CSIS Base, Audacia

The ship standing in front of them on the duracrete pad was an exceptionally old freighter, only a few runs away from the trash heap. Windsaber was an inelegant, rusting YT-1400 made by the famous Corellian Engineering Corporation. On the circular hull, Ravenna could spot multiple plates haphazardly welded to the hull where some breach had been made in the past; many which had been made by a stray micro-meteorite; more had been made by some not-so stray blaster bolts. A variety of parts from various models of older ships had been wired and melded onto the hull, begging Adrian to wonder if it had been impounded for safety failures instead of the smuggling charges which brought most craft into CSIS service.

“Not too pretty, eh?” questioned Swenson, walking up behind Adrian.

Ravenna nodded. “Think we could win the ugliest ship contest with it?”

“Probably,” confirmed Kitty, standing alongside Adrian, “along with ship that is most likely to implode in flight.”

The group chuckled. Adrian felt a presence grow stronger. Ravenna squinted his eyes. It’s familiar, and coming closer. A deep baritone voice rose up from behind the trio.

“All I have to say is that it had better have some decent food on it,” said Thompson, “because if the food is as good as the ship, I’d rather be eating flavored cardboard boxes.”

“Only one way to find out,” stated Ravenna, “and that’s to go take a look inside.”

Adrian heaved up his duffel bag onto to his back and advanced warily towards the hackjob freighter. Behind him, the other members of his team dutifully picked up their bags and followed the recently-promoted Special Agent. Special Agent was akin to being a junior sergeant within the army; not a basic foot soldier, but not an officer either. Instead, he was the one who bridged the gap between the two. A task which Adrian did not relish. He pulled out his comlink and tapped a button. Surprisingly, the freighter’s ramp did lower down without an incident. He walked up it.

The interior was very much like the outside of the craft: barely functional. The decks were worn and dirty in some places, and Ravenna could tell that some of the dents and scorches along the walls didn’t come from the Corellian factory that made it decades ago. Some of the integral parts to the ship were not only welded or soldered on in a variety of different fashions, but Adrian noted a clear substance that seemed to have oozed from them and then hardened. Corellian epoxy. Haven’t seen that stuff since Dev and I tried to make those fake lightsabers for our high school’s play. Adrian shook the thought away and dropped his bag off in the crew quarters. The others followed suit. Within several minutes, the CSIS crew had made their way to the Windsaber’s tubular cockpit and strapped themselves in. Swenson had been adamant about carrying a personal repulsorlift pack (used by airspeeder pilots if their speeder got destroyed mid-air) once he had saw the ship. The short man now had the pack strapped to his back, elicting amused grins from Ravenna and Thompson and an outburst of giggling from Hawk. Swenson shrugged it off, saying that it would be their fault if they didn’t bring one for themselves. As the last of Kitty’s giggles died away, Adrian thumbed the ship’s comm.

“This is freighter Windsaber requesting clearance to launch,” stated Adrian monotonously.

“Access Code?”

“Alpha Beta Phi 4030769799.”

“Approved,” stated the flight controller, hesitating, “and good luck with that…thing.”

“Thank you, sir,” replied Ravenna, a trace of amusement creeping into his voice.

The freighter slowly rose up from the ground on its repulsorlifts before jetting into the sky towards space. Kitty, the sole qualified pilot among them, grabbed the controls of the rickety crate and expertly steered the craft through the upper atmospheric layers into space. Adrian began to relax and mediate on his surroundings. He immersed himself in the current of the Force, allowing it to sweep and flow through him like the tides. Adrian began to probe a little, seeking out the presence of his compatriots. His probing just scratching the surfaces of the feelings from team mates; the anxiety of Swenson, the steady concentration of Kitty, the confidence of Thompson. A pair of new, unidentified presences soared pass them. Adrian grinned. Here we are in the Windsaber, plodding around space like a Bantha, while the Deathsabers patrolling the area are soaring around us, taking sensor readings. They must either think we’re insane or be consulting with their command ship if they should request a safety inspection. Adrian knew it was all standard procedure; any ship entering or exiting the system was briefly scanned and inspected by a recon flight for safety and customs issues. He settled back into the Force, allowing it to suffuse his body, pulsating through his veins and heart. Trying to become closer to the force. And he mediated still as the freighter jumped into the swirling stars of hyperspace.

The Windsaber dropped into realspace like a rock, briefly knocking its passengers around as it did so. Kitty muttered some incomprehensible swears under her breath about the inertial compensators of the ship. But they were there. Dalos IV hung before them like a glittering globe, with a vast expanse of sapphire blue water only interrupted by a single continent of leafy green. Adrian stared down at the planet. It’s like someone took a slice of Genon and just dropped it onto New Oceanus or Dac. Hawk expertly steered the old freighter towards the surface. Dalos IV steadily grew in their viewport.

“How do I look?” asked Swenson, entering the cockpit area.

“Not too bad,” commented Adrian, looking their tech specialist over.

“Horrible,” replied Kitty, not bothering to take her gaze from the freighter’s viewports.

Adrian and Swenson both smiled. The team could hardly appear to be undercover wearing a set of standard issue military fatigues. Instead, they all wore some civilian, middle-class casual clothing. Swenson wore some sort of orange jumper with a pair of jeans. Adrian, posing as the freighter’s captain, wore a pair of dark trousers and a beige shirt which a blue vest slightly covered up. I sort of look like Han Solo. Sort of. Does this maybe come across as too stereotypical? Adrian didn’t bother think about it any more. Kitty was dressed similarly to Adrian, and Thompson was dressed similarly to Swenson save that his jumper was a dark maroon. The clothing didn’t worry him, some key elements of the disguise did. Ravenna swiveled in his chair to face Swenson.

“Where are you from, Mr. Aust?”

“I’m from Buracesti. That’s how you say it, right?”

Ravenna shook his head. “The C is hard, not soft.”

“Baracesti.”

“Better,” replied Adrian, “we certainly are lucky that we’re not going to Buracesti.”

“Why’s that?” questioned Swenson.

“Because they’d never believe that you were from Buracesti unless you grew up somewhere else. You don’t have their accent down quite right.”

“It’s not too bad, is it?”

“Well,” mused Adrian, “customs on Dalos IV is something of a joke, so I highly doubt they’ll be able to tell the difference; unless they’ve met a lot of Buracestians.”

Swenson grunted back as the freighter entered the atmosphere. Thompson, the team’s assault expert, casually strode into the cockpit to join them. He acknowledged them with a grunt before settling down in a rear seat alongside Swenson. The viewports started to glow a fiery reds and yellows as the Windsaber started its re-entry. Kitty hurriedly flipped a couple of switches, one of them activating the ship’s repulsors. The freighter’s dive became a comfortable descent. Kitty turned to Adrian.

“We haven’t received anything from their traffic control. Why?”

Adrian barked a laugh. “You’re thinking too highly of Dalos IV to think that it has something remotely as sophisticated as traffic control. You have to remember something, this is a penal colony gone bad. It’s a hive of scum and villainy. Or, at least it was until recently. Things are going to be a little rough around most of the continent, especially around the alien quarters. Myax and his men can easily get away with trouble there, but not around the human quarters though.”

“It’s too bad then that Myax won’t be in the human quarters despite him being human,” drolled Thompson, “then I at least have the opportunity to put a nice, heavy round throw him.”

“He’s worth more to us alive then dead,” reminded Ravenna, “just remember that. If we can nab him, we can have a trial for him and his thugs. Dalos IV has known crime too long, and its governor knows that.”

“We’re getting a landing signal,” reported Kitty.

“Where from?” said Swenson.

“The government house.”

Thompson frowned. “We’re working with their government on this?”

“Did you think that we wouldn’t?” questioned the Susevfian man, “it’s their planet, not ours. The government has about as much power as Myax too, which doesn’t help. There’s a power struggle going on here that threatens their citizens, and we’re here to stop it.”

“Great, we get to be the knights in shining white armor,” mused Swenson.

Adrian snorted. “More like the unsung heroes…”

Windsaber’s doors opened with a hiss, and a wash of warm air quickly flooded up the ramp and into the ship’s hold. Adrian took a whiff of it and wrinkled his face. Nothing like hot, humid air that reeks of some plant sap. Shutting his eyes, he shook his head. Like the air, a flood of life and emotions began to flow and seep through his mind. He took a deep breath, trying to wade through the swamp of life to detect who stood outside. He reached out with his mind trying to feel those who awaited him. But Adrian was inexperienced, and untrained. All he could feel was the abundant sea of life.

Kitty walked up behind him. “Ready, Captain Narol?”

Ravenna cleared his throat and assumed a new, all-to-smooth accent equally appropriate for a conman or a smuggler. “I sure am, doll. Did I ever tell you how beautiful you look?”

She rolled her eyes. Adrian smiled. Kitty opened her mouth to say something, and shut just as fast as she had opened it. Gently, she nudged him towards the ramp. 'Captain Narol' led the four of them down the ramp. The Government House was a regal-looking, old-fashioned house, very much akin to the plantations that Ravenna had seen on old holos. Adrian noticed that some of the paint was chipped, and some slight warping on the roof. Probably because of the moisture. We could drown some desert species just with the air. I’m already beginning to sweat. A middle-aged woman slowly walked towards them, with a pair of mercenaries flanked on either side right behind her. Adrian smiled brightly and advanced towards them as if they were old friends.

“Governor-General Rimrunner,” said Adrian smoothly, bowing to kiss her hand, “pleasure to meet you.”

Lira Rimrummer politely smiled, but did not extend her hand. Ravenna quickly stood up straight with an appreciative smile. He brushed off the sides of his vest, a habit of Captain Narol’s persona.

“And you as well, Captain Narol,” replied the woman , “if that is your real name. You are from our friends?”

“Yes indeed.”

“Let me see your identification then.”

Adrian let out a sigh. Slowly, he slipped his right hand into the pocket of his vest and quickly whipped out a thin, plastic card. Smiling, the Susevfian fluidly slid the card into the Governor-General’s hand. It was the standard CSIS ID card. Each card had a photo of its holder, their CSIS rank level as a number, and an ID number. It had no-one’s name or anything that could link the card to the Confederation in case the agent was captured. Lira looked it over cautiously and handed it back to him coldly.

“I’ll see their cards too,” demanded Lira, gesturing at the rest of the CSIS crew.

One by one, they handed her a card, she looked it over, and then handed it back to them. Satisfied, the woman motioned for them to follow her towards the Government House, with the mercenaries trailing slightly behind the group. Probably to cut us down if we try to pull anything on her. Wise. It also means that she doesn’t trust yet, despite viewing the ID cards. They passed through the doors into the house itself. Lira quickly led them through a series of hallways, down a set of stairs, and finally to a conference room. They had just barely made it through the door before she locked it. She turned them.

“Welcome to Dalos IV, home of the sport of Trophy Chase,” stated the woman, moving to sit down at the head of the table, “and also as of late, Boss Myax. I trust you know why you are here?”

Adrian smoothed out his vest and replied cocksure. “You think we didn’t?”

The older woman blinked. “Of course not. Then you know what needs to be done. But you do not know where the target is or your way around the planet. I can provide transportation to target’s main residence, you can nab the target there…”

Adrian nodded. Interesting. She’s depersonalizing Myax as if he isn’t another sentient being. He’s just the ‘target’. Is that just habit so that just in case she gets overheard talking about him, no interloper knows what she’s talking about? Or perhaps is it habit back from her own criminal days when she could distanced herself from associates. Smugglers and gunfighters always did have a higher attrition rate than most occupations…

It was just as important to know one’s allies as one’s enemies. That was what his instructors had always iterated to their agents. For a supposed ally could actually be a mole or a turncoat in the field. And not knowing about an enemy was a dangerous thing. From his briefing packet, Adrian recalled that no only was Lira a convicted criminal who had served her sentence, but that it had been that combined with her sharp wit, charisma, and honesty which she had won the elections with. Many of these people have had criminal pasts. Some are trying to escape it with Rimrunner, others are digging themselves into it with Myax. We’re here to help redeem those who have repented, to punish those who have not. A righteous mission indeed.

“…from what some trusted associates of mine have said, it is heavily guarded. He has thugs and associates living and running around the house. It’s part of his security plan.”

“It’s a good one too,” stated Kitty, the group’s infiltration specialist, “because it will make sneaking in very hard. It will be hard to not get noticed in most cases.”

“But,” countered Adrian, “it will make it easier to slip as one of his men. We just dress up and walk right in.”

“I wish that were so,” replied Rimrunner, “but it is not. Myax has a daily password for people in his house. If you don’t answer correctly inside or outside of the house, I imagine the alarm will be raised.”

“We could nab one of his guys outside the house and get the password,” offered Thompsoon.

“Assuming we do manage to do that and not attract any attention, what if he lies? Who wants to trust an enemy?” asked Swenson, looking around.

“Stealthy infiltration will be the only way in,” decided Ravenna.

Hawk raised an eyebrow at him. Ravenna roguishly smiled back. “Don’t worry, I have an idea.”

Lira snorted in derision. “I’ve heard that one before…”

The dreary rain fell down, gently forcing bystanders on the streets to take shelter. In his upper level hotel room, Adrian only had his sniper rifle and the piter-pater of the rain to accompany him. It glazed the windows, obscuring Ravenna’s view to the outside world. He sighed, readjusting the bipod of his rifle, which produced a light thud as it dropped onto the wooden window sill. The rifle’s stock pressed heavily on his chest as the agent scoped out his target. A little more to the right. He slid the rifle over and reached for the focusing knob. He twisted it back and forth several times until it was of the correct clarification. There was only one problem: the window was in the way.

Adrian spared from the scope to glance at his wrist chrono. Two more minutes. Kitty had better be in position, or else. Yeah, this could get…interesting…He shook the thought away from him, concentrating on the obscured figure huddling on the opposite rooftop through his scope. He opened the window. The sound of falling rain and scrambling bystanders grew louder. Ravenna stared through the scope again. He could make out the figure more clearly. It’s a Barabel. Wonderful. Those are always a pleasure to fight with their thick skin and claws. He took in a small breath, allowing the current of the Force to clearly flow through him. The ripples and tides of emotions of the area seemed to consume. He felt vivaciously alive. He felt - Pleasure. Some people are having a good time at least. Probably get completely drunk right below me and at Myax’s place. He immersed himself more, allowing his resolve and will to temper the emotional high of the surrounding area to improve his abilities. His chrono softly beeped.

He pulled the trigger.

A dark gray bolt silently surged through the air and slammed into the Barabel’s head. The creature let out an anguished grunt, slightly jerked a bit, and then toppled to the ground in a fleshy heap. It’s a good thing it’s raining heavily; otherwise people might have heard him hitting the rooftop. He swept his scope across the building. A figure clad in a skintight black suit deftly jumped from another building’s rooftop to land on the Myax’s roof. Perhaps it was his imagination, perhaps it was the Force. But Ravenna could see the gracious, feminine curves of her body. Kitty enviously tumbled onto the rooftop; breaking her fall with a roll to the her right side. She had barely landed, and still crouched, she drew her compact Redemptor. Cautiously, she walked over to the downed Barabel. She crouched down and tapped it on its head. She slowly raised a hand with the universal OK sign. Good. So he’s still alive. The stun bolt on this thing is a little powerful, but his skin probably protected him somewhat from the energy surge. Not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Adrian shrugged. I have more important things to work on besides alien physiology. The man casually left the rifle drop to the wooden floor with a dull thud.

He walked to the window and looked down at the muddy streets below. Few people remained outside in the rain. All the better. Less people to spot me. Less people to see anything. Less people who could potentially get hurt. A window frame above him rang with a staccato, metallic ping. Adrian jumped back out of reflex. The agent looked towards the window. A thin, fibracord rope hung stretched from the top of his window down to Myax’s roof. On Myax’s roof, Hawk was wrapping her grappling gun around a pipe. Finishing the task, she raised her thumb up. Go time.

Adrian scrambled to stand on top of the window sill. Rain drops splattered onto his face, temporary blinding him. As the heavy rain pelted him, Ravenna’s hands quickly fluttered about, seeking the elusive rope. There it is. His hands firmly gripped the wet, rough rope. Now for the fun part. Despite the cooling rain, Adrian perspired profusely. His heart pounded relentlessly.

Hand over hand, the man efficiently traversed down the slippery rope like a monkey performing a circus act: the hand furthest from Myax’s house reached farther down the rope while the other hand tightly gripped the rope to keep him from falling. It was one of the most dangerous parts of the mission for Adrian. He could lose his grip on the rope and fall down four stories to either a serious injury or his death. Perhaps more dangerous would be the possibility of someone noticing either on the street or from one of the buildings. Their element of surprise would be lost; endangering their mission and his group member’s lives. His heart pounded harder. I’m going to faint. His eyes blacked out briefly, but his hands defiantly gripped the rope more tightly than ever. He took a deep breath and hurriedly finished the rest of the rope. It took Ravenna a heart-wrenching minute to simply get across the street. Adrian gripped the ledge of the building, hanging precariously. The hooded face of Kitty leaned over the building. She extended a hand, which Adrian promptly grabbed, and helped pull the bulky man on top of the building by pushing her feet against the building’s wall. The rain continued to pour on them, and Adrian could tell that Kitty was absolutely soaked. She ignored the rain, ignored Adrian laying flat on the roof, and scrambled back to the piston gun. Quickly, Hawk unwrapped the grappling gun from the pipe. She tapped a button on the tool. It jerked out of her hands, reeling itself up to the piston still embedded in the window frame.

The two Confederate agents huddled down together as the rain poured down in torrents. Ravena sporadically breathed in and out heavily, slowly catching his breath. He slowly rose from his prone position and the wet duracrete. As he rose, Kitty’s blue eyes stared down at him steadily through the shadow suit’s small eye slits. Adrian, still dressed as Captain Narol, looked up at her and weakly smiled.


“Well, that was fun,” mused the man quietly.

“You could have killed yourself,” nagged the woman softly.

“We all take risks; especially in this profession. You could have made a miscalculation in your jump and fell several stories to your death.”

She cocked her head to the side. “We don’t have time for these philosophical debates, professor. Where are Thompson and Swenson?”

Adrian casually shrugged. “Off doing their own thing.”

“Their own thing?!” questioned Hawk incredulously.

“Yes,” replied Ravenna calmly, “I didn’t quite understand it all, but when we were doing the quick recon and we split into pairs, Swenson said he found some way in using a guy’s speeder. I didn’t quite get it all. Thompson supported the plan, so I said they could do it.”

“But you’re the group leader-”

Adrian’s expression hardened. “I don’t like making decisions for people. Especially those that can get them killed. They know their strengths and weaknesses better than I do, so they’re better informed-”

“Listen to me. Do you know what they’ll do? Swenson’s tech concoctions have erratic reliability. It’s a matter of time before one of them fails and gets them into trouble. And Thompson? I’m sure his idea of using subtlety is writing ‘subtlety’ on a rocket launcher and firing it indiscriminately into a house.”

“We just have to have faith.”

“Faith isn’t enough.”

Ravenna nodded. “You’re right. Action is. Come on, let’s go. The more time we talk, the less likely we’re going to succeed. Pull that hooded mask off too.”

“Why?”

“Because it makes it rather obvious that we’re intruders,” stated Adrian, taking off his vest, “Here, put my vest on. It’ll make you look less intruderish.”

She quickly pulled off the hood and let it dangle from the back of her neck. Rolling her eyes, Kitty reluctantly accepted the vest from Adrian’s outstretched hands. She slid it on over her shoulders.

“Better?”

“Much,” replied the Special Agent, “now lets go.”

Armed with their silenced pistols, the pair walked over to a small, boxlike structure situated on the roof. Adrian spared a glance to Kitty. She nodded. A meter away from the door, the woman drew her pistol and leveled it to fire. Ravenna cautiously grasped the brassy doorknob with his gloved hands. Slowly, he turned the doorknob. It squealed. Adrian silently swore. It’s not very well oiled. If any- A voice boomed from behind the door.

“Porsha? Is that you? I was wondering-”

Adrian finished turning the knob and whipped the door open.

Kitty fired.

The blue stun bolt smashed into the bulky, human male; making a crackling sound as it met the man’s flesh. Wide-eyed, the man froze, wavered, and tumbled back down the stairs from which he came. He landed with a loud thud. Adrian winced. Somebody had to hear that. Great. The pair of agents glanced at each other, and advanced through the doorway into Myax’s residence. Choking scents of cigarra smoke and a multitude of alcoholic drinks greeted them. Clubbing music echoed loudly through the creaking, wooden boards. Adrian wrinkled his nose in disgust. That music must be blaring down below. There’s a chance they didn’t here this fellow’s crash. Heck, we could even smuggle in the most foul-scented being and have a chance of escaping notice. He turned to Hawk. Her left hand covered her nose, desperately trying to stave off the noxious smells. She nodded in his direction. They advanced down the creaking stairs. The music grew louder. Suddenly, there was a deafening crash, and the music came to a complete halt. People began to boisterously shout about intruders and a need to draw weapons. Myax’s friends began to hustle and run around the house. Adrian sighed. Oh great. Where did we go wrong?



“It can’t go wrong,” stated Swenson firmly, “especially if Ravenna gave us his approval.”

“Yeah, okay,” replied Thompson, obviously unconvinced.

The floor the agents were sitting on jerked into motion. Swenson skidded into a cardboard box with a light thump. The small man regained his balance and sheepishly sat down by Thompson, who was inspecting several of his weapons. The big man glanced at the tech specialist with a trace of amusement. Thompson silently shook his head and continued to check over his weaponry.

Outside of them, the motor rumbled in vociferous tones. By hacking into several Myax’s computers, Swenson had not only discovered the residence’s blue prints, but all of the logistics needed to keep the hub of his criminal empire moving smoothly. Myax entertained a large amount of guests and provided for more than a few of his men as well. Food was consumed at such a staggering rate. Food had to be delivered at least twice a day. Swenson prided himself in having identified the vehicle and arranging their entry into it. All by the means of falsified computer records and orders. It had taken him only fifteen minutes. Thompson turned to the small man.

“What you using?”

Swenson raised his Redemptor; the standard issue pistol of the CSIS. It was a compact, silenced pistol. Easily hidden in pockets and hard to hear when fired. Almost the perfect undercover weapon except for its lack of power…and range. Thompson shook his head, hefting a larger weapon.

“There’s nothing like a repeater to get you through a firefight.”

Swenson scoffed. “How are you going to silence a machine gun?”

Thompson shrugged. “I’m not.”

The vehicle jerked to a stop. A ragged series of cheers greeted the driver. The big man leveled his weapon at the van’s back door.

Swenson frowned. “But we’re supposed to be doing this with subtlety.”

The vehicle’s back door opened to revealed Myax’s men sent to pick up the food.

“Too late,” replied Thompson, pulling the trigger of his rapid fire weapon.

A steady jet of crimson bursts erupted from the back of the vehicle, immediately striking knocking down the unfortunate man who had opened the door. Several bolts struck out into the gathered crowd of people, searing their flesh. Some people howled in pain and tried to stumbled away. Others drew their weapons and opened fire on the van. Bolts pinged off the vehicle’s metallic body, slowly chewing away at it. Swenson retreated by several boxes of frozen food. Thompson fired off another burst and followed them. Blaster bolts singed the areas where the agents had once stood. Thompson slapped in a fresh powerpack into his weapon. Swenson leaned out and fired a series of suppressing shots. The big man finished reloading his weapon and began to return fire at their attackers.

Swenson grunted. “Let’s hope Adrian is having better luck than this.”

“Luck? Adrian might be having better luck, but I bet we’re having more fun.”

The small man grunted. “Well, you’re having fun.”

“You mean you’re not?”

Swenson spared a quick glare at the larger man before returning his gaze to fire upon Myax’s men.

A jumbled pandemonium of thoughts flowed through Adrian as he tried to let the tendrils of the Force flow through him. How are Swenson and Thompson doing? What is that crash? What the hell is going on? The discord broke his concentration and overcame his limited ability small connection to the Force. He shook the thoughts away. There’s only one thing to do. Adrian stepped forward, the floor creaking underneath him. Complete the mission. Kitty crept behind him like a wraith, somehow avoiding those boards which creaked. They approached the door which led to the hallway on which Myax’s office was on. It noisily swung open, releasing a swarm of knoxious odors. An alien toting a blaster rifle walked through its doorways and suddenly stopped. It jerked back its head, staring at the two individuals. Before the Confederate agents could react, it had leveled its gun menacingly at them.

The being spoke towards them with a raspy voice. “What’s the password?”

Adrian’s mind raced at nearly lightspeed. Frak. There’s nothing about dealing with this in our training. What would a Jedi Knight do? Well, I could try that. Calmly, Adrian stared into the alien’s void-like eyes.

“You don’t need to hear the password.”

“I don’t…what? Say that again,” demanded the alien.

The pressure and stress compacted his thoughts; improved with his concentration. The Force freely flowed and ebbed within him. He felt – Peace. Tranquility. So wonderous…so…inappropriate for this situation. Kitty pressed against him as he spoke, her arm creeping up his own and slowly prying it open.

“I said you don’t need to hear the password.”

The alien blinked, coming out of its stupor. “What you do mean? Of course I need to hear the password. The Boss can’t have intruders-.”

It hit the alien like a punch: these were intruders. But he was too late. Kitty squeezed the trigger of her pistol, firing through the space she created by opening Adrian’s arm. Sapphire stun bolts silently slammed into the being’s chest. It briefly waved a bit, and toppled to the floor with thump. Adrian turned and smiled at the woman.

“Nice save.”

“What kind of distraction was that?” questioned Hawk admonishingly, “I’m surprised we’re not dead.”

“Me too. But it was a distraction,” responded Adrian, “let’s get this body out of the way.”

Shaking her head, Kitty joined Adrian in grabbing the being’s limp arms. They dragged it forward, the alien’s head awkwardly bumping off the grainy, wooden floor. As they neared a piece of furniture, Kitty dropped her arm. Adrian frowned and turned at the woman.

“But he’s not even out of sight yet.”

She nodded, picking up a bottle of cheap brandy off the table. Kitty twisted the cap off and proceeded to pour the brandy on the alien. The dark liquid seeped through its clothing and filled the air with a pungent odor. She crouched down and placed the bottle in the alien’s sagging hands.

“It looks like he had too much to drink.”

Adrian snorted. “I hope so. That’s a waste of alcohol if you ask me.”

She shrugged. “What’s done is done. Let’s get back to Myax’s office, shall we?”

***

Emerald. Ruby. Sapphire.

Beautiful gems, beautiful colours.

But Swenson did not seem them as beautiful. Each of the colours meant death or imprisonment; they were the colours of the blasters firing at him. Outside the van, humans and aliens jointly sprayed their bolts indiscriminately at the vehicle’s hold. The stench of burning ozone, seared flesh, and the noxious fumes each bolt created threatened to overwhelm the tiny man. He began to grow faint. The tech specialist spared a glance at Thompson. The big man hefted his second weapon with ease, picking out concentrations of shooters and firing a series of red bursts in their direction. He laughed maniacally in the process. Thompson’s blaster refused to fire. The big man frowned and swore, slapped a fresh powerpack in, and fired, returning gleefully to his work. The two fired a series of bolts at a crate twenty meters in front of them. Myax’s man behind it rose to return fire, only to be knocked down by one of Thompson’s flurries of bolts. Each Confederate trained their weapons about the loading dock, but no enemy showed themselves or threatened them in anyway. The moans of the wounded broke through the silence. Thompson turned to Swenson.

“Did we get them all?” he asked quizicially.

Swenson shook his head, still training his weapon about. “Can’t be. These odds are incredibly against us. They’re playing with us. It has to be. Maybe a lure to get us out in the open. We are decently protected by these crates.”

“So what do we do?”

Swenson smiled for once in the last three hours. “We play back. Keep an eye out. I’m going to get out a little toy.”

Thompson uneasily nodded and focused his attention back on the outside. His repeating blaster slowly pointed across the field; his eyes scanning and searching for a target. Any target. Swenson, in the meantime, rummaged through one of his bags, and pulled out a disk-shaped object. He tapped a button on it, tapped it down, and threw it out of the van. Outside the vehicle, a full holo of a popular martial art’s actor flared to life. As it did, a pair of Myax’s shooters popped up, to promptly get knocked down by a burst of stun bolts.

“That’s it?” commented Thompson.

Swenson exasperatedly raised his hands. “Do you have any better ideas?”



Myax quickly entered his office, nearly running towards his desk. He was an aging, lean man, seeming almost decrepit on the outside. An appearance belied by his intense and fluid stride. An appearance belied by the repeating blaster slung on his back. The crime lord swept his hands across the messy desk’s surface. Finally his hand clamped itself around a tiny purse which jingled. He toothlessly smiled and turned back to exit. A pair of figures stood at his entrance, with their guns raised.

“Don’t move,” ordered Ravenna.

“Drop the bag,” added Kitty, entering the office.

The purse clattered to the ground with a metallic clang, the credit chips in it jingling. Kitty emotionlessly aimed her gun at Myax’s face, and fired. The blue stun bolt knocked the old man over, rendering him unconscious and sending him sprawling on the floor. Ravenna frowned and shut the office doors behind them. Hurriedly, he paced over to the downed man. Deftly, Adrian checked his pulse. He muttered a few words and looked up at Kitty.

“You’re lucky that didn’t kill him. He’s not in the prime of his life.”

She shrugged. “But he can’t be that bad if he can hobble around with a T-21 strapped to his back.”

Adrian reluctantly nodded. “True. Still, try and play it safe next time. We’re basically done then.”

His comlink beeped. Ravenna tapped it. “Yes?”

“Where the hell are you?” demanded Swenson’s voice.

“In Myax’s office. We have him. You?”

“With Rimrunner. She has just arrived with the police. We’re at the docking area.”

“Good. How long will it take for you to get here?”

“Not long. Maybe five minutes at most. Resistance is basically gone. Thompson wiped out most of their fighters in our little firefight here.”

“Excellent. I’ll see you then. Ravenna out.”

Adrian slid the comlink back into his pocket. Kitty continued to stare at him.

“Now what?”

“We wait for them, hand over Myax, and stay in a hotel for a few nights. A pair of our cruisers will be arriving here shortly to help Rimrunner quench out any more criminal resistance. Our work here is basically done, except that we’ll have to help provide security for when she makes acceptance speech.”

“Acceptance speech?”

He nodded. “Dalos IV already put in an application to the Council, which was pending on the success of this mission. We did it, so now the only impediment to their joining is gone. Dalos IV is now a part of the Confederation…”