In the darkness of the only space port on Dantooine, at midnight, a trio of young thugs from one of the farms rolled round.

They were sitting in an old Landspeeder, drinking stolen booze, laughing it up as they joy-rided.

Then one saw a dark figure seemingly appear out of the shadows, hunched in a dark alley.

"Stop the speeder, lets' check this out."

So the three young punks walked twoards him, big menacing grins slapped on their faces "Hey, you there, get up!"

When the figure did not respond, the speaker kicked him. "I said get up. Do you know who we are?"

The figure, slowly at first, got up. He extended up to about three meters, and from a black hood, a pair of menacing red eyes gleamed.

The smug looks wiped off their faces, the three ran for it. The dark figure watched them run. Then, slowly, he lifted a comlink to his face.

"I'm in. Waiting for further orders."

The dark figure moved slowly out of his alley. The young punks having long ago ran away, he moved quietly to the space-port doors.

Inside, under the glare of artificial light, he was revealed to be a three meter tall, muscular grey figure in sand-whipped robes. He moved lithly through the small port, the few people still in it paused to take in the stranger.

He looked around, and walked in the silence over to a pair of well-to-do merchants. They wore looks of worry as the stranger towered over them.

"Can we help you?"

"Yes" said a raspy voice from under the hood. "I want your ship. Sell it to me."

The richer of the two merchants did a little, shrill laugh. "But sir" he said "why would you want my ship?"

"I am a trader from tatooine" the raspy voice told him "I lost my ship in an important deal. I and my associates want your ship to help us take our goods to Coruscant."

"Er... What goods are these?"

"Why, finest silks and other native gifts from the Tatooine governor. He wishes to send them to the Imperial Intelligence compound on Coruscant as a gift... You know how these politicians are with their gifts..."

"Yes, well if you say so, how much for it? 10, 000 sounds like a fair sum?"

"7, 000, I have seen your ship, it is rubbish."

The merchant frowned "8,500 and not a penny less."

The stranger seemed to think about this, then after a pause resonded "Deal."

The stranger took the ship.

______________________________________________________________

Where he took it was to one of the less populated zones of Dantooine, there to await his 'associates'.

"I have the ship, meet me at these coordinates..."

After some time, figures moved out from the darkness, maybe a half dozen. Together they moved away from the ship, which was hidden, and towards a small rural farming community.They gathered around its' primitive well.

"Ok," said one "What else do we need?"

The original figure removed a datapad from within his robes.

"We need, several crates of Dantooine supplies, aswell as as much trinkity things as possible."

They looked around, and selected a particularily large farm. They knocked on the door and waited.

After several minutes, a fat little farmer came out in a night-robe. He held a torch in one hand, and said in an irritaited voice "Yes? What do you want?"

"Hello" said one of the figures, a female, "We are passing traders. We can't stay long, and we wish to augment our shipment to Coruscant with some of your crop. We can pay you."

The man looked at them suscpiciously, untrustingly, but eventually lead them round to a storage shed. He opened it and showed them stacks of crates of some of Dantooines' finest crops.

The figures spread out, inspecting the boxes, until eventually one of them nodded.

"We'll take it"

"How much?" The farmer asked

"All of it"

"All of it!?" He exclaimed, dropping his torch in surprise. "But that will cost you quite a fair sum inde-"

"Will this be enough?"

One of the figures took out a suitcase and revealed what appeared to be 3,500 credits. The farmer stared at it, goggle-eyed.

"Yes... That should do..."

The figures marched the crates out to their ship. Already it was filled with crates of finest silks and officers' uniforms, guns, computers, hacking equipment, grenades, knockout darts and gas bombs, thremal detonators, comm units, several very different sets of clothes, and all sorts of odds and ends. They also included false posters and papers and information, encrypted, about something called "The Dantooine LIberation Front", a fictional group created for the upcoming operation.

They then set about making the ship look like it had been lived in, like an old merchant vessel would look after years of use. They dirited things, made mess, left out boxes of food, threw socks onto the floor, just general unclensliness.

Done that, they went into the final stage of the operation.

The team moved to the main imperial base on the planet, slipping silently through the defence network using their skills at infiltration. They dodged the guards around the outside and found a computer terminal usually used for opening doors.

One of the figures took out a small computer and hooked it up to the door-computer. A few moments' work and they were in. Two figures stayed behind and four went on. The computer made sure that any images from cameras or otherwise containing their comrades were seen they would be carefully scrubbed.

The team moved deeper into the base, until it found what it was looking for-The Departemtn for Trade And Commerce. There, another figure started to go to work with datapad and forging tools, to falsify information about six native merchants who lived in a tiny, unheard of rural community, made their fortune, and are now starting space trade. Also, he added the nessessary liscenses, papers, and signitures to allow them to do upper-class trade in Coruscant.

But of course, this took considerable time, and while he did that, a guard came along. They held their breaths for ten excrutiatingly long seconds, then he moved on. Finally, after an hour of close calls and whispered prayers, they left. There was no sign of their passing and everything was as it was.

They were ready. The next morning, they left Dantooine.

“Left, go right.”

“Roger Right, watch your Left.”

“Yup, my eye’s on ‘em now Sir.”

With practiced steps, the two crack weapons specialists made their way across the street, dressed as ordinary civilians. Dubbed “Left” and “Right”, they had soon discovered that confusion, and often times hilarity, could ensue if they were not careful with their code names.

They had already worn out the hilarity factor.

“Ship is clear” snapped Left to Right.

“Roger” replied Right to Left.

“One in, two in” said their voices in unison, as they piled into their small transport, constructed of 90% engines, 8% hull, and 2.2% space tape.

“Lift off.”

With a flare of engines, they launched out, out of the mock training faculty they had just spent four days in, out into space. Destination… encoded.