speeder.

That was going to be their primary way to get around, and he knew he bought it in a rough neighborhood, but it would get the job done. So long as it kept working like he felt it was going to. Enough credits got you anything you wanted. The scoundrel had a typical denim, boots, Henley shirt, vest under a cloak, sometimes it was just easier to hide from the cameras everywhere. Especially when you were on the world doing a few other things.

What he was doing first was driving to another dock, one of the lower docks. They were meeting with a smuggler contact from Coren’s past. The cargo? Weapons. The destination? That would depend on who showed up.

He looked to his student and nodded. “You sure you’re ready for this?” They weren’t here for any type of Alliance mission, this was purely a grudge and to throw caution to the wind and bring the renewing forces of chaos to the galaxy. He pulled the airspeeder into a spot and got out, checking his gunbelt. Blaster was set for stun. He looked for the freighter and nodded further into the makeshift landing center.

[member="Chevu Visz"]

 

[Chevu Visz]

Chevu had no problem with the flop house. Sure she was a bit afraid of getting space fleas, but they had a job to do on Coruscant, when dealing with people from the Underworld, it was best to be entrenched in sleaze. Forgoing her Cortosis armor for a beat up leather jacket, black jeans, tank top and swoop gang boots, Chevu looked more gun-runner than newly-instated Jedi Marshal. At least she hoped so. With a Techno Union bounty on their heads, the two Galactic Alliance Forcers had to blend.

According to [member="The Revenant"], who had extensive knowledge of the One Sith’s heightened security measures since the Rebel Alliance attack on Coruscant, Sage Bane, one of the Dark Lord’s Hands, had overseen the installment of thousands of shiny new Watcher drones. And innumerable security checkpoints. The Dark Lord’s curfew might have been lifted, but big brother was still watching alright. And he was definitely a Sith.

“You bet your ass, I’m ready,” she responded, pulling a hood up over her pin-straight jet black hair. The Mirialan Knight had her lightsaber, discblades, and was packing her Woebringer. She cast a perfunctory glance at her fake ID and rolled her eyes.

“Amanda Lay? Really, Coren?”

[member="Coren Starchaser"]

 

[Coren Starchaser]

It was really the belly of the beast, but Starchaser didn’t think he’d see a Sith in one of the lower levels. Not that he was expecting not to, his lightsaber was tucked away in a holster that rested under his vest. The man was trying to get better with the weapon, but it wasn’t his first priority. His Power Nine and scattergun did him really well. There were a few other weapons he was procuring for himself, but these filled out his preferences into the galaxy. Every so often, he’d put the scatter gun away and bring out one of the DE-10s he had found himself in possession of, but the heavier weapon could be useful here.

Especially if he was going to keep up with Chevu and her use of Force Bomb, the scatter shots would help him out. The cloak that he wore, to cover his shape and face, was much more Baron of Cloud City esque than it ever would be Jedi esque, though it was no where near as gaudy as something a city administrator would wear.

But there was a reason that he chose the lower levels. When he and Chevu were at the meeting spot, he nodded over to the local noodle stand. These places were a dime a dozen and it was a good spot to burn time while they waited for the ship. “You’ll get used to it.” He laughed as he approached the noodle stand, ordering something in Rodian and pointing over to the empty table. “Not like I chose them.” Of course he was running off of an ID called ‘Garrett Dunn,’ a known business man in the Chandrilla system.

Taking a chair, he looked to his student. “We’re waiting on a Starmite freighter. Contact should be arriving shortly.” One of the Underground members, that had connections to the network on Coruscant would be hooking up with the pair, and who knew who they’d bring.

[member="Chevu Visz"]

 

[Chevu Visz]

They were meeting someone from Coren's past, apparently a smuggler. It had finally dawned on Chevu that there was no way to piece together her Master's history into a nice, idyllic picture. Coren was at times an thief and an outlaw who had trained in and used the dark side. He was a scoundrel and a drinker. He was not a nice man. All-in-all it helped her better understand him though. For all of his suspect qualities, he followed a light that no one else saw. He wanted to save the galaxy. She believed there was an inherent goodness in him behind the damaged personality.

The waiter wasn't patient with Chevu's broken Rodian, so eventually she had to point, green finger tapping vehemently on stained flimisplast. Fodu noodles with green fire sauce. The spicier the better.

Something about being on Coruscant was haunting Chevu. She flashbacked to that moment when she'd stood outside of the burning Sith temple staring at [member="Reverance"], who after locking eyes with her, pulled up his hood with a snarl and tread down a nearby alley.

Chevu cast a glance around the restaurant, to shake loose the memory. A Devaronian at an adjacent table made an extremely lewd gesture at her with his tongue and fingers. The Mirialan looked away, blushing profusely. The Coruscant Underworld was already working her last nerve. Twirling a pair of durasteel chopsticks in her fingertips, she smirked.

"Lovely place," she muttered. "So how is the underground handling the Dark Lord's Curfew?"

It was their pet code phrase for the increased security measures.

[member="Coren Starchaser"]

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Coren’s history was more than met the eye. The fact that a lot of it happened some twenty years ago when the galaxy, and his role in it were completely different? Well, maybe less has changed than most would let on. It was just the people Coren decided to fight with, and as his common foe always remained the same. He just had a bit more focused now, but the players were different. When he served as a TIE pilot, the Empire was not lead by the Sith, the Sith were a tool to an end. These Sith, though, they’re dangerous.

A grin crawled across his face as he looked to the server and his student. She’d have to get hooked on phonics, he assumed. For nearly a dozen languages. On this world, there were many dangers, but he wasn’t expecting the Sith down at this level. They had other things to do, like mate with the Vong, and what not.

Disgusting.

“So, your master never took you to places like this?” Coren was one that felt learning needed to be on the job, not locked in some temple, or cave somewhere. “They’re doing what they can. All considered.” He smiled as the food started to come over.

“Lower levels tend to not concern with the curfew, so they stick to where it isn’t held so strictly, but… Well, some of them are in the upper levels. The Rebels did a number here, and while I wish I could applaud them, it makes it a bit tricky for our network to move about.” Not that Coren knew too much of the network, just who his contact was, and who his contact’s contacts were. The Underground worked so you knew two others, unless you were certain people. That way, from the bottom up? You would have to torture and maim everyone to get everyone else.

He checked his chrono. Ship should be arriving soon.

[member="Chevu Visz"]

 

[Chevu Visz]

"Oomomo? By the Maker, no. We stayed at the Pirin Temple for most of my training. Went to Xagobah so that Oomomo could pick herbs and mushrooms for their medicinal qualities. But that was about it."

The last time Chevu had been on Coruscant was during the Galactic Alliance's surprise strike on their temples, where she'd faced off with Darth Vizios. And saved his life. How nine months had changed her. If he were standing under falling debris now? She'd let him perish. The only other time she'd been to Coruscant was when she was five and her parents were fleeing the Sith. She didn't remember much of it, and where they were headed? She'd never know. Her parents never made it.

"The rebels seem...unfocused? Aimless? It's not enough to just blow things up, and wait for people's applause." The Devaronian was at it again, and this time Chevu made a different sort of rude gesture back, rebuffing his crude advances. Outside the restaurant a Trandoshan howled and writhed on the ground, reeling from an officer's stun baton at one of the shiny new One Sith checkpoints. Chevu glanced over her shoulder and then hooked her thumb at the scene.

"How do we make sure we do this the right way?"

The noodles arrived and they were spicier than Gargon gumbo. After the first bite, the Mirialan made a face and proceeded to gulp down her entire glass of water without taking a breath. Ok, maybe she'd order mild next time.

[member="Coren Starchaser"]

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Starchaser nodded. “Typical Jedi it sounds like. Sounds like he knew his things, just wasn’t a soldier, wasn’t a fighter.” Coren was the opposite. For him, the Force didn’t hold an intrinsic value. He used it for defense, and to strike, to protect others with the best kind of defense there was; a good offense. He believed that if someone had the power to affect change, it was their duty to do it in the best way possible. Probably why he’d never get pulled into the ranks of the Jedi.

“They’re heart is in the right place, I’ll give them that. It lacks finesse though. We’re not striking at a completely military target, on Coruscant, we’re hitting locations that have high civilian populations. And unless we’re going to win, we’re not going to hit htem strong. We have to hit them soft, and whittle the enemy down."

There was the whine of the freighters engines as the Trando was hit by the stun baton. “First, we don’t go that way. Can’t save everyone, Chev.” They could try, but trying to stop all the leaks? That wouldn’t fix the problem, it’d just make you a vigilante, an avenger of the down trodden. No, they were here to stop the One Sith. And save the galaxy.

At least for the interim.

“Give our ship a few minutes.” He nodded, looking at his noodles.

Could he ever be a Jedi?

[member="Chevu Visz"]

 

[Chevu Visz]

Chevu frowned. She still held an unwavering loyalty towards Master Oomomo. Sure he was probably a crazy old coot, but he rescued her from a life of cleaning up slime trails. Coren was right. Oomomo wasn't a soldier and maybe he didn't fight on the front lines against the Sith, but he had been eternally dedicated to passing along the knowledge of the light side to those that could pick up arms.

The Mirialan opened her mouth to defend his perceived slighted honor, when the scene outside clapped her mouth shut.

The Trandoshan, legs kicking, was being carted away, perhaps to be executed or shipped off to Fresia to be Sithspawned. Suddenly her eyes grew wide. There was a group of Sith Acolytes, all dressed in Zeyd-cloth robes, heads turning as they searched the nearby streets. They were looking for someone, or perhaps two someones. One of the Sith accosted a Bantha kebob vendor, and gesticulated wildly at his Datapad. Chevu saw a flicker of blue rise from the screen, and caught a glimpse of her own face in the projected image. Sith me. They were looking to claim the bounty. She reached out to the mind of the meat seller, giving him a powerful command. You saw no Mirialan and Corellian entering the noodle shop. You saw no one. You saw nothing.

"Coren, I think we might have some unexpected dinner guests."

[member="Coren Starchaser"]

 

[Isaiah Dashiell]

Noodles, if one could really call these cold, squirming things in his bowl noodles, were Izzy's dinner tonight. He kept his head down and his coat pulled up high to cover his own armor. The conversation the two beside him at the stand were having was making him nervous. He picked this place because he was trying to stay out of sight, yet here these to were with their whispering and serious looks. He pushed his helmet closer between his legs and hoped the two didn't do anything stupid as the Sith did their thing.

'Pleeease don't be do gooders. Please please please.' He thought to himself. But if the tingling along the base of his neck and the weird out of body feeling he was having said anything these two were about to cause him a world of trouble. Looking down at his noodles he made a decision. He muttered something in Rodian and slapped down a few One Sith credits on the counter and picked up his helmet. He kept his head low and tried to slip out of the stand quietly. Then he saw one of the Sith lookng in their direction and he thought better.

<Actually, give me another round...> Nervous laghter as another bowl of the strange noodles fell before him to be consumed.
[member="Chevu Visz"] [member="Coren Starchaser"]

 

[Coren Starchaser]

He looked up from his noodles and looked to his student. A ship was coming over head and he nodded up to it, without actually pointing to it. Hopefully Chev would understand what his head nod meant, but it was just the ship. He started a mental timer, he’d give them time to break the cargo down and get it ready to move. For now, it was noodle time which was not nearly as fun as PEANUTBUTTERJELLYTIME, but still, it was good. The food wasn’t so bad, for being what it was, cheap fodder to keep the masses from going hungry.

“Do we?” He looked up and across the way. There was a mirror, and the presence of the Sith, now that he was actively looking, was clear as day. He shook his head. “Frak me. I hate those people.” He wasn’t going to say Sith, not out loud, not here, it’d bring someone else to them, someone who might matter to themselves.

Not to Coren. No Sith mattered to him. Cannon fodder.

“Back door. Lead them away from the meeting location, We’ll trap them in the streets, then double back.” Trap here, for Coren, meant murder. He was looking beyond one of the stands, down the alleyway. Simple.

He was ready and the light hum of his Power Nine turning on, and set for Kill, could be heard in his ears.

[member="Isaiah Dashiell"]
[member="Chevu Visz"]

 

[Chevu Visz]

Recently, Chevu learned a Force power from a bored and slightly insane J'feh in the-Maker-knows-where part of space. Alter Image. It allowed her to focus on using the Force to give her body some minor alterations. Green skin turned tan. Tattoos disappeared. Hair was recolored to more of a dirty blonde. With enough concentration, she even changed the outline of her heart-shaped face. The woman who stared at Coren now looked as human as he, and much less like the Hologram of the girl on the bounty board. Hopefully her transformation didn't attract any unwanted attention. From the looks of the other customers, like the scruffy long-haired fellow a few tables over, these folks wanted to lay as low as possible.

She quirked a newly-shaped brow at Coren. The ship was here, so they had to leave. As they made their way towards the back of the noodle shop, she would follow Coren's lead.

Chevu might have had the demeanor of nonchalance, but her green fingers twitched around her lightsaber hilt and her heart thumped loudly in her chest.

[member="Coren Starchaser"] [member="Isaiah Dashiell"]

 

[Coren Starchaser]

The Force could do a lot. Coren was a Starchaser, he had to think on his feet and do what he could with what he had. It wasn’t something like teaching and old dog new tricks, it was more like a Pokemon that had learned all its moves, there just wasn’t much else to do, and even with his limited skillset, people were still going to complain. He didn’t reach for his saber, using that merely as a shield, to stall an enemy, but his blaster would jump to his hand when he needed it.

He could tell it was Chevu, even if his attention was elsewhere based on a few key factors, namely her necklace, as he directed her down the alleyway. He could move the trash container to block, but he figured that would be more harm than good. “When we get to the end, split, and we’ll see who follows who.”

And from there? Come back, and do some killing, get someone to take the fall, and get to their ship. Mission came first. And setting up people taking a fall for attacking Sith on their own damned capital? Clearly the best way to handle things.

[member="Chevu Visz"]
[member="Isaiah Dashiell"]