Search and Seizure Mission: Felucia's Folly

[Aurelias Kazaar]

continued from here (http://www.sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?t=14803)

Felucia: Three Days Later

The night was hot as hell.

It was these types of planets, Kazaar hated with a frelling passion. The steam was everywhere, thick and hazy...clinging to jackets, shirts, armor...everything...And yet the planet was held by the Galactic Empire, just like the Confederacy of Independent Systems held it before, and Commerce Guild before that. Kazaar always figured it was the fruit and the out-of-the-way location. Perfect for some sorta illegal activity. It was even rumored Gorgja the Hutt had a stake on Felucia...somewhere.

The former bounty hunter could never figure out why people loved this planet, but he never bothered to actually expound on his theory. If they liked it...great. If not...he didn't give a damn.

He'd decided to be 'sneaky' about coming into Felucia, preferring to use a small, private spaceport on the outskirts of Kway Teow, instead of the main hub in the capital city. There were times Kazaar would use the main starport, but he's never been to Felucia and figured it'd be easier just to sneak his way in and avoid the Imperial questioning he'd face. Rebel questions were bad enough, 'Why'd you disobey orders?', 'Why'd you decide to help out Agent Russard?'...Imperial ones would probably force him to explain why he joined the Rebel Army.

And Kazaar did feel like repeating the line he'd told one Imperial captain, 'You blew up my fracking home planet, ya putz!'

The Rebel spy puffed on a cigar as he sauntered down the concrete roads of Kway Teow. The buildings here had a distinctive organic feel to them, as if the now-dead Emperor hadn't been able to completely turn the planet into a copy cat of Coruscant. The buildings only halfway reached towards the sky, their looks were a mixture of grey and brown, with a bit of orange thrown in for some reason. The streets were lit with the occasional street lamp, which kept the organic-feel: they were snake-like, a mixture of grey and blue stripes reaching for the sky. It was a unique feel...but Kazaar preferred a much larger city.

As Kazaar searched for his location, he ran his fingers through his, now blonde, hair. The dye was temporary, it'd last only a few days before fading away into nothingness. He'd heard the art of changing ones appearance as mixing the real with the unreal, a suggestion he followed as much as possible. Although nothing was like having someone know who was going after you...especially when your hands were on their throat, choking what little life they had in them.

His brown eyes spotted the club's neon signs, flashing against the brown and grey of the building. It read 'The Twirling Lekku' and a smaller one below it flashed, 'Now featuring both Twi'leks and Humans!'

For club that was considered a haunt of Imperial officers, Kazaar thought as he strode across the street towards the club, it was sure out of the way. He figured it was because it gave off the appearance of officers actually doing their work, in stead of just relaxing. Besides, Kazaar knew where the Rebel version of the club was on a different planet. And he smirked at that thought.

The Rebel spy made his way to the entrance and nodded to the Gammorean bouncer.

"Twenty Credits," a droid standing next to the guard said tonelessly. Kazaar paid him and wandered in, his eyes searching for any group of drunk Imperials he could follow home and have a 'chat' with.

Kazaar walked over to the metallic bar, as the sound of jizz music filtered throughout the establishment. It was dark and loud...the perfect place to sit and hide in plain sight.

"Gimme a Corellian Ale...whatever ya have is fine," a moist brown bottle was placed in his hand and he brought it to his lips. The taste was sweet to his lips and mouth. It filtered his senses and quenched his bit of thirst he had from his walk into the capital city.

"Toowa smeeku?" a soft voice inquired to his left, and Kazaar saw the blue Twi'lek sliding up next to him. She had a dancer's body and, lack of, dress. Her blue eyes gazed into his eyes and delicate hand touched his shoulder.

"Sure," Kazaar smirked, "I'll take one. Over there," he pointed to a chair which had the vantage point of group of Imperials.

As the Twi'lek started dancing in front of him, Kazaar smirked again. Who said ya couldn't have fun and work at the same time?

[Estelle Russard]

As Kazaar had been arriving planetside on Felucia, Estelle had returned back to base to make preparation for her departure to Imperal Center, where she would be taking to herself once again the mantel of Art student -- a return to her old life to disguise her new one.

Her mind wandered again to Aurelias Kazaar and the unlikely partnership they had struck up on Spindrift.

She was still flush with the success of Mission Birdsong and every time she thought of that laser fire on the rooftop, and the incoming gunship with its hungry searchlights, she found her heart had involuntarily picked up its beat.

Estelle shut the light to the laundry where she had been foldling neatly her clothing to go into her suitcase and moved into the bathroom, casting a glance at the digital chrono that flashed on her bedside table as she passed through. She had not heard back yet from the slicer she had contacted. And not for the first time, she wondered what was causing the delay.

The information Mirko Spendrim had given them had been straightforward. Hadn't it? All she wanted was a double-check, confirmation on what they already knew. Estelle felt a lingering responsability to the Birdsong follow-up mission - which Kazaar in all his arogant splendor had been assigned by Director Belargic - and she wanted to do what she could to see that it got off on the right foot.

She had told herself that she was expending her efforts needlessly. She was new to the game. She should let the more experienced agents do what they do. But, she just wanted a double-check.. Where was the harm in that?

Stepping into the sonic shower, she hoped some message would be waiting for her when she got out.

She shampooed her hair to give the slicer an extra five minutes to the already too long a time she had been waiting.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

The Twirling Lekku-Felucia

Kazaar leaned back in his chair, smiling as the Twi’lek danced before him. Her blue skin glistened with sweat as she twirled, her movements both fluid and seductive at the same time. Her garments were few, a strand of a stretchy fabric ran from her headdress, down her neck, across her chest in a criss-cross fashion before settling along her waist. It left nothing to be imagined then used the same pattern to slide down her lithe legs and onto her dainty feet. The dancer’s grace she showed was more than enough to get anyone hot for her. Although the Rebel spy’s brown eyes were on the dancer, his mind was elsewhere.

He threw a smile on his face, a gaze displaying his own pleasure, while his hand sneaked out the small microphone from his sleeve. An ear piece connected to his ear, small enough to be concealed in his thick locks of hair but powerful enough to catch everything said in the club.

Kazaar moved his hand slowly, trying not to draw attention, as he searched the room for snippets of conversation.

"...can you believe the girls they have here...?"

"...trade you the green Twi'lek for one of your creme ones..."

"...market is still acting wierd..."

"...did you hear about Spindrift...?"

The former bounty hunter's ears perked up at the mention of the planet he, Spendrim, and Estelle had just recently departed. The words came from the group of Imperials sitting five meters from him, their faces visible even through the smoke of the dimly lit room.

The Imperial who answered was tall and lanky, with browning-grey hair closely cropped to his skull. When his moustached face moved, the thin piece of brown hair made it look even more rat-like.

"Of course I heard about Spindrift," his voice sounded irritated, "Captain Lehman mentioned it to me this morning. Damn shame if you ask me...a transport accident like that."

One of the other Imperials gave a snort and cursed, "Don't tell me you buy that line of poodoo...We all know it wasn't that. Scuttlebutt says there was a Rebel in the facility...that's why the transport accident happened. Someone didn't want to be discovered."

Kazaar turned up the volume just a bit on the ear piece, smirking as the dancer in front of him pulled at one of the strings of fabric around her lekku. Slowly, the string slid down her graceful body and to the floor.

The moustached Imperial replied, "No I don't buy it...but Lehman would know more than I. He's the one in command. But y-you know how command is on...this sort of thing. If you ain't a captain, you find out nuttin'. Haw! Haw!" the laugh was boisterous and full of alcohol.

"Once I make Captain," Imperial Moustache said, "I'm transferring offa this planet. Too damn hot for me. Although...the girls do make it...a bit easier."

A round of laughter, full of booze, filled the Imperials as they started for the door. Kazaar's eyes flickered in their direction, just as the Twi'lek dancer turned her back to him. A portion of her pale blue skin was painted in some sort of tribal design, only enhancing her exoticness.

She finished her turn and posed. Had Kazaar more time he might've considered seeing what else she did...but his quarry was leaving and it was time for work. The Rebel spy thanked and paid her, then exited the club into the dank air of Kway Teow.

The Imperials were two blocks ahead of him and it appeared they were going in their separate directions. The moustached one, his laughter still echoing down the streets, turned and strode his way down an organically lit street. His boots *tapped* the pavement and his stride was one of someone who wasn't concerned with any sort of pace.

Kazaar followed Imperial Moustache, his eyes darting left and right, his pace slow and silent. The streets grew darker as the lights spaced out more. Clearly this was a part of Kway Tuoy which wasn't meant for the angels.

The former bounty hunter began to quicken his stride, keeping as silent as possible, but he knew this would be the best time to strike and 'question' his prey. And Kazaar knew in the Imperial's present state, he wouldn't need much prodding to give up the information he needed.

The Imperial suddenly turned, as if his alcohol dulled systems caught something. His moustached face scanned the street behind him but found nothing...only organic lights and the occasional speeder.

He shrugged, then turned...straight into Kazaar's gloved fist.

A grunt.

Then a groan, as Kazaar pressed the man's back against a wall. A vibroblade pressed against the man's throat.

"Where is Captain Lehman," Kazaar's raspy voice wasn't asking a question.

Fear filled the drunk Imperial's eyes. He was alone and unarmed.

"H-his quarters at Hotel Terrakin. Buh-but it's gu-arded. You-you'll never m-make it."

Kazaar's smile was deadly and his eyes flashed. It was almost a challenging look, a look demanding the cowering Imperial to try to stop him.

"W-why me?"

Kazaar's answer was simple, "You're not a captain."

Then he grabbed the man's lapels and pulled, his right hand grasping the Imperial's moustached head in a fluid motion. Using his momentum, Kazaar sent Imperial Moustache spinning into the alley.

Kazaar was on him in an instant, a look of deadly delight on his face. It took only a moment, but Kazaar relished the time...especially when the man's face came into contact with the durasteel building in front of him. He slid to the ground, leaving a trail of blood on the wall.

As the Rebel spy emerged from the alley, he pulled another cigar from his pocket and lit it with his butane lighter. The flavor filled his senses and he strode down the streets of Kway Teow. His eyes were filled with a fire he didn't feel except in certain circumstances.

Hotel Terrakin wasn't far from here...and he needed some more action.

[Morgan Evanar]

Getting into the terminal’s manifest logs hadn’t been difficult. Sure, they were encrypted and all that nonsense, but that was to deter the people who didn’t have access to the system itself. And now he did, piggybacked through three other Imperial cargo terminals. Someone had to be using some sort of password in that place. Felucia wasn’t a big port, but with the Imperials around, it had enough traffic. After the hour he went back and pounded through the raw traffic with the log analyzer, looking for headers initiating encryption, which would be a login. Twenty minutes after that, he had broken down the password. It was just a clerk’s, but it was enough to start looking around the network.

An hour later, he had the junior administrator’s password, which granted him far too many rights to make the system properly secure. From there, it was a simple matter of reading everyone’s messages. To make things less complicated, he looked for unofficial but from an Imperial source. It took more time, but he found exactly what he was supposed to, but it didn’t say what it was supposed to.

The shipment was supposed to be processed in Felucia, but was going… to the Unknown Regions. Now he was back in front of Estelle’s door, with a datapad in his hands.

[Estelle Russard]

Her shower long done, her hair washed, dried and even unprofessionally trimmed with a pair of scissors she'd laid her hands on in impulsive urge for "a change." Estelle stood in front of the mirror in her grey jogging suit and tried to decide for the fourth time if both edges were even. The decision would have to wait, though, as a low repetitive beep announced someone at her door.

Seeing Morgan as the door slipped aside, the young rebel pulled him gingerly into her room.

"Hi." The preliminary greeting was brief as she ushered him over to take a seat in the small living area. "How did it go? Did everything check out?"

She didn't know why, but she was half-expecting Morgan to tell her something of importance. She was probably just re-directing some energy or something, but there was a small niggling tick in the back of her mind that only Morgan Evanar's report could still.

Seated beside him, she peered forward at the datapad resting in his hands.

[Morgan Evanar]

Morgan handed the pad to Estelle.

“Felucia was a ruse. They’re shipping it to somewhere in the unknown regions.” He said.

“It doesn’t say where beyond coordinates. It’s near one of those numbered star systems.”

[Estelle Russard]

Estelle's eyes grew round with astonishment and a little disbelief as she accepted the datapad from Morgan. She'd been right?

"Are you sure about this?"

Evanar's bland look was answer that he was, and that if she knew him better she'd know there was no need for the question.

He touched the face of the datapad and the display reconfigured to bring the co-ordinates into a closer focus. Russard didn't find any clarification from the adjustment, but murmured an appreciated something or other.

She gave up examining the screen, not finding an elaboration on things in the configured quadrants.

"Do you know what's being shipped or when its leaving?"

[Morgan Evanar]

"Hah, no." Morgan said and waived dismissively. "They don't create cargo manifests for this kind of shipment. Box x goes to point y, and don't say anything, or you get z." z being zzzzt.

"I'd say anyone who's handled the cargo beyond the point of origin has no idea what's in it. I suspect at certain points they've put the box in the box for tracking reasons." Morgan shrugged. "But that's just my best guess. It's possible they're not that clever."

[Estelle Russard]

"So what we really know, is that we dont really know where the shipment is going"

Her dismay was clear in the way she spoke. Estelle lifted her eyes from the datapad, hopeful Morgan could somehow pull a rabbit from his hat. If he even had a hat..

"Is there anyway you can hack, or slice these co-ordinates? Put them through a computer and get a solid location?" Her awkward use of technical-speak showed just how unfamiliar this side of the spygame was to her.

She sat forward, earnest in her manner, "We need more than this, Im afraid"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

The air was still heavy as Kazaar strode toward the Hotel Terrakin.

It wasn't just the humidity...but the fact it seemed like the weather didn't know what it wanted to do. There were times the former bounty hunter wanted to raise his head to the Felucian sky and yell, "MAKE UP YA DAMN MIND!" but he figured people'd look at him even stranger than most people all ready did.

But Kazaar didn't care. He just wanted t'get off this rock.

He'd stolen the boots from the Imperial officer he'd killed, realizing his own knee-high boots wouldn't help him for his plan to get into the Imperial hotel. In fact, they'd prolly shatter his knees for what he had planned.

The Imperial's boots were short and brown (far from the standard Imperial issue boots) with a re-inforced sole and ankles. They were just a pinch twice...probably a size too small than Kazaar's footwear. If he'd had more time, Kazaar woulda grabbed his own boots...but with night ending, he needed to move fast.

The Hotel Terrakin was a five story building about four miles from 'The Twirling Lekku', with tall windows and a broad roof (much different from the current architexture of the day). On the roof, the Empire had established a semi-retreat, where officers could go to relax from the oppressive humidity.

Just one of th'benefits of trying t'rule the galaxy, Kazaar thought as he slipped into the building across from the hotel. It seemed odd to Kazaar the Empire wouldn't choose the tallest building in Kway Teow t'be their base...but it must have something t'do with luxury not tactical genius.

Empire's finest.

He made it to the top of the roof, his boots *clacking* against the durasteel sheets covering it. The distance between the two was about thirty yards and there appeared to be a stormtrooper guard on the roof.

Kazaar smirked as he walked to the edge of the roof.

Stormtrooper armor was supposed t'make people fearful...make them run as hordes and hordes of soldiers (clones or not) poured into battle like a bursting dam.

But instead of scaring Kazaar, they only urged him on. The bone white stood out against the darkness of sky around. The light, filtering from the street below, did little to mask the armor from Kazaar's sight.

He started running, his pace taking him across the roof...the Imperial's boots cushioning his feet as they smacked against the durasteel plating. The air was still hot and heavy as he breathed it into his lungs...if he were any other man, he'd probably have to stop because of the humidity. As it was...it made this task difficult.

Kazaar reached the other edge of the roof and jumped, his momentum carrying him across the expanse between the two buildings. Had 'The Kid' been there, she probably woulda said something like, "Are you crazy?!?", and that made Kazaar smirk.

She had a lot t'learn.

The other roof was closer now and Kazaar could see there was only one stormtrooper, his back currently turned, on it. Kazaar's PSU (personal shield unit) was fully charged and it would give him some protection when he landed. But most of it would be where he landed.

***************************

"This is Alpha Two...nothing to report," Stormtrooper TX-345 was bored. Nothing ever happed on Felucia...not since it was a hotbed during the Clone Wars. TX-345 wasn't a part of it, he'd joined the Empire when he'd turned 18, he'd wanted to see the galaxy and everything.

Instead, he was on some humid planet with no chance of leaving. Atleast when they put the 'squeeze' on 'The Twirling Lekku' stormtroopers got to enjoy some 'fringe benefits'. At least, not when the officers took 'em all for themselves. Or let General Kaake take 'em all.

And that'd happened twice. In the last month

The stormtrooper sighed and hefted his rifle. It was heavy and made his shoulder ache. At least the armor was light.

He still hadn't made his full patrol when his ear-microphones picked up something. A *whoosing* of some sort.

He sighed...just the wind.

*************************************

The stormtrooper was growing larger and Kazaar could see he'd timed his jump perfectly.

Empire's finest...not even checking his six.

Kazaar let his body spread out as his body got closer to the stormtrooper...expand the impact...make th'moron feel it all over.

The Rebel's feet hit the trooper's back, sending him to the roof. The two tumbled together, Kazaar staying on top, while the stormtrooper took the brunt of the impact. He heard bone break within the armor and the stormtrooper went silent.

Quickly, Kazaar pulled off the white helmet and grasped the blonde hair beneath it. He pulled and heard a *snap*.

Smirking, Kazaar grabbed the Imperial's blaster rifle and checked it for damage. Finding none, he strode towards the rooftop entrance into the hotel.

Pulling it open, the Rebel gazed down the stairwell.

No one guarding stairwell.

The door shut behind Kazaar as he made his way into the Imperial-held hotel.

[Morgan Evanar]

"Um, well, we don't really need to. We just need to wait until it gets there. Besides, it's in Yaga Minor, middle of nowhere. I'm sure there is some kind of historical document that can tell us more about it. There can't be too many places for it to go. Maybe a settlement or a station or something. Might be logs from an expeditionary mission or whatever." Morgan didn't understand the scope of the mission. He had just been told to look up whatever he could regarding that shipment.

"It might help if you could tell me more information."

[Estelle Russard]

"Of course" she replied.

Estelle had forgotten Morgan would be operating in the dark. Intel Ops always functioned on the 'need to know' basis which was all well and good if you got to know what you needed. Which wasnt always the case. She had just given him the data to process, no background had been expounded upon.

She explained.

"An informer we secured from an Imperial Communications relay station on Spindrift gave us intel that an extremely important shipment was being delivered to Felucia. That's the part you already know. Agent Kazaar has been assigned to intercept and retrieve the shipment, if possible, or at the very least gain further information as to what its purpose is."

Kazaar's mission was rather loosly defined. Estelle would not be surprised if Kazaar blew the shipment up, whatever it is, if he cannot get his hands on it.

"We have reason to believe that this is something of high sensitivity to the Imperials and Kazaar - who had been working closely with the informer - is on Felucia as we speak. And as we now know, he is way off target.

The risks Aurelias is now exposed to have just increased ten-fold. The Imperials are most likely on the lookout for rebels on Felucia in anticipation such intel had gotten into Alliance hands. The Imps know Spendrim, our informant, has been redeemed by us. It would not be a stretch for them to assume Felucia would be our next target. In short, Kazaar is walking into a setup."

The worry, other than Kazaar's well-being of course, was that this opportunity would be missed. And that was not satisfactory. They could not just wait out the shipments arrival if no one was there to follow-through on it. By the time they caught up, it would probably be long gone, and the trail dead. The damage done.

Estelle looked at Morgan as she tried to figure out the next step.

"We will have to advise Director Belargic of this development. And we must get in touch with Agent Kazaar to update him."

She placed the data pad down on the coffee table.

"Is there anything else you can tell me? Any suggestions you would make, Morgan? I would really appreicate any thing you might think would help"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

The Hotel Terrakin-Felucia

The light within the hotel opened up once Kazaar made it to the top floor. The carpet was blood red and spongy, the kind which said the hotel was 'high-class' but not too 'high-class'. But it afforded a certain luxury not many others had.

The walls were alabaster with trim of the same color, sliding across the walls in a rectangular design. The ceiling was spaced with conical lights, providing plenty brightness (and little shadows). While this annoyed the Rebel, he noted, with a bit of joy, the air conditioning was on.

At least the Empire was smart enough to leave that working, Kazaar thought scornfully.

His black eyes scanned the hallway, noting four stormtroopers (their armor looking shinier than ever) standing by a large white door at the end of the hall. Four other white doors, each spaced far enough away to give privacy to their occupants and enough space inside for the occupants to enjoy whatever thrills they were getting inside.

And enough space to give Imperial officers a home when they decided to spend their time with 'non-combat personal'. Kazaar smirked...everyone had t'get their joneses somehow.

The former bounty hunter didn't have a head for figures but whoever owned the joint wasn't getting much out of the use of his suites. If anything, th'Empire sure as hell wasn't footing the bill.

The current problem Kazaar's brain faced was figuring out how to get down the hall. He'd wanted to play it nice and quiet, taking out the Imperials one by one...savoring it as much as possible. But with their position at the end of the hall, it limited what he could do. Besides...he wanted t'have a 'chat' with this Captain Lehman...one that wouldn't be interrupted by Imperials.

He'd have t'be sneaky or fast...and probably both.

Smoke bombs will only do so much, Kazaar thought as his gloved hands touched the small black orbs in his belt pocket. Vibroblades might take out a couple but then the blasters'll alert the rest.

Finally, he came to a decision...Frack sneakiness!

With a smirk on his face, Kazaar stepped out into the hall, the blaster rifle in his hands. The four stormtroopers, all looking bored, raised their ebony helmets in his direction.

"Drop your weap-" one the troopers started to yell as Kazaar shot him in the throat. He fell, his body glancing off one of the other troopers, his blaster going off once as it settled on the ground.

The Rebel Spy kept his pace up, unleashing a hell he reserved for times such as these. His blaster rifle spat out its arsenal at the remaining troopers.

As the *Ka-kow* filled Kazaar's ears, it reminded him how much he hated that noise. There was always something about stormtrooper rifles which bugged him. Yeah they worked...but something never rang right with him.

Must be th'noise.

By now the three stormtroopers were dead, their bodies strewn across the hallway like cast away parts from some machine. As Kazaar strode down the hallway, he dropped his blaster rifle, preferring the cold durasteel of his blaster pistols.

Now these...these were weapons he enjoyed using. The pistols were a gift from a fellow bounty hunter. Someone who Kazaar had tangled with over a bounty...his first bounty actually...Kazaar'd taken the blasters from the guy's corpse, but he still called it a gift. It was th'only way he could explain to the hunter's guild what'd happened.

Without getting shot.

The former bounty hunter's boot slammed into the alabaster door, separating the lock from door. He sauntered into the bedroom, his blasters in front of him...

Into a candle-lit room.

Before him, huddled on a bed sheet, the smell still wafting from it, were two beings. An Imperial officer (Captain Lehman) and an olive-skinned Twi'lek female. Judging from the perspiration coming from the two (and the lack of dress) Kazaar knew what they'd been up to.

"Out," Kazaar's low voice uttered and the Twi'lek obliged, running quickly out of the room.

The Imperial, his black hair starting to recede from his forehead, reached for a pair of dark boxers, the Imperial logo plastered upon them in white stitch.

Kazaar shook his head, "You stay right there. I like ya how ya are."

The Imperial's voice was full of fear, "W-why'd you let her live?"

Kazaar didn't give him an answer, as he shut the door behind him. He figured...it wasn't the Imperial's business.

He stopped about a foot away from the captain, glaring down at him. The carpet was soft beneath his boots, in the darkness Kazaar couldn't tell if it was blood red like the carpet in the hallway. There was a wooden chair off to his left and Rebel motioned to Imperial to sit in it.

A pair of binders, metal with a chain between the two rings, lay on the floor. They were quickly placed on Lehman's fleshy arms.

"Now," Kazaar replaced his blasters in his holsters, then removed one of his vibroblades.

"You and I are going to have...a talk."

******************************************

Twenty minutes later, Kazaar was perched on the ledge outside of the room occupied by Lehman's body, his face still damp from the Imperial's blood.

He hadn't gotten much from the Imperial during their 'chat', only the name of a certain Imperial General named Kaake, who apparently commanded the Imperials on Felucia.

Something about the conversation seemed odd to Kazaar, he thought as he began to climb (very carefully) down the Hotel Terrakin's facade...it wasn't like some conversations he'd had where the victim simply accepted his death and talked willingly.

No...this conversation was different...like Lehman wasn't sure why he was actually dying. Something felt 'wrong' to Kazaar, like someone was hiding a bit piece of a puzzle.

But Kazaar couldn't put his mind on it...not yet.

His booted feet touched the perma-crete of the street and the Rebel spy marvelled at the comfortableness of the boots.

Whoever that moustached Imperial he'd killed earlier had been...he had a good taste in shoes.

Kazaar cursed silently as he noticed the glow starting to come from the sky. He'd been so focused on his'hands-on' approach to his mission, he'd forgotten the time. While Kazaar didn't know much about Felucia (outside of the humidity), he did have a feeling the locals wouldn't appreciate seeing someone covered in blood sauntering down their streets like nothing was wrong.

He'd have to return to The Flying Dutchman and hide until dark before he could continue with his search for that Imperial shipment.

A cold pit began to fill in his stomach as he walked down the, now getting lighter, streets of Kway Teow. Something still bothered him about the shipment.

He just couldn't figure out what.

[Morgan Evanar]

“Dunno yet. I need to do some research. If you can get someone else on the box’s point of origin and what’s in it, that would help. I have as script scavenging the Imperial holonet for that but I’d like if we had someone else on it too. I’m going to go dig through maps and historical archives. Something will turn up.” He assured Estelle.

“I’ll be in the archives if you need anything.”

[Estelle Russard]

Estelle drew a thumb up, tapping it absently against her teeth in contemplation. "I'll see what I can do" she said, but didn't really have any idea how to accomplish it.

As Morgan moved to the door, she followed behind him, glad of his continued involvement. Atleast he knew what he was doing.

She supposed she had better talk to Dasquian and update him, though she had precious little to tell. As she debated within herself the wisdom of holding off informing the Director until she had more concrete details, Morgan stepped into the hallway outside her rooms, departing with a promise to keep her updated.

Returning to the living room, Estelle wondered where Aurelias Kazaar was now. And if he was still ok. The worry that he wasn't - that he'd already slipped into a trap helped decide her.

Dressing quickly, she left to go to Dasquian's office, hoping to find him still there.

[Dasquian Belargic]

When Estelle arrived, Dasquian was in the process of talking with a pair of Wookiees. A secretary poked her head in on the meeting, informing him that an Intel agent was awaiting his attention. He smiled apologetically, as he found himself so often doing, to his guests and vowed that they would continue their discussion later. With the pair escorted out, Estelle was allowed in.

“Agent Russard... is there something I can help you with?”

[Estelle Russard]

She felt a little nervous standing there now under Dasquian's calm appraisal.

"Um, well, yes, Im hoping you can. Help, that is."

Perhaps she had gotten ahead of herself a little. Perhaps she should have waited until she and Morgan could come up with more details. Although, it was a little late for her to be thinking that now with Director Belargic waiting for her to explain herself.

"Its regarding the mission to Felucia" she began, "We have reason to believe--Morgan Evanar and I--that the shipment is not going to Felucia at all. Well, it was more Morgan who discovered the fact, I just got him to have a look over the information." Here she hoped it would be overlooked that she had taken it upon herself to snoop around in this regard, and hurried on. "But it seems pretty clear that Agent Kazaar is on the wrong planet completely and may possibly be walking into a trap"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Felucia- The Imperial Compound

The sun was high over Kway Teow.

General Heray Kaake rose from his refresher and plodded out into his bedroom. It was a grandiose room, the largest in the compound (which had formerly been a Separatist stronghold during the Clone Wars) with housing dark purple curtains with white trim, a security console, a mahogony desk with an equally impressive chair, and large bed bed . The bed was currently empty its occupants having scattered to their various domiciles as the sun rose over the jungle planet.

Kaake was still tired from the night's activities and frustrated by the events which had occured the weeks before.

It had been rather sudden, the grey-haired general recalled as he settled his girth onto the mahogany chair, when he'd gotten the message from Imperial Command. He would be receiving a message from Spindrift notifying him, his planet would be receiving a shipment meant for the Unknown Regions. This was a farce to draw out Rebels, who would undoubtedly send an individual(s) to investigate it. He was to mention the shipment to some of his younger officers (Kaake decided he'd mention it to those who were more...lacking in their abilities) and wait for the Rebels to make their move.

The real shipment would then proceed to Yaga Minor for processing and transport to the Unknown Regions.

Then, three days ago, he heard about a space transport accident on Spindrift. Kaake had a feeling it wasn't an accident. He'd made preparations then, mentioning the shipment to Captain Lehman and told him to make sure the dock officers knew the shipment was coming (of course, he'd forgotten to mention it wasn't actually coming but Kaake had never liked Lehman).

And so he went about his business, looking at star charts, appropriations, having the girls from 'The Twirling Lekku' visit him...everything was splendid. Until he was awoken very early this morning by a very frightened ensign.

"Sir! Lehman's dead!"

Kaake had *grarummphed* and rose from his slumber, "What you said?" his voice was full of sleep.

"Captain Lehman!" the wide-eyed ensign replied, his eyes staring at Kaake's bedmates, "He's dead! His body was found in the Hotel Terrakin...in one of the upper suites! His guard too!"

Kaake *grarummphed* again, then shooed his companions home, telling them, "I'll send for you later...we're still not done."

He rose from his bed, then asked the ensign to fill him in on what he'd seen.

"Lehman's body...it's been...I don't exactly know how to explain it. Tortured almost isn't the right word for it," fear was in the ensign's eyes, "D-do you think it's the Rebels?"

"Of course it's the Rebels!" Kaake's jowls shook with anger and his nostrils flared, "Who else do you think it is? The Gungans?"

Then his face relaxed and he said calmly, "Do not worry, Ensign. The Rebel (or Rebels) will soon be in our hands. Here is what I want you to do..."

That was over six hours ago...now Kaake sat at his desk, focussing on the day's work. A part of him expected a Rebel attack now...but if Lehman was killed at night, then perhaps the attack would come then.

Kaake wasn't concerned about at all. He'd made his preparations. Now it was time for the Rebellion to move.
************************************************** **

Felucia- The Imperial Compound- Night

The humidity from the day still hadn't left the air, as Kazaar exited The Flying Dutchman. If anything...it had decided to stick around, continuing to make the jungle planet even more inhospitable than before. The Rebel had only walked five minutes when his armor was soaked and his face red with perspiration.

He hated this weather...even more than the ice cold of Hoth. On Hoth, at least you could escape the cold by cuddling up with someone. This weather...it made Kazaar want to go home and frack the mission.

Kazaar'd made his journey to the Imperial Compound at a leisurely pace, stopping off briefly at 'The Twirling Lekku' for a drink, then wandered down the empty streets of Kway Teow for an hour or so. He was just a man having a late night walk...even in the oppressive heat, he was sure that type of activity was normal.

The Imperial Compound was an impressive sight, even if it contained the same 'cookie-cutter' upgrades most compounds received when 'Imperialized'. A large wall of permacrete and durasteel surrounded the compounds high angles and flat roofs. Single sentries of stormtroopers, each placed at equal lengths, patrolled the wall, looking for any movement from the jungle below. The jungle itself had been cut away from the wall, a vast plain giving the sentries plenty view, save for the long shadows from two arches over the compound and the buildings of Kway Teow behind it.

It was in these shadows, the former bounty hunter hid, scanning the perimeter with his brown eyes. His face was masked again and he wore a body armor beneath his pullover shirt.

A single stormtrooper stood before the large gate. Like everything else, it was emblazoned with an Imperial logo, this one red and ominous.

"This is Alpha Five. Nothing to report. Can come in now? It's hot as hell," the trooper whined, setting his blaster rifle in his holster.

"Negatory Alpha Five. And if you complain again you will do a double shift."

The stormtrooper cursed, removing his helmet so he could wipe the sweat from his eyes.

It was then Kazaar came upon him, a vibroblade in hand struck quickly, and the trooper fell to the ground writhing in pain...his breath in gasps. The dying Imperial was pulled into the shadows, where his life's blood ran out.

Kazaar smirked as he climbed over the wall, avoiding the stormtrooper sentry off to his left. He leaped off the wall and into the courtyard.

He'd studied the plans before heading here, using data compiled from both Gorgja and Rebel slicers. Kaake's room was on the top part of the compound, a room with plenty of windows and space.

Two stormtroopers guarded the roof, both sounding as bored as Alpha Five. Kazaar killed them quickly, the first by his vibroblade, the second by hurling him from the roof (making sure the man had no chance to use the comlink inside his helmet.

As Kazaar silently opened one of the large windows which led into Kaake's dark bedroom, a cold pit filled his stomach and the hair on the back of his head began to rise (even through his mask).

Something didn't feel right...

Kazaar slid one of his thermal detonators up his jacket sleeve, feeling it stop right above his wrist. Pulling his blasters, he stepped into the room.

Lights suddenly exploded and the Rebel Spy was soon face to face with General Heray Kaake...

...And twenty Imperial Commandos, their black helmets and blasters shining in the light.

"Well..." Kaake looked rather pleased with himself, "What have we here?"

[Dasquian Belargic]

Aurelias in trouble? It was just like any other day, Dasquian thought, as he shook his head. He frowned, frustrated that they might have fallen for an Imperial rouse. “Has anyone tried to contract Agent Kazaar?”

[Estelle Russard]

"Not at this point" she answered. "Advising you was the first step. Morgan Evanar is currently in the archives trying to gain further knowledge on the shipments real destination - Yaga Minor"

[Dasquian Belargic]

“Yaga Minor...I wasn't aware that the Imperials had any kind of presence there.” Dasquian frowned. The planet had, once upon a time, been a member of the Republic and was the point from which the Outbound Flight project had departed. As far as Alliance Intelligence knew, there was nothing on Yaga Minor but the native Yagai. “I'd like you to contact Kazaar, Estelle. Bring him up to speed on everything that you and Evanar have uncovered.”

[Estelle Russard]

"Yes sir" she replied, not really sure how to go about it.

"Do I -- er, Should I send an encrypted code via the standard chanels?"

She hated to ask such a stupid question and her face probably showed as much, but she had never had to contact a real operative mid-mission before. She didn't want to screw up. The other option was to rendevous in person on Felucia with Aurelias, but that would take time. Time she doubted very much they had. No, the crypted message was right. Right?

[Dasquian Belargic]

Belargic gave a nod. “Right. Here's hoping you make contact. If we can't get a hold of him, after repeated attempts, then we'll have to send someone out there to find him.”

[Estelle Russard]

At Dasquian's confirmation, Estelle was pleased to find her reasoning was sound.

"I will keep you updated with our progress"

Exiting the Director's office, Estelle went directly to Transmissions, hoping their contact would be in good time.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Felucia- The Imperial Compound

General Heray Kaake's was filled with pleasure, although his mind was racing.

This was the one who'd been causing problems for the Imperials? Impossible.

"You see," his voice was triumphant, "There was no shipment to Felucia. Only a way to get the Rebellion to come out from their wherever they hid.

"I am surprised though...that you were the only one who came to find it. But no matter, the real shipment is currently waiting to be picked up. And you won't find it. In fact, I think the Inquisitors would love to have a conversation with you...so if you'll just drop your weapons and come with me..."

Behind his black mask, Kazaar's smirk was larger than ever. Slowly, the Rebel Operative placed his silver blasters on the carpeted floor, then let the thermal detonator fall into his gloved hand. With almost a flick of his wrist, he sent it towards five of the Imperial Commandos.

*Tink...Tink...Tink...BOOM!*

Kazaar's vision was a mixture of green and yellow as a handful of commandos fired their blasters as their bodies were swallowed up by the flames of the explosion. The blaster fire ricocheted off of his Personal Shielding Unit, essentially draining it of all power.

It was then he moved, grabbing his silver blasters from the carpet and firing them quickly at the remainder of the Imperials. Kazaar was on one of the black-clothed men quickly, the butt of his blaster smashing into the man's temple, sending him falling to the ground stunned. In a smooth, singular movement, Kazaar grabbed the remaining charge on the fallen Imperial's PSU then shot him in the throat.

Another two Imperials rose up to face him, their eyes stil cloudy from the explosion. Kazaar wasted no time, shooting one and slinging a vibroblade into the forehead of another. Both fell to the ground joining the chaos around them, as the room was filled with red blaster fire and yellow flames.

Kazaar's motions were flawless, grabbing PSU units where they lay and killing anyone if they got in his way. His mind was focussed...direct...his actions giving him some sort of carnal pleasure as he stole the life away from the Imperials he killed. This was what he was best at...killing and maiming. Someone in the army had once commented Kazaar would probably be worshipped by some society (whether ancient or modern, probably ancient) which viewed one's ability to kill as virtuous. He'd never bothered to consider this...fantasizing 'bout other things never made sense to Kazaar. Unless of course, it was he and that one blonde Sith he'd seen a holo of once.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Kaake had made a hasty retreat, disappearing from the room as quick as his bulk could take him. The former bounty hunter started to fight his way towards the exit, crushing the throat of one commando with a gloved fist. Another commando got in his way and Kazaar dispatched him quickly with a blaster bolt to the face, then stole his PSU charge as well.

Kazaar's shield was back to fully charge as he killed the last commando, hurling his black-clad body through one of the large windows in Kaake's bedroom/office. He took only a moment to check the ammunition on his silver blasters before heading into the hall after Kaake.

************************************************** ******************

The Imperial General's breaths were coming out in gasps as he and his guard paused a moment so he could rest. They'd been running ever since the thermal detonator had exploded in his bedroom, heading towards the shuttle bay as quickly as they could.

Who the frack was this guy?!?, Kaake's mind raced, And how the hell do we stop him?

The same question, in albeit milder terms, was echoed by a fresh-faced lieutenant who appeared from an outlying corridor of the grey and black hallway. The Imperial complex on Felucia was medium-sized, with a moderate garrison but with the death of Captain Lehman, many stormtroopers were out on patrol.

"Wh-what should we do?" the lieutenant forgot to say 'sir' as his green eyes scanned the hallway.

"Send...*huhhhh-haaah*," Kaake breathed hard, "Squads Two...*haaah*...and Three to...my citadel. *huhhhh*...W-we'll...make plans there.

"And....*shoo*...activate the Dark...T-troopers..."

************************************************** ****************

The last of the stormtroopers fell easily as Kazaar shot them both in the chest, leaving gaping holes in their plastic armor. A squad had attempted to ambush him after he'd left Kaake's bedroom behind...that'd been a mistake...

Fracking morons...sending stormtrooper's t'do a commando's job...Empire's Finest.

Cautiously, Kazaar made his way through compound, his brown boot *clopping* on the black surface. His blaster pistols, warm from use, felt comfortable in his gloved hands. They'd always been an extension of his body and now...now they felt even more so.

Kazaar figured the Imperial general would attempt t'get the hell outta town and, from what Captain Lehman had told him, Kaake had a chateau near Har Gau. Why he would, the former bounty hunter had no idea...the planet was too humid and not even close to some sorta 'tropical paradise'.

The hallways were dark, the only light coming from the dull white light panels he'd occasionally pass. The walls were the same dark grey the Empire seemed to give all of their walls, and the floors were the color of black onyx.

The Rebel Operative rounded a corner and swore loudly. Standing before him, the dim lights giving very little reflection were two massive figures. Their armor was a grey deeper than the walls and massively bulky. Two silver-ringed copper plugs were embedded into the upper chest, while a large silver belt circled the waist. Two black eye-ports stared at Kazaar, showing no emotion.

But it was the large cannon used for firing condensed plasma blasts (as well as the more dangerous rockets) which caught the Rebel's attention.

They were Dark Troopers. Even though in limited production they were still some of the deadliest weapons ever employed by the Empire. Even Kazaar was nervous around them.

And now they were standing. Right. Before. Him.

Kazaar's glove right hand went behind his back, grasping two thermal detonators from his belt. Hurling them both forward, he watched them bounce against the ground toward the two massive droids. They didn't move, instead the large cannons glowed as two blue rockets shot towards him.

He dove backwards towards the corner he'd just rounded, his hand throwing one more grenade as insurance.

B-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-M! Boom! Boom!...Boom!

Kazaar's body was showered with debris as the rockets exploded above him. He felt several pieces of building material tear into his jacket and mask, ripping them both into multiple pieces.

He rose slowly, his left arm screaming in pain, and he surveyed the damage.

Smoke filled the hallway with pockets of flames littering the hallway. One of the Dark Troopers was completely destroyed, the only remaining visible piece being the copper cannon, which was melted to slag.

The other trooper crawled on one arm towards Kazaar, its memory systems fizzling. It couldn't raise its right arm to fire its cannon and the former bounty hunter leaped onto its back. He drew his blasters and fired two quick shots into its head. The droid went silent.

************************************************** **************

Kaake heard the explosions as he reached the hangar bay. He smiled for a minute, hoping the Dark Troopers had done their job.

The smile faded a minute later when the doors opened and the Rebel Spy started to walk into the hangar bay.

Who the frack was this guy?!?

He noticed the ripped clothes and the blood on the man's body. Even if he'd survived the Dark Troopers, whoever he was, he was badly hurt. Kaake hurried to his shuttle.

"T-take off! Get out of here!"

************************************************** ************************

Kazaar limped into the hangar. Both Dark Trooper weapons were useless, each destroyed by the thermal detonators. Inwardly Kazaar cursed, he wouldn't have mind using either. But even he wasn't that lucky.

Kaake's shuttle was starting to take off, its triple wings lowering so it could get momentum.

Summoning all of his energy reserves, the former bounty hunter ran towards the escaping shuttle, his body screaming against him. He jumped for one of the wings, wrapping his body around it.

The shuttle shook, wobbled and Kazaar felt his grip begin to slip.

He fell...his body hurtling towards downtown Kway Teow, the difference between the Imperial-looking buildings and the organic ones striking.

With only his wits to save him, Kazaar pulled from his belt the Rebel-standard (even they had good ideas) grappling gun. He fired it at the nearest building, then pressed the 'recall' button as the line went tight.

Thirty seconds later he was lying on the top of a four-story, three miles from the Imperial compound.

His breath was heavy and his body ached.

"Bastards," Kazaar breathed, "Sonsofbitches...kaff...I'll stop alla ya..."

He repeated this as he (somehow) dragged his body from the top of the building to the private spaceport when the Flying Dutchman was housed.

The Rebel Spy made it to the entrance ramp of his ship, then the world went dark and he passed out.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar woke up three hours later, his head feeling two sizes too large and his body screaming with pain. He cringed as he rose from the cold floor of The Flying Dutchman shaking his limbs to make sure they all worked.

They did.

A warble came from the opposite end of the room, telling him 'Trey' (Kazaar's R7 droid) had been monitoring as well as he could. 'Trey' was no medic, but he did know how to call for help if someone was dying. Kazaar patted the droid with a blood-crusted hand, his gloves lost somewhere in the journey from the rooftop to the ship.

"How ya doin'?" Kazaar's voice was hoarse, "Better'n me I bet."

Another warble, this one sounded like the droid had been tearing itself up over not bein' able to help.

Droids, Kazaar thought, Even weirder than dames...sometimes.

In the middle of the hold, Kazaar set himself down in a large chair, throwing his jacket off to the side as he did. If 'Spenny', one of Kazaar's information brokers thought the apartment on Spindrift was dirty...he'd be utterly amazed by the inside of the Dutchman.

It wasn't spotless, but the hold was relatively clean. A rack of weapons, a mix of deadly blades and blasters rested on a rack off to Kazaar's left. They were all legal, or as legal as possible, but having an arsenal this size could be considered odd. At least with Kazaar's rep as a former bounty hunter, he could explain 'em away. Next to the weapons was a communications console, currently turned off. Kazaar hated the damn thing and wished he never had t'use it. But certain important messages came over it sometimes and he checked it most every day. If it was an emergency, 'Trey' could always grab the info quickly.

To his right was a small kitchenette, stocked with mainly 'bachelor' items...ready-to-eat meals, bottles of beer...the like. Several bottles of scotch also rested on the kitchenette. Kazaar would drink those when he felt like it...and this was one of those times.

"Gimme one of those bottles will ya?" he asked his droid, "And bring the med kit too."

The droid complied, bringing first a bottle of scotch, then a medium-sized metal container. Kazaar pulled open the scotch first, taking a long pull of the liquid. It burned his throat but felt oh so good.

He smirked, then opened the med kit. There were a few good items in there, several bacta patches which Kazaar liberally placed on his body...basically everywhere he hurt.

The Rebel Spy took another swig from the bottle, "Any messages while I was out?"

An affirmative warble, then the droid's hologram projector glowed a light blue. A text message appeared on the table before Kazaar, his brown eyes scanning the words.

"The hell?"

Report immediately back to Rebel Command. Repeat, Agent Kazaar, report back to Rebel Command...

...Agent Kazaar, after failing to contact you, we are sending another agent to meet. Please go to 'The Twirling Lekku' by 2300 tomorrow night.

Kazaar shook his head.

Damn Belargic...sendin' someone t'check up on me. Prolly got scared I'd go off an' accomplish themission by m'self.

He sighed, then took another swig of the scotch bottle. He'd need t'get a bit of sleep before going and meeting his contact (whoever it was).

Damn Belargic.

*****************************************

Felucia- Sixteen Hours later

Kazaar was back in Kway Teow, noticing a rather increased element of Imperial activity. Wherever General Kaake was, he was scared and the Rebel took dark pleasure in that. It would make hunting him even that much more fun.

He nodded to the Gammorean Bouncer, paying the droid the twenty credits to enter...then found a seat inside 'The Twirling Lekku'. The former bounty hunter noticed the blue Twi'lek he'd gotten a dance from, entertaining a group of Bothans two tables over. He nodded a greeting to her as well, smiling as he scanned her body.

Whoever the contact was...Kazaar was buying 'em a lap dance. Might loosen 'em up a bit.

He took a swig of his beer and waited.

[Estelle Russard]

Negotiating interstellar travel, in what amounts basically to a metallic can hurtling through space at impossible speeds, is nothing compared to making one's way through the smokey interior of 'The Twirling Lekku."

Estelle was dressed in what her training instructor would refer to as "frisky but risky" -- short skirt, clingy sleeveless top, stretch-netted boots and lips painted in lightsaber-red -- she looked every bit the skangy lounge hanger-on-er one could find in just about any joint of this type in the galaxy. But Estelle had not thought it through. She'd only considered the necessity of blending in, of looking like one of the crowd. She had not counted on the crowd looking quite so much back at her. So far, she had had to fend off two inappropriate gropes, three lecherous jostlings and one invitation to 'make it' in the backroom with promises of a trip to heaven, baby.

Who's brilliant idea was this place for the meet?"

Estelle fumed under her breath as she scanned the crowded lounge for Kazaar -- not an easy task considering she had to keep her eyes looking fifteen different directions to foil any successful pawing attempts by any of the slimeballs that seemed to keep having to push by her. She sighed with heavy relief when she finally located him. He hadn't noticed her, of course, all his attention being on an incredibly flexible twi'lek dancing at a nearby table.

With uncharacteristic unladylike-ness, Russard pulled out a chair at Kazaar's table and dropped herself into it with a 'plunk.' As Kazaar turned a dopey look to her, Estelle's eyes flashed angrily at him. She knew it was Kazaar's fault the meet up was here. Dasquian would never willingly send her to such an iniquitous den unless he was certain Aurelias would be well familiar with it.
Without preamble or any friendly word of greeting, Estelle blurted out the information she had come to tell him.
"Pardon the interuption, but you're in the wrong place, Agent Kazaar"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

"Watch what ya say, kid," Kazaar's tone was sharp and his brown eyes stern, "Not everyone here is friendly..."

His gaze turned towards the four Imperials sitting four tables away. Each of them were staring at Estelle, their eyes filled with lust.

"Although with that quartet," Kazaar smirked, "They might not care whatcha say...as long as ya..."

"Kazaar!" Estelle's sharp tone only made his smirk larger. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a dark cigar. A second later, the air around them was filled with acrid smoke as the former bounty hunter puffed away on it.

"Like I said," Estelle's voice was lower and her eyes scanned the interior of the club, "You're in the wrong place. In fact, you look like hell."

"Thanks kid, good t'see ya too," was his reply and he rose from his seat, "Wait here a moment. Be right back."

Kazaar could feel 'The Kid's' brown eyes boring a hole into his back as he wandered towards the blue Twi'lek who'd just finished her dance. She smiled at him, a look of recognition on her face.

Kazaar slipped her 45 credits, then nodded towards Estelle.

"Go give 'er a dance she'll never forget..."

Obliguing, the female Twi'lek slipped over to the female Rebel spy and took her hand. The dancer's lithe body was covered by a two-piece black leather outfit, lined with fringe. Her feet were covered by leather sandals, although those quickly slipped off when she was dancing.

As the blue-skinned beauty pulled Estelle off towards the corner of the club, the latter's brown eyes were fixed on Kazaar with a look of both shock and anger.

Kazaar's smirk only grew larger as 'The Kid' was plopped down into a plush chair and the Twi'lek started her routine.

[Estelle Russard]

Mortified. It was as good a word as any to describe the expression on Estelle's face.

Of course, it had started out as startlement, confusion and then outright murderous promise to kill Aurelias the minute she got the chance. But the twi'lek was..determined..and Estelle was forced to sit and endure the alien's attentions as the only other option involved Russard taking her down with a Rebel side-swipe/choke-hold combination that would draw the wrong kind of attention from the Imperial retinue of Kazaar's earlier remarks. As it was now, they seemed to be enjoying the show only slightly less than Aurelias himself. Kazaar wasn't certain, but it was just possible steam was coming from Russards dainty, bright pink ears.

For moments that seemed endless, Estelle held her breath and fought back tears of absolute humiliation. At long last, the blue-skinned dancer bent forward, kindly whispering "courtesy of our mutual friend" and offered Estelle a friendly smile. Russard returned the smile weakly, feeling a little ill.

Rising to the applause and hootings of the Imp foursome, Estelle made a bee-line for the exit, cutting off with a sharp jab to the esophagus the advances of a well-oiled Bothan on her way.

She did not look behind to see if Kazaar followed her. The frell with him. He can just walk right into the trap -- heck, she'd even hold the Empire door open for him to stumble on through.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar was laughing as hard as he had in ages...laughter which filled the club's smoky walls.

He was still chuckling when he exited the club, puffing happily on his cigar as he spied the fleeing figure of his Rebel cohort.

Kazaar hurried down the empty streets, his strides catching up with Estelle as quickly as possible. They were alone on the road, the stormtroopers who'd been on patrol earlier obviously leaving for much cooler climates. Kazaar himself wished they could find cooler air, the air here was beginning to get on his nerves.

"Oh relax kid," his voice was still laughing, as he caught up with her. The look on her face still a mix of anger and humiliation. She obviously still didn't see the humor in the situation.

"It coulda been worse. My 'handler' hired me a male stripper...and a Rodian at that."

He took her thin, muscular arm, halting her pace, "Hey...I'm talking to you!"

[Estelle Russard]

Twisting around fully, Estelle brought her knee up hard and fast, her intention obvious. Too obvious, in fact, as Kazaar nimbly twisted away in good time to avoid her hitting her mark. Estelle, still furious, shook his hold off her arm and resumed walking.

"You might think it funny to have a good laugh at my expense, Aurelias, but I dont. I came all this way because I was worried you were in trouble. Im an idiot, obviously."

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar shook his head.

Dames.

"Hey kid...kid, chill out," his tried to make his gravely voice sound as appreciative as he actually was. Estelle was walking away quickly and Kazaar knew he had to act fast.

"Thanks for coming..." his voice trailed off a bit. The two Rebels stared at each other for a bit.

"Look...we gotta go. I got work t'do," now it was him starting to walk away.

"Turns out it ain't here. C'mon kid...I gotta talk to 'someone' about where it actually is."

[Estelle Russard]

The man was infuriating. Did he think she came all this way without having anything worth telling him? And how did he know it wasnt here already?

"You know, if you give me a chance, I might be able to help you" she said, walking at a slower pace behind him. She still wasnt feeling all that obliging at the moment and her scowl was still firmly in place as she watched his back.

Looking now, she thought that he really did look kind of rough. She walked a bit quicker to catch him up and try get a better look at him.

"Are..are you injured?"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar saw a group of Imperial commandos about two blocks away, marching in their direction.

"Take my arm kid," he hissed, "Take my arm!"

Slowly, with some hesitation, Estelle took his arm...her sharp eyes spying the Imperials.

As the duo headed towards them, Kazaar whispered (through a smile), "We're just two people out for a late summer stroll. Even if this damn planet only has summer."

Kazaar nodded at the Imperials as they passed.

"Don't let go yet...wait 'till we're around th'corner."

They rounded a corner and they dropped hands, pausing for a moment by a large organic building.

"Nah I'm fine...ran into a bitta trouble with some Imperials but nothin' I couldn't handle."

He gave a smirk and 'The Kid' noticed the scars on his face, "They ain't talkin' that's for sure.

"C'mon, let's go."

The duo walked down the silent streets of Kway Teow, pausing only briefly a few times when Imperials walked by them. Most of the time they'd take hands, other times they simply kept walking...doing their best to ignore the Imperials.

As Estelle looked at Kazaar she noticed how beat up he actually was. Whatever fight he'd gotten into, it'd been a tough one.

But somehow, Kazaar didn't 'give off' the fact he was hurt. When they were stopped by an overtly curious Imperial officer Kazaar'd reply had involved cutting himself shaving then asked if the officer wanted t'see his entire body.

The officer had refused.

They reached the small spaceport without further incident and the former bounty hunter led Estelle to a brown, hawk-like ship. Pressing a button he led her into The Flying Dutchman.

'Trey' greeted the two with a whistle (seemingly a longer one for Estelle, but she couldn't tell), then rolled off to another location in the ship.

The Alderaanian plopped his body into a plush chair, then motioned for 'The Kid' t'sit in the ajoining blue chair.

"Aight kid...we can talk here," Kazaar lit a new cigar, this one a bit milder in scent, "Why'd Belargic send ya? He afraid I couldn't get th'job done?"

[Estelle Russard]

Taking her chair, Estelle tugged at her skirt hem in an effort to cover more thigh, but it was ineffectual, there just wasn't that much material to stretch. She settled for crossing her knees demurely.

"The transport was never intended for Felucia. Its going to somewhere in Yaga Minor. Morgan has been working on pinpointing, or atleast estimating, the most probable point of arrival."

She scruitinized Kazaar, still not satisfied he was as ok as he insisted. He had made it clear he didn't need any medical attention, however, and she was not inclined to push things. She was still cheesed at him. But there was something else not quite right with him...

"What did you do to your hair?"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Just like that...something 'clicked' inside Kazaar's mind, like a puzzle piece sliding into position.

Yaga Minor made sense, whatever the plan for the shipment was...it was out of the way, quiet, and not associated with the Empire. It was also on the edge of Wild Space...the perfect place for an out-of-the way shipment to go if it wanted to avoid 'prying eyes'.

Something was still missing from the location: why Yaga Minor? What was so important about this shipment which made 'cloak and dagger' important? He still couldn't figure it out...

A part of him was disappointed though, he'd be looking forwards to storming the chateau of General Kaake...ah well...there was always time for that later.

'Sides, Kazaar figured, Kaake living in fear for a bit might make 'im a bit...susceptable for a transfer...to some place like Spindrift or some other rock.

'The Kid's' question about his hair brought him back to reality for a moment. The dye had started to fade, turning his hair into a mix of blonde with black tufts. It looked almost ridiculous.

As usual, his response started with a smirk, a snort, then a puff off his cigar.

"Lesson Four, kid...never look the same wherever ya go, especially if ya have t'go out in the open...be seen by people."

He turned his gaze to her current form of dress, "Which, judging ya...you all ready learned. Where'd ya get that get up anyway?

"Not from Van-Derveld's closet, I bet."

[Estelle Russard]

"Just the boots" she replied straight-faced, Kazaar giving her a quizzical look, not sure whether to believe her or not, but enjoying the image of Grace it associated nonetheless.

"Well, you made a mess of it. Your hair, I mean. I can redye it for you if you like"

She then got back on topic.

"If we leave now, we can make Yaga Minor by midday tomorrow." There was no question that she was going with him. He crashed her party on Spindrift, she was now returning the favor. Besides, she took it from Dasquian that he wanted her to see things through. "I will contact Evanar -- I have his direct uplink (a gift as rare and precious as Nubian gold, she knew) -- and he can help guide us in." She paused, adding weight to her next point, "I take it you'd prefer not to have to ask questions in the same manner as you found out your last information." She narrowed her eyes at him, indicating truth needed to be forthcoming, "How'd you find out anyway?"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

The former bounty hunter wasn't one f'telling stories (hence the problems he had at writing reports). Recounting events always led t'trouble, especially if someone got a single, minute detail wrong. Miss something and ya end up in the brig for three days. Or worse.

But the expression on Estelle's face told Kazaar he had no choice in the matter so, with a bit of a sigh, he rose from his chair.

"I'll tell ya on the way to Yaga Minor," he started walking towards the cockpit. From the footsteps patting behind him, Kazaar knew Estelle was following him.

"Oh...by the way, I have a pretty good idea where th'Imps are. Yaga Minor was the launching of 'The Outbound Flight' back during The Republic. That platform's still there, so the Empire's probably using it."

He threw a look over his shoulder, trying to hide the wince from his neck, "What? Didn't think I'd know my galactic hist'ry? Even I pay attention t'that stuff at times."

The cockpit of The Flying Dutchman only emphasized the bird-like features of the exterior. While the pilot and co-pilot seats were next to each other, the cockpit windows had a distinctive cut to them...like the eyes of a raptor staring at prey. The cockpit was also 'recessed' from the bow of the ship, instead it was located near the middle. Estelle looked straight up into the Felucian night as she took a seat next to Kazaar.

He pressed a few buttons and Estelle could hear the *whine* of engines as they started to activate. It was a sound she hadn't heard from most ships...it was almost like the engines from a TIE Fighter activating.

"Press that button over there," Kazaar stated, when a green button started flashing.

"This is freighter X-A 29er requesting permission to take off," his voice was surprisingly clear...If Estelle hadn't heard Kazaar so many times she could've sworn the 'gravely voice' he normally spoke was fake.

"Permission granted X-A 29," a voice from the other in replied in Basic, "Destination?"

"Making a run to Wild Space," Kazaar maintained his clear, relaxed tone, "Got a colony to survey. X-A 29 out..."

He puffed on his cigar a moment as the HWK-290 class ship began its ascent into space. Surprisingly, the aroma wasn't as acrid as most of the cigars he smoked...almost as if he was treating Estelle with a bit more respect than expected.

"Her real name's The Flying Dutchman" Kazaar said finally once they'd cleared Felucia's atmosphere and began prepping for hyperspace. His voice was back to its 'normal' rough tone.

"She's fast, plus I did some modifications on her...got her armor specs up a helluva lot more than Corellian Engineering Systems made 'em. Grabbed a couple things from ya father's company too...not bad work at all."

The stars above the duo turned into lines as the Dutchman went into hyperspace.

"Just wish I'd had summa that body-skin of his back there...That planet's too damn hot."

The cockpit was silent for a moment as Kazaar stared at various instruments. Estelle repeated her earlier question about how he came about his info and the Rebel Spy stared at her for a moment, as if trying to recall what had happened.

Kazaar recounted most of the details (leaving out the bit of the mess he made of Lehman in the Hotel Terrakin suite) of how he came about his own information...the encounter with the moustached Imperial, first at 'The Twirling Lekku' (noticing a bit of a cringe from 'The Kid) then on the streets of Kway Teow. He discussed his mission to the Hotel Terrakin and the info Lehman gave him, before filling her in on his storming of the Imperial base where General Kaake was located, the trap, and his escape.

"I was gonna head t'Kaake's home before I got your message. Took ya long 'nough."

He smirked a bit at her expression, he could almost see her thinking, Is this man mad??

He changed the subject, "Lesson Five. Ya oughta think 'bout getting your own ship. Travelling by Bossman-given ship is only gonna get'cha caught ya know."

[Estelle Russard]

"Id settle for a better set of clothing over a ship right now" she remarked, watching through the windows as they left Felucia far behind them.

It was impressive Kazaar knew so much about her father, although it was no secret that Jason Russard had landed that coveted deal with the Empire. It had been wildly celebrated, as she well recalled. Her mind tried to return to that night, the party and..after. James' face appeared to her for an instant, but she refused to let him stay.

Kazaar, for all his faults (which Estelle could name many), had a capable and solid air about him. She appreciated that. She was not so young that she didnt have the good sense to know a person could learn a lot from a man like Kazaar. Alot. The peril lay in picking up any of his destructive habits.

As if exclaimation marking her thought, a waft of cigar smoke drifted over to cloud about her face. Belatedly, and with rekindled annoyance at Aurelias, Estelle realised he had deliberately puffed it in her direction.

"Ya' payin' attention t'what Im sayin' kid?'

"Yes" she snipped. Well, she hadn't been, but she was now.

"So..pull the lever t' rotate the hydraulic coupling, like I asked ya"

Estelle pulled the lever and gave him back her full attention. "I take it you've spent some time in Yaga Minor, or thereabouts?" He gave her one of those half nods that indicated "yes, but what are you really askin" sentiments. "What can we expect? A heavy Imperial presence?" This she hoped was not the case. As exciting as Spindrift got, she knew they had been fortunate to escape as they had. "Will we be needing..er..backup?"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

"I haven't been there inna while," Kazaar replied, puffing again from his cigar, "But the last time I was there, the dock used t'send The Outbound Flight was still there. I didn't see anyone, but I wasn't looking...

"The Empire's probably there...what'd Belargic tell ya?"

Still looking like she wanted out of her current garb, Estelle related her conversation regarding Yaga Minor.

"The Bossma-...Director Belargic," Estelle cursed inwardly as she corrected herself, "Said the Empire wasn't supposed to have something there."

The former bounty hunter smirked at hearing his own nickname for Belargic.

"Depending on activity we can probably get in without too much difficulty. 'Trey'," Kazaar called for the R7 droid, "See if we have specs on that space dock."

A warble.

"Damn...well see if th'archives have 'em. Gotta be in some journal somewhere."

Kazaar turned back to Estelle, setting his spent cigar into a metal ashtray by the flight stick. He rose from his chair, not waiting for his fellow agent to follow, and headed back into the main living area of the Dutchman.

He nodded towards the rack of weapons against the wall.

"Take a look at those and pick out the ones ya want...they're yours. 'The Twins' though," he pointed at the two silver blasters, "Stay with me.

"I'm gonna make some food...you're welcome t'have some," Kazaar walked towards the kitchenette.

"Oh yah...If ya want...there're some clothes which might fit ya in m'closet," he winked, "As much as the Imps're gonna love ya in that outfit...it ain't gonna protect ya from blaster fire."

[Estelle Russard]

Guns, food, clothes. Kazaar couldn't know it, but the three options lifted Estelle's spirits greatly. She had not enjoyed the forray into The Twirling Lekku one bit - Kazaar's jest being especially jarring - but she was finally letting it go.

She'd had some training in weapons back at RA headquarters, but some of the weapons Aurelias had collected were completely unfamiliar. Looking them over, she went to select a particularly lethal looking peice when Kazaar's voice reached her from the kitchen

"That one's too big for you." Estelle craned her neck toward the kitchenette, but couldn't see him from where she was. How did he....? She leaned back and reached for another.

"That wont do either"



Dang! She looked overhead for a camera and frowned, not finding one.


"Try third row down, to the left, second over"

Estelle folded her arms and stood back obstinately, not liking being told what to do. But her eyes drifted to the suggested weapon despite herself. And she liked what she saw. It was a solid-looking short barreled repeater that had a redwood inlay on the grip. Taking it from the rack, she took it with her into the kitchenette. "This one?" she asked as she set it on a ledge and then moved to the alcove where Aurelias was gesturing with a teflon spatula for her to look for some clothing. He was already busy frying up something that smelt incredible on the glowing element and Estelle's stomach growled in anticipation.

Rummaging through hangers of shirts, pants, etc, she finally came up with a pair of dark blue jeans and a navy pullover. They were small in size and Estelle wondered if Kazaar often found the necessity to provide women, or small men, with clothing on board his ship. She thought shoes were going to be a problem, but in the far back of the closet were two pairs of boots that look like they might be usable. For the time being however, she settled for a pair of woolley black socks.

Kazaar was adding spices when she returned back to the kitchenette and she asked if she could help.

"Smells great - Need a hand?"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar made a motion towards a small brown table folded up against the wall.

"Set that up."

The table was a foldable wooden table, its top nicked with both age and what appeared to be vibroblade marks. Estelle wasn't sure how clean it actually was, but then she saw a tablecloth next to it which definitely looked clean. She grabbed it, then set the table up by the two chairs.

She stood for a moment, trying to figure out something else to do when Kazaar's R7 droid, 'Trey' rolled back in. From the sounds emenating from his vocabulator, something was up.

"Kaza-"

"Yeah I know," the former bounty hunter appeared suddenly in front of her, his hands full with two mismatched dishes.

The dishes might be mismatched, Estelle thought, but the food wasn't. Two roasted gorak breasts covered with some sort of brown sauce, malla petals sprinkled on top. Next to each was an apple wrapped in what appeared to be bacon from a Roba. Her stomach started to growl with anticipation, the food looked quite edible and scrumptious.

"Don't get all excited 'bout the food," Kazaar said gruffly, "It's a recipe m'dad used t'make."

'Trey' warbled again and his oculator started to glow. It was then the schematics of the 'Outbound Flight's dock appeared, a massive skeleton of durasteel over the planet. The outline didn't show much of the actual exterior structure, only bits of pieces of it.

And the Emperor had banned any actual pictures from the event, noting it as a footnote in the idiocy and corruption of the Jedi. It was something to be remorseful of but to forget quickly.

'Course...not everyone did forget 'bout it.

"Yeah that looks 'bout right...Go in on the dock itself...Figures...I bet it's there," Kazaar pointed to a large building which appeared to be a warehouse of sorts, "Who's files was it in? Him again huh? Okay so maybe he isn't a fracking idiot."

"Wh-?"

"Spenny...he was the one who has the schematics. Ya know...for a small, talkative bastich he ain't that bad...sometimes. 'Least it wasn't Haman who had 'em...that guy's..." Kazaar trailed off muttering something, Estelle didn't bother to ask about.

Kazaar took a bite from his food, enjoying it. It wasn't th'most exotic meal he'd made, but it beat eating the quick dinners he mostly ate. Those got the job done of quelling his hunger, which is all he asked for.

Two brown bottles of cold Corellian Ale sat on the table. Their labels were of some old patriot, raising a glass of ale in some sort of salute. Kazaar popped the tops on both of them and took a swig from one. That hit the spot.

There was silence as the two chewed, Kazaar not bothering in small talk. There were times he hated that, preferring t'sit and watch those around...see how they acted.

When he was in the Rebel Army, some bully, in an attempt to prolly make himself feel better, had once made fun of the Alderaanian for being silent. Kazaar'd broken the bully's arm in three places and he was left alone after that. Save for when there was time f'celebrating...which wasn't always at the beginning of the Rebellion.

Kazaar was taken out of his thoughts by a compliment from 'The Kid' regarding the food and a question about her clothing.

He smirked, "Used t'have a running buddy, girl 'bout your size, when I was with Gorgja. I kept some of her stuff 'round when she left...just never bothered t'get rid of it...including that blaster of yours."

There was silence for a while, Kazaar not going into why the girl left, Estelle not bothering to ask. She kinda got the feeling it was something he didn't want t'go into.

"So why'd ya come kid? Don't tell me ya volunteered t'find me on Felucia."

[Estelle Russard]

As often happens when eating dinner with someone, they inevitably ask you a question that requires more of a response than a nod or "mhm" right when you've popped a hearty forkful of food in your mouth. And such was the case right now.
Estelle rolled her eyes and did the head bobbing thing, and the hand waving thing - as if such actions speed up the process of chewing and swallowing.

Kazaar watched her with that direct stare of his while she attemped swallow quickly in order to reply. He held up her beer bottle in a suggestion of washing it all down, which she took from him with a "thanks"

After a deep swill of the ale, which she did like a pro (as all college kids are able), she smiled at him with genuine appreciation. "This is all really good, Aurelias. You're talent goes deeper than just shootin' stuff up, huh. Great meal. Anyway, as for why I came for you - Dasquian sent me, but I do admit I was the one who took a closer look at the data. Well, using Morgan's eyes, that is. He's very clever, dont you think?"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar snorted, shaking his head in disgust.

Then he saw the expression on Estelle's face and corrected himself, "If ya meant Evanar then yah he's talented. A smart cookie too, even if he is a bit...odd. It's good ya talked t'him."

If 'The Kid' meant Belargic then she had a lot t'learn. Belargic was smart, that was for certain, but he still didn't 'get' spying sometimes. It wasn't 'bout saving lives and being a hero...nah, that was for the holo-vids. It was 'bout getting the job done and defeating th'Empire. Lives meant nothing if the Empire still reigned.

Kazaar didn't tell Estelle the reason he didn't check with Morgan. There was a part of him which 'needed' t'be able to do things 'his way'. A part of him which he rarely let others see. He'd had a shrink once say t'him he had 'Anger issues,' and he had to get 'treatment'.

To the Rebel Spy...that was pure, unadulturated crap. He was good at killing, and he knew it. And sometimes he had t'show it. Give it to the Empire and give it to 'em good. Make 'em wish they'd never been able to rule or kill those who didn't deserve it.

He never had his shot at the dead emperor and he cursed every day he'd never gotten the opportunity t'kill the wrinkly bastard. Cursed every time he heard the name 'Skywalker' mentioned...both of 'em.

Those damn Jedi got more credit than they deserved.

"He's a fool," the former bounty hunter almost spat, "Belargic I mean..

"Look, no offense kid, I'm happy t'see ya...you're a good kid, but ya shouldn't be here."

He pointed a finger towards Estelle, "Ya should be on Yaga Minor right now, scouting out the remains of the Outbound Flight dock. Seeing what Imp presence there is. That shipment could be gone by the time we get there..."

Kazaar took a swig from his bottle, the flavor filling his mouth. It wasn't as good as a cigar, but it worked.

"Like I told ya on Spindrift...I can handle m'self. And you should've told Belargic that. It's what I woulda done."

[Estelle Russard]

"I'll remember that for next time"
Estelle shrugged one shoulder in an attempt to brush off the criticism, but she didn't quite manage it.
"Have you thought it might not have been all about you that I was sent? Maybe Belarg---Dasquian thought I might benefit from being here. He isn't as inept as you might like to think."

Estelle was realising she would have to toughen up if she was going to spend any amount of time around Kazaar. The man was not the type to mince words or candycoat his opinions. She wasn't used to such men.
"Besides" she continued in her defence, feeling it important for some reason, "Morgan is going over things with a fine tooth comb. I think that is smarter than sending some "kid" to go bumbling about tripping off all kinds of warnings to the Imperials."

She was getting heated for no good reason, she knew. But somehow Kazaar was making her bristle.

"Tell me about the gun" she gestured to the repeater in a testy fashion trying to get off her current track on back on even ground. "It belonged to your partner, you said?"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar snorted, a short and breathy sound.

Belargic thinking Estelle could benefit from him? That'd be the day.

"Look kid...make no mistake 'bout it. Belargic'n I respect each other...I do m'job...he does his. But he and I do things differently. Real different.

"I saw ya on Spindrift (I was there remember?)...you're good...a bit green, but good..."

Another sip from his beer, his mind going to her other question regarding the blaster.

He reached out, picking it up from where lay on the plastic tablecloth.

Whoever used to own it, Estelle thought as she stared at it, spent plenty of time with it...if the rosewood handle was any indication.

Like Kazaar's blasters it was silver in color but smaller, almost the size of a holdout blaster. The barrel was short, stopping just past the trigger, and it appeared much lighter than the dual Bryar Pistols Kazaar had called 'The Twins'.

There was something familiar about it...Estelle was certain she'd seen holos of the blaster before or something similar.

It then *clicked* in her mind.

"A 22T4?"

Kazaar nodded in approval, his blond-black hair starting to look even more ridiculous.

An Imperial Munitions Model 22T4...She'd seen a holo of it during her weapons training. The fact she was actually staring at one was...amazing. The gun in her hand was definitely not a normal blaster and definitely illegal to civilians.

The rookie spy took it from the former bounty hunter, hefting it in her bare hand, the meal forgotten.

"Yeah...former partner of mine used it. Left it when she took off," Kazaar took another swig of his beer, not exactly wanting to continue th'conversation.

But he sighed and reached into his pocket for a cigar. Best thing t'do was change the subject.

Fast.

"Want one?"

[Estelle Russard]

Turning the weapon over into her other hand, turning it back again, Estelle studied the peice - speculating as she did so.

"What'd you do that made her run so hard and leave a beauty like this behind?"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

"It ain't ya business Kid!" the former bounty hunter glowered at the young agent, his brown eyes flashing.

The look on his face was odd...a mixture of anger and something else...pain...fear? It was unreadable.

For a minute, Kazaar actually looked human...as if something he normally kept locked away in the deep pits of his mind, sprang out and joined Estelle in looking at him while Kazaar sat in his stuffed chair.

In fact, 'The Kid' thought Kazaar even looked past her shoulder and at whoever it was.

The death of Kazaar's parents had hurt and been the cause of his time in an Imperial prison for his reaction (killing three Imperials in a bar fight).

But the death of his partner had been worse. They'd been a team, a duo of hunters who brought death to whoever caused pain to innocents. It didn't matter who you were, if you'd been hurt...they'd be caught and, most likely, killed. Their boss, Gorgja the Hutt, had always marvelled at their abilities, calling them his best two hunters (even if everyone knew Boba Fett would always be number one to any crimelord). The two had shared plenty a laugh over a drink.

And she'd shown a kindness to Kazaar he hadn't seen in ages...It wasn't he hadn't had his share of acquaintances, but it was something else...something different...she was a true friend...a confidant. They were extensions of the other, each knowing where the other would be.

So when she died, Kazaar blamed himself and vowed not to work closely with anyone again. He'd help fellow hunters (and later Rebel Agents) from time t'time, but never as a regular basis (he'd even told Katarn t'drop the Alderaanian he was shacking up with but'd been blown off).

The Rebel Agent could see her face, her posture, standing beside 'The Kid'. Wavy blonde hair slid down her face and her eyes, smokey and focussed, stared back at him. When she spoke, her voice was equally dark and smooth.

And now Kazaar was partnering up with someone newer...who was going t'be just as good, prolly better than she'd been. And that one bit of failure was coming back t'bug him again.

There were times, he swore he hated his own damn mind.

He reached for his beer, picking up the brown bottle and pressing it to his lips. It was then he noticed it was empty.

Frack.

"I'm going t'bed," Kazaar said with a bit of finality, his face still shaken by whatever it was he saw.

"Ya can take m'bed, I gotta couch I'll crash upon in one of the other rooms. If ya need anything, kid, ask 'Trey'."

He rose and started for th'other room.

"Just know kid...never get too close t'anyone. In this business...ya can't afford it.

"That's Lesson Six."

Then he was gone.

[Estelle Russard]

************

It had been hours since Kazaar left for bed. Or couch, as the matter went. Six, in fact. Well, 6.35 hours if we are being specific.

Estelle had remained awake for 5.57 of those hours pouring over the data (and coffee) Trey had provided, as well as sifting through general information that was public access on the Dutchman's generic comp-search engine. She had left a message for Morgan via his contact number to forward to her any pertinent data he might have found that could be of value to them, and had then dropped a drowsy head onto the crook of her arm. As she hunkered down in the co-pilot chair, feet pulled up under herself and new blaster tucked into her pocket, her thoughts turned back to Aurelias and that strange look on his face.

In her training, she would have sumarised Kazaar up as 'damaged' had she been asked to evaluate him. Sure, every agent got a bit twitchy from time to time. Even overly aggressive behaviour was pretty much accepted as one of the by-products of long-term operatives. But what she had glimpsed earlier smacked of something other than simple 'applied pressure over time'. Something raw and painful ran deep beneath Kazaar's skin. Something he still hung on to and had not fully dealt with. It was powerful. And it was dangerous.

::She yawned expansively, making her eyes tear slightly as she sunk lower in the chair::

Just know kid...never get too close t'anyone. In this business...ya can't afford it

She knew how that felt. James was always somewhere just below her skin too, but she knew it was not the same thing. James did not haunt her like Kazaar's ghost did him.

That's Lesson Six

::Her eyes grew heavy and her thoughts were sad::

But if we dont get close to each other...

::her head drooped lower::

...never get too close t'anyone..

...If we cant care about anyone, what's even the point?

::Estelle slipped the conscious -coherent thought suspended for now - and entered the comforting relief of sleep ::

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar woke with a crick in his neck and a droid next t'him warbling. He hadn't gotten much sleep (didn't need much) and spent most of the time staring up into the darkness of the room thinking...'bout 'The Kid' and his dead partner. He didn't cry himself t'sleep as much as he used to, but there were some nights when he couldn't help it.

Last night...or day...he didn't know when it was, had been one of those times.

'Trey' warbled again and the Rebel Agent rose from the couch where he lay. It'd been a comfortable enough sleep, the couch was padded enough, and his mind was ready.

"Go 'head," Kazaar uttered as he pulled some dark cargo pants on, then reached for his combat boots.

The droid's projector shone and several notes from Morgan Evanar appeared...updated plans to the dock, several notes on fleet movements within the Empire (Kazaar noted there'd been a slight increase towards Yaga Minor), and a batch of codes to use if they ran into trouble.

"All right...next."

The light changed briefly and message from Kazaar's aunt appeared:

Dear Aurelias,
Thank you for stopping by before heading out to your Uncle Minor. Please make sure to give him his camera back and take plenty of pictures. I haven't seen him in so long and would appreciate a picture of him.

I do hope you talk to your cousin too. She hasn't sent me a postcard from Coruscant in some time.

Love,
Aunt Geraldine

Kazaar muttered an epitath and smirked while reading the message.

He had no 'Aunt Geraldine' but had a damn good idea who'd sent him the message. He wondered who'd decided on the name 'Geraldine'...Belargic or Van-Derveld...probably Van-Derveld.

Think it was cute or something...Kazaar shook his head...those two were a pair.

He grabbed a white tanktop, pulling it over his muscular, scarred chest then strode into the anteroom of the Dutchman. 'The Kid' still slept in the co-pilot seat, her head attempting to rest comfortably on the dashboard.

The awake Rebel Spy skipped his morning cigar, choosing instead to go over the updated charts supplied by Evanar. As noted there'd been a slight increase in traffic to Yaga Minor but nothing out of the ordinary...passing cargo ships here and there, headed for other colonies on the Outer Rim (and the few societies in Wild Space).

It should be 'easy' to get through. Should be...but probably not, Kazaar mused. Nothing was ever easy.

He let out a long breath, feeling the air *whoosh* over his knuckles as he stared at the diagrams. It was a nice feeling, the air over his knuckles...helped wake him out and clear his head a bit. He checked the watch on his wrist.

One hour to go.

"Hey kid!" he called, his low voice echoing through the halls, "Wake up! Go take a shower then get ya butt back here. We got work t'do."

[Estelle Russard]

"Let go the wookie!"

Estelle jolted upright in her seat and looked around her - bleary eyes trying to register just where the heck she was. It took a few seconds or so before clarity returned and her mind dissembled its dream-fog and focused back into reality.

She groaned lowly.

Her back was stiff and her left leg had pins and needles. Note to self - never, ever, sleep in the co-pilot chair again. Kazaar's voice had yanked her from a really cool dreamscape into this aching, prickling wakefulness and a wave of grumpiness washed over her.

A shower was a very good idea.

Without a word, but with a few more groans, Russard unfolded herself out of the chair and shuffled irritably to the refresher.

Some time later, it was a new and improved Estelle that came to join Kazaar once again in the cockpit. Showered and dressed, her hair pulled efficiently back from her face in a neat ponytail, she returned again to the chair she'd recently vacated to sit beside him. His hair was still the patchwork black and blonde and Estelle had the ridiculous thought that she was starting to like it like that.

They had travelled a great distance from Felucia and the occassional asteroid fields that came into view first left then right indicated they were very near their destination of Yaga Minor.

Estelle had a noticeable air of 'back to business' about her, Kazaar not needing to tell her that the next few hours were going to be tricky.

She increased the broad long-range radar sweep already initiated by Kazaar, watching the screen closely for anything that looked like it could be compromising. In the northeast quadrant a shadowing presented and the young rebel drew Kazaar's attention to it.

"You see this?"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar nodded, pressing a couple buttons on the console. The holo-screen zoomed in, going blurring for only an instant, while the computer caught up with the image.

When it did, both of them cursed Kazaar's loud...Estelle's under her breath.

The Outbound Flight's dock had originally been a large structure for its time, a large expanse of of multiple shipyards each servicing one of the six dreadnaughts used for the mission. When the mission had started, most of the shipyards were decommissioned, the memory of the failed expedition too strong in the mind of the Republic Senate. Even during the ongoing Galactic Civil War the shipyards were supposed to lay empty, an unspoken agreement not to use their (outdated) facilities.

But someone had decided otherwise...and that someone, Kazaar noticed, was the Empire.

His smirk was mirthless, the expression on Estelle's face equalled his and their thoughts were similar...Big surprise...they always lie 'bout everything...

All six structures appeared t'be active in some way (or at least have lights on all over), but the main structure was definitely intact, if not built upon even more.

Greyish pylons lit the sky, most them appearing to be in some form of construction, while EVS construction droids moved from squarish-box to squarish-box, their arms sparking with activity, as they connected the long line of docks to each other.

Just beyond the dock was a smaller structure, a mass of black and grey floating in the expanse of space. Below it was another dock, this one for freighters, a box-like form for transferring cargo.

It was far from complete, but the message was clear...the Empire was at Yaga Minor.

***********************************************

Kazaar and Estelle studied the pictures for another moment, their eyes flicking from the dock to the space station and back to their dock.

"It's gonna be there," Kazaar stated simply, reaching into a large box off to the right of the flight controls. He pulled out a tiny, thin cigar (almost the size of a cigarette) and lit it with his black butane lighter. Its smell filled the cockpit for a moment while he puffed on it.

"Those docks aren't completely finished, so if I'm gettin' a shipment, it's in the main structure."

Smoke slid from Kazaar's mouth in quick fashion as he turned towards 'Trey', who'd rolled into th'cockpit.

"Go down to th'engine room and get ready t'do the manuever we did on Fondor. We'll do it once we exit hyperspace."

The R7 droid made a nervous warble before rolling back out of the cockpit towards the Dutchman's engine room.

'The Kid' shot the former bounty hunter a questioning look, but he ignored it, instead rising from his seat and striding into the living area of his ship.

"I'll tell ya later, kid, right now we need ya need t'get on th'horn with Bossman, tell 'im what we see. That thing's too big f'us t'take alone, 'sides, I don't want anymore attention than we all ready need to grab."

He pulled the plastic table-cloth offa the wood table, throwing it into the corner where it landed with a *crinkle*. Kazaar then moved over to his gallery of weapons, his hands pulling several of them off their holders and onto the table.

When Estelle returned from the communications console, Kazaar had them arranged in several groups.

"All right kid here's what we're taking," Kazaar grabbed one of the utility belts, tossing it t'Estelle before picking up his own and filling it with several of the contents of the table.

Personal Shielding Unit. Two vibroblades. Grappling gun (just in case). Four thermal detonators (which he placed in four pockets on the back of the belt). Two homing beacons. Finally, he placed the Bryar-Pistols called 'The Twins' by his side, their silver bodies glinting in the light.

Estelle noticed a holo-camera-like object on the table as well and inclinded her brown eyebrow towards it.

"Bossman wants us t'take pictures of the contacts, plus track the shipment. We need t'know where it's going outside of 'The Unknown Regions'."

He scanned his belt once more, making sure he had everything, before turning back to Estelle who was picking up weapons and putting them into her own belt.

"Here's th'plan. When we exit hyperspace, 'Trey's' gonna blow th'hyperdrive...or simulate blowing the hyperdrive. You'll then get ahold of th'Imps on the station...tell 'em ya got mechanical failure from a bad jump. They should let'cha dock with 'em at the main hub. We'll go from there.

"Oh...use a fake name, by the way, not ya own...I don't think Daddy's gonna appreciate his 'Little Girl' gettin' mixed in with Rebels," he smirked.

"Got it?"

[Estelle Russard]

A quick nod was her reply as she finished tucking bits and peices to her utility belt and double checked the rosewood blaster was still in her pocket where she put it.

The message to Dasquian had been simple and coded in the appropriate format:

The restaurant is too busy, lots of the old crowd.
Won't stay, but will place an order for take-out instead.
Something spicy.

She'd then returned to the pilot seat and began the preparations for communication with the Imp tower. Her hands were feeling a little clammy and she brushed them down on her jeans before beginning.

Initiating the holographic voice-link interface, which was standard espionage-craft equipment and the Dutchman was no different, Estelle took a deep breath to steady herself. If the Imperials wished to speak with her 1-1 she would appear to them as a tall redhead with blue lips and darklined green eyes with a purple scar running underneath the left one. The odds of her being recognized by anyone on this base due to her association through her father were negligible -- no one would know her out here -- but after any review was made of their visit as a result of whatever Aurelias had in mind (which was shaping up to be noisy and messy), the odds increased considerably. She could not blow her cover - it was imperitive for her not to be compromised. Estelle fingered the balaclava she'd picked up out of Kazaar's supply of party tricks and had rolled around her neck, assuring herself it was in place.

"Ok Trey" she radioed the droid, "Im set here"

A quick glance over her shoulder at Kazaar, and he returned the nod. It was the last calm breath before the hard heavy exhale.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

The starlines in front of Estelle slowed, turning back into individual points in the vast expanse of space.

"Now!" Kazaar said quietly.

Estelle felt a *lurch* as the HWK-290 class-freighter's hyperdrive 'failed', turned off by the R7 droid in the engine room. Behind her, she heard the *whoosh* of escaping smoke as Kazaar dropped two smoke grenades on the floor.

The Dutchman floated lifelessly, the lights on her wings blinking just incase another ship came out of hyperspace...that would end the mission real quick. In the viewport, the docks of Yaga Minor hung menacingly as tubolaser batteries turned to train their sights on the intruding freighter.

Kazaar crossed his arms, standing slightly behind Estelle (out of holo-range).

"Should be any time now..."

**************************************
Imperial Outpost 990B

I hate my job...

Lieutenant Vir Wizen was bored.

Even with the increase in traffic around Yaga Minor, it'd all been surrepticious, as if the Empire didn't want it to be known they were increasing their presence. A part of Wizen didn't care, for the simple reason he was getting paid not to care, but a part of him did...why not announce it? Why not make it known the failure of the Outbound Flight was going to be turned in a positive? He'd asked his commanding officer, a bastich of a captain named Reklar, who'd told him to 'shut up and mind his own business'.

My boss doesn't respect me...

There was something about that captain he didn't like...just...he wasn't sure...the guy didn't seem right, like some snake in officer clothing (and more than a 'normal' officer). If he was an Inquisitor he'd wear a special uniform and look all creepy. 'Normal' Imperial Officers who appeared 'creepy' were worse...you didn't know when they'd pull you aside and send you to Kessel to work in the spice mines.

Wizen sighed, taking a drink from his cup of caf while he attempted to stay awake, the long hours finally starting to get to him.

The worst part was there was no one to talk to...the garrison on the station had been reduced at the end of the Battle of Endor. He'd heard promises of more troops, but no one had shown up, only construction droids for the docks. So it meant the staff of 30 had to work double shifts half the time.

I hate my job...

He wished to whatever gods or being or whatever there was, he'd get a transfer...maybe to Coruscant or to whatever was going on in the Unknown Regions.

Maybe the contact who was supposed to meet them would take him away to the wide unknown.

That's why I joined the Empire, to have adventure, not sit here bored outta my frelling skull!

His sensors suddenly started flashing as an unidentified freighter came onto the board. He sat up straight in his chair, his boredom (at the moment) lost.

"This is Imperial Outpost 990B, state your intentions unidentified freighter."

**************************************
The Flying Dutchman

Kazaar smirked and uncrossed his arms.

"You're on kid...remember...ya know what t'do.

"Just don't frack up."

He winked and watched Estelle key the holovid.

[Estelle Russard]

As she connected to the Imperial communication, Trey, who had trundled into position at the compuport panel beside her, was connecting his own interface in order to gain access to the hailing station's initializing base. His intent, locate and jam further outgoing signals once Estelle and Kazaar's patomine had played out.

Estelle nudged up the voice modulator with her finger, giving a slightly nasaly whine to her voice which made it abrassive and unpleasant to listen to. The officer on the other end of the line will not want to keep her talking for too long.

"This is freighter "Lonesome Bird" 990B.." she felt, rather than saw Kazaar wince at the lame name, but she'd seen his space cowboy novels on his bedside table. " ...Returning from cargo run of hydroponic gardening systems to Felucia. We have suffered hyperdrive failure -- shoddy repairs at Durona Major two days ago probably the cause. Request breif docking to assess damage and effect repair"

The Imperial blinked at her momentarily then there was a pause. He was checking over his protocol manual maybe. Or just trying to remember what dock was vacant. Or maybe he was deciding to turbolaser them out of his space, thus removing the problem. Estelle held her breath until the officer spoke again. "Permission granted Lonesome Bird, proceed to dock H-2N3 located at 605-23-611 to your right. We will insist on inspection of your ship. Please lower your boarding ramp immediately upon arrival."

Estelle the redhead nodded her compliance and severed the connection. Trey garbled that so far there was no alarm being raised.

"They're coming on board" she said unnecessarily to Kazaar.

Aurelias gave a wolfish grin "yeah" and eyed down the barrel of one of his twin blasters.

"We are gonna have to be fast" she said, clearly worried at the understatement.

He eyed the other blaster and lifted an eyebrow "yup"

"You expected it?"

Kazaar spun the twin guns in his hands cowboy-style and gave her a wink. Those novels again..

Good greif, Estelle thought. She was in the lap of the Imperials with Roy frelling Rocket.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

"All right kid be ready," Kazaar smirked as he made one final check of the ammunition in his blasters.

He slid over to one side of the landing ramp, 'The Twins' glinting in the light, positioning himself just out of viewport range of any Imperial stormtroopers who might come their way.

Kazaar was still annoyed he couldn't destroy the shipment once they got t'it. What was the point, he wondered, of tracking a shipment if you couldn't either steal it...or make sure it didn't get to its intended destination? The Bossman hadn't told him everything 'bout the shipment, only it was important.

Another puzzle piece t'put together...Even if orders were orders why the hell couldn't 'e be told a bit more. Wasn't like he was gonna tell anyone...

"Ya know Kid," the former bounty hunter's tone was a bit condescending, "The next time ya come up with a fake name, use one of th'list I got. Don't go with something that Imperial prolly read when he was a baby."

Estelle had taken a position at the top of the landing ramp, her 22T4 blaster resting comfortably in her gloved hand. Her cheeks looked like they were going to turn red, but she then remembered something and kept her voice calm.

"Wasn't 'The Flying Dutchman' the nickname of Igor Karrakum, a grav-ball player from the Aldera Vizers?"

Kazaar grimaced, "Yeah so?"

"And 'The Night Train' was the nickname of Re'Ahkin, a Smashball player, from SC Votrad?"

The grimace on Kazaar's face grew larger and Estelle took a dark satisfaction at it.

"I rest my case."

Smartass, Kazaar thought as he crouched behind a plasteel cylinder marked 'Med Supplies' in bright red letters. The cylinder was empty, most of his supplies were stashed farther in the Dutchman, but it made a great footrest...'sides, Kazaar never knew when he'd need t'use it as cover now...or as a weapon later.

Imps never liked it when things got thrown at 'em...

With a nod towards Estelle, the elder Rebel Spy pressed the manual release for the landing ramp. Gears *whirred* as the ramp lowered into the hangar bay.

Four stormtroopers and one Imperial Officer, dressed in black, made their way up the ramp. Their blasters weren't drawn (that was the good news) but their hands were conspicuously placed near them (that was th'bad news). Kazaar pulled his own blasters and waited for them t'get into the ship.

The Imperial officer, in an attempt to look smart in his uniform, placed his arms behind his back as he came to a stop in front of Estelle.

"Where is your captain?" the voice was crisp and clean, with a slight hint of mistrust, "I was under the impression she would meet us here."

He pointed to one of his stormtroopers and the latter strode past Estelle and into the interior of the ship. The other three stood spread apart, each giving the other a relatively good firing vantage-point should there be trouble...Kazaar didn't move from where he crouched.

The stormtrooper returned his blaster pulled from his belt.

"Sir," his mechanized voice sounded surprised, "There's no sign of 'em."

The Imperial Officer drew his blaster quickly, the rest following suit. Behind them, Kazaar started to rise.

"Where is your captain?"

"Right here," Kazaar's guttural voice was drowned out by the sound of his blasters as he shot the officer in the back of the head.

As the body fell, the stormtroopers began turning towards him, each reaching for their blaster rifles. Estelle's blaster answered, catching one trooper in the chest (a brilliant explosion from the trooper's bone-white armor). She noticed the *Kra-Kows* were lower in pitch...almost silent...and turned towards another trooper, felling him as well.

The look on Kazaar's face was one of sick delight as the Imperials died and he leaped down the boarding ramp.

"Let's go kid! We gotta get to communications room."

*******************************************

The Communications Room

"What the-?" Lieutenant Wizen's eyes widened as he saw the red light flash.

Something was wrong...

He keyed in the holocameras for the hangar bay and watched as a man with blondish-black hair shot an Imperial technician fiddling with a piece of equipment. Someone else followed, their face hidden by a black mask.

Wizen rose from his seat, pulling his blaster, "Captain Reklar!"

"Yes?" Reklar slid over to Wizen, "What do you want?"

"We have a problem sir," Wizen tried to keep excitement from his voice, as he relayed the story about the freighter, the broken hyperdrive, and the redhead who'd asked for help.

Reklar's face froze a moment.

"Send squads two and three down to stop them!"

"B-but sir," Wizen wasn't about to send the rest of the military men to stop the intruders. With the deaths of the five...no six...there were only 24 left (including he and Reklar).

"Just do it!" Reklar roared, "Squad Four will come with me to the cargo hold. Get Coruscant...tell them we're under attack!"

*******************************************

Kazaar's face continued to hold its look of delight as 'The Twins' felled three stormtroopers.

The Rebel duo had fought their way from the hangar bay to a long corridor which led to the upper levels of the complex. In front of them, a stairwell led two levels up where the communications room was, behind them...bodies of seven stormtroopers who'd tried to stop their progress.

Fourteen Imps t'go...

"Isn't this fun kid?"

[Estelle Russard]

The trail of bodies was mildly distracting. Estelle wondered what Dasquian...or even Grace..would think of such collateral damage. She tried not to dwell on those thoughts though. They had a job to do and, as ugly as it was, dead Imperials was low in the consideration when it came to mission success. Kazaar obviously had no such sensitivities. He actually appeared to be enjoying himself, which in itself was rather apalling.

"Lets just get the job done" she said mechanically back to him.

Aurelias kicked in the communications door and entered with a hail of blaster fire, Estelle right behind him. They found Wizen slumped over his console, a hole in his throat, and Estelle recognized him from her earlier conversation. She clamped her lips tight together, fighting back a sick feeling. Aurelias pulled the officer out of his chair and let him drop in a heap to the floor. Looking over the communications screen, he saw via the security vids more troopers heading their way. Estelle saw them too.

"It's about to get crowded in here" she said. "I'll cut off their access in the stairwell" and went back to take up a defensive postion on the landing. "They're almost here" Kazaar called to her from inside the comm room. She could hear them coming, boots thumping on the stairs they raced up. She rolled a primed grenade along the floor toward the door, timing it perfectly so that as they opened it, the grenade tumbled in to roll at their feet, detonating a milisecond later. The blast shook the whole level, and made her ears ring.

"You got what we need yet?" she shouted. She thought she shouted, that is, but couldn't be certain, everything was muffled. Kazaar reappeared at her side and was saying...something. She looked at him quizzically, but him yanking her down to avoid a blaster shot in the head was explanation enough. There were more troops arriving.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar wasn't sure how many Imperials the Rebel Duo had killed, and frankly he didn't care t'know (20). As long as they kept coming, the former bounty hunter would keep shooting and killing 'em. He honestly didn't give a damn...as long as they died, horrible screeching deaths.

'The Twins', the two large, silver Bryar Pistols, rang out in his gloved hands as he shot a stormtrooper in the chest. Two more troopers came around the corner to replace their dead comrade and 'The Kid' sent them into eternity with her smaller blaster.

Twenty-two dead.

One stormtrooper fell, most of his helmetted head missing (both the Rebels musta shot 'im) and Kazaar shot another.

Finally...it was oddly quiet in the corridor. The Rebel spies rose from their hiding places, noticing the blaster scars all over the area around them. Kazaar felt a slight twinge in his ribs but ignored it (he'd treat himself later).

A halting whimpering/breath suddenly cause the elder spy to raise his blasters again and he slipped down the hall towards the noise, Estelle o his heels.

They came upon a junior Imperial Officer, his gloved hands grasping at his stomach. By the dark spot below him, Kazaar could tell he was dying of a blaster bolt to the stomach.

"P-please..." the man whispered, "H-help..m..."

"Anyone else here?" Kazaar softly asked.

An odd look on the Imperial's face, "W-wha-?"

Estelle saw his leg was lying in an odd direction, obviously a product of the grenade she'd thrown earlier.

"Anyone else here?" Kazaar's tone was just a bit firm and he crouched by the dying Imperial.

The officer shifted position and winced, "C-cap...tain...Reh-reh..Reklar...in...cargo...bay...

"F...five tr.." he trailed off, "With..........imm"

Kazaar rose from his crouch and the Imperial's eyes stared up at him.

"Pl-please...h-hel-p m-e..."

The Alderaanian nodded...his face seemed almost sympathetic.

"Sure pal."

Then Kazaar shot him in the head and the man fell silent.

Estelle's face was full of horror, mixed with almost shock and rage. Kazaar noticed this and started moving.

"He was dyin' Kid," his voiced echoed in the grey hall, now streaked with black scorch marks, "Ya saw him. Bacta only woulda made 'im feel better but he wasn't getting up. Wasn't gonna live.

"Lesson Seven....Help ain't always keeping someone alive."

He came to a flight a stairs and checked it for Imperials...nothing. Twenty-four dead...six to go.

"Get ya face on, Kid. We gotta Imperial Shipment t'find."

[Estelle Russard]

Staying close together, the pair negotiated the stairs making stealthy progress upward. Estelle's breath was shallow and still rapid and it was on calming this she focused on, trying to bring herself to equilibriam while her emotions threatened to unravel.

Kazaar's callousness was only eclipsed by the need to do her job. The look on that young Imperials face was something she would not soon forget. Or the coldhearted way Aurelias had dispatched him. She watched Kazaar moving ahead of her, was this what she was expected to become? Did she want to be as good as him, at such a high cost to her own self. The thought made her throat catch. She didn't think she wanted that.

"Stay sharp" Kazaar warned, as if he knew her mind was wandering down the wrong road.

She wanted to slap him, yet how could she really fault him. The Rebels needed men like him. And right now, she knew she stood the best chance of survival with him exactly as he was. When she looked up, he was looking right at her, grinning as if he could read her mind. Then he opened the door into the cargo area and they slipped silently inside.

Crouched in the shadows of some huge crates, the duo surveyed the options open to them.

There was movement in the east corner and Kazaar poked Estelle in the shoulder then pointed to a huge hydraulic lift, indicating for her to take up position behind it to create a cross-fire vantage.

She moved off like a sleek cat, keeping to the shadows, eyes wide and alert and constantly scanning for something they may have missed. Glancing quickly behind her, Kazaar was no longer there, vanished from sight in a split second.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

He'd seen them only briefly, two stormtroopers crouching behind a large, red container. Kazaar moved silently, his twin blasters glinting in the lights of the cargo hold.

The hold wasn't as large as some of the holds Kazaar'd seen in his career, but it was big enough. At least ten rows of containers, each colored either red or blue, stretched out before his brown eyes. He did a quick mental count...had t'be least 100 of 'em. At the end of the room, a large door (looking a lot like the side of a TIE Fighter, just painted black) stood. Kazaar squinted a moment...it was indeed locked (the red light giving that away). If 'The Kid' and he had t'make a run for it...they'd need a key to get out.

Again his mind wondered why th'hell 'Bossman' didn't want 'em destroyed. That'd hurt the Empire, keep 'em from supplying whoever it was they were supplying, but he wasn't being paid t'question orders (even if he questioned 'bout every order he got...hey, if ya don't question orders ya become a drone).

The former bounty hunter continued to sneak up on the two stormtroopers, the right side of his face 'scrunched' in a very tight smirk.

Almost there.

He glanced up and saw 'The Kid' perched behind the hydraulic lift...she was gonna be good, that's for sure. Knew her stuff...even if she was naive (still). But she had skills and knew how t'use 'em...just not 'when'.

That'll come in time.

Kazaar was behind the Imperial now by about three containers...he had th'drop on 'em. He rose from his crouching position, 'The Twins' in his gloved hands, ready to dispense their payload at the stormtroopers.

He fired.

The first shot caught the troopers by surprise, they'd been expecting something else...a grenade maybe, Kazaar didn't know. One of them keeled over, a hole in his chest, obviously dead. The other moved relatively quickly (for an armored-up trooper), diving back for another container (this one blue).

The Rebel spy raced quickly, looking for cover as he heard the low *Ka-kaws* of Estelle's blaster through the rush of steam. He paused as he got to the edge of the container...if he was th'stormtrooper (and thank whatever gods that were out there he wasn't) he'd probably be expecting the guy chasing him t'go around a container.

A smirk...and Kazaar holstered his blasters, then climbed on top of the long, metallic container.

The stormtrooper was there all right, his head swivelling from side to side, looking for whoever it was who killed his partner. A brief flicker of movement off to his right and the bone-white head turned, only to see a large man flying in his direction.

Something like a cross between a yelp and a curse followed as the two men collided with each other, the Imperial getting off only one shot (which he swore he saw hit the Rebel). They fell to the ground a mix of white and black, the stormtrooper getting up first.

"Rebel scum," his mechanized vocabulator uttered a curse and he reached for another blaster...

...Only to be stopped as a hole blossomed on his chest. It was a deep, black pit...ringed with fire and the smell of burning flesh. The Imperial fell to his knees, a groan emenating from him as he fell dead to the floor.

Kazaar turned, raising an eyebrow towards the hydraulic lift where Estelle was still pointing her blaster at the dead stormtrooper.

"Nice work, Kid," Kazaar smirked, looking around for any more stormtroopers.

It was then he spied two other white-armored bodies on the black floor, holes about the size of the ones on the stormtrooper in front of him.

"Real nice work, kid."

He made a beckoning motion with his right hand and pulled out the holo-camera from his belt. He checked it quickly...it wasn't damaged in the battle.

"We got work t'do...Take the red containers over there," Kazaar strode over to the stairwell near his partner (was that what she was?) and set the small device under the lip of the stairs (thank you Imperial architects).

"We need t'see what's in 'em. I'll take the blue ones."

[Estelle Russard]

The task was a tedious one, and time consuming. There had to be a better way than opening each container and looking inside, but for the moment, this was the game plan and wasting precious moments dreaming up another, more efficient one, was not time they could afford.

Most of the containers were filled with generic supplies - staples for a small outpost such as prepackaged food, medical items, some small arms, general sundries and the like. Estelle found herself thinking it ironic to risk her life for such a mundane shipment. Kazaar was having the same thoughts apparently, she could hear him muttering and cursing to himself as he burrowed through a crate loaded with toilet paper and hand towels.

The next crate would cheer him up, she realised, as she opened the lid and discovered four boxes of expensive Corellian Cigars. "Hoy" she called to him, waving the enticing package at him and teasing him with a grin. Yep, that got him smiling. She retrieved all four boxes, but what was folded beneath them gave her pause.

"Kid, tell me ya found some 12 year old Burbon in there, too, and make killin' all these guys worthwhile"

His jest fell flat. Last time he'll try for comic relief. But it only took a moment for Aurelias to realise it wasn't what he said that she didn't find amusing. She lifted up a peice of clothing, holding it by her fingertips as if loath to touch it - a tunic of rich white fabric stiff and starched that, while totally unexpected, was instantly recognizable.

She caught Kazaar's eyes with hers. "Isnt this....?"

He nodded and whistled lowly, finishing her query with the answer they both already knew, "..Uniform of an Imperial Grand Admiral"

It was Estelle's turn to nod and whistle lowly. Her other hand pulled out a small datacard. "Message in a bottle?"

Kazaar smiled slyly, "Better than the burbon, kid."

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar stared at the Grand Admiral uniform for a moment.

This changed everything, put the entire mission in a brand new perspective. And only made him angrier at Belargic...Why didn't he just say the shipment was suspected o'being for a damn grand admiral?!? 'Course, it also made sense why 'Bossman' sent him on th'mission but still...

A Grand Admiral...Frack!

There were times Kazaar hated BlackOps...

He took the datacard from Estelle, eyeing it for a moment.

He spied a datapad lying on the ground next to his foot, discarded by some dead dockworker, and picked it up. He was about to connect the two, when 'The Kid' stopped him.

"Hang on a second," she stated, scrutinizing the datacard a moment.

It looked like any other datacard...dark, with a silvery-circular disc in the middle. A stylized 'R' with an Imperial logo where the loop on the 'R', emblazened the disc.

"I'll be right back," Estelle said, starting t'walk towards the exit of the cargo hold, "Don't connect those two...I mean it...Aurelias."

Kazaar threw his arms up in the air in an 'I surrender' motion and set the datacard on the red, metallic cargo container.

Women.

He began rifling through the rest of the supplies within the container, again cursing Belargic f'not telling him 'bout his suspicions on the shipment.

That was one thing he never understood 'bout BlackOps at times...the secrecy. Don't get 'im wrong, Kazaar had his own secrets and hidden monsters within his mind, but there were times he preferred actually knowing what he was going after.

Puzzles were entertaining f'only so much.

The Rebel Spy smirked as he came upon a container marked 'Alcohol' and pulled it open with his bare hands. Inside were a buncha booze he'd never drunk before, nor cared to: a Cassandran brandy, two bottles of Cassandran Choholl (Kazaar took one...he'd heard it was good), a bottle of Zeltronian Spiced Wine, and five bottles of Balmorran Scotch.

Whoever this 'Grand Admiral' was...he preferred prissy drinks.

Kazaar shook his head, then spied a case of Alderaanian Ale, its blue colored-liquid glinting in the light of the cargo hold.

So maybe he wasn't all 'prissy'.

By then, Estelle had returned, holding up another datapad. Kazaar raised a black-eyebrow, not getting her point.

It was just another datapad...with an on/off switch on the side and several buttons for scrolling the information on the screen in the middle of it. Then he saw the same stylized 'R' logo on the back of the black casing. Save for a spattering of blood on it...it was just another datapad.

"It's from my dad's company," she said plainly, "Well...our technology division. I almost didn't recognize it save for the logo. It was unveiled three days before I left."

Estelle picked up the datacard from where it lay on the container and plugged it in.

"The tech department was testing a new-type of card which wouldn't work on anything but a Russard-made datapad. For military usage. If it's connected to anything else...the data's destroyed and the system corrupted."

Kazaar came around her, looking at the datapad in her hands. When he saw what he thought was the appropriate button, he keyed it and a mash of symbols and letters all popped up.

Damn.

"And here I was hopin' the Imps wouldn't code it," the former bounty hunter shook his head in disgust.

It was then 'The Kid' pulled out another datacard with the same logo on it. She removed the original card, placing it back in the container, then put the new one in the pad. Several button presses later, which Kazaar didn't completely understand, and she pulled out the new one.

"Now...we have a copy," she gave a small smile, "And a datapad we can read it on."

"Nice work, Kid," Kazaar could make his way around a computer, but he hated the damn things. He knew just enough t'ensure any security footage of the two was gone, placed datacards of his own which were currently in his jacket pocket.

*Clank*

Estelle started to open her mouth to ask a question, but the Alderaanian stopped her with a raised hand. They'd both heard it...

*Clank*

His hand still raised, Kazaar slipped towards another cargo container, this one blue. He mouthed, "Stay there," then waited one more moment as if figuring out his options.

He moved to the side of the large container and pressed a button. A red-blaster bolt lit the air for a moment as a hand holding a blaster emerged. Kazaar wrestled with the hand a moment, then pulled the blaster away, flinging it across the bay.

His own blaster came out and he pointed it into the container...

...And started laughing.

"Kid...c'mere," Kazaar's voice was still full of laughter. Then he reached in and pulled out a man.

He was an Imperial officer by his dress, the pea-colored uniform with multi-colored insignia rank all on his body. He was hat-less, his yellow-hair slightly disheveled and his blue eyes stared straight ahead. Underneath his rather large nose was a rat-like mustache, that blonde as well.

He looked...creepy...almost, his eyes were hollow as if they weren't there.

Kazaar smirked, still holding his blaster, "Captain Reklar?"

"I am Hiram Reklar, Captain in the Imperial Navy...Serial Number 08713A4B7E-"

A blue bolt came from Kazaar's blaster and Reklar fell to the floor of the cargo bay, unconcious.

"That's enough outta ya," Kazaar's smirk got larger.

"Kid...go find some binders. 'Bossman' is gonna want t'talk to him..."

**************************************
The Rebel Frigate Pride of Taris- Two Days later

Another debriefing...Kazaar still hated those.

The Rebel duo had made their exit from Yaga Minor, with the alcohol and cigars (which ironically, Kazaar forgot to mention in his report), Captain Hiram Reklar and the coded message (which was mentioned) in tow.

It had been a quiet flight out of Yaga Minor, Kazaar leaving Estelle for a few minutes a day to 'check' on Reklar (she figured he was probably shooting him with a stun bolt...which he was).

They'd rendezvoused with the frigate Dasquian Belargic was currently using as his base and immediately been brought aboard.

After an hour of writing out a report...Kazaar recounting his adventures on Felucia (again, leaving out the part about torturing Lehman in the hotel...saying he had a conversation) and the discovery the Empire was indeed operating on Yaga Minor...the two had been sent to the Belargic's office where they spent another hour recounting what they'd just written down.

When he got to th'part about discovering the Grand Admiral Uniform, Kazaar was incensed again.

"Why the frack didn't ya tell us, ya were thinking this coulda been for a Grand Admiral? And don't gimme that poodoo 'bout us bein' captured...

"I don't get captured!"

[Estelle Russard]

Estelle had been reading over her own notes for the debriefing and looked up sharply at Kazaar's remark. Seems like the man just could not go a day without fishing for some kind of conflict. He really was the loose cannon everyone said he was.

The air in the room was suddenly very close and she wished she were some place else.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Belargic remained silent, his arms crossed behind his desk as he stared at his two operatives.

The nostrils on Kazaar's face flared and his brown eyes were darker than normal.

"Look Bossman...I don't need t'know everything (like where th'Rebel Leadership is and what you'n Grace do in ya spare time...and don't gimme that look either), but if I'm gonna be goin' after a Grand frackin' Admiral...I need t'know more."

He placed his gloved hands on Belargic's desk and stared directly into his eyes.

"Like I said, I don't get captured...ya don't hafta worry 'bout me giving anything up.

"'Cause I wouldn't..."

[Dasquian Belargic]

Dasquian retained his composure, cool in spite of Kazaar's attitude. “You were given all of the information that we had available on this mission, Agent Kazaar. The fact that there are Grand Admirals tangled up in this shipment is as much of a surprise to me as it was to you.”

The Director paused, glancing down at various data sheets spread in front of him: the agents reports, his own notes, and such like. “All in all, however, the mission was a success. We've got a strong signal on the tracking beacons you planted, and Captain Reklar - while stubborn now - will crack in due time. Perhaps you would like to handle his questioning, Aurelias?” Belargic asked, looking up.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

A smiling smirk came to Kazaar's face at the notion of 'questioning' Captain Reklar. He'd done th'grunt work...guess this is Bossman's way of saying, 'Thanks'.

"Yeh," he nodded his head a bit as he ashed his cigar in the trash dispenser by Belargic's desk, "I'll do it.

"First I'm grabbing a shower'n getting this damn dye outta m'hair. I don't mind wearing it but does get old," he raised a hand warningly at Estelle, "And don't tell me I look 'good' in it, Kid...I know it ain't pretty."

He turned to go, running a hand through his hair briefly, then stopped and reached underneath the chair he'd just vacated.

"Almost forgot," the Rebel Spy picked up a brown paper sack covered bottle.

"Found this inna cargo container...figure ya might like it."

The bottle was placed on the desk and Belargic saw it was marked 'Hapan Royalty Stock 88' in bright gold script. The label was white with a drawing of the Queen Mother of the age and the bottle was blue.

Kazaar chuckled, "See ya...Bossman."

[Estelle Russard]

Kazaar made his exit, and Estelle was fast learning that the man had a penchant for the dramatic. The gift to Dasquian had come as a surprise to the Director, and he had not had the time to formulate his response before Kazaar departed, leaving the remaining two rebels to look dubiously at one another.

"Im sure it wont explode or anything" Estelle assured with a crooked smile, "Well, fairly sure"

Russard made to get up, anticipating her dismissal, but then paused, holding her seat. She clasped her hands neatly in front of her on the table.

"I'd like the chance to speak with you Director, off the record - or whatever it is to keep things private between us"



Dasquian's smile took an odd turn and Estelle realised how that had just sounded, quickly continuing in order to explain herself, "...Its about Agent Kazaar"

By Dasquians reaction, Estelle judged that this was obviously not an unusual request for agents that had served with Aurelias.

"Perhaps later, before Reklar's questioning begins, if you have time....?"

[Dasquian Belargic]

The face of Ishara, the Queen Mother, glared up at Dasquian from the bottle that Kazaar had left behind. Belargic shook his head slighty and sighed. “Keep your comm on, and I'll be in touch in a couple of hours,” he said, as he picked up the so-called Royalty Stock. The Director smiled, though it was more out of habit than due to happiness, and stood up from his desk. “Dismissed.”