Spy Game: It's all fun until someone gets hurt

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Seven Months Later- The Prison Ship Redemption's Quest

His eyes traced the paths of the cell walls, again and again and again...

They hadn't changed once since he'd been transferred seven months ago. And he somehow doubt they'd even change...unless of course Spenny ever came t'visit him, he'd probably stick some sort of painting up on the wall to 'brighten the mood'. Or worse...one of his damn blankets.

Eugh.

But it was one of those 'damn blankets' Aurelias Kazaar was preferring at the moment. The ship's captain somehow thought it rather funny to lower the temperature in the cells about ten degrees. Kazaar would probably see it as 'funny' too...if he weren't currently in a cell.

The Rebel Operative (he was still that wasn't he?) ran a hand through his scraggly black hair. At some point he'd have to get it cut, but not until he was out, if he ever got out. Belargic hadn't been specific as to the when and where Kazaar would be released back into the galaxy.

In fact, the 'Bossman' hadn't even said if he'd let Kazaar go back to work for RebelOps. In a way, the former bounty hunter figured, he was okay with that...Gorgja the Hutt would probably let him do some odd jobs here'n there.

It'd pay pretty well too, even if he wasn't busting the heads of every Imperial he could get a hold of. Nah...the fat Hutt looked down on that...had something t'do with a deal he'd cut with one of the current leaders...Sevon, Desaria...one of them.

Even in Kazaar's dark cell, he still got news of the outside galaxy. Most of it were rumors, notions passed on by a 'friend on the outside'. The former bounty hunter (he was definitely that) cared less about 'rumors', as far as he was concerned, the entire prison ship could go rot in hell.

In his mind, what he'd done was still the right thing, despite his current predicament. No one else knew it is all. Or believed it.

Kazaar smirked, feeling his back tighten just a bit as he stretched his legs across the 'bed' he was laying on. It was still uncomfortable. Not that he was expecting a prison bed to be comfy, but he atleast wanted something related to a pad. Instead he got a single strip of foamy cloth, the color matched the walls, which he lay upon every night.

No pillow, no blanket. Just the pad.

And he swore if he ever got outta the cell, he'd force the Rebels to atleast put a blanket in. Just t'make it a bit fair.

The Alderaanian shifted position to his left side, the orange jumpsuit he wore *crinkling* just a bit as he moved. It was itchy and did little to combat the cold he was feeling.

'Least he had an undershirt. It'd help...just a bit.

But the worst wasn't the pad he was laying on...or the jumpsuit he wore...or the damn cold.

It was th'fact he hadn't had a cigar in seven months. Seven frackin' months without one hint of tobacco.

And that pissed him off.

He sighed and tried t'take his mind offa that travesty.

Kazaar hadn't seen 'The Kid' inna while, not since he'd told her to watch after 'The Twins'.

Estelle's face had looked puzzled at the time.

"The Twins?"

He'd smirked and snorted at the same time, "Yeh...Vera'n Ashley. 'The Twins'..."

A blank look.

"M'Bryar Pistols, Kid, jeez," Kazaar'd swore, "What ya never 'named' something of yours?"

Turns out Estelle had given names to some of her things...just not weapons.

Kazaar still rolled his eyes at that, even now, while he lay in his empty cell.

Women.

It was then his ears caught it...the *clack*clack*clack* of boots on the metallic floor outside the cells. He couldn't see who was coming, but they were headed towards his cell.

Kazaar swore if it was another shrink tryin' to 'diagnose' his 'anger issues', he'd break that guy's arm too. Then he's shove it up his ying-yang and hope it wasn't recoverable.

The *clacking* stopped in front of his cell and the grey door slowly slid open revealing a tall, black man with cropped hair and a face which was more pleasant than Kazaar'd prefer.

"Agent Kazaar," the man said plainly, closing the cell door behind him.

"I have an offer for you."

"Yeh?" Kazaar didn't move from his position on his bed.

"We have need of your services," the man's face remained pleasant but a hint of seriousness was in his voice.

"Agent Russard...has been kidnapped."

[Estelle Russard]

The setup for the meet had been standard procedure and, as always, carefully planned.

Agent Kristmansen, Estelle's assigned handler since her return to Imperial Center, had been unconcerned in they way he had expected things to unfold. Even though it was impossible to cover every possible contingency, there had been no reason to think this meeting would not go smoothly. After all, it was not the first time they were connecting with their mark.

Tudor, a mercenary turned arms dealer had built for himself a tidy little business supplying illegal weapons to pirates, smugglers, or any self-styled raiders that would pay his exorbitant prices in exchange for top of the line hardware with swift delivery, no questions asked.

Tudor's business was very successful and was suspected as the main supplier to a band of mercs that was making themselves known in most unfriendly terms to a small rebel outpost in the outer rim.

Estelle and Kristmansen where assigned to make contact with Tudor, discover his base of operations as well as the identity of the mercenaries he was supplying. This information would then be used by the Alliance to dismantle Tudor's outfit, eliminate the mercenaries and, if possible and as a nice bonus, appropriate the remaining arms supplies for Rebel use.

The food court was busy even though it was mid-moring. The breakfast rush was over, the lunch rush had not yet begun. There was a comforting amount of citizens around without the place being a complete zoo, as so often was the case in these places.

Tudor recognized Estelle immediately that she arrived and waved her over. Followed by her bodyguard Kristmansen, she made her way over to where the gunsdealer sat eating a fried egg sandwich. He was flanked by two burly Trandoshans, both of whom swivelled their heads constantly, watching the entire area.

Tudor half-stood as she sat down, obviously a little enamoured with her. "Danielle, you are lovelier each time I see you"

Estelle smiled demurely. "Dont think because you flatter me Tudor, that I will let you're attempt to overcharge me slide"

Tudor sank back gracefully into his chair, returning a coy smile of his own, "I would not dream of cheating you, dear lady. You can ask whatever you wish of me, it is yours for less than I would charge my mother"

"I'm sure" she played back to him, allowing him to take her hand in is own. It was warm and fleshy and she squashed the urge to shudder. "Is it too soon in the day to talk business, Tudor? Shall I let you finish breakfast?"

Tudor struggled with his desire to flirt some more, and his greed to solidify a new deal. He managed to do both.

Pushing away his sandwich and wiping his hands on the cloth napkin, he leaned forward and traced Estelle's delicate wrist with a finger. "It is never too soon to talk business, Danielle." His eyes twinkled at her. "Have you decided on the guns you'd like?" Kristmansen sat stoically not reacting to Tudors advances to Estelle, keeping himself in character despite how much he despised having to do so and would be much happier if he could pistol-whip the arms dealer over the head. For her part, Agent Russard was handling herself handsomely.

It was at that moment that the gunfire erupted.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar was ushered from his cell to a holding area, where he was given clothes (a simple pair of black pants and a pull-over white shirt) and simple brown shoes (lace-up and not so comfortable). He was also sent to the refresher where he cleaned himself before donning the clothes.

After dressing, Kazaar asked the Rebel soldier standing next to him if he had a cigar and was promptly shot down. The black Rebel Operative who freed him, though, handed him a very light cigar. A minute later and the former bounty hunter was sitting in a briefing room, smoke curling around his face. The flavor was minute but at least it was tobacco...sweet, wonderful tobacco.

"All right," he leaned back in a red chair, attempting to get as comfortable as possible. It was rather hard and uncomfortable.

"Explain what's going on."

The black man walked in front of a large, circular table, briefly running his hand over the smooth surface. He grabbed a white remote (the same color as the table) and pressed a button. The center of the table glowed and several holographic pictures appeared for the two to see.

"You remember Kal Kristmansen?" the man asked. Kazaar nodded, wondering when the man was going to give his name.

"Twelve hours ago, he and Agent Russard were on Coruscant attempting to make contact with Kamden Tudor-"

"That Sleemo?" Kazaar interupted him, "What the frack is he doing outta Kessel?"

The man gave Kazaar a disparaging look, only to get a smirk in return.

"It turns out Tudor was released nine months ago and almost immediately starting funding various mercenary groups on the Outer Rim. It was rumored he was trying to get in with the Black Sun.

"Agents Russard and Kristmansen were going to find the location of his main cache of weapons and procure them for our own uses."

Kazaar gave the man a knowing look, "That didn't happen did it?"

"No it didn't," he pressed another button on the remote and the picture changed one of several bodies: two Trandoshans and two humans, one was Kristmansen, the other Tudor."

Kazaar gave a snort, "Couldn't happen to a better guy..."

Another glare.

"You notice Agent Russard is not present in those bodies. We believe this man," a different picture appeared of a big burly man, his long hair falling down beneath his shoulders. His squarish face was bearded with red beard, giving him an even wilder look, "His name is Ghlar Timander and his organization attacked the meet and...disrupted it."

The former bounty hunter's face was serious, "So where's 'The Kid'?"

"We believe he's taken her to his hideout, a small compound, on the icy planet of Mastala."

Kazaar nodded, "You need me t'go get 'er?"

A nod.

"And more than that...you will be leading a team of commandos in to pull her out...before they realize they have one of our age-"

"Whoa...whoa...whoa," Kazaar interupted him again, "You want me t'lead a band of commandos? Are ya crazy? I work alone."

The man gave a smirk, "You're working with a team of commandos. Or you can go back to your cell."

A glare from the Rebel Operative.

He was stuck.

[Estelle Russard]

Ghlar flicked cigarette ash off his knee with his little finger, his eyes thin slits beneath hooded lids as he smoked lazily. The slight ticking at the side of his mouth the only sign that Brendt Zellid was pushing his luck.

"If you dont shut up Zellid, I'll shoot you instead."

"She's no use to us. Why the frell did you bring her back." Zellid was an ugly man. Scared face, an overhanging forhead that made him look rather apish and a pockmarked face that flared red in patches, which all served to give him a rough, abrassive appearance. It even didnt come close to the type of rough and abrassive individual he really was. Mean and violent. Zellid was a thug in every sense of the word.

"Because.." Ghlar snarled, "..you killed Tudor before we got where his base is, you stupid cretin." He looked cruelly at Estelle and speculated, "Maybe his girlfriend will tell us, huh sweet thing"

Estelle sat stiffly in the chair, hands tied behind her, feet bound together and pulled back under the chair. She had been stripped down to tank-top and underwear, no shoes, and blindfolded. She felt very vunerable and completely exposed. It had been engineered for that purpose, she knew from her training. New recruits were always put through a variety of capture scenarios and so far, what Estelle was experiencing was pretty standard. It was, however, thoroughly terrifying to know this was not some sort of excercise that she just had to pass.

The voices came from either side of her. Ghlar was to her left, the second man Zellid to her right. The chair was metal and cold. The room was cold, too, and there was no fresh air that she could tell. Was she in a cellar maybe? Cold storage room, perhaps? The floor was cement, that much she knew. She wasn't sure how long she had been here - it was much harder to keep track of time than she had thought possible. Her mind drifted back to the food court..Kristmansen had tried to protect her. When the first shots were fired, he'd pushed her off the chair as the first Trandoshan flew backwards off his seat in a hail of laser bolts. But Kal had caught one in the chest and he was dead before either of them had hit the ground. Poor Kal - just like that. Did anyone know she was here? Estelle tried to calculate how long it would take for Rebel Ops to locate where she was.

Ghlar threw his cigarette butt at her to get her attention. It bounced off the base of her neck and tumbled down to land on her thigh, sizzling her skin on its journey and causing Estelle to jerk about in attempt to shake it off.

"I said... huh sweet thing" Ghlar repeated.

"I told you, I dont know where his base is. I just met him"

"Liar" Zellid was standing beside her - she hadn't heard him come over - and he backhanded her across the face, rocking her on the chair. Estelle felt stunned by the blow that had come with no warning. "You two were pawing at each other the whole time. Looked like you knew each other pretty well to us"

She found it difficult to articulate an answer. Underneath the blindfold, tears started to well. She had to keep it together. She had to remember her training..

"My name...is Danielle. I..."

Zellid hit her again.

She heard Ghlar laughing as blackness encroached about her mind.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar's face scrunched itself into a look of distain as he stared at the unnamed Rebel Operative, whose face had yet to change from its earlier smile.

Smarmy Bastard.

The Black Man pressed another button the remote control and the screen changed to a holographic image of an icy landscape, a bit more rocky than Hoth, but just as cold.

"We took this image while we were scouting out locations for bases after Hoth fell. Mastala's uninhabited so you'll need to be careful on your team's entry."

The former bounty hunter took a puff from his far too mild cigar and nodded.

It was the standard briefing, Kazaar was gettin' all too used to, boring, frivolous, and time-consuming. He could be out there, getting t'know the team, finding out what made 'em so good they had to go along with Kazaar on a mission he could probably accomplish on his own and with relative ease.

Probably Belargic's idea of a joke...

"Okay," Kazaar said finally, "If I do it...I gotta know who's gonna be on the team. This gonna be military guys or mercs?"

"It will be three military men (one is a pilot) and you can choose two others," The smile stayed as the Black Man knew Kazaar finally came around to the mission.

"No...no pilot. We'll use one of my ships t'get in. It'll be easier that way, we'll need t'be fast."

The man nodded, "So you'll be using The Flying Dutchman then?"

Kazaar rolled his eyes through a haze of smoke.

"No, I was gonna use your ship," he smirked as the Black Man glowered at him.

The expression got only angrier when Kazaar followed up his comment, "And I want you to be a part of th'group."

"No," the man crossed his arms, "I don't do operations."

"Lemme put it this way, pal," Kazaar stood and stared directly into the man's face.

"Ya want me t'do the mission...you're coming along."

It was a test of wills between two men who were complete opposite, in both looks and personality. Kazaar, the loose cannon, his brown hair long and unkempt, falling just beyond his broad shoulders. The Unnamed Black Man, his appearance that of someone who enjoyed being in RebelOps and the cloak-and-daggers that went with it, his black hair cut close to his skull. Their eyes were the same, brown/black and unrelenting. Their faces were different too, the unnamed man's face smoother, with only a few age lines starting to show. Kazaar's face was craggy and streaked with both scars and aging, the effects of his kamikaze-style of tackling missions starting to show.

To the former bounty hunter, this was exactly the reason why he wanted this...Unnamed Black Man (he was gonna learn his name)...on the mission, the guy need t'get out into the galaxy and see how things went. 'Sides, everyone needed practice at killing people with their own hands.

Even if it was gonna be a quick operation.

The two stared at each other a bit more...then Kazaar got his way.

"Belargic said you'd be tough," the man stated, as his eyes lowered a minute.

Kazaar trademark smirk came to his face, "Why else do ya think I'm th'best?"

"So," the man's face was composed again, "You'll do it?"

A nod.

"Yeah I'll do it. But before we go...I need a name."

A sigh from the soon to be 'Named Black Man'.

"Othniel."

Kazaar smirked again, "All right...Othniel. Let's go see this team ya got."

[Estelle Russard]

"Is she awake yet?"

It was Ghlar speaking. She could feel his breath, hot and foul-smelling on her face as he leaned toward her.

"Hard to tell with her eyes covered up" came Zellid's reply.

"This is gonna take too long if you keep knocking her out like that, Zellid. You might want to hit her someplace other than the head"

That wasnt such a bad idea, the larger man conceeded with a "hrmph".

Ghlar poked Estelle roughly in the stomach, "hey darlin' you awake in there?"

"...Yes"

Ghlar smiled as his suggestion was proven correct by example.

"Now, we can keep doing this the hard way. Or, we can do it the even harder way. Now Brendt here" Zellid yanked off Estelle's blindfold at the introduction and looked over the young rebel as she blinked around in an attempt to focus on the multiple images that were suddenly revealed to her. Ghlar's leering face, inches from her own, Zellid's belly and chest exposed to her at face-height as he stood beside her chair, his grimey shirt unbuttoned to his navel and his hairy sweaty body reeking of garlic and stale whiskey. Beyond them were bare walls, murkish grey in color and a metal stand-up bookframe that held four or five empty shelves. There was a light overhead and Estelle made the mistake of looking up at it - the glare of it temporarily dazzling her sight so that she saw multiple black dots in her vision. "...Brendt here has been pretty lonely since his wife" (girlfriend, corrected Zellid) "...girlfriend left him" (died, he corrected again with a smug smile) "...died" Ghlar ammended, an answering smile of his own. "Like I was saying, he's been very lonely. Now we've been nice to you so far, little miss, because you seem like a decent type and its only right to show some respect to our competitor's girlfriend" (god rest his soul, interjected Zellid) "..right, yes, god rest his soul" The two men laughed, obviously enjoying some inside joke they had regarding Tudor's demise. "But" Ghlar pursed Estelle's lips roughly, gripping her face with his dirty fingers, "we dont got a lot of time, ya hear? Tell us where Tudor's base is and we can all go back to business, whaddya say?"

It was difficult to talk with her cheeks squished in Ghlar's hand so that the soft insides of her mouth split against her teeth, "I....dont.....kno--aaaaaaah" Zellid snapped back the little finger of her left hand, breaking it with a loud crack behind her. He pried up her next finger in preparation to repeat the excercise. She struggled to writhe her fingers free of his hold, but it was hopeless.

"Where!!" shouted Ghlar, shaking her head in his anger.

Estelle started to cry, the tears brimming from her eyes to roll over the mercenary's fingers. "My...name...is....Da....nielle.."

Zellid snapped the other finger and Ghlar jumped up in disgust, pushing the large brute off balance so that he tripped on his feet to fall over.

"You did it again, you useless oaf. She's out." Ghlar spat, and turned to leave the room. "May as well get something to eat"

Zellid got to his feet, beligerent but submissive like a beaten dog, and followed after his boss. He was pretty hungry himself.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

The Flying Dutchman- en route to rendevous point

Kazaar hadn't been surprised when Othniel led to into the hangar only to spy The Flying Dutchman waiting for them. Belargic or Van-Derveld probably gave 'im the keys. No respect f'people's personal lives or ships.

The former bounty hunter's R7 droid 'Trey' warbled a greeting as the two walked up the boarding ramp. Kazaar was about to admonish the droid for letting an intruder on, when he noticed the restraining bolt fastened on its casing. He threw a look to 'The Black Man' and a tight smile was returned.

"Get that damn thing offa him," Kazaar grumbled as he wandered through the interior of his ship, "And if ya touched anything else, I'm gonna kick ya butt."

He'd slid into the cockpit, sighing happily as he was able to place a very dark cigar into his mouth. Even in his annoyance over his current situation, the thought of tobacco made his mind relax. He raised his black butane lighter to the tip (quite happy no one had hocked the lighter for something else) and let the blue flame burn. A few seconds later, the flavor of tobacco filled the cockpit and Kazaar breathed deeply.

Nothing like a cigar.

He was interupted by Othniel as the Rebel Agent slid into the co-pilot's seat.

"We're heading here," the latter replied, without much fanfare, as he punched in a set of coordinates on the NavaComputer, "It's where we'll meet the rest of the team."

Kazaar threw him a sideways glance, followed by a puff of smoke, "Care to tell me where it is?"

"No."

"Ya know...for someone who wanted me t'work so bad for 'em...you aren't making it real easy."

"Oh well."

The ship became quiet, Kazaar's hands running over the instruments, while he wished they were around his 'partner's' neck. This BlackOps crap this guy was pulling was really gettin' on his nerves.

He woulda preferred t'keep 'Othniel' or whatever his real name was (no way his parents named 'im that) in his sights at all times, but the guy'd said he needed t'talk to Belargic about something. He'd raised a stink over it, this was still his ship, but when the face of the current Rebel Intel Director came up over the holographic display, Kazaar'd been ordered out of the room. Giving Belargic a 'special' hello, Kazaar walked out, heading into the hold of The Dutchman where he went over to his security console and tried t'listen to the conversation.

Nothing...the holofeed in the cockpit was scrambled, obviously the product of 'The Black Man'.

Kazaar let out a string of curses and turned to his weapons case. Atleast that part of his ship hadn't been touched.

'The Twins' were gone, off with 'The Kid' probably at her Coruscant apartment or dorm or wherever she lived at the school. Long as no one found 'em.

Then there's be hell t'pay. And a lotta it.

Just when Kazaar was beginning t'think he'd need to blow open his cockpit door, Othniel's deep voice rang out in the hold.

"If you plan on having someone else on the team. You'll need to message them now."

The look Kazaar gave the man was one for the ages, "Naw, I figured I'd use telepathy. Gimme the damn coordinates."

Coordinates in hand, Kazaar went over to his communications console, pressing a few buttons, then sent out a message.

BC,

Need some help on a project. Meet me at these coordinates, where we'll discuss. Should be a few presents in it for ya.

AK

Kazaar rose from the console, not bothering t'let the Spy know if it'd been sent or not, "I'm going t'bed. I've had enough of this 'cloak-and-dagger poodoo f'one day."

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

Four hours later

Kazaar woke up in a cold sweat, his hand fumbling for the button to light his quarters. He'd had the dream again...the one which continued to gnaw at his mind.

In it, Kazaar was racing down a corridor, 'The Twins' flashing in the lights which outlined the doors along the hall. Every single time, he was focussed on the door at the end of the hall, the one marked 'No Entry for the Slow'. Every time his boot would kick in the door, only to find his partner lying dead, blood pouring from a head wound which wouldn't close, no matter how many times he knelt by her body and cradled it. No matter how many times he dreamed this dream...he was always too slow.

Every time...

Too late...Always too late!

And now he was in a race against time again...trying to save another, who would undoubtably die if he were 'too late'.

Kazaar closed his eyes for a moment as he attempted to breath.

He hadn't gotten much sleep after that, deciding to return to the cockpit where he waited for the ship to exit hyperspace. He was joined two hours later by Othniel, who smiled as he took a drink from a blue mug of caf.

"The group we're meeting with is a specialops team I've done work with before.

"What about your guy?"

Kazaar gave him another sideways look, "He's good. Almost as good as me...

"Almost."

More silence, before a flashing light indicated The Dutchman was ready to exit hyperspace. The starlines went to individual dots and Kazaar spied a Carrack Cruiser waiting for them in the vastness of space.

"I'll take it from here," Othniel pressed a button, "This is Two-Niner requesting permission to board, "Gotta couple jockeys here for loading."

"Permission granted Two-Niner," the liquidy-voice of a Calamari echoed over the comm, "You may enter when ready."

Othniel smiled, "We'll wait one day for your guy to show up.

"Then we leave."

[Bloodcrest]

Bloodcrest was enjoying a nice small-profit heist from a small Imperial shuttle when he got the message from his old associate.

BC,

Need some help on a project. Meet me at these coordinates, where we'll discuss. Should be a few presents in it for ya.

AK

"Ah heck." Was all he had to say in response. He knew Aurelias couldn't here him, but Bloodcrest shouted a curse or two at him inside the cockpit of his still-small-yet-now-adequately-armed ship. The coordinates weren't too far away at the very least.

Leaving the Imperial shuttle for another day, Bloodcrest hit the hyperdrive and took a nap on the relatively short hyperspace jump.

When he came out of hyperspace, Bloodcrest saw a ship in front of him and assumed Aurelias was there. He sent a short message requesting permission to dock.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar was waiting for Bloodcrest when the latter's ship docked with the Carrack Cruiser.

He finally been able to change clothes from the standard Rebel outfit to more comfortable clothes. Gone were the black pants and white shirt, replaced by a white pullover shirt with three brown buttons by the collar and dark green pants. The brown boots were gone as well, replaced by combat boots as dark as space. Two dark blasters rested comfortably by Kazaar's sides and his large hands were covered with black gloves.

His face was concealed by the ever present cigar smoke, but there was no doubt this was Kazaar. No one else would dare smoke out in the open, most of it was reserved for open-air scenery or the quiet of their own cabins. But even then, Bloodcrest could see the smirk on his face as he exitted his ship.

"What the heck, Kaza-!"

"No names, BC," The Rebel Spy interupted the merc quickly, a disparaging look on his face, "Yeh, I don't like it either, but th'guy running this dinko and bordok show likes it that way. Let's go."

Without another word, he turned and headed through the ship's empty, white corridors. The former bounty hunter hadn't been surprised to see an almost empty ship when he'd arrived the day before. Given how Othniel seemed to love 'cloak and dagger', it only made sense for the Carrack Cruiser to have only a skeleton crew. Less of a chance of someone finding out.

'Course it woulda just been easier had Kazaar been allowed t'do this mission by himself, like he originally wanted to. But there was no point in continuing t'argue with 'The Black Man' about this. He'd lost th'argument twice and somehow got the feeling he wasn't gonna win a third time.

"Got here just in time. We were 'bout ready t'leave ya," a trail of smoke followed Kazaar as they headed towards a lower portion of the cruiser where an actual internal docking bay lay (somehow the Alliance had been able to modify at least one Carrack Cruiser for this type of duty).

"Although, t'be honest," Kazaar's voice lowered to a whisper, "Woulda been happy if ya'd missed it. But I needed a guy here I could trust. Our 'commander' is a bastard in every sense of th'word.

"So we got that t'deal with," his voice raised with his next sentence, "You'll meet the rest of the team once we get to The Dutchman. Then we're off...

"You fine with leaving your ship here?"

[Bloodcrest]

Bloodcrest turned to his friend. "Actually, no." Bloodcrest pulled a piece of paper out of one of the pockets of his jacket. "Unless we are going to be needing it, we need to drop the ship at these coordinates. These coordinates are in the middle of nowhere with nothing around them. That's the point. I can't afford to let my ship fall into someone else's hands."

Racuto pulled out his blaster and dissolved the piece of paper. "Anyways, so what've you got lined up that you needed me for? Something big? Something profitable?"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

"Big enough," Kazaar's gruff voice had a small edge to it, "T'pull me outta a cell. You'll find out more'n the briefing, but it's a rescue op."

He gave a lopsided smile, "Like I said...no names, but ya get t'keep whatever loot ya find offa th'bodies."

There was silence a moment as the duo walked towards the hangar. They worked together before, each respecting the other's ability with a blaster and Kazaar respecting Bloodcrest's intelligence. He (Kazaar) had never seen himself as a 'smart guy', only as someone who could solve puzzles pretty well and knew how t'survive and fire a blaster. Racuto Bloodcrest (and Estelle Russard), those two had intelligence and used it well (even if 'The Kid' was a bit naive at times).

The former bounty hunter's mind flashed quickly to the kidnapped Rebel Agent and he hopes she was strong enough to survive.

"We won't be needing ya ship," a small smirk came to the Brentaalian-raised Alderaanian, "But run up to the cockpit and talk with the captain. He oughta be able t'transport ya ship to those coordinates and leave th'ship there."

The smirk grew larger, "Don't worry, I'll make sure we don't leave without ya. Wouldn't want ya t'miss a payday."

In reality, Kazaar was damn sure he wasn't gonna let the mission leave without Bloodcrest. He'd met the rest of the team and they appeared good...for a buncha military-types.

There was a green-skinned Sullustan, supposedly the pilot Othniel had wanted to bring along to fly The Dutchman. Kazaar had absolutely refused to have another pilot come along, raising all sorts of hell about how it was his ship and he was the only one capable of flying it. When it was mentioned the Sullustan was also quite handy with blaster and had killed multiple stormtroopers on little ammo, Kazaar had rolled his eyes and acquiessed to bringing him along.

The other man was a Corellian, his light brown hair coming down in layers around his ears. He was tall, thin and muscular with broad shoulders and eyes which flickered from one side of the room to the other, constantly watching for anything out of the ordinary. He was formal, saying, "Yes, sir," far too often and he stood far too straight, but there was a certain amount of cockiness to th'guy. Almost as if he knew he was good and couldn't tell his body language to shut up.

"Ya realize," Kazaar hissed at 'The Black Man', attempting t'be out of an earshot of the big-eared Sullustan. 'Course, Kazaar figured, knowing the Sullustan's rumored hearing, he probably heard him down the hall.

"These guys scream military. One of 'em gets captured and 'The Kid's' cover's blown."

"You mean to tell me," Othniel replied, staring into Kazaar's eyes, "You don't think you can lead this mission?"

A snort, "Oh I can lead this mission, I'm just sayin' it's better if I do this alone. I can find 'The Kid' and get 'er out..."

The high ranking Rebel Agent shook his head, "You have no choice. This is a team and you're a part of it.

"That's the last of it. Say it again and I will put you in the brig."

So third time isn't a charm, Kazaar thought...Frack.

He sighed, puffed on his cigar, and threw his hands up in an 'I surrender' motion.

"Once your friend gets back from the ship's cockpit," Othniel replied (How the frack did he know that?? Kazaar wondered), "We will leave.

"Anything else?"

Kazaar shook his head and Othniel turned back towards the two military men, "The briefing will be on board once we've hit hyperspace. Grab your gear and let's go."

"Yes, Commander," the two military men echoed the other, then ran up into Kazaar's ship. The former bounty hunter followed, still cursing the fact he had t'be on this particular team.

If it weren't for 'The Kid'...gods I hope she's strong enough.

Then he followed the trio up the ramp of The Dutchman locking all thoughts away as much as possible.

He had a job t'do.

[Estelle Russard]

Estelle kept her movements as minimal as was humanly possible. Any adjustment to find some comfortable position on laying on the floor, no matter how slight, made such horrible pain shoot up her arm from her broken fingers that a wave of nausea smothered her senses and made her feel sick.

She had slept, she assumed, for some hours. She could tell her body had taken some strength from the reprive from the brutal company of Ghlar and Zellid, despite the stiffness of every limb. They had removed the ties from her hands and feet and allowed her off the hard metal chair.

They had given her a blanket, a roughspun woollen thing that itched like the dickens, but wrapping herself up in it had brought her some comfort. It wouldn't last, she knew. They would take it from her again, continue on with their questioning and beating and it would be even more devastating to loose that feeble comfort than if she had never had it in the first place.

Estelle took the time given her to evaluate her situation.

The outlook was rather bleak. If they discovered she was a rebel spy, they would kill her immediately. She doubted they would chance turning her over to the Imperials - Ghlar would want to avoid any entanglements with the Empire, given his illegal activities.

The other alternative was that they realise their mistake that she is not, in fact, Tudor's girlfriend. Or his friend of any kind and had no useful information for them. Then, there would be no point for them to keep her around.

The only thing she could do was try to gain some time and hope someone was looking for her. She tilted her head to look around the walls of her 'cell.' The motion jarred her hand slightly, the swollen fingers purple and blue throbbed mercilessly and her face blanched white. Escape? She could see no windows. No vents. And even if there were, how could she hope to get out through them? And if she chanced to get out - where was she? She had no idea.

The echo of footsteps interupted her thoughts and the loud "click" of the turning lock made her stomach lurch in apprehension.

Rest time was over.

[Bloodcrest]

Bloodcrest walked to the bridge and asked the captain if he could enter in some coordinates and have them take him there real quick so that he could drop off his ship.

Jean will know where to find it. I'm sure she'll take good care of it.

Jean was an engineer from his father's company who had, unknown to Bloodcrest, followed him out of the Corporate Sector. She had hunted him down to make sure he was taking good care of her prototype ship. Technically, it was Bloodcrest's, but he wasn't about to argue with a Corporate Sector chick over who the ship essentially belonged to, the creater or the pilot. Bloodcrest smirked, heck, he wouldn't want to argue with a Corporate Sector chick at all. He'd done so when he was ten and got the snot beat out of him. Which, as far as Bloodcrest liked to keep it, was a little known fact.

Bloodcrest dropped the ship off at the agreed coordinates and then went back and joined Kazaar.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

When Bloodcrest returned to the internal docking bay, he saw Kazaar leaning up against a stack of cargo container, looking almost like an over-stuffed scarecrow the way his body was splayed out against them. Othniel 'The Black Man' glanced up at the approaching mercenary, gave him a scowl, then pulled out his comlink.

"Captain Forrestor. Care to tell me why the ship just made a jump into hyperspace?" his brown eyes were directed straight at Bloodcrest.

Then they shifted quickly to Kazaar (noticing the rather gargantuan smirk) and he quickly added, "Never mind...are we off course by much?"

"Negative sir. It was only a micro-jump."

"Very well," Othniel stalked towards Kazaar, pulling him behind the cargo crates he was leaning against.

"Care to tell me why you just did that," it wasn't a question.

The former bounty hunter took a puff from his cigar, blowing it in the air, "Yeh, I saw what coordinates BC needed t'go and told him t'ask the captain. Not like we're off course or anything."

A smirk.

"You're on thin ice and I don't care how good you are. Do not disobey my orders again."

The smirk turned into a smile, "Whatever you say."

The two returned to their positions, Kazaar leaning up against the cargo containers and Othniel at the front of the semi-circle. Behind them The Flying Dutchman cast a orangish-brown background, its lights blinking in the white of the floor and walls of the cargo bay.

"Check your gear," 'The Black Man' ordered, "Make sure you have everything. Then board the ship."

The Rebel Spy sauntered up the boarding ramp, his gear all ready aboard. 'Sides, if he didn't have something...he probably didn't need it. A few minutes later and the rest of the 'team' was aboard.

Kazaar pressed a few buttons in the cockpit and with a *lurch* The Flying Dutchman exited the Carrack Cruiser into the emptiness of space.

To be honest, Kazaar was happy t'be away from the Carrack Cruiser. It was too confined, too sterile...like RebelOps wanted to give it an almost 'empty' feel. It made sense, after all, if something happened to it (like a wandering Star Destroyer) best to minimize the losses if they were captured. Although Kazaar had a feeling no one would be captured...they'd probably just blow the ship up.

Which wasn't a bad idea...might take the Imperials with it.

"Briefing in five minutes once we hit hyperspace," Othniel's deep voice rumbled into the cockpit before he returned to the hold.

"Would it hurt ya t'announce your presence one inna while," Kazaar mummured as he keyed in the coordinates for Mastala. The Dutchman was two days out of the icy ball of a planet and hopefully would get there before 'The Kid's' captors got bored with 'er.

A puff from his cigar and Kazaar returned to the hold, nodding to Bloodcrest.

"Liking th'cloak-and-dagger stuff yet BC?"

[Bloodcrest]

Racuto smirked. "Oh you know, after a while it gets old, but hey, what am I complaining about? I do cloak and dagger all the time. It's a very profittable way to pirate...er...privateer for the Rebels."

Bloodcrest turned towards Kazaar with a questioning look on his face. "So anyways, what am I doing here again? All I remember is something about it being big and believe a cash reward was mentioned...right?"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

"It will be," 'The Black Man' answered before the former bounty hunter could, a terse expression on his face.

He was standing next to a portable holoprojector, the kind the Rebellion preferred to use over the in-lay computer used during Yavin. Othniel's gloved hand pressed a button and the same holographic picture of the compoud appeared.

"This is a R&R (rescue and retrieval) mission involving someone the Alliance wants kept secret. A few days ago, someone was kidnapped (doesn't matter who, don't ask) by an organization whose interests are...against our own," he paused a bit for effect, but also to ensure everyone was paying attention.

Kazaar actually wasn't, he'd all ready heard this spiel by Othniel when he'd been released from prison and he didn't need to hear it again. He knew how important it was to grab 'The Kid' and it needed t'be done right. But he knew 'The Black Man' needed t'go over it again for th'army boys...they weren't always too smart.

After all...they'd kicked him out for doing too good a job.

Kazaar wasn't surprised Estelle's name did not get mentioned. With BlackOps, half the time you didn't know the name of your target just that they needed t'be helped or be rid of. It was a part of the job, Kazaar hated with a frackin' passion but it couldn't be helped.

Everyone had their little secrets. 'Least Belargic let 'im know who needed help when. That was one thing he appreciated from 'The Bossman'.

"The compound is guarded fairly well, so we'll need to be quick when we enter (which we'll do from the air). Whatever gear you find on the guards you can keep for yourself, just make sure you find your mark...A girl, around 22 years old, with brown hair. She's probably within the lower levels of the compound so speed is key here people.

"I assume," he glanced at The Dutchman's owner, your droid can keep the engine running?"

A smirk, "Ya better believe it. He's a damn good pilot."

"Good. Any questions?"

A voice popped up from the Corellian soldier, "Yessir, I have a question. Why do we need these guys here? This should be an army operation not left to amateurs."

Kazaar angled his glance towards the brown-haired soldier, his body still relaxed against the bulkhead, "You say something boy?"

The soldier rose from his seat and took two strides towards Kazaar, "Yes I did. I said I don't see why you two," he pointed at Kazaar and Bloodcrest, "Need to be here. This should be an army operation."

"Izzat so?" Kazaar stayed relaxed, his arms at his sides, "What happens if th'mission goes all FUBAR and you guys get captured. Don'tcha think whoever we're rescuing is gonna be asked why the Rebellion is after her?

"If you frack up...where is that gonna leave 'er?"

"If I frack up?" a finger was pointed into Kazaar's broad chest, "We don't frack up."

"Really?" Kazaar stared at the finger, "I'm bein' mighty generous to ya, but I think ya oughta take your finger outta my chest or else you will be 'fracking up'."

He was in too good of a mood at th'moment. He was finally doing something, not sitting in a cell twiddling his thumbs. Plus he'd been able t'smoke a couple cigars too...that alone was bound t'make him downright estatic.

The Corellian scoffed, the smell of rations and chewing tobacco curdling through the air.

"What the spawn of a schutta nerf gonna do t'me? I bet'cha don't even know who t'bed with you're too busy staring at your own kind."

That last comment got a chortle from the Sullustan who watched from his seat. 'The Black Man' still had his hands crossed, although it looked like he'd had enough.

"I think that's enough. We've got-," Othniel started to say but was interupted by Kazaar's voice.

"He's right ya know," Kazaar's voice was even and a smirk on his face, "Ya need t'stop while you're ahead."

"Psh...Whatcha gonna do t'me Nerf Herder," The Corellian kept pressing, "You Nerf Frack-"

It was then Kazaar moved quickly, his arms grasping the Corellian's hand and arm pointed into his chest. Kazaar sqeezed and a *snap* was heard as the Rebel soldier's arm broke. As he started to scream in pain, The Rebel Spy quickly shut him up by slamming him into the bulkhead.

The Corellian fell to the floor, unconcious, his nose broken.

Kazaar shook his head, "Fracking moron."

He stared at the Sullustan, "Ya gotta problem with me?"

The big-eared alien shook his head quickly and scurried to help his fallen soldier.

'The Black Man' had a look of disgust on his face, "Take him to the infirmiry and stick him in the portable bacta tank in there.

"And you," he pointed at Kazaar, "You better hope he's not seriously hurt. Or else this mission is in trouble."

A snort from Kazaar.

"I told ya t'let me do this myself. You're lucky I didn't shoot th'guy," he made his finger into a 'gun' and pretended to shoot the Corellian.

"'Sides...I broke his non-gun hand," another smirk and a chuckle, as Kazaar puffed away on his cigar.

[Estelle Russard]

It was two new faces that entered Estelle's cell and dragged her roughly up on her feet. A Whipid on either side of her, tusked-mouth and snorting handled her as easily as a ragdoll. Supporting her each with a furred arm slipped beneath that of her own, they held her propped upright so that her feet were lifted entirely off the floor. Estelle had a bad feeing about this. After them, came a weequay holding a flat board resembling a long, slim paddle. Yes, a very bad feeling about this.

Ghlar and Zellid soon joined the party, standing close together in the door way. This was going to be it. Estelle felt sure. Somehow, she felt a certain detatchment about the fact. It was probably fatigue offering its own semblence of insulation to her, but the young rebel didn't really feel afraid so much as sad. She had wanted to do so much more. Accomplish something lasting for the Alliance. Seemed such a shame to go out having gained not a damned thing.

"Last chance, sweetness. Tell us what we want to know or Weevil's gonna break your legs from the outside in." The weequay heard his name and correspondingly wacked the back of Estelle's calves with the wood. Her cry brought the weequay round to peer at her, the ghost of a smile on his leathery lips. Estelle's brown eyes, swollen from Zellid's earlier handiwork locked onto him, and summoning what reserve she had, she brought up one bare foot with as much force as she could muster and clipped him under the jaw with it. That was for Kal.

"Hold her you morons!" Ghlar exploded at the whipid pair as Weevil stumbled backward into he and Zellid. The weequay bared his teeth fiercely.

Weevil brought his fury with her to bear with each blow of the paddle. The back of her thighs, knees and calves felt on fire and were already blackening to blue, purple and a dark horrible red. The soft skin of her slender limbs beginning to break and bleed. She had shut out what was going on around her - she no longer heard the voices. Was Ghlar still talking? It didn't matter, she was aware of nothing but each new assault on her legs. She hadn't been aware of the small humanoid mechanic that had arrived to her cell. She hadn't even really been aware when the blows had stopped finally. Everything around her was a disjointed blackness. All she really heard or was cognitive of, was each indrawn breath of the whipids beside her. They were breathing in unison. Of all the things to focus on.

'What do you mean you know her, Fink?"

The little mechanic nodded enthusiastically, eager to have something important to say. "Thats Estelle"

The speaking of her name penetrated the fog and she feebly lifted her head.

"DANielle" corrected Zellid. "..She's Tudor's sketch"

"Dan--? No, no, no. Its EST-elle. Russard. Ive seen her at the University before I signed on with you guys. I used to fix..well break really...the speeders in the workshop for the students to 'design' alternate drive systems on 'em. Most of 'em just tinker around and shuffle things up a bit. None of 'em really design anything new. Bunch 'o' rich kids playing designer"

Ghlar and Zellid blinked at their mechanic as if seeing him for the first time.

"And that there.." he jabbed a grease-grimed finger in Estelle's direction, "...is EST-elle Russard. The millionaire's kid"

Ghlar and Zellid's jaws dropped simultaneously.

"Jason Russard, the younger" expounded Fink. "Russard Industries - you've heard of them, right?" Fink looked from one to the other of his stupified audience as the question dawned on him. "Are you guys tryin' to kill her?"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar was finally dreaming something other than the death of his former partner. A dream about he, some blonde chick he knew from his youth, and a game a smashball. It was odd because all of the players had Estelle's face and kept asking, 'Where are you?' as they kept getting beaten by ugly phantoms. Just as the beatings got worse, Kazaar woke up, his body freezing.

"Kazaar!" Othniel's voice kept calling, "Wake up."

"Wh-huh...th'ell is goin' on?" he shook the sleep from his brown eyes, then stretched his arms. It didn't take too long for him to wake up and in a minute he was up and dressed.

"We have a problem," 'The Black Man's voice was serious. He was carrying a small holo-projector, the kind only those high up in any government agency (whether Rebel or Imperial) had. The Rebellion had a limitted amount of them (Kazaar knew, he'd been the one who'd raided the warehouse which housed the technology) so it meant how big of a fish, Othniel was.

He pressed a button on the holo-projector and Kazaar's eyes widened.

The former bounty hunter's brown eyes spied an almost empty room, shadows cutting a swathe across whatever light was supposed to be there. The floor was made of concrete and bare, the same as the walls. Save for the figure setting on the stool in the middle of the room. Her body was largely beaten, the bruises showing even in the darkness of the room. The face was almost unrecognizable it was all puffy and damaged from the pummelling it'd received.

It was Estelle Russard.

"Hello Jason Russard of Russard Industries," the voice was accented Basic and rough, "As you can see we have your daughter. And we'll be willing to give her back to you...for a price...of five million credits and one of those gorgeous suits of armor you gave the Imperials", the voice sounded odd when it said, 'gorgeous,' like it was a word it rarely said.

"You have two days to reply or else...I fear the consequences for young...innocent...Estelle," the transmission ended.

Kazaar let out a string of curses, ranging to what he'd do to Ghlar Timandar if he ever caught him, to what he'd do to the mother who bore him.

"Timandar won't wait that long," Othniel said as he slipped the holo-projector back into his black jacket, "And we're about thirty hours out of Mastala."

The Rebel Spy's face was still full of anger. He hated when guys roughed up girls.

"Has there been a reply?" he almost choked out.

Othniel shook his head, "No. In fact, we don't even know if he's received it yet."

"Once he gets it," Kazaar reached for a cigar, then offered 'The Black Man' one. It was accepted and soon the air was filled with the scent of cigar smoke.

"Once he gets it," Kazaar repeated, "It's gonna make the mission that much more difficult. If th'Imps get involved..." he trailed off, a cold feeling in his stomach.

Frack.

[Estelle Russard]

Jason Russard pressed his knuckles to his mouth as tears of complete shock and disbelief welled in his unseeing eyes. Sitting in his study, perched forward on the chazice stuffed sofa, the holovid image flickered infront of him for perhaps the fourth or fifth time.

His little girl. So helpless.

When had this happened? How? He couldnt think straight. Who were these dren? Where did they have her?

Russard felt undone. Completely unprepared for such a scenario. He had been lulled into a false security having lived the life of the privaleged for so long. He had enjoyed the favor of the Empire his entire life, thanks to the success of his own father, Jason Russard Senior (or the Elder, as everyone knew him). But now, it was his baby girl that had been targeted. How had they never seen this coming? For the first time in his life, in his own home, (http://www.sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?t=12945&highlight=Illumination)Jason felt vunerable and exposed. And not in control. Looking at Estelle now, beaten, bound and so alone - his characteristic strength broke and a sob of dispair caught in his chest.

"Pull yourself together" came his father's strained rebuke, "She needs you, not some fearful weakling"

Jason the Elder was made of pure steel. An old man wheelchair bound and chained to a portable oxygen tank - the physical image was a complete contradiction of the iron will of the indivdual within.

Estelle's father washed his face with his open palms and inhaled deeply in an effort to restore his shattered wits. "We should contact the Inquisitoriate - they may know who these people are, where they are. They'll want to help."

Jason senior grunted, unconvinced, "Maybe"

His son turned to look over at him, something in his father's tone arresting his attention. Jason senior continued. "...We have other friends within the Empire, too, Jason. Friends we haven't spoken to in a long time..."

The look in his father's eyes was one that the younger Jason had not seen in twenty years. And it gave him hope.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Mastala- Ghlar Timandar's hideout

"You sure that was a good idea?" Fink the Mechanic was fiddling with the holo-equipment, just in case they ended up getting a transmission.

Zellid's ape-like face actually looked like it was thinking...like it was trying to process the reason the frequency had to be turned 'just right'...His limitted mind couldn't process much, save for if he squeezed that one pimple on his face 'just right' he ended up not only shooting puss out but also making it bleed.

He'd done it twice all ready and thought a third time might fix it.

Fink's face had a bit of a nervous look to it, "I was all for sending a message to 'Jason the Younger', but wouldn't it have been easier to ask for a ransom before you'd beaten her up?"

Zellid's pocked face grew dark, "You f'got who negelected to tell Ghlar what Dan...Estelle's identity was remember?"

Estelle...Danielle...whatever her name, was sleeping now...okay that wasn't completely true either...she was unconcious. After the message had been sent, Ghlar had left telling Zellid to, "Make sure she doesn't get up for a while..."

Since he figured they were gonna kill Dan-no-Estelle (geez why can't women just have one name?) anyway, Zellid had gotten his kicks by beating her even more than before. He thought he'd heard a couple ribs snap and he definitely heard an ankle snap (last time he got hit in the face again!)

"Yeh I know," Fink replied tapping the equipment, "There we go! Now we can get whatever broadcast is sent to us."

Zellid's face was stupid, so Fink expounded, "Okay...so Russard is gonna get back to us...and give us money...so this equipment is gonna make sure we actually get the transmission. Plus if it turns out to be bogus...we can immediately send back a picture of the next beating or whatever you guys plan to do..."

The mechanic looked at his former schoolmate. She'd always been pretty...too bad she was beaten...even he wouldn't touch her now.

"I'm heading back to the dreadnaught. Apparently Ghlar wants us to head over to Garnib and make sure our other base is secure. Our Barlinak slaves are actin-oh why am I telling you this?" he noticed the blank look on Zellid's face.

"Forget it...Ghlar'll be back in a few hours apparently," he smiled a bit, "Good-bye Estelle."

Then he patted her cheek lightly.

After the mechanic was gone, Zellid gave a sigh, grabbed a beer, and decided he was gonna enjoy his drink before trying the pimple again.

**************************************
The Flying Dutchman- 24 hours out of Mastala

*click-CLACK-click*

*click-CLACK-click*

Kazaar sat in his room cleaning as many of his blasters as he could. Whether they were repeating, semi-repeating, or single shot, the former bounty hunter dismantled, cleaned, then reassembled the blasters one after another after another.

He'd been doing this ever since he'd seen the holo-feed of Estelle Russard sitting on the stool in the compound. Ever since he'd seen the damage to her eyes, face, and body. The monster within him craved release but he coaxed it down, letting it simmer a while. Getting angry wouldn't help 'The Kid' but moving fast and getting her the hell offa Mastala would.

Kazaar finished cleaning his Imperial Repeater Rifle, running his hand over the smooth, surface of the gun. It felt comfortable in his hands, not as much as 'The Twins' did but it was still a pleasure to hold. 'Ophelia' he called it and he planned on using it once they reached Mastala and Ghlar Timandar's compound.

If Jason Russard didn't do anything first.

There was a knock on his door and motioned Racuto Bloodcrest in.

"Wonderin' where ya wandered off," Kazaar joked as he wiped the blaster down.

"Yeh, I know...ya wanna know what technology this guy might have," Kazaar reached over and picked up a bottle of some sort of drink and swigged it, feeling the alcohol sift through his system.

"Heard a rumor some of our targets might have a NightMight 4NS scope maybe even a DC-17m Interchangeable Weapon System (and no ya can't have mine)."

He smirked, "Figured you might want t'grab a couple from our targets BC. Just don't take too long...gotta be quick ya know?"

[Bloodcrest]

DC-17m Interchangeable Weapon System...NightMight 4NS scope...
Perfect.

Bloodcrest felt his hunger for bigger better equipment momentarily sated. With what his friend Jean had been teaching him recently, he wanted to take whatever he could adapt to his own use and junk the rest.

"Sounds like a good haul. Just so we're clear though, I can take whatever else I can carry, right? I mean there isn't gonna be something that Mister I-am-the-black-shadow guy is gonna say I 'can't' have is there?"

Bloodcrest wasn't even thinking about the target, the target didn't matter all that much to him. It wasn't that he was completely dispassionate either, he was just preoccupied. He had a goal and if something could help him reach that goal, then it was useful to him.

A disturbing thought...I wonder if this 'target' can help me at all...aside from whatever technology I can pawn of those in our wake.

Bloodcrest suddenly laughed. "You know Kazaar, there's this saying I heard once and I think it goes perfectly with our shadow guy. It goes, if I'm not mistaken, 'There's a sucker born every moment, and you're right on time.'"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar chuckled, his laugh short and low.

Whoever 'Othniel' actually was, Kazaar wasn't the only one who was bugged by his 'wonderful personality'.

"Yeah," he mummured to Bloodcrest, "I bet he gets all th'girls."

The former bounty hunter slung the Imperial Repeater Rifle over his shoulder, walking across the hold of The Dutchman before placing it back on his weapon's rack.

After the original 'incident' (where the Rebel soldier attempted to show how big he was by insulting Kazaar and Bloodcrest) the trip had been relatively quiet. Ironically, the Corellian saw Kazaar's ability to break his arm and nose as a sign of strength and had spent the rest of the trip being nice t'both of 'em (even friendly).

The Rebel Agent still smirked at that...imagine...showing strength 'n getting respected.

He'd just finished lighting a cigar when 'The Black Man' whispered into his ear, "I need to talk to you."

Kazaar rolled his brown eyes (frackin' BlackOps crap), then nodded to Bloodcrest.

"I'll talk with ya inna bit BC...you know..." there was a nod and a laugh, then Kazaar followed Othniel into the bowells of the ship. They'd just stepped into the engine room of The Dutchman when Othniel pulled out a datapad.

"I pulled this from your communications station."

"You were listening t'my communications?"

"Only because I was afraid something like this might happen," 'The Black Man' pressed a button and a message popped up from Gorgja the Hutt.

"Does Director Belargic know you get communiques from your former boss?"

The look on Kazaar's face was one of boredom, "Yeh he does. Gorgja'll send 'em my way just in case I ever decide t'take a bounty. Also...it keeps th'impression I hunt...why?"

"He's never mentioned it to me."

Kazaar was 'bout t'tell Othniel it was none of his damn business what Belargic mentioned or not, when he noticed who the message was from...

...Jason Russard...

...The Elder.

My granddaughter has been kidnapped and is being held hostage. Although I have contacts within the Empire who are looking for her, I believe it wise if you tell your best hunters I am personally placing a two million dollar bounty for the return of my granddaughter, Estelle. My son and I have been able to trace the message sent to us to the Senex Sector in either the Garnib or the Ossel System. If you have any questions, I may be contacted at this ID.

Frack.

"Note it doesn't mention who kidnapped her and where she might be," Othniel's face was pursed in a look which made him even more devious at times.

"Yeh...who else got th'communique? Gorgja normally just sends them straight t'me...he figures I won't care who else's looking for 'er."

The two Rebels' eyes scanned the transmission.

"Gorgja and Crei" Kazaar smirked, "He's being smart 'bout it...doesn't want t'call to much attnetion to the fact his granddaughter was kidnapped...gods only know why he tried to use Crei...that albino'll most likely try t'swindle more money outta Russard."

Othniel's face remained serious, "You noticed something else of course..." Kazaar raised an eyebrow, "Russard said he had 'Imperial Connections' looking for her too."

Kazaar's face actually turned serious for a moment, while he re-lit his cigar. The blue flame flared a bit in the engine room before going out quickly.

"Which means we gotta work faster t'find 'The Kid'. 'Least we know where she is."

'The Black Man' nodded, "True...but we also need to make sure we aren't tracked there. If the Empire shows up...it could get messy. Plus, my other team might not make it out."

"Ya sent another team after her?" Kazaar was starting t'hate BlackOps even more.

"Only as a distraction," Othniel's voice was steady, "I wasn't sure if she was going to be on Mastala or Garnib. Whatever team didn't get to her, was going to be a distraction."

Even if Kazaar didn't want t'admit it...it was a good plan. He clasped the other Rebel on the shoulder.

"Not bad..." Kazaar started to head out of the engine room. He stopped suddenly and turned, his face deadly.

"Oh yeh...don't check my mail again. Or else I'll do more than just break ya arm."

Othniel smirked, "You're always welcome to try."

The Rebel Spy checked his chronometer...19 hours till Mastala.

[Estelle Russard]

Estelle's father stood beside the old man, his uncertainty with how they were proceeding masked behind a grim stare. The Albino was speaking.

"It has been a long time, Jason"

Jason the Elder shrugged his thin shoulders.

"I had thought you no longer felt a need for men such as me" Pigment free eyes probed the old man's in cool calculation.

"There is always a need for men like you, Kimiki. I have never thought otherwise" the old man replied. "I have just had no use for you in some time"

A saccarine smile cut Crei's face unnaturally. Russard had always been forthright, he recalled. Even to a fault. "The bounty is substantial. You know the risks are great, given your Imperial friends"

The old man knew where this was heading. It was to be expected. He waited for Crei to contine.

"I may incure losses. Expenses. 'Substantial' is not a very generous word, you would agree?"

"You are not the only bounty hunter we've spoken to Kimiki" Jason reminded him, refusing to play his game. "You deliver, we pay you. How inept you are at obtaining the goal and the losses you endure is entirely up to you."

The saccarine smile held in place as Crei flicked his pink eyes to Jason the younger. "You feel the same?"

The old man gave no opportunity for his son to speak.

"He does" he stated flatly. "You are wasting time. Get the girl safely back to us. I will show you our gratitude - as in the old days."

Pink eyes sharpened and the smile disolved. Crei was satisfied. Without another word, he stood and left ending the meeting.

Father and son exchanged a glance, the elder's firm and with a hint of satisfaction, his son's uncertain and seeking assurance.

"If anyone can save her Jason" the old man said with conviction, "..it's that albino sonofabitch"


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






Direct Communication Inquisitoriate Headquarters Imperial Center...
Attention: Grand Inquisitor KARL VALTEN




Designate: FOR YOUR EYES ONLY


-- My daughter has been kidnapped and ransom demanded.
Suspect her whereabouts to be in Senex Sector in either the Garnib or the Ossel System. Please provid assistance in any capacity you can. Am desparate.
Your loyal servant, Jason Russard. --



Jason hit "send." He and his father had agreed to contact the Imperials once their other options had been contacted and set into motion. Estelle's father had insisted the Imperials be involved, even at the expense of his own viability with his commercial interests. It was his daughter for frack's sakes. His personal empire be damned.

His father held reservations for some reason, which Jason could not figure out, but had reluctantly given his agreement.


The communique would arrive almost simultaneously. He had expected to feel better, having notified his powerful friends, but his hands shook uncontrollably as he closed the datapad. His daughter's innocent face, beaten and battered, rose in his mind.

....Estelle......keep faith.


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


Oblivious to the mounting interest in her plight and the convergence of such varied forces within the galaxy that were now mobilizing in search of her, Estelle watched Zellid as he moved about the room across from her. The brute considered her a non-threat as was quite apparent by how often he looked her way between swills of beer and his preoccupation of flicking cards into a dish in the corner. Broken as she was. Weak as she was, it wasn't any wonder. She closed her eyes and held on to hope. They hadn't killed her yet - something was going on that had staved the inevitable off. Zellid got one in, the card hitting the rim and falling forward. She tried to keep her mind from wandering and focusing on such unimportant details. She had to keep alert. Keep thinking. She might be capable of something worthwhile at some point if she could just keep solid. It was a jester of all cards. How appropriate, she thought.

[Bloodcrest]

As Kazaar went off with Mr. Shadows, Bloodcrest took some time to 'look' around the ship. By 'look' investigated every nook and cranny of the ship with the analytical eye of a Corporation Secter Authority Officer, albeit, one that didn't make it far in the ranks. He noticed a few things here and there that probably could be replaced, but for the most part the ship seemed to be in good condition.

When Bloodcrest got back to the main area, he attempted conversation with a few of the milit's but none of them had anything to say. As he walked away from another one of the close-lipped milit's, he noticed his comlink flashing, telling him he had a message. He looked around making sure no one would noticed his absence before slipping to a more secluded part of the ship.

"Play message."

The voice in the message was Jean and she was using the code language used by the top members of Bloodcrest's father's now bankrupt company. "Juno matrix. Crusade reign binary. Location deep nova fox spider."

At the very least, my suspicious were correct. There were tracking devices of both Rebel AND Imperial design on my ship...I'll have to be more careful in the future.

His ship was safe for the moment and in good hands. Having been the Cheif Engineer, Jean had been entitled to using the code language Bloodcrest called Feist. It was a slightly complicated substitution language that changed ever time they used it so that it was harder to crack. At any given point, one phrase could mean up to three hundred different things. Because of this, it was necessary to tell the reader or the person you were speaking to which matrix or language key to use. For example, the message he had just recieved was to be used with the Binary Juno Matrix. It had taken a genius to work out the whole language, and had taken Bloodcrest 5 years to learn the whole thing, but it was worth it. Even if someone decrypted the data stream itself, they would then be left with trying to decode Feist.

Bloodcrest rejoined the party on the bridge.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

16 hours out of Mastala

It was another briefing...the second they'd had since leaving the Rebel Carrack Cruiser for Mastala. Kazaar leaned against The Dutchman's hull, his arms crossed, his eyes staring straight ahead, but unfocussed.

He hated briefings, especially when they were superfulous and repetitive. When he'd been in the Rebel Army Kazaar had been reprimanded for not paying attention during the fourth briefing for an attack on the Kuat Shipyards (he'd also been put in the brig for a day, missing initial operation).

Othniel wasn't talking about anything he hadn't heard before...they were t'go into Mastala, grab Estelle, and get out. 'The Black Man' had yet t'mention an increased timetable or the fact th'Imps were gonna get involved.

Frackin' BlackOps.

There hadn't been anymore transmissions from Gorgja regarding the Russard Bounty and Kazaar figured that was good news. If someone got to 'The Kid' before he did, the former bounty hunter would probably end up in the brig for longer than nine months for what he planned t'do to 'The Black Man'.

Kazaar leaned over to Bloodcrest, his normal smirk present.

"Gotta love military...they think if ya don't have everything planned it's gonna go to pot...thing is...it almost always goes t'pot."

He then whispered, "This party might get busy soon...just gotta message from Gorgja the Hutt...'parently th'Empire's getting involved.

"It's gonna get busy real quick."

[Estelle Russard]

Crei sat in what constituted as his 'office' on board his vessel - a small anteroom which led off from the main cockpit. It was no larger than the size of a broom closet, but it was where he did his best thinking.

Old man Russard had changed little in the years spanning their last dealings. Oh yes, the physical side had deteriorated considerably. He had aged poorly, his body letting him down deplorably. But he was the same old Russard. He had an edge of ruthlessness thinly veiled behind his upper crust speech.

The son however was cut from a slightly different cloth. Not quite as hard, but had that quality of strength that men of moral fiber carried about them. Quite a pair the two of them. It made meeting the girl an interesting prospect.

Sly pink eyes looked over the ransom holovid - copied from Russards original recevied transmission. She did not look like much, a snippet of a thing. And the old man had placed her into Crei's safekeeping. A bit of a gamble. What was the old man up to..

The Albino considered a variety of options that were presenting themselves to his deviant and self-serving mind regarding this youngest Russard proginy. But first things first. He must not get ahead of himself.

He had to get her first.

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

Mastala - Ghlar Timandar's hideout


"Maybe we should move her?" It was the weequay speaking, making the same suggestion he had on their original discovery of Estelle's identity and which had been dismissed. "If for some reason Russard tracks her here, our whole setup is blown"

"Stop worrying, Weevil. You sound like an old woman" Ghlar mocked him rudely. "Russard wont risk his daughter's neck with stupid acts of bravado. He'll pay to get her back"

"Then why aint we heard nuthin' from him yet" Weevil snarled back.

This actually, was a good point. Why hadn't they heard anything? Ghlar was a bit new at this whole kidnapping bag, but surely they should have got some sort of communication back..

"Fink!" Ghlar hollared looking around for the little mechanic.

"He's still at Garnib" was Zellid's contribution.

"Then, Zellid you send another demand to Russard that we are cutting our deadline in half" ordered Ghlar. "He better confirm to us by midnight tonight that he will be paying the money so we can set up an exchange, otherwise we withdraw our offer with no recourse."

"Still think we oughta move 'er. She stinks o' trouble" Weevil was still bent on this idea.

"Once we hear back from Daddy.." said Ghlar, "..we'll move out. Just so Weevil feels safe" He smiled greasily and Zellid left to send the message.


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


Imperial Headquarters - Inquisitoriate branch

Inquisitor Valten is handed an Urgent message from Jason Russard - a plea to lend aid in the recovery of his daughter.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

The briefing was interupted suddenly by a beeping within 'The Black Man's' dark jacket. He paused in mid-sentence a moment, then disappeared into the bowels of The Dutchman, only to appear five minutes later with a look of concern in his eyes.

"Dismissed, we'll discuss more later. You," he pointed to Kazaar, "With me."

A quizzical look, masked a bit by the smirk, appeared on the Rebel Agent's face and he strolled to Othniel.

"Whatta ya got?" he pulled a cigar out, punched a hole in the tip with a silver, cylindrical object, then lit it with his butane lighter.

"We have more trouble. Timandar stepped up his timetable for removing Russard. Since they hadn't heard from her family, another message was sent."

He pressed a button on his holographic display and an ape-like (and quite ugly) face appeared.

"Jason Roo-ssard...since you haven't retoined our original message we've got another for ya...If you don't answer us...now?...Now...pretty da-ES-telle ain't gonna make it. In fact...," the camera shifted to show 'The Kid's' broken body, "Lemme show ya what I'm gonna do.

The beating was horrible t'watch and Kazaar's eyes were focussed straight on the ape-man's face as he pounded Estelle's face and body. Her whimpers were barely heard she was that injured.

When it was over, Kazaar's teeth were visibly grinding in his mouth.

Oh the former bounty hunter'd hurt plenty a person in his lifetime (and taken a dark pleasure at it), but it was different with girls. It was his philosophy ya never hurt girls.

He'd shot one once, but the schutta'd done something even worse t'him.

"Four hours Russard."

It was over.

There was silence as Kazaar and Othniel stared at the recording.

"Those bastards...Those sons of bitches...I will kill them all," it wasn't bluster from Kazaar. He desired wanton destruction even more than normal.

And he'd be damned if he didn't get it.

"You'll have your chance, Kazaar," Othniel's voice was as calm as possible, although there was a hint of anger in it, "But we need to step up our operation.

"We won't be able to wait for the other team to get into placing...our move will be made the minute we drop out of hyperspace. Understood?"

The look on Kazaar's scarred faced was one of annoyance.

"Of course I understand...I ain't a moron ya know!" he finally snapped, "Ya shoulda let me go in by m'self. I woulda had 'er by now!"

He pointed a glove hand towards 'The Black Man', "I'm tired of your black ops poodoo and of you. I swear once this mission's over I'm gonna qui-"

"Shut up Kazaar," Othniel replied quickly, "You don't question my orders."

"You listen here ya bast-" Kazaar quickly shut up as Othniel walked past him into back towards the hold.

The former bounty hunter smashed his hand against the wall, then stormed outta the engine room towards the cockpit.

15 hours t'go.

[Karl Valten]

The grand spire of the Inquisitorial Citadel on Imperial Center stretched far above the traffic lanes a kilometer below. High enough that at night the glowing lights of the eternally restless city-planet only brushed against its peak. Like a black monolith it hung ominously in the air, rivaled only by the Imperial Palace visible in the distance.

Inquisitor Valten, acting regent of the Inquisitoriate, paced in front of the tinted windows. The bustling city far below isolating his agitation. Behind him a glowing pedestal projected a floating holo-image in the center of the room.

The copy of the ransom transmission sent to Jason Russard. A bare, ferrocrete chamber empty of everything save the beaten and battered form of Estelle Russard sitting on a stool in the middle.

"Hello, Jason Russard of Russard Industries. As you can see we have your daughter. And we'll be willing to give her back to you...for a price...of five million credits and one of those gorgeous suits of armor you gave the Imperials. You have two days to reply or else...I fear the consequences for young...innocent...Estelle,"

The message from Russard the Younger still lay on the Inquisitor’s desk, the ensign delivering it long since gone. The honesty the Inquisitor couldn’t care less about the Russard girl. Jason and his company had been a great asset, providing technologies and supplies for the Empire, especially the Inquisitoriate, but in the end he was just a minor pawn.

Valten would have tossed the message communiqué out had it not been for the ransom message. The words “...gorgeous suits of armor...” rang through his head over and over. The idiot pirates probably only looked up some information on the holo-net for a few choice bits that interested them. Slight uncertainty ran through the accented voice, as if he hadn’t done this before.

Still, it was enough to worry the Inquisitor. Project Nightmare’s CMC-400 power armor directly used highly modified versions of Russard Enterprises technologies. He couldn’t risk the slight chance that anyone would get their hands on that sort of firepower.

Karl turned cold eyes towards his desk’s data-slate, an aggravated growl slipped from his throat. He crossed the distance, holding activating the console.

“IMP I need you to track this transmission to its source immediately. Transmit the coordinates to the Crimson Harvest and Virtuous as soon as you have them.”

The pair of strike cruisers in orbit were the fastest Inquisitorial ships in orbit. Each would carry a host of the Inquisitoriate’s fanatical soldiers, spearheaded by elite crimson guards. Their goals were simple: Priority One: Capture the pirate’s leader, Priority Two: Destroy the pirate base of operations, Priority Three: Recover Estelle Russard.

[Bloodcrest]

The briefing was long, but Bloodcrest wasn't even listening. The first thing you learned as an Espo officer was that plans got people killed when they tried to fulfill an obsolete objective.

Near the end of the briefing, a message came in on his comlink. He switched to private mode just as Kazaar was about to say something so he didn't hear what he said, but the message caught his attention from the very beginning.

"Xander index may tricks. Restriction denial intelligence black stone. Apprenticeship."

The message was dire, but Bloodcrest decided to keep it to himself for now. As was specifically worded in the message, there was a possibility of something happening, but he just had to make sure he was there if it did. Bloodcrest looked around and noticed everyone had started to go in their seperate directions. He saw Kazaar with Mr. Blackman.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar stalked towards the cockpit, his thoughts as black as the space around the ship they were in.

"BC...with me," the words were almost spat from his mouth, "We gotta talk."

His eyes flashed one the duo reached the cockpit and he motioned Bloodcrest to th'chair next to his. His gloved hand flipped open the humidor to his right and pulled out two cigars, setting one next to the smuggler.

"We gotta problem...th'mission getting all screw 'cause the fracking kidnappers don't know their..." the analogy trailed off as Kazaar lit his cigar.

"Plus th'damn Empire's getting involved," he took a very long puff from th'dark cigar.

"What's ya status with 'em? Say something fracks up and they show up while we're saving th'contact. Ya gotta record with 'em?"

[Estelle Russard]

"The message has been received, Mr Russard"

Adam hoped his confirmation would help ease some of the stress his employer was obviously under.

Jason the Younger turned eager eyes to his valet, speaking a little too quickly, "Did the Inquisitor reply?"

Adam awkwardly shifted his weight from one foot to another. "I meant the message to the kidnappers has been received by them, sir."

"Oh, of course. Thankyou Adam" Jason's tenseness returned. He had been hoping to hear from Inquisitor Valten, though what exactly he expected, he didn't really know.
The Imperial Empire was a force to be reckoned with, and to have it on his side and actively seeking his daughter would be an immeasureable comfort. Any word from Valten was akin to a lifeline tossed a drowning man.

"And from them...." he queried, "...Anything further from those scum that have my daughter? Further instructions? More demands?" Russard allowed the bitterness to enter his tone. Adam shook his head. "Not at present, sir. I will, of course, inform you as soon as we hear anything"

"Thankyou, Adam"

"You should try rest, sir" Adam knew the suggestion was an empty gesture - no one would be doing anything but worrying and waiting. Russard had been watching the brutal beating of Estelle over and over, though Adam didnt quite know how to suggest him to stop. "Rest", was all that had came to mind.

"Perhaps later"

When Estelle was home, thought Jason. I'll rest then, when she's home. And those dren are all dead for what they've done.


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


The old man scanned the night sky and found what he was looking for. The Crystal Constellation was a little to the left and twinkled familiarly from its inky backdrop. His twi'lek nurse wrapped a woollen blanket around his boney shoulders and pressed a glass of rum into his knotted hands. Russard mumbled his thanks. It was cool, the chill of fall making its timely appearance, but comforted as he was by Lissel, the old man didn't mind. Somewhere, out there, his grand-daughter was fighting for her life. As they, in their own fashion, were fighting along with her. Russard the Elder had never been afraid his whole life. But he was afraid now.

He had confidence Crei or Gorgja the Hutt would find Estelle. Even the Imperials - they would not fail. Of these things Jason was certain. But would it be in time? That was where the fear lay. If he were a younger man, Russard would go on the hunt himself. But he must be satisfied that he was doing all he could from where he was. His place was here, with his son.

"The dampness has finally come" the old man observed.

"Mhm" murmerred Lissel, "We're due"

"We're due" the old man agreed, his old eyes seeing further than the stars beyond his reach.


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



Estelle sat still while her hand was bandaged, fingers splinted together inexpertly, as was to be expected by a layman. She tried not to wince as clumsy fingers pressed that of her own into place.

The mercs wanted to keep her alive, as was becoming obvious. "Ow!" Painfully obvious, as the impromptu medic moved to her shattered foot. Alive for the time being, that is.

Thankful for small mercies, Estelle decided to see what advantage she could wrangle from this latest development. The first thing was to help her back to some form of operational ability. And she knew what she needed.

"Do...do you think its possible for me to have something for the pain?" she asked in her gentlest voice. "Anything would help"

The medic wouldn't meet her eyes. Inwardly, he was apalled at how she looked - all bruised and battered. Just wasnt right for a woman to look like that..

"I'll see what I can find" he replied, as he finished up his bandaging.

[Bloodcrest]

Bloodcrest looked at Kazaar with a smile on his face. "Of course I have a record with them, they consider me a criminal. If need be, I can always blend in with their types given the right uniform, one of the only benefits I got from being an officer with the Corpse Authority. All militaries are basically the same, march and follow orders...that's one reason I quit. I hate marching."

Bloodcrest looked out the window at the stars. "Plus I already knew about the Imps from my own sources, also, they're not merely interested, gossip says some high classer took off from the Imperial Center a little while ago."

[Aurelias Kazaar]

"Reason I was wondering," Kazaar replied, "I figure, it's gonna get even busier real quick. If we run into Imps, I wanna make sure we can get out."

He cut the tip offa his cigar, then lit it with the black butane lighter.

"If ya gotta fake ID, I suggest keeping it handy. Your contacts give ya anything else we need t'know?"

[Bloodcrest]

Bloodcrest's facial expressions became very serious as he considered telling Kazaar what he knew. In the end, he decided the infomation was more important right now then it would be later. "Yes. There is only a little more I know. The Imperial that has been sent against us is in fact a member of the Inquisition."

He let Kazaar ponder this information a moment. "Take whatever steps you think necessary, but I don't suggest letting the milits know. You know how they are, they learn that and they're likely to take this outta our hands completely. It would be better if we could be prepared while they are still surprised when they learn it from other sources."

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar smirked. He liked BC's line of thinking.

"Considering how they're treating us...why should we give 'em the info."

He took a long draw offa his cigar, "I oughta get plugged in with your sources. Seem better than somma mine sometimes."

The duo shared a laughed for a moment.

"We got enough difficulties as it is," Kazaar became serious, "I've been going over those plans t'the compound...we're gonna need t'cut power to the area. The good news is...Mastala's so fracking cold underground they had to put their power supply above ground, near the compound.

"The bad news is...someone's gonna have to actually cut power. I figure that oughta draw their attention away from the area of the prison.

"You want t'do it or ya want me to? I trust those milits t'do it 'bout as much as I trust any type of government t'actually cut spending..."

[Bloodcrest]

"I'll cut the power, just give me a map with the directions and then circle all the places where I can find and...liberate...whatever dangerous weapon-like items I can from whoever we're up against. We'll go with the usual deal between you and me, whatever I can carry and manage to steal gets taken outta my part of the reward and/or bounty. It's all about the tech for me anyways."

Bloodcrest would be more than happy to get whatever he could out, even if he had to use the portable repulsor engine packs that Jean had come up with. They were really nifty items, the repulsor engines, because they were small enough to fit in his pocket, and leeched off whatever power supply you hooked it up to. The only downside was that they tended to short out after prolonged use and you had to have a power supply to leech off of for them to work.

[Estelle Russard]

Kimiki Crei's Solaris Rune exited hyperpace to come within visual distance of Mastala and the hunter slowed his craft down to a creeping advance on the frozen planet. The Albino scanned his technical readouts carefully, seeking hotspots of traffic activity and indicators of base locations on the planets surface. At this speed, he was two hours shy of entering Mastala's atmosphere, but before he committed himself, Crei would give himself the best odds of making an accurate approach.

In his ship, hovering among the stars like a gleaming metal vulture, the bounty hunter made himself comfortable and entered various co-ordinate grids to do a thorough search.


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

The medic had returned. Estelle wasn't really sure how long since he had been gone, but it felt like hours. She had lost her concept of time - she had no real reference to gage its passing. There was no natural light in her improvised cell, only the harsh, single, light overhead. She rolled slowly over lifting up slightly on her elbow, her sides protesting visciously. She'd got a broken rib, maybe two, thanks to Zellid's efforts. And she had the disparaging sensation that she might be bleeding internally. But perhaps that was just dispair talking. She hoped so.

The medic had brought her a bottle of bourbon - his idea of pain relief. Unscrewing its cap, he tilted the bottle to her lips and dribbled some of the liquor awkwardly into her mouth. Most just drizzled down her chin, but a drop or two managed to slip down to heat her throat. Weakly, she pushed the second administering attempt away. This wouldn't help at all. She dropped her head back to the frigid floor, closing her eyes and waited for the medic to leave.

He left the bottle in hands reach.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

The Flying Dutchman- One Hour and a half out of Mastala

There wasn't much left for the group of Rebels t'do while they waited for the hyperspace clock to wind down.

They'd had another briefing (this one, supposedly the last one) where Kazaar and Bloodcrest presented the idea of going after the power supply and detonating it.

'Othniel' had not been pleased.

"This is not a mission where one of you can go off half-cocked," his voice resonated through the ship, "If one of you gets killed, the mission is fracked."

Both Kazaar and Bloodcrest had snorted (ironically, they'd sounded almost the same).

"If ya think about," Kazaar'd crossed his arms and taken a puff from his cigar, "If we just 'show up' on planet and they see us, they're gonna kill our target.

"That power supply's gotta be shaky at best...specially in that weather. We take it out'n move in. When ya think 'bout it...if they're distracted by the power supplyl, we can move in quicker."

The Corellian soldier spoke up quickly, "I like the idea, sir. It's simple and effective."

Othniel glowered at the soldier, "It's not your business to agree or not."

A pause, then a brief sigh, "But you are correct...it is a good idea. Very well, we'll go with your idea. Anything else you have planned?"

Kazaar paused a moment, "We move in once the power's cut. The ship will come over the compound near the entrance so we can bug out quickly."

He pressed a button on the holo-display and a thermo-image of the compound came up. The Black Man had showed it to him earlier.

"There're about 15 to 20 guards at the compound...most of 'em in various patrols and such...Good news is, no one's down at the prison level 'cept for 'bout five or so guards..."

"So", Othniel interrupted, "We shouldn't run into too much resistence. Unless of course, you decide on wanton destruction."

The former bounty hunter glared at The Black Man, "Ain't all about chaos...but it's a nice thing...all right, that should be it. Once we come outta hyperspace, it'll take about a thirty minutes t'land (gotta be quick ya know?).

"Grab ya gear...we're moving."

The group seperated heading in various directions throughout the ship. Bloodcrest stuck near Kazaar and the two began going through the weaponry on The Dutchman.

Neither of them mentioned they got the image, but it was from an Imperial probe droid which was scanning the region. Apparently the Empire was taking a gander at Mastala lookin' for lifeforms...probably Timandar and his gang.

The only question was when were they gonna get there?

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

Five Minutes outta Mastala

"Everyone ready?" Othniel asked as he walked past the quartet of Rebels on The Dutchman. He was garbed in a black bodysuit which masked his body into shadows.

Most of the others were dressed the same way, Kazaar preferring a long, dark coat...helped keep his arms free if he ever needed t'grab another weapon. Beneath it was a bodysuit from Jason Russard's company...one of the suits the public was able t'buy...if they knew the right person. It'd keep him warm and also mask his own movements at times.

In his thoughts, Kazaar was still seeing the image of 'The Kid' being beaten by the Ape-Man. He'd be damned if he didn't get his hands on him...teach 'im a thing or two about beatings.

An alert sounded over The Dutchman's loudspeaker indicating they were ready t'exit hyperspace.

Starlines went t'individual stars and they were above Mastala.

Finally.

[Bloodcrest]

Bloodcrest checked all his equipment and out of habit discarded the powercell hooked into his unique durasteel sabre/blaster rifle. It didn't matter how full or empty it was, it was always better to go into a job with a full cell. He took the discarded one and put it in his pocket...there was also no need to waste the rest of the cell should the one he just put on and the one in his pocket happen to die. Aside from his cape, Bloodcrest did not wear much armor. This wasn't because he didn't expect to be fighting anyone, it was just that he didn't expect them to be able to hit him often enough for it to matter. Beneath his cape, he attached several grenades of various functions, methods, and levels of destruction including but not limited to a thermal detonator to a belt that hung across his left hip. On the other side, he slipped a couple of datachips that contained computer viruses specifically designed to take out power stations. He was ready for a war.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

The Solaris Rune

The instruments aboard Kimiiki Crei's ship *warbled* as it found the evidence he was searching for. A small pocket of heat, hidden within the cold of Mastala's crust. Obviously the location of Timandar's compound.

The albino gave a small, "Hut," as he sent his ship towards the location.

Timandar had never told Crei the location of the compound, preferring to keep its whereabouts a secret, whenever the two met to do business...which was quite often, Crei had his fingers in quite a few pies.

'The Velvet Hunter' as he'd been called when he'd first started making a name for himself, was originally meant as a derision (given Crei's fondness for the material), now was worn as a badge of honor. 'The Velvet Crimelord' (as he was now called) was a title he demanded be uttered with respect.

Jason The Elder had called Crei a 'sonofabitch', another title well earned. Unlike Aurelias Kazaar, Crei had always believed he was 'destined' for something greater than the life he'd been borne to. No one knew what race he was or his home planet...he was always 'The Albino' and always would be.

Crei's career as a bounty hunter started under 'Tar Civet', a crimelord based off of Coruscant, near the end of the Clone Wars. Like Aurelias Kazaar, the Albino quickly gained notoreity as an efficient hunter (even if he wasn't as violent as Kazaar).

Unlike Kazaar (whose betrayal of his first boss was only rumored), Kimiiki Crei relished in the chance to advance by betraying Civet at the first opportunity, killing Civet in his home. From there Crei grabbed a part of Civet's minor criminal organization, expanding it exponentially from a small band of theives and pirates, to a larger organization involved in everything from gun-running to prostitution to slaving to the spice trade.

Crei's organization was just small enough to keep the Imperials completely out, but large enough to garner attention from time to time. It was here, his former reputation as a bounty hunter helped him the most...he could get meetings with Imperials for bounties, with them conveniently ignoring his actual work of feeding to people's lecherous sides. He also recognized the opportunity of legitimate businesses, taking either credits or stock in various companies who would employ him.

The Solaris Rune touched down quietly on the exterior hangar bay of Ghlar Timandar's icy compound, the Albino quickly striding from the cockpit to the hold. He wasn't wearing a suit of velvet, choosing instead a heavy combat suit with two broad, white stripes of velvet across his chest.

The expression on his face was grim as Timandar came out to meet him.

"Mister Crei," Timandar's rough voice was muffled by the scarf across his face, "This is an honor, I wasn't expecting you-"

"You fool!" Crei's sublte voice was sharp with emotion, a trait he rarely showed, as he ignored the outstretched hand of the gun-runner.

"Did you even bother to consider what Russard would do if he discovered his daughter had been kidnapped?"

Timandar looked momentarily dumbfounded, "Pay...the...ransom?"

The pigment-free eyes of the crime lord/bounty hunter flashed, "No, he'd do everything to get his daughter back. Especially if he had the contacts...like placing a Two Million credit bounty on the 'scum' who took her."

Timandar's eyes widened a moment, the thought of a quick cred now leaving his mind. He knew the girl was trouble, just not this much trouble.

Then he gave a smile...Jason Russard had probably contacted Crei to hunt him down. But since Crei was friendly with Timandar, it wouldn't matter.

"G-Good thing ya know me right? You've got a plan?"

The Albino's face went calm, like a shark staring at prey, "Of course Ghlar. We're going to give her back. But with a caveat...You're coming with me."

He smiled a deathly smile before continueing, "You see...Jason the Younger will want to meet the man who took young Estelle. And in that meeting we'll be alone with Russard. And Jason the Younger is much more expensive than his daughter.

"Which reminds me," Crei's white face went thoughtful, "Why was Russard's daughter with a gun-runner?"

Timandar thought a moment, "A girl out f'kicks? Hell, I 'd want to 'corrupt' a girl like that. Show 'er a...good time."

I bet you would, Crei thought sardonically as the two exitted the hangar bay and into the (relative) warm of the compound.

"Hey I wanna know something," Timandar then asked, his face suspicious, "How'd you find us?"

Crei smiled his mysterious smile, "Jason Russard gave me the original location of the transmission...don't worry, he only gave a system, not a planet. Whoever else is looking for you will have a devil of a time finding you.

"I knew it was you because during our last meeting, I pulled the hyperspace logs from the NavComputer on your dreadnaught. You need to wipe them more often, Ghlar...it gives too much away."

It was then the lights suddenly went out.

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

Ten Minutes Earlier

The Flying Dutchman made its landing on the cold surface of Mastala, while Kimiiki Crei was landing at Timandar's compound. Kazaar'd taken a direct route towards the surface, keeping the engines of The Dutchman running while they plummetted towards the surface. It was a risky move, but Kazaar trusted his instincts as he cut power to the engines then pulled up, the repulsors keeping HWK-2900's hull from completelky scorching itself as it landed.

Of course, Kazaar thought ruefully, the cold planet helps too.

The quintet of Rebels exitted the freighter, moving quickly towards Timandar's icy compound. As the power station appeared on the horizon, the former bounty hunter turned towards Bloodcrest.

"Good luck BC...remember, ya get t'keep what ya find. We'll go enter the compound once the power is out," Kazaar smirked as he puffed on a cigar.

"Just don't frack up."

[Bloodcrest]

Bloodcrest did a faux salute and said, "Yes sir, captain sir." He laughed at his own joke. The prospect of being able to have whatever he could find as soon as his mission objective was completed was exciting for him. If nothing else, Bloodcrest could be described as a scavenger or decomposer of the technological world. If it could be broken down and carried away, there was the possibility he would go after it. Jean had once said he was as bad as the Jawas of Tatooine, but Bloodcrest had never been there so he didn't know what she was talking about. He was, however, a little bit more picky about what all he took off of things. It it had value, it was target. If it could replace or enhance his ship, it was target. If Bloodcrest thought it looked cool, it was target.
Bloodcrest became serious and began making all the necessary final preparations for the mission.
Making sure that no one, not even Kazaar, was in sight, Bloodcrest pulled out a double stim injector and injected two clear liquids into his bloodstream. He began to feel the effects instantly, as was normal. He gained an uncanny awareness of his own body and of his surroundings, suddenly feeling the vibrations of the deck beneath his feet, and even the air around him as it hummed in tune with the engine of the ship. He put on a pair of red-tinted sunglasses as he began to see more intensly in spectrums the human eye normally only barely picked up at the edge of its range.
The first liquid had been the first part of Projeckt Germn, a project initiated by the Chemical Analysis and Development department of his father's defunct company. The liquid was an activator to a virus that otherwise lay dormant in the bloodstreams of all the top executives, Bloodcrest included. The virus began a cycle that took 48 hours to complete in which the person's senses would be heightened for the first 24 hours, then overload and kill the person over the second 24 hour period. The second liquid was the counter-catalyst that took 24 hours to deactivate the virus. If the person who received the activator did not receive the counter-catalyst in the first 24 hours, they would be beyond saving and would die the next day.
Racuto Bloodcrest was considered a genius by his father for his application of the project. Bloodcrest injected them both at the same time so that he could gain all the benefits and not go through any of the agony that the virus put on its carriers the second 24 hours. He did not take The Drink as he called it very often because frequent exposure to the activated disease could possibly become immune to the counter-catalyst.

Bloodcrest was ready for lots of things, he just hoped he was ready for what he needed to do. He began towards the power station.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

The rest of the squad followed Kazaar as they slipped across the icy surface of Mastala towards Timandar's compound. Off to their right a gigantic canyon sprawled across the surface, cut from a river long since frozen in the cold conditions.

The sky above was clear and the moon shone, limitting cover for the Rebels as they approached the stone walls.

Kazaar slid behind a large rock, peering forward. The Corellian hid behind him, while 'The Black Man' and the Sullustan hid behind a similar rock across from the Alderaanian.

A guard stood in front of the brown door, clothed in dark leather and furs. His head was covered in some sort of cap and his face was obscured by a scarf. His arms carried a heavy repeater blaster and he looked as comfortable as he could for guard duty.

The Rebel Spy cursed under his breath as he saw the swipe keypad by the door and the holo-camera poised right over the door. While he wasn't expecting it to be that easy, Kazaar was hoping t'catch a break somewhere.

"BC," he whispered into his comlink, "Don't blow th'power yet. Lemme take this guard out'n get his keycard."

Kazaar nodded to his team members then slipped in what little shadows there were up to where the guard stood. He pulled one of his vibroblades from his long jacket, waiting for the guard walk into the shadows and turn his back to him.

When the opportunity came, Kazaar pounced, slamming the guy's head into the wall, then let his body drop to the ground. The Rebel rifled through the guard's pockets before pulling out the keycard.

"BC, lemme know when ya get ready t'blow the lights...so I can get the door open."

Kazaar took a breath and waited.

It was all up to BC now.

[Bloodcrest]

Moving faster than a normal human should, his legs pumping and propelling him at a comfortable speed, Bloodcrest moved towards the power station. He got both messages from Kazaar but couldn't answer for fear that he would give away the element of surprise. One of the more beneficial effects of the virus now active in his bloodstream was the increased adrenaline being pushed through his body, but pushing his body this hard even despite his constant workouts would mean a few days in the bacta tank at the very least and a couple of weeks at the most. It all depended of course on his making away with this job with his life.
The station was not heavily guarded, but they certainitly didn't make it easy. Unlike your average Imperials, these people, whoever they were, paid attention to alot more details like obscure power stations that happen to be critical to the well-being of the compound. Bloodcrest stopped running and moved to a covert crawl until he could look over the ridge and see the entrance to the station. There were three guards carrying modern blaster rifles, probably stolen from some Imperials, but not wearing much armor...much to their disadvantage. Bloodcrest reached down with one hand and unclipped a grenade designed for its blast radius if not for its ability to damage armored units. It was perfect for the situation.
Bloodcrest rolled the grenade underhand so that it rolled right up to the guards...before it exploded in their faces. Bloodcrest turned on a nifty little device on his belt. Anyone looking at an electronic sensor display would now see fifteen Imperial Stormtrooper signals attacking the power station...at least as long as the power cell on the device lasted which was about 5 minutes. Bloodcrest had decided on his way in that he would not only eliminate the power station, but also get as many people off Kazaar's back as possible.
From his covered position, Bloodcrest threw another grenade over his head and ducked to the ground as it blew the power station's door inward. Bloodcrest rushed in, slipping through the smoke and past two stunned and blinded guards. One managed to get a shot at his back but Bloodcrest barely registered the searing burn of a glancing shot to his right shoulder. Like a rancor Bloodcrest continued charging on through.
As he rounded a corner, he almost knocked over another guard as the guard's partner brought his rifle to bear. The guard only got one shot that was by sheer luck deflected by the polished blade of Bloodcrest's saber/rifle before he was felled by a shot at near point blank to the chest. The remaining guard recovered and fired a shot that hit Bloodcrest in the left arm, burning and cauterizing a nice chunk of flesh and leaving Bloodcrest's left arm and the hand holding his small blaster pistol hanging useless. A clean cut across the throat decapitated the guard. Bloodcrest paused to apply a bacta patch to his arm and removed the power cells from the rifles of the two guards. He also snatched a piece of arm armor from one of them and put it on over his injured arm.
Having wasted enough time already, Bloodcrest picked himself up and headed towards the main control room. When he arrived, he was forced to dodge a heavy vibroaxe swing by an ugly Gamorrean. With the pointed end of his saber/rifle, Bloodcrest ran the pig through and blasted the things guts. He turned and aimed his saber/rifle at a frightened technician. "What is the passcode to self-destruct this station? If you tell me I promise to give you a head start of as long as it takes me to set the core to overload."
The technician muttered something unintelligable. Racuto grew irritated, "Fine, I'll even let you leave if you tell me the passcode. Don't push your luck 'cause that's the best offer you'll get from me."
The technician finally told Bloodcrest the answer and ran out of the room having soiled his pants. Bloodcrest called Kazaar, "Power will be out momentarily, get ready though, from the schematics in front of me, the backup system will engage in 15 minutes after the loss of power. I'd solve that problem too for you, but it's on the other side of the planet hence the 15 minute delay."
Without waiting for a reply, Bloodcrest shut the power core down, an amazing thing really, walked calmly into the core containment area, removed the power core and it's containment device, walked calmly out, then turned the power back on without a core and set the built-in containment fields which drew off a secondary power source, to overload and ran for his dear and precious life.
Without the power core, the containment fields reacted to each other and caused a chain reaction that annihilated the station and any remaining lifeforms in it. Bloodcrest was on his way back to the drop off point before it even blew.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar waited only half a tick after getting Bloodcrest's message about the power. Then he scanned the ID card and the door opened. A moment later the area around them went dark as the power crashed.

"'Trey'," Kazaar hissed into his comlink, "Start ya run!"

Then the quartet of Rebels plunged into the darkened corridors of the compound, Kazaar at the lead.

"Prison level's 'just below us," Kazaar mummured, his Imperial Repeater Rifle raised. So far they hadn't met any resistance but the former bounty hunter wasn't counting on 'clear skies' the entire way.

No one was that stupid.

"Once we get there, guard th'door...whoever's in there's mine," the tone of the gutteral voice said there was no argument.

"Movement," Othniel's deep voice uttered through Kazaar's earpiece.

The Rebel Spy's black eyes spotted the source of the movement, one of Timandar's thugs clad in leather and furs. He looked like some sort of animal...an animal, Kazaar thought ruefully, holding a rather ugly lookin' blaster.

Kazaar's rifle spoke first, shooting death towards the thug, riddling his body with blaster bolts. The thug hit the floor, most of his head missing and the group moved on.

They encountered limitted resistance as they made their way towards the prison level, most of Timandar's henchmen were either headed towards the power complex or on the arms dealer's dreadnaught.

Kazaar was only 'okay' with the lack of resistance, his body craved violence...the chance to 'get dirty' with those who'd hurt 'The Kid'...his sometime partner...his...friend.

Blaster bolts sailed past the quartet as they encountered their first batch of 'true' resistance...a group of thugs camped out by the corridor leading to the hangar bay. As the Rebels returned fire, Kazaar glimpsed a white shock of lengthy hair as it ran towards an escape route.

"Crei?" he muttered, pausing only a moment, "Crei you albino bastard."

He was too far away t'get to, but Kazaar knew what he saw. Then he saw the fleeing figure of Timandar and he hated the both of 'em even more.

"This way!" 'The Black Man' yelled, pulling Kazaar down a different corridor away from the blaster, "We're not here for them!"

It shook Kazaar and he nodded. Killing Timandar would be something he'd save t'later.

"Let's go."

They slipped down the corridor, heading towards the prison area. By now the complex shook as the power station exploded and Kazaar smirked at th'destruction.

The smirk froze as he spied the man standing before him, flanked by two human thugs.

It was the face which drew Kazaar to halt and scowl at the man. Pock-marked with red splotches...the overhanging forehead making him look rather ape-like...the scar.

It was Brendt Zellid...the man on the holo who'd beaten 'The Kid'.

Kazaar's teeth ground and he charged, two bursts from his repeater rifle felling the two other thugs.

A animalistic yell came from Kazaar's throat.

"YOU HURT MY FRIEND!!!!" Kazaar's voice was mixed with rage and pain as he hurled himself at Zellid's ape-like form.

The two slammed into each other, their bodies bouncing off the stone walls as they struggled. The Rebel's eyes only saw Estelle's beaten form in his eyes as his hands connected with the kidnapper's face. He saw his partner's dead face as his gloved hands connected with bones, which snapped under the barrage.

Zellid connected a punch to Kazaar's face, the latter a punch to the ugly gut of Zellid.

"Oof!"

*WHAM*

"Aurgh!"

They tumbled into the room Estelle was locked in, each in a life of death struggle against the other.

The fighters rose then locked in battle again.

Kazaar slammed Zellid's face into his knee and the man fell to the cold stone floor. The former bounty hunter was on him again, his fists connecting again...and again...and again.

*WHUD*

*WHUD*

*WHUD*

*WHUD*

*WHUD*

*WHUD*

*WHUD*

There was a pause as blood oozed from Zellid's face, the red mixed with clear brain fluid. Zellid's body twitched.

*WHUD*

*WHUD*

*WHUD*

*WHUD*

*WHUD*

*WHUD*

*WHUD*

This time...Zellid's body didn't twitch.

Kazaar pulled his bloodied gloves off of his hands, flinging them against the wall. He felt a sting on his arm and noticed a chunk of his arm was gone...the chunk which contained his tattoo of the Rebel symbol.

Frack!

For a moment he rifled through Zellid's body, finding a pair of very nice looking gloves hidden behind a half-eaten sandwich and...something...ick...Kazaar didn't even want to know what it was.

He pulled the gloves onto his hands...they fit.

Then he spotted the bleeding, beaten body of Estelle Russard, her tanktop ripped exposing most of her bloody chest. Her legs were exposed as well, purple and scarred. It was her face though which was the worst of it...scarred and lifeless, her beautiful lips damaged, her eyes not even visible through the blackness surrounding them. Her hair was singed by some son of a bitch who was bored.

Kazaar removed his coat, too pumped up to feel completely cold, and took a step towards Estelle's body.

"Stop!" a voice called from the door. It was the medic who'd left the bourbon for Estelle to treat her wounds.

"Whatta ya want," Kazaar's hand pulled his blaster, pointing it towards the man.

"You can't move her!" there was actual concern in his voice, Kazaar noted, "She could die!"

A snort from the former bounty hunter, "The kid'll die anyway if she isn't treated.

"Ya gonna keep me from helping her...or do I gotta do t'you what I did to ya pal," Kazaar head indicated Zellid's body.

The medic's eyes widened in fear and he started backing away...he didn't want any of this.

"Get outta here," Kazaar's voice was still full of rage, "If I see ya with another group like this...what hell ya end up in is gonna seem like a cakewalk t'what I'll do to ya."

The medic disappeared.

Kazaar turned his attention towards Estelle, rushing over to where she lay. He knelt next to her, throwing his coat over her bruised, broken body. The coat surrounded her and he pulled her into his arms.

"I gotcha, Kid," He said softly, "Let get ya home..."

[Estelle Russard]

She had been dreaming. Enjoying dinner at a large and elaborately laid table. A crystal decanter casting off refracted light and catching in her eyes on occassion as she looked from one guest to another, while the gentle rise and fall of amiable conversation progressed about her. Grandfather was there, and her father too, smiling as he carved yet another peice of meat from the huge roast set in the centre of the table and ladening his already full plate. Grace was there, which made Estelle really happy for some reason and she gave Estelle a rueful smile as Jason the Elder instructed another glass of wine be poured for Ms Van Derveld. Over in the corner, Morgan Evanar stood, watching and cryptically took notes. Dasquian was there, too, and he turned to speak to her. Estelle wondered why she had never noticed how very handsome the Director was. Or perhaps she had, she'd just never given liberty to such a thought. He was saying something to her, but it was not the Director's voice, familiar though it was. Then Dasquian lit himself a cigar and puffed up a blue grey plume toward the ceiling. The aroma was so familiar, too, but the action did not fit. This wasnt right. It made no sense. From her unconscious state, Estelle groaned lowly trying to make order of her thoughts.

The aroma of cigar was stronger as Dasquian leaned forward, gentle but insistent on making her understand him. The voice was all wrong, though. And as he took her by the shoulders, the sense of familiarity grew even stronger.

<i>"I gotcha, Kid," He said softly, "Lets get ya home..."</i>

That was Kazaar.

The bolt of reality hit her, peircing her dreamstate. Though Estelle's body remained inert and passive - the jolt it gave her mind was like a 1000 watt charge. She labored to open her swollen eyelids.

...."Kazaar".... she managed to mumble.

Of course it would be him. How had she not thought of it -that he would come for her? That he would be the one they'd send. If she had any inkling Aurelias Kazaar had been dispatched to find her, Estelle would have gained much strength and hope from the knowledge. As it was, she smiled to herself that she should have known the hard headed volitile Agent would be the man to save her.

As Aurelias wrapped her in his coat, the young rebel feebly croaked into his ear, "They let you out, then, did they..?"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar gave a smirk as he heard Estelle's weak voice. 'Least she was still alive.

"Kid," he whispered, "I woulda broken outta jail if they hadn't let me come get ya."

He strode towards the door, trying t'keep Estelle's body from bouncing all over the place. She didn't need any more pain at the moment.

"'Sides...would ya trust anyone else t'get ya out? Don't answer that..." he saw her open her lips t'say something, "Keep ya strength. We ain't outta it yet."

The former bounty hunter spoke into his comlink, his voice muffled by the distance.

"I have th'target...repeat...target's been secured. Let's get the hell outta here.

"BC, ya at The Dutchman yet?"

[Bloodcrest]

Bloodcrest was running, beaten as he was towards the main compound. It had occured to him that, despite his faith in Kazaar's ability to rescue someone, he could probably use some help. Bloodcrest had made it back to the ship, deposited his assorted items of varying value, and then taken one of his platforms and set out towards Kazaar's signal. The platform would probably be helpful in transporting the girl if she was injured and Bloodcrest wasn't one to leave Kazaar in the cold to come back on his own. Unfortunately, he was one to accidentally forget his comlink at the ship slowly receding behind him.

[Estelle Russard]

Kazaar eased Estelle onto the hover platform, Bloodcrest catching the slipping coat and tugging it back up over to cover the young rebel's battered body. Her hand remained tucked into Aurelias's own, the skin of his knuckles raw and bloodied closed tightly over it.


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

Solaris Rune

Crei clammbered into the pilot seat with uncharacteristic haste, bordering on gracelessness. Usually a very composed individual, the Albino had been dealt a shock to see that old has-been bounty hunter getting ready to lock sights on him.

Timandar torpedoed into his own chair beside Crei and began flicking on the flight-sequences in a panicked flurry. "Who are those guys? Where the frell did they come from?"

Kimiki slowed his breathing with effort, his mind trying to peice things together. What was Kazaar doing there? Had old man Russard double-crossed him? Had he been out-bid? How did that bo-hound get here so quickly? Crei swivelled pink eyes over toward Timandar, pupils like pinpricks in their center, as if examining the little wretch for answers for himself.

Timandar squeaked in fresh alarm as his radar blipped more ships entering the quadrant. "Now...who are these guys?"

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

[Aurelias Kazaar]

The Flying Dutchman

Kazaar and company hurried up the ramp of The Dutchman, blaster bolts *pinging* and *spanging* against the hull in an almost symphonic cadance.

One bolt *spacked* off of a bit of machinery, just above the large-eared Sullustan, causing him to curse loudly.

They'd been chased by the remnants of Timandar's forces since coming up from the prison level. It wasn't much resistance but enough to make the trip to the ship...interesting.

"BC, take th'helm, get us the hell outta here!" Kazaar ordered as his elbow hit the button which controlled the landing ramp.

"You," the Rebel Agent's black eyes focussed on the Sullustan, "Go with 'im!"

He nodded towards 'The Black Man', "You're with me...I need t'get her stabilized."

Without waiting for a reply from any of his compatriots, Kazaar was off to the hold, which doubled as a medical station from time to time.

'Trey', Kazaar's R7 driod *warbled* as it followed Kazaar into the hold. It rolled over to the medium-sized plasteel tank, extended its silvery scomp link, then beeped as a bluish fluid started to fill the tank.

Kazaar's personal bacta tank was a...gift...from Gorgja the Hutt. Or at least as close to a gift as the crimelord would ever give anyone...even his second-best bounty hunter. Ironically, Gorgja had demanded Kazaar take it, even forced, the Alderaanian to put it in The Flying Dutchman for his own safekeeping.

Even then, Kazaar'd only used the tank twice, preferring the quicker (and cheaper) bacta patches to sooth his injuries. 'Sides, that damn smell always made him want t'throw up.

Why they didn't make it smell like tobacco or even fruity, the former bounty hunter would never know.

Carefully, 'Othniel' took Estelle from Kazaar's arms, placing her on the hull floor. He removed the jacket from her body, then what was left of her clothes. Kazaar grabbed a pair of white shorts, sliding them on the Rebel Agent's legs. A small whimper came from Estelle as she was placed into the tank.

Kazaar stared at Estelle as she floated and shook his head. He felt a hand on his shoulder, then a cool feeling on his arm as 'The Black Man' placed a bacta patch on his wound. He could feel the tingling sensation as it started to heal, but he knew his Rebel tattoo was gone. Whatever had struck his left arm had taken a pretty big chunk out of it.

"She'll be all right Kazaar," 'The Black Man' stated as checked Estelle's vital signs. They weren't looking great, but 'The Kid' was young and strong...hopefully strong enough. Even Othniel wasn't sure how'd she turn out.

There was a call from the doorway as the Corellian Rebel slid into the room.

"We got trouble...Big trouble."

Kazaar and Othniel made their way to the cockpit where Bloodcrest pointed at the sensor display.

The cockpit was then filled with curses as Kazaar's black eyes saw the problem.

Not only were there four Z-95 Headhunters on an intercept course (obviously from Timandar's crew), but sensors also displayed two Imperial Strike Cruisers hovering over Mastala like two birds of prey.

A barrage of green turbolaser fire poured towards the planet's surface...once...twice...three times.

Then Kazaar cursed again as TIE Fighters started to launch from the hangar bays...

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

The Imperial Strike-class Cruiser Crimson Harvest in orbit over Mastala

Captain Waz Clarendon crossed his arms as he stared at the viewport. It had been a relatively uneventful trip from Bothawui, although there were times Clarendon wondered why he was given this assignment.

A day ago he'd been passed along orders, from Inquisitor Valten himself, to stop all funtions in the Bothan Sector and head directly towards Mastala for a rescue mission. He should be excited...Clarendon kept telling himself that...but there was something about this mission which wasn't so exciting.

Some industrialist's daughter had gotten kidnapped. Whoop-dee-doo. It wasn't like the secretary of state for some planet or a high-ranking military official, he'd be excited...thrilled. The chance for a promotion, maybe more.

But instead it was probably some industrialist's daughter who'd had too much fun and ended up getting lost on some planet. Or crashed her yacht or something...even the ransom note they'd been given was probably fake.

Clarendon would've expressed this attitude more if it hadn't've been for the political officer on the ship. Or at least that's what the senior staff called them...political officers...Clarendon had no idea what the guy actually did, only that his demeanor disturbed him and the rest of the crew.

The man was short in stature but large in presence, his dark brown hair parted to the side of his angular head. He spoke in a slight accent, not a normal accent from most Imperial planets, this one was foreign. His black uniform was spotless and a compact blaster, silver in color, rested comfortably on his belt.

Clarendon had tried to look up the man's statistics in Imperial Archives, but his search was thwarted by a mass of CLASSIFIED INFO.

So he'd given up. But there was something about the man which still bothered him.

Especially his name...Morewind.

"I trust," Morewind's voice came across his ears in an almost symphonic term, "Things are progressing as we'd hoped?"

Clarendon nodded, "There was indeed a base of some kind on the surface of Mastala. Unknown who has command of it, possibly the kidnappers."

"Perhaps," the Inquisitor's melodic voice spoke, "We should step up operations in the Garnib Sector?"

"Of course," the Imperial Officer nodded, concealing a scowl as best as he could.

Pretencious bastard.

"Power surge on the surface," an crewmember reported, "Appears to be a large explosion of some type. Six ships leaving the surface...two light-stock freighters, four Z-95 Headhunters...They appear to be pursuing one of the freighters.

"The other freighter is quickly disappearing from our sensor range. No identification on it."

"Identify the first freighter," Clarendon ordered, thankful the Inquisitor didn't step on his command like he had earlier in the voyage.

"It appears to be The Flying Dutchman, registered to an Aurelias Kazaar...a bounty hunter out of Brentaal. He's done work mainly for Gorgja the Hutt, although he apparenly has been retired for almost nine years."

Morewind's voice came up, "I know that name from somewhere. I will have to research it further."

"Orders?" the crewmember asked, "Shall we fire upon them?"

Clarendon shook his head, "No...launch TIE Fighters and order them to intercept Kazaar's ship. If they are fired upon, then they are allowed to return fire...But not before."

The crewmember nodded and Clarendon opened a channel to this Kazaar's ship.

"Attention Flying Dutchman and pursuing fighters, you are ordered to power down and prepare for boarding.

"Repeat...power down your engines and prepare for boarding."

[Estelle Russard]

Unaware of the battle building around outside, or the tender care given to her inside, Estelle embarked on the first step to healing and repair as Kazaar and Othniel placed her in the bacta tank. Two men - The one so familiar, yet a complete unknown to her at times. The other, a man she had never met. The three of them together did not know it yet, but their lives from this day onward would be inextricably linked.

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

Kimiki Crei in the Solaris Rune urged Timander to speed, demanding in no uncertain terms that he configure the jump to hyperspace immediately. Those Imperial fighters were beginning to swarm, and though the Albino had missed out on the main show - the Russard girl whisked from his grasp by Kazaar - He had no intention of sticking around for the after party. Someone had tipped off the Imperials. Those battle cruisers did not just happen by. And a conversation with old man Russard was in order. "How long?" Crei's impatience was growing.
"Almost....there.." Timander replied, concentration beading into perspiration droplets down his face. "Now!" he shouted with triumph. And with no further delay, the Albino pushed the thrusters and the Solaris Rune shot forward into a shower of streaking points of light.

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

Bloodcrest announced, unnecessarily, that they were taking hits as the Flying Dutchman shuddered alarmingly with each landed shot, having not yet aquiesced to the Imperials directive to power down. The sheilds could not take such a barage for long. One of the Z-95's went careening across the viewport in an enormous, if short-lived, fireball having taken its own share of TIE firepower.

Everyone in the cockpit had the same thought.

One less fighter to worry about.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

The Flying Dutchman's course was steady, having not moved an inch from its original heading. There was a bit of a dangerous strategy in it, the Rebels were hopin the Empire'd be smart enough t'realize it was running from the Z-95s, not being escorted by 'em.

'Course the blaster bolts spewing towards 'em oughta say something...but these were Imperials after all.

Prolly think the Z-95s were tryin' t'be good citizens, Kazaar thought ruefully, as he stared out the viewport.

"We t'get the hell outta here," the Corellian Rebel said unnecessarily.

Kazaar wanted t'smack the maroon, but decided not to. After all...he'd all ready broken 'is arm a few days ago.

"Plot a course t'Coruscant, BC," his voice had an edge to it, "The Kid ain't gonna last long in that bacta tank. And I ain't gonna turn her over to the Imps."

He smirked, "Knowing them..."

The ship lurched, as another Z-95 swooped by it, red blaster bolts spattering on the shields. A light flashed and the shields failed.

For his own part, the former bounty hunter kept his cool. Bloodcrest was one of th'best in the business at getting outta jams; plus Kazaar trusted him as much as he could.

'Sides, BC loved creds more than he loved th'Empire.

"Anytime ya wanna go t'hyperspace, BC...I'll take it," he groused as the lights in The Dutchman *winked* off and on briefly.

Bloodcrest said something about 'hold on...', then pressed a few buttons on the NavComputer.

The HWK-290's engines gave a bit of a *whine* as they de-powered in preparation for the jump.

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

The Imperial Strike Cruiser Crimson Harvest

"Prepare to lock a tractor beam on that freighter," Clarendon ordered, crossing his arms.

He gave a smile a triumph as a reply was given.

He had them.

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

A sudden *jolt* of power sent The Flying Dutchman shooting forward in the depths of space, its engines giving the necessary power for hyperspace. A flash moved across the bow of the freighter as a tractor beam attempted to lock on.

But it was too late...only a fraction...but too late regardless.

The stars turned into lines and The Dutchman disappeared into hyperspace.

Various sighs of relief echoed across the cockpit as the Rebels shook their heads. They'd escaped.

"You should've stayed," The Black Man's voice expressed displeasure.

Kazaar gave him 'a look'.

"What th'frack is wrong with ya!" the former bounty hunter's eyes flashed as he turned to face the man who'd released him from prison.

The expression on The Black Man's face hadn't changed.

"They were shootin' at us ya know. I don't mind takin' damage, but not m'ship.

"Ya don't ding up my ship."

The Black Man shook his head, "If you would have stayed...the Imperials would have taken care of our pursuers. Plus, it would have given even more legitimacy to your cover."

Kazaar couldn't believe this.

"Hey...haulin' space lines is a good way of keepin' 'my cover'. And keepin' my skin."

'Othniel' shook his head, as the Sullustan and Corellian stood next to Kazaar.

"There is more at work here than you think Kazaar," if it was possible for 'The Black Man's' voice to get any darker, he figured outta way t'do it.

"The Crimson Harvest is an Inquisitor vessel. It has access to the Imperial Network."

"Oh whoop-dee-doo, how th'hell do ya know that!" Kazaar's response wasn't a question.

"Because," the response kept its dark tone, "I used to serve on that ship."

Kazaar's eyes grew dark and a curse rose from his throat, spewing throughout the hull. If 'The Kid' were concious her ears might have picked it up. They might have...Kazaar never was sure how bacta worked at times.

His muscular arms grasped the collar of the mysterious man's bodysuit, then slammed him into the bulkhead.

The Black Man's mates took a step forward, only to feel the cold durasteel of two blasters at their necks. It was Racuto Bloodcrest who'd moved, slowly shaking his head, as if to say, "Uh uh."

The Black Man gave smile, "There's more to the Rebellion than Belargic's organization, Kazaar. Much more.

"Some of us...prefer a more...proactive response to problems than to 'wait and see', as Belargic does. When you were sent to the brig for your...indiscretion, your name was passed along to my organization."

Kazaar's eyes remained dark and he didn't relinquish his hold on 'Othniel' just yet.

"I don't gotta answer to you," his voice was gutteral, "We got 'The Kid' out...that's all that matters. Taking 'er t'Coruscant, makes more sense."

A smile from the secretive Rebel, "You're finally using your head. Although it still would have made more sense to give her over to the Empire.

"Russard may know things...but not too much. In her state, they wouldn't have gotten anything out of her."

Kazaar rolled his eyes, "Oh and I guess your 'soldiers' aren't as prissy as they seem?"

"That's correct, sir," The Corellian answered for 'The Black Man', "We've been a part of his organization for a while."

"That's quite enough Lupul," 'The Black Man' replied, "Agent Kazaar isn't quite ready to know...everything."

The two matched gazes for almost a minute, the distinction between the two even more obvious. Finally, Kazaar let him go, then stormed outta the room.

He had t'check on 'The Kid'.

[Bloodcrest]

Racuto gauged the tension in the room at about a 10 outta 10. He wasn't about to let anything happen to Kazaar or the person Kazaar referred to as "the Kid", and he certainly didn't owe the black man anything. Racuto had known the Inquisition had been involved in that little skirmish back there, his sources told him so, but the black man's revealing of his past was news to him.

After Kazaar turned and left, Racuto caught up to him, matching pace. "So...uh...you want me to just stun them and toss 'em out the nearest airlock? I mean, they're not Imps but they don't strike me as perfect rebels either. I doubt anyone would miss them, yeah?"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

"Works better if ya stick 'em in conscious," Kazaar replied, sticking a cigar in his mouth, "That way...they feel th'pain as they get atomized."

He smirked, bringing his black lighter up to th'cigar. The former bounty hunter didn't hafta say if he'd done that sorta thing before...by the expression in his eyes...Bloodcrest knew he had.

There was something else in Kazaar's eyes though; something BC couldn't place. Almost as if th'words he'd said struck a chord with the formerly imprisoned Rebel Agent.

Racuto didn't know why his buddy'd been sent to th'brig, his sources within the Rebellion had been rather quiet about it, like a family member no one cares t'talk about or a bantha in the middle of the room. Seven months was longer than most peeps got...especially with the Rebellion in need of soldiers and allies.

So whatever he'd done...it'd been bad.

Another puzzle had been placed before Kazaar...this one with pieces that were even more sparse.

His mind, focussed on 'The Kid', was now staring at something else.

BC'd said, "They're not perfect rebels," well what the frack was a 'perfect rebel'?

Certainly Kazaar wasn't...if anything he'd been told he was 'too rebellious' by those 'round him. He was a 'loose cannon', someone who did things his way, stopping only t'use 'the book' whenever it seemed fit.

And that was normally throwin' it at people.

The problem was, much as Bossman and Van-Derveld hated t'admit it, Kazaar's methods worked. He did his job and did it well.

He'd said before (http://sw-fans.net/forum/showpost.php?p=210240&postcount=21) that he killed Imps well.

So what did that make 'em? A perfect Rebel?

Kazaar snorted. He wasn't a 'perfect rebel' but his own man.

A puzzle piece found its way into place.

The Black Man...Othniel...whatever the hell his name was...wasn't one either.

If anything, th'bastich preferred all the Black Ops poodoo Kazaar hated.

Yet, to a degree, the two were kindred spirits of sorts. Willing t'take the risks others weren't willing. Willing t'ignore pages in 'The Book' to get the job done.

So 'The Black Man' used t'serve on an Inquisitor vessel? So what?

He'd seen him talk t'Belargic, so the two had some sorta familiarity with each other. Colleagues to a degree, the Brentaalian-raised-Alderaanian figured.

By now the two'd reached the bacta tank where Estelle floated. The bruising was starting t'clear up but the broken arm and leg didn't look good at all.

Kazaar placed a gloved hand on th'tank. It was cool in his hands.

Then he took th'first step.

"Nah...keep 'em alive. But don't let 'em outta your sight."

He smirked, smoke coming from his mouth, "'Sides...who ever said we were perfect rebels."

[Bloodcrest]

Racuto grinned wolfishly at that last bit. "The Kid", as Kazaar referred to the human female in the tank before him, sent pangs of emotion through him as he remembered seeing Jean in a situation very similar. Jean was a tough girl, but even she got hurt sometimes. It occured to him that this was the very reason Kazaar had done this mission for the Rebels. Had it been Jean, there's plenty of telling of what he might have done...to the point where there wasn't much telling of what he wouldn't have done to get Jean back. He stopped imagining before he got to the part where his thoughts turned to the what-if's of circumstance.

Racuto shook out of his thoughts and turned back to the matters at hand. "I guess I should be getting back up to the cockpit, where would you like to go?"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

"We'll keep goin' to Coruscant," Kazaar said with little thought, "Best thing t'do is head there so we can drop off 'The Kid'."

He smirked, "'Sides...We still want our payday don't we?"

The former bounty hunter knew Bloodcrest agreed with him.

"Ya gonna stick around on Coruscant or get out? Empire's gonna be lookin' for this ship ya know. I got plenty o'backup IDs...but still don't hurt t'be cautious."

He crossed his arms and looked up at Estelle's body.

"Better let Gorgja know too we got 'er. That way he can tell her grandfather that we're on our way."

He gave a 'look', "More...official that way ya know?"

Ever Kazaar had t'obey etiquette and protocol from time t'time.

[Bloodcrest]

"Yeah" was all Racuto said in response. "I'll be quitting Coruscant very quickly...I'm not a well liked person, especially there."

As part of one of his merc jobs before joining the Rebels, Racuto had done some terrorist activities mostly involving weapons factories and big explosions. He had been planning to follow it all up with some more, but he had been contacted by the Rebels at that point and had to stop. Racuto had big plans for the rest of the galaxy though. Outside of what the Rebels had him do, he used his Corporate Sector training in the reverse, whereas normally he would be attempting to stop terrorist activities, Racuto planned to pull them off while avoiding being caught by thinking about what he would do in the situation. Pirate, mercenary, terrorist, rebel...all names for the same thing. The end result was infamy and a different kind of greeting on most planets. No, Coruscant was probably not a good idea for very long.

[Jason Russard]

Jason drew the razor down his left cheek, the white shaving foam bundling up into a frothy blob as it was driven before the blade. The scraping noise as whiskers were snickered off to leave a smooth path of skin was the only sound in the room. A familiar sound. A sound of normalcy, of routine.
He looked blankly at his reflection in the mirror while he shizzled the blade in the basin of warm water, rinsing it. Automatically, he addressed the other cheek. Would things ever be normal again?

Outwardly, Jason was composed. The wire from the Inquisitoriate Office had helped a great deal in relieving his helpless feeling and had brought him a sense of doing <i>something</i>. Two Imperial Cruisers were in the vicinity of Mastala and had been dispatched post-haste. Inquisitor Valten had come through for him. Jason would not forget it.

Again, the image of his battered daughter swam into his mind and he choked a sob in his throat. A father should never see such things.

The night had been such a long one, and in truth it still was not over. The sun would not break the horizon for another hour atleast. His father was sleeping in his wheelchair in the study - his physical strength a shadow of what it had once been. The old man was steel to the core in spirit, but was at an age where the body failed one, no matter how driven or determined. Jason had never been so thankful for the old man's fire than he had been since this whole nightmare had begun. Not for the first time, Jason the Elder had earned his son's respect.

He rinsed the razor in the basin once again, continuing the methodical process of his toilette.

'Good god, they must hear something soon' he thought.

His reflection offered no comfort. 'One way or the other..they would hear soon.'

[Karl Valten]

Staff Sergeant Palinof moved through the cramped prison complex beneath the main levels of the pirate base. The black stormtrooper armor of the sergeant and his squadmates blended in smoothly with the shadows as they searched. Every once in a while the muffled whine of blaster fire could be heard through the ceiling as Inquisitorial troops hunted down the scattered remnants.

The initial attack had been a success. Orbital drop commandoes had been able to sow confusion amongst the pirate ranks as the bulk of Inquisitorial troops deployed by gunships. But the base had been larger than predicted, much larger, and the troopers advance slowed.

The imperials did have one advantage; Palinof stepped over a fur clad corpse and glanced at the darkened lights. The power station had already been completely destroyed and the pirates were in chaos. It seemed that someone had gotten to Mastala first.

A broken door loomed in front of the squad, and the sergeant held a hand up. Who ever it was booked it out of here pretty damn fast, probably the idiots on the freighter. On his signal, he burst through the door with two other troopers, rifles drawn.

On the other side Palinof blinked at the scene. It was the same spartan chamber seen on the ransom video…only the chair was empty and a mangled body lay on the floor. Priority three was already down the drain.

“Search the rest of the detention facility.” Sergeant Palinof crouched next to the figure on the floor as the rest of the squad began to fan out. He traced a gloved finger through the thick coating of blood next to the body, still sticky. Visored eyes moved to what was left of the persons face. Interesting, looked like someone had taken their time with this one.

“Don’t shoot!” Palinof’s head whirled towards the sound, in the blink of an eye the sergeant had crossed through two rooms. He found on of his soldiers holding the quivering medic at gun point. The coward had been trying to hide in the med bay.

“And who might you be.” The Inquisitorial trooper hauled the medic up by the front of his furred cloak. “Where’s the girl?”

The poor man twitched, his mouth barely able to form the words. “I.I…d…don…don’t...know. They…to...took...her.” Palinof’s eyes narrowed under the emotionless black helmet.

“Who is ‘they’?”

“Same people who killed the others.” The sergeant let the man drop to the floor. So that freighter had gotten away with the Russard woman as well. He’d have to get a report in to Inquisitor Morewind on the double. “Get this filth and any others you find topside. The rest of you, set your charges. Once the Inquisitor is done with the place, we’re blowing this hole.”
* * *

Direct Communication Russard Enterprises, Imperial Center
Attention: MR JASON RUSSARD




Designate: FOR YOUR EYES ONLY


—Inquisitoriate assets have discovered pirate base and have subdued the all resistance. I regret to inform you that your daughter has not been located. It is suspected that a third party was involved during the altercation. We have our best interrogators at work and will make certain that these barbarians be brought to justice. I am regretful that the Inquisitoriate could not help your family. Veritas vincit.
Sincerest apologies, Grand Inquisitor Karl Valten. --

[Morewind]

The Crimson Harvest still orbitting Mastala


"So," Morewind's hands were clasped behind his back as he stared at the medic.

"Tell me...what happened to Ms. Russard?"

The medic's fear-filled eyes looked left-to-right, then back again. He'd never seen an Inquisitor, only heard of them. They were terrors, spoken in whispers, 'Don't cross them!'

There were times he didn't even believed they existed...even with their vast power and the recruitment posters he'd seen all over the Empire. But he'd never actually seen an Inquisitor.

Now...he knew he was farqued.

And that made the medic seem to cower in the chair he was sitting, even more.

"I-I-I don't know," the medic whimpered, "I'd j-just st-started to work fo-for, the boss, Ti-man-n-dar. I'd only been th-there a sh-sh-sh-short time."

Chalactans, the Inquisitor thought ruefully, Even with their supposed 'enlightenment', they're still cowards.

Morewind leaned forward, placing his hands on the wooden table. Behind him, the IT-O Interogator floated ominously. He raised a gloved fist and the droid moved forward.

A howl came from the medic, as an acid jet splattered his arm with the corrosive material. The Inquisitor hardly flinched as the flesh melted slightly.

"I-I-I DON'T KNOW!" the medic screamed, "O-ONLY THAT THE B-BOSS SAI-SAID IT'D BE EASY MONEY!!"

He clasped his hands together, "Pl-please...you've got to believe m-me! I...I w-was told by the guy w-who sa-saved her..."

Morewind interupted the medic's whining, "Who was he? What did he look like?"

The medic's eyes flittered about, "T-Taller th-than you. Bu-bulky...he killed Zellid...w-with hi-his bare h-hands...A-and Z-Ze-Zellid's a tough c-c-cookie."

Morewind barely nodded, his dark eyes simply staring into the medic's green ones. He was telling the truth...but the Inquisitor had more questions.

He pressed a button on his 'Russard Industries' datapad, bringing up a picture of Aurelias Kazaar.

"Was this him?"

The medic nodded quickly, his head shaking with fear.

Of whom was the question.

"Very well," The Inquisitor turned away, heading towards the door.

"W-wait!"

Morewind angled a gaze towards the medic.

"Th-there w-was s-something e-e-else. Z-Z-Zellid kept c-calling h-her Danielle...n-not Es-Estelle. The-there was talk sh-she w-was K-Kamd-den Tu-tudor's piffer..."

Ah...so something new...

"I am finished with him. Make sure he has no more information. When you are through...Take him to Prakith."

The door closed behind Morewind and the medic's screams filled the room again.

****

To: Grand Inquisitor Valten, Imperial Center



Designate: FOR YOUR EYES ONLY

We have secured Mastala without further incident and captured the medic of Ghlar Timandar's company. Upon interogation the medic said Ms. Russard was believed to be the lover of Kamden Tudor, a known arms dealer.

We have also identified the frieghter which eluded our capture earlier. It belongs to Aurelias Kazaar, a bounty hunter who has worked with Gorgja the Hutt in the past. There is no word whether he is affiliated with Ghlar Timandar or not.

With your permission, I would like to investigate this further. Quietly of course. Veritas vincit.

Chief Inquisitor Morewind

[Aurelias Kazaar]

The Planet Ylesia- The Nal Sokko Criminal Empire Compound- Gorgja's the Hutt's sailbarge

The Hutt stank of slime, sex, and food. His skin tone was currently an odd mixture of green and light blue, although it would soon settle on one color. No one knew which one it was, and there was a bet as to what color would be the dominant one. Currently...light blue was in the lead.

Gorgja the Hutt took a drink of Boga noga, then patted the Theelin dancer by his side. She rose, kissed the Hutt on the cheek, and wandered away to get some more drinks.

A silver protocol droid wandered up to the Hutt crimelord, "Great Gorgja...you have a message from Aurelias Kazaar."

Gorgja grunted, waving one of his fat arms...he was still watching the Theelin, as she bent over to fill his tankard.

She was quite enjoyable to stare at.

Gorgja, Got the girl, she's hurt but all right. On m'way t'Coruscant. Let 'er grandpa know. -Kazaar

Gorgja's deep laugh filled the sailbarge interior. So Kazaar was 'back in the game'. Or at least cared about this bounty.

The relationship between crime lord and bounty hunter had been rather acrimonious, dating back to Kazaar's first days with Gorgja.

It had been the fat Hutt's lieutenant, Fara Niinimaa who'd first mentioned the name 'Aurelias Kazaar', after the delivery boy had refused to deliver spice to a minor drug lord on Brentaal. Niinimaa had pressured Kazaar, only to have the latter assault the former, breaking his jaw and flattening his nose.

Gorgja had been tickled with the incident, even if he lost a tidy sum of money. When Kazaar'd been summoned to Ylesia, his response was, "I don't givva damn what people take...but I won't be an enabler."

He could've (and probably should have) fired Kazaar on the spot...but the way the teenager carried himself, said something.

Especially when the next 'visitor' attempted to kill the Hutt with a blaster. It had been Kazaar who acted first, cutting down the Selonian with a vibroblade hidden in his jacket.

The kill had been beautiful the watch, the sheer brutality was odd for an Alderaanian, even one who grew up on the smuggler-run Brentaal.

Gorgja had something special, but still wanted to test it. It was Gorgja who told Kazaar about the death of his parents, about the Ghorman Massacre (albeit two weeks late), and what the Empire had done.

When Kazaar was arrested for killing three stormtroopers in a bar fight, the Hutt knew what he had. He spent a year of his own money, bribing various officials, figuring out way to keep the soon-to-be bounty hunter out of prison for too long.

After Kazaar's release, Gorgja employed him as a bounty hunter for almost seven years.

Even then, Kazaar still got under the Hutt's skin, especially when it came to slaving. The bounty hunter hated it, even breaking up a slaving ring of Transdoshans who received some compensation from Gorgja (of course he didn't know that). Gorgja had wanted to fire him, then remembered the Selonian incident.

But it was the death of Kazaar's partner which ultimately dissolved the relationship. He quit taking bounties from Gorgja, slipping into an alcohol-induced haze for almost a year.

When he came back...he was changed...harder...even more brutal than before. Neither of them ever found her killer...which was unfortunate...Gorgja wanted to see how the killer would do against a rancor.

Then Kazaar retired. Gorgja still sent bounties his way at times, hoping t'hear something, but he never did. It was rumored Kazaar joined the Rebel Army, getting kicked out for torture (big surprise), then going dark for a while.

Until now.

The fat hutt took another drink from his tankard and laughed again.

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

Coruscant- Jason the Elder's office

"Sir," Lissel said, in her smooth Twi'lek tone, "You have a message from Gorgja the Hutt."

A button was pressed and a protocol droid appeared, "Greetings Mister Russard. The great Gorgja the Hutt, is pleased to announce your granddaughter, Estelle, has been found, alive, and rescued, I might add, on Mastala by Aurelias Kazaar.

The great Gorgja is not pleased to announce, Estelle is injured.

However, Kazaar has assured us she will be fine. He is heading to Coruscant right now, where I am told he will meet up with you as soon as he arrives. Which, according to the Great Gorgja, will be in less than 24 hours.

If you have any questions, feel free to get a hold of us again. Good-bye."

[Jason Russard]

Veritas vincit. Words of strength and solidarity. And Courage.

The words repeated hollowly over and over in his head. Jason could feel hope seeping from his spirit with every moment that had past since recieving Inquisitor Valten's missive.

Sincerest apologies...

He was suffocating. He wanted to scream out loud his rage at the cruelty of men who took and destroyed things dear to others for no other purpose than greed and malice. He wanted to scream his fury and frustration that even the splendid power and organization of the Empire could not always undo a wrong and make things right.

Instead, he sat stifled and dispairing.

What third party did Karl mean? The Albino? There had been no word from him. No word from any of the parties his father Jason the Elder had recruited.

If the Imperials found no trace of his daughter, it could mean only one thing. There was no trace to be found. Estelle was gone. For the first time Jason allowed that thought to land and take root in his mind.

"Dont you dare"

Russard looked up at his father's sharp rebuke. The old man's blue eyes, hard as granite, pinned Jason to silence.

"I can see defeat all over you. And I can smell it" he snarled. "It reeks so that my bowels writhe. No Russard was ever weak. You'll not indulge yourself now, Jason"

Jason's hand trembled slightly on the armrest, so he made it into a fist. He had fully expected the Imperials to recover Estelle. He hadn't realised how tightly he had been clinging to that belief until it had been stripped from him by Valten's message. Sincerest apologies.

"Find your spine Jason" the old man commanded. "We have no need of cowards here"

Russard stood, wordless, and crossed to the study window. It was a large bay that looked out onto the gardens below. The day had dawned clear and the pale blue of the morning sky was slowly deepening in colour as the sun began its steady climb.

As his son turned back toward him, Jason the Elder could see he had taken a hold on his thoughts and, if not exactly an absence of fear, there was a renewed strength in his face and in how he held himself tall. The slightest of nods confirmed his approval of the younger Jasons effort. And the two men returned to their waiting.

An hour later, Lissel delivered the communication from Gorgja. The old man smiled. Leave it to the grubby Hutts to have the last say.
There was no rebuke in the old man's face when he saw his son was weeping.

[Estelle Russard]

"We'll be in Coruscant soon, kid" Kazaar said softly, his eyes crinkling into a kind smile as he leaned over to tuck the blanket in more closely.

"I thought I was dreaming when you showed up" she whispered hoarsly back to him. She would have returned his smile, only the split in her lip pulled painfully even with the effort of forming words. A smile would break the scab that had now formed and would start the bleeding again. Kazaar knew she was smiling on the inside and so it didn't matter. He curled his hand around hers and gave her an understanding squeeze. He knew her pretty well, this rough and angry man who was watching her with probably the most tender look Estelle had ever seen in a mans eyes.

Estelle had a thousand questions to ask, a thousand things to say.
She wanted to know how he'd found her? How had he gotten so quickly to Mastala? Who was that other guy that had been gawping at her while she was in the bacta tank - couldn't Kazaar have found her a shirt atleast? Who was going to look after her in Coruscant? Was Kal Kristmanssen really dead? Was he sure he was dead? What had gone wrong? How had she screwed up? Was her cover blown? Were the Imperials involved at all?

But top of the list was the question she found a voice for, "How can I ever thank you for coming for me Aurelias?"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

"Thank me when you're better kid," Kazaar replied, keepin' his hand in hers.

She'd come outta the bacta tank 'bout an hour ago, her body partially healed from the damage she'd taken. But Estelle'd be in an Imperial hospital even longer, once they got t'Coruscant.

Kazaar'd hafta spend some time in a bacta tank as well, his left arm continue to leak from the wound he'd gotten on Mastala. 'The Black Man' (only adding to th'mystique he was pickin' up) had patched it up well, but whatever'd hit 'em had taken a chunk outta the former bounty hunter's arm.

He didn't look forward to th'bacta tank...but it was better'n what 'The Kid' would prolly need. Her knee and ankle still looked pretty bad'n her face wasn't great either.

"Best thing t'do right now is rest...get ya strength up. I ain't gonna lie to ya. Empire's prolly gonna have alotta questions they're gonna ask. Why ya got kidnapped'n all."

Kazaar gave his best smirk, "Wouldn't worry 'bout it, though. Dad'll prolly try t'keep the questioning short."

Estelle's face started to show concern, but Kazaar squeezed her hand, "I said don't worry 'bout it, kid. They'll go easy on ya...prolly just ask why ya were where ya were.

"Best thing ya can do...just tell 'em it was wrong place, wrong time. Went for food or something...got hit on...simple as that."

He gave her his best concerned look...something he hadn't given t'anyone inna while.

"We all get questioned by th'Imps ever-so-often."

A smirk, "Even me."

[Bloodcrest]

Bloodcrest was waiting patiently outside the room when Kazaar came out. "Any updates on our next course of action that I should know about?"

Racuto's sources, unknown to all but him, had pulled through once again. He knew a few people and had them watching for all transmissions from the ship, a precaution intended to keep the more suspicious members of the current crew in check, when they had actually detected a transmission that was not from any of them but from Kazaar. As per Bloodcrest's request, request because ordering these kinds of people was nearly impossible, they had only discovered the sender and, upon finding that it was Kazaar, went out of their way to not read the message. Bloodcrest had trust in Kazaar, something that was rare enough in the galaxy as is. But he was still curious and had decided to ask Kazaar.

[The Black Man]

"Yes," The Black Man's deep voice came from behind the Rebel duo.

His armor was black, fitting formly around his body like a shell. His left hand held a mask, looking vaguely stormtrooper-like.

"There is an extra armor suit by your belongings, Racuto. You'll need it to slip past the Imperials on Coruscant."

He gave a slight smile, which was still slightly creepy, "Consider it your payment for helping out the Alliance."

The smile widened, "One hour to Coruscant. I do hope we get to do business again."

[Bloodcrest]

Racuto's faced lightened up instantly at the mention of something new and exciting he could mess with until it looked nothing like it was supposed to originally. "New armor?" As soon as the words left his mouth, he was headed towards his room and his new belongings.

[Jason Russard]

"Heroes of the Empire Memorial Medical Center"


Jason pushed the turbo lift button for floor 1011 repeatedly during the interminable trip up. The button had not lost its glow despite stopping at more than fifteen different levels, and it would not go off until destination reached. Jason knew this, of course, but could not restrain himself. He could not arrive quick enough.

At last, the longest 6 minutes of this day were done and the elevator opened its blinding white doors to release its distracted occupant into the Thrawn Wing of H.E.M.M.C ie; (for the uninitiated) Critical Care and VIP suites of the largest and most elite Hospital in the Sector.

Estelle, finally, was in expert hands and her father was greatly relieved. Perfunct directions from a stout and very capable looking head nurse saw Jason the Younger quickly to his daughter's room.

Stepping through the ward doors with an unannounced rush, Jason's breath stole from him and he stood momentarily frozen. There she was, his little girl. Her face was swollen and grossly bruised. Beneath the covers she was in a similar state. Jason saw, but ignored, the man slouching in the chair next to the window, who appeared to be attendant on his daughter. Had Jason paid more notice, he'd have seen the man's shrewd black eyes assess, and promptly dismiss, him as being any sort of threat to the girl in the bed beside where he sat. Kazaar deftly released his finger from the blaster trigger beneath his coat.

Crossing quickly to Estelle, Jason fell to her and craddled her head against his cheek. Words failed him. It didn't matter. Times like these, words were unneccessary. The heart said it all.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar sat in the plush, crimson chair smoking a cigar.

Some orderly tried t'force him to get rid of it, mentioning health hazards, flammable liquids, all that poodoo, but Kazaar'd simply stared th'guy down.

He wasn't gonna leave 'The Kid' but he sure as hell wasn't gonna get rid of his cigar.

When he mentioned it was Jason Russard who'd hired him, the orderly'd backed off from his health tirade. The former bounty hunter'd smirked as he followed the stretcher down the white hallway.

It'd been a whirlwind of activity since The Flying Dutchman had emerged from hyperspace over Coruscant.

The HWK-290 shot through Coruscant's atmosphere at breakneck speed, flanked by two ugly looking Eyeballs (TIE Advanced, but an Eyeball's an Eyeball no matter th'color) who escorted him to th'large durasteel hospital building, just off of the former Senate building where democracy was 'pretended' t'be in place up until the Emperor disbanded th'Senate before the First Death Star's destruction.

Too bad ol'Palpatine didn't visit that big space station before he built the second one. Prolly woulda died sooner and saved everyone a whole lotta fighting.

But nothin' ever went t'plan.

The Black Man and his cohorts had disappeared quickly, pressing a button on their black suits which engaged the stealth systems running throughout the suit.

BC had disappeared soon after that, giving Kazaar his bank account info plus a, "Might have a job coming up soon."

The former bounty hunter gave a smirking nod, shook hands with BC, then went t'finalize the landing.

A moment later and the Dutchman was on the landing pad of the hospital, then boarded by a vast array of medical technicians, droids, and nurses trying t'stabilize Estelle.

Kazaar followed, smoking trailing from his mouth as they entered th'hospital.

Estelle'd been taken into a room fulla droids who poked and prodded her t'see what body parts'd been damaged.

An hour later and some guy (who had t'be 'The Kid's' father) streaked into th'room kneeling at the bed, before cradling 'The Kid' in his arms.

Kazaar sat and smoked, warily watching Jason the Younger.

He hadn't been bothered (save for that one health-o-manic who told him not t'smoke) so far and he preferred it that way.

A puff of smoke came from his mouth and he kept waiting.

[Bloodcrest]

Racuto Bloodcrest stood quietly at the corner of a poorly maintained walkway a mere hundred feet above the honest surface of Coruscant. Down here, in the deepest levels of the planet-wide city, he didn't have to worry about being found by Imperials or any official of any kind that might be looking for him. Around him, dark shapes moved by, some slowly, some quickly, all intent on their own business and affairs. At this level of the shining jewel of the Empire, asking another's business could easily get you killed, mugged, or sold into slavery. It was the perfect place for someone who knew cities to hide.

A black shadow moved up behind Bloodcrest. Racuto had been expecting this shadow and that was the only reason there wasn't an exchange of shots. You could never be too careful.

"There is trouble." The shadow's voice was subsonic and Racuto had to tweak an implant in his right ear before he could understand what was said. "Target two has discovered your location, the Prime is in danger. Estimated 2 standard days till action."

Crap.

As one of his many sources of information disappeared back into the gloom, Racuto was already thinking of which run-down landing strip he was going to go to so that he could borrow a ship. He didn't need anything particularly fancy, just something that looked solid enough to fly. He broke into a mad dash to the nearest turbolift. Precious time was ticking until he failed the only mission ever given to him. He had to save Jean.

[Karl Valten]

Inquisitor Karl Valten stood in the door way to the ward, appearing like a ghost. The people in the room may not have noticed, or they may have. It didn’t matter to him. But he kept silent, resting one arm against the door frame. He almost seemed like a friend there to comfort another.

He wore no ceremonial robe, no cloak, his sword gone and weapon belt empty. Just the simple black uniform with no decorations, only the blood red crest of the Inquisitoriate on his left breast. Almost like an equal.

Valten had made his way to the hospital at hearing of the arrival of Estelle to intensive care. The girl that, just hours before, had been prisoner on a planet light years away and had vanished under the Inquisitoriate’s nose.

The girl still had bruises of captivity covering her body. Jason Russard hovered over her, filled with both grief and gratitude, and was unaware of the Inquisitor.

But the man in the chair drew the Inquisitor’s attention. Aurelias Kazaar, bounty hunter under Gorgja the Hutt, and more importantly the pilot of the ship that had evaded Karl’s ships and brought Estelle to Imperial Center.

The Inquisitor looked away from the hunter, this wasn’t the best of places for an interrogation. Time to be the supporting friend, Karl’s stomach churned at the notion.

“How is she?”

[Jason Russard]

Jason turned to look at Kazaar, assuming incorrectly, that it was the bounty hunter who had spoken. His error was made obvious by the way Aurelias was looking not at him, but at the uniformed man leaning casually in the door frame.

"Inquisitor Valten" Jason stood, greeting the newly arrived Karl with redrimmed eyes, "I--I didn't realise you were there"

Jason paused a moment, realising that in his befuddled emotional state that not only had he not initially recognized Valten's voice, but that he had also omitted acknowledging and greeting the man sitting in quiet vigil beside his daughter. As an added afterthought, Jason realised the man was smoking..

The pause was shortlived, however. Russard claiming back his faculties crossed the room to shake the Inquisitors hand.

"I am so grateful for your help, Inquisitor. You have proven a steadfast friend. Please, have you met....(he turned back to Kazaar)...Im sorry, forgive me for my rudeness. You must be Mr. Kazaar, Gorgj--er the man my father hired to help find Estelle"

Jason's introductions were as awkward and clumsy as he felt.

Behind the trio, Estelle had cracked open puffy eyelids, and upon hearing her father identify the commander of the Inquisitoriate forces--and then introduce him to Aurelias! -- her heart began to race and, tellingly, the monitor she was hooked up to began to beep repeatedly.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

In one fluid motion, Kazaar leapt from his seat, moving quicker than anyone could've thought.

The vibroblade slipped from his jacket pocket, the blade glinting in the stale lighting of the hospital room.

He plunged it into the neck of the Grand Inquisitor, and blood spewed forth as the arteries severed.

Valten choked as he fell to the ground, no chance to be saved.

Kazaar turned to stare at Jason Russard, his face wild as an animal. His smile was deadly, his black eyes flashed.

Reality came back to the former bounty hunter as he stared at th'businessman and the Imperial.

Nice as it would be...he couldn't do what he wanted t'do. Not here...not with Estelle laying there prone.

His ears heard th'monitor start beepin' and Kazaar knew what he had t'do.

"Yeh," he took a puff from his cigar, "I'm Kazaar."

He gave a bit of a smirk, "Glad I was able t'help out. Hate it when girls get hurt.

"Specially those who don't deserve it."

He was ignoring Valten at th'moment, but he slowly turned his head towards the Inquisitor and nodded a greeting.

No...Kazaar couldn't do what he wanted.

But 'e would at some point.

[Karl Valten]

“I am so grateful for your help, Inquisitor. You have proven a steadfast friend. Please, have you met....(he turned back to Kazaar)...I’m sorry, forgive me for my rudeness. You must be Mr. Kazaar, Gorgj--er the man my father hired to help find Estelle"

Karl stepped into the room with a reasuring smile, patting Russard on the shoulder, as reassuring as a serpent can when the mouse is sitting before him.

“Don’t worry about, my friend, you’ve done much for the Imperium. It’s about time we gave something back, though it seems someone has done a better job.”

The Inquisitor turned to Kazaar, his cold grey eyes locked with the bounty hunter’s, as if trying to tear into the man’s soul. Aurelias had a burning in his eyes, one that Karl had seen many times before. It made him laugh inside, so pathetic.

His head twitched in the direction of the beeping moniters. So the girl was awake after all. Valten glanced back and extended a hand to Kazaar. “The Empire thanks you for your services.” The Inquisitor paused for a moment, contemplating. “…though that impressive maneuvering at Mastala was unnecessary, the Inquisitoriate some of the best medical services available.”

[Aurelias Kazaar]

His arm was leaking again, Kazaar could tell. The blood slipped down his elbow, where it pooled briefly beneath the black leather of his jacket sleeve.

"Lemme ask ya something, pal," he responded, takin' a puff from his cigar.

If he didn't call Belargic, "sir" whenever he was given orders there was no way in hell he was callin' this Imperial Kark, "sir," either.

"Ya go 'n grab a bounty on some sonofabitch who don't even deserve th'mother he got.

"On the way out, ya discover th'Empire is orbiting the planet ya just hauled space lines from.

"Imps, 'specially Inquisitors, are paranoid bunches...don't deny it," the tip of his cigar point towards Valten.

"It's damn true.

"What's t'keep some frackhead from deciding t'take a popshot at my ship and frackin' up the whole deal. I was bein' pursued by a buncha bloodthirsty mercs who don't give a flyin' mynock 'bout who they're shooting at.

"Bounty gets killed...no one comes out ahead."

Another puff from th'cigar, "Plus, I stuck th'Kid inna bacta tank I got on my ship. She was gonna be fine all the way t'Coruscant. I want m'payday as much as any other guy."

It was then the former bounty hunter (well...current, he supposed...guess ya got t'use the term if ya claimed a bounty again), rose from his chair in almost one motion.

His left arm dropped, the blood starting t'run down his arm, towards his wrist. It pooled briefly at the top of his black glove, before slipping down the underside of his gloved palm.

Kazaar wasn't used t'shaking hands with anyone let alone Imperials. But he figured he had t'do it.

Plus, he could havva little fun with it.

He raised his left hand, grasping Valtan's gloved hand in a firm shake. It was returned.

At th'same time, two droplets of blood flew from Kazaar's wrist. They splashed against the pant leg of the Grand Inquisitor.

Kazaar grimaced, both in pain and (attempted) embarrassment.

"Forgot I'd gotten tagged during th'fight. Must be leakin' again."

He gestured with his cigar, "Might wanna check ya glove too. May've stained it a bit."

[Estelle Russard]

"Put that thing out!"

The head nurse's tone brooked no argument as she strode into the room in response to the beeping monitor. She glared at Kazaar, outraged at the man's audacity. She deigned a curt inspection of the other two men in the room, but crossed immediately to Estelle's bedside.

Checking the datascreen, she then took the girl's pulse, one hand deftly taking Estelle's wrist, counting inwardly to herself and then jotting down the rate on a chart hooked at the bedhead. There was no danger, perhaps just too much stimulation with the visitors.

"Sir" she addressed Kazaar who had only stood watching her and had made no effort to extinguish the offending cigar, "you will put that out or remove yourself from my hospital."

As the nurse busied herself with checking her patient's vitals, Estelle tried to bring herself under control. What a shock to have Valten walk into the room. She felt the fear of captivity threaten to overwhelm her and a low murmur of distress escaped involuntarily from her lips. She couldnt take another go-round as a prisoner. Not so soon. Maybe not ever.

Observing Estelle's sudden unsettled state, the head nurse ammended her last order.

"In fact, there are too many of you in here." She looked at the Inquisitor, a fine looking man in his uniform - if not a trifle frightening. The smoker, well, he was not too bad to look out either, but clearly a rogue. There was a strange tension between all three of them that the nurse suddenly caught to.

"Mr Russard, perhaps you can finish your conversation outside. Your daughter has some way to go before she is up to so many visitors"

[Jason Russard]

Jason had been following the back-and-forth between Inquisitor Valten and Aurelias Kazaar with growing concern and was much relieved at the nurse's arrival.

Some undercurrent was running between these two men and he wasn't quite sure why. He was certain, however, that he didn't like it and that it was dangerous.

"Y-yes, thankyou matron. That is probably a good idea"

His body language gestured for them to follow him out into the family lounge area. He had business to finish with both these gentlemen -- thanks to be extended to them in better form than just an awkward handshake.

"Might we move out into the lounge?"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar shot a glare at th'head nurse.

Th'hell was wrong with you people?

Kazaar didn't expect a frackin' medal for saving 'The Kid', but he at least wanted some respect f'doing it. Not some lecture 'bout the dangers of tobacco smokin', by all Alderaan's Ghosts, that drove 'im nuts.

When 'Jason The Younger' made the offer t'move into the lounge, the former bounty hunter shook his head.

"I ain't going nowhere," he kept his voice at his normal, lowered tone, "Not till 'The Kid' is safe."

The nurse raised a manicured eyebrow and Kazaar stared at 'er a moment. The nurse was wearing a white uniform complete with a goofy-looking white cap, a red cross emblazened on it.

She was tough lookin' in th'garb, high cheekbones 'n all, prolly Mandalorian or something close to it. The Rebel Agent had a feelin this nurse she took no poodoo from anyone.

"Look lady," Kazaar ignored 'er name at the moment, "I don't like it when girls get hurt. And despite how ya feel 'bout my smoking, I ain't leaving the girl's side, until I'm sure she'll be all right."

His arm started t'burn a little more as more blood started t'make its way down past his elbow.

The nurse glowered at him, and she pointed a finger into his chest.

"I will not take no for an answer, sir," her voice hadn't changed its tone.

"You will put out your cigar or I will put you out."

Stang!

Definitely a Mando.

Kazaar gave a snort, then sauntered over to a large window near 'The Kid's' bed. He pushed it open with his right hand, his left arm starting t'become difficult to use.

With a look of almost sorrow at th'loss of the cigar, Kazaar tossed it out th'window.

"Happy now?"

The nurse nodded then stared at the blood dripping on the floor.

"You're bleeding, sir," her tone hadn't changed, as if she were commenting on Kazaar's longish hair.

Kazaar shucked off his black jacket, revealing the covered wound on his upper arm, just below his Ikas-Adno winged tattoo. Blood had seeped through the bacta patches 'The Black Man' had placed on Kazaar's arm back on the Dutchman.

The nurse eyed the wound, then handed a towel to the bounty hunter.

"Clean it up and I'll patch it again in the lounge. You will need some time in a bacta tank, sir. And soon if you want to regain full use of the arm."

Kazaar rolled his eyes, "Yeh yeh."

He started heading towards the door when he stopped by where Estelle lay.

Giving a small grin, he said (outside the nurse's earshot), "I'd stick 'round here, Kid, but I don't think Nurse Palpatine's gonna let me."

That got a smile from 'The Kid'.

Kazaar angled his head outta the room, "Just gonna talk business with ya dad. Ya need anything, just shout and I'll be there."

He sauntered outta the room, leaving his jacket behind. He had another one back at The Flying Dutchman. Plus he figured 'The Kid' might appreciate the semi-tobacco smell associated with him.

Kazaar started wiping blood offa his arm. He'd leave the expired bacta patch on until he could make it to a tank...don't want t'destroy the scab beneath it.

Gods only know what'd happen t'his arm if he did that.

Still focussing on his arm, Kazaar raised his eyes just enough so he could watch Valten and Jason the Younger and Estelle's room.

No way he was gonna let that outta his sight.

[Karl Valten]

A smirk crossed Karl’s face out of sight from Jason and Kazaar. He grabbed a length of towel near the sink on the medical counter and began wiping the red from his glove without comment or disgust.

With the attention off of himself and onto the nurse chewing Kazaar out, Karl kept a vigilant eye on the hunter thanks to the small mirror above the faucet.

This hunter was an interesting one, most couldn’t care less about who they worked for, but at least they showed respect for the authorities. After all, you can’t make a living from a prison cell. But this Kazaar, disdain laced the man’s voice and to insult an Inquisitor like that…..it was amusing. The man definitely had a pair.

Karl turned on the water to wash what was left of the stain off his glove. The sound of running water drowned out the low rip as her tore a bloodied section of towel off.

A quick glance in the mirror showed everyone still focused on the Kazaar-nurse incident. The hunter tossed his cigar out the window under the stern watch of the nurse.

In a second, the blood-stained piece disappeared into Valten’s uniform without a trace. Shutting off the water, the Inquisitor dried his hands and turned. In plain sight he tossed the bloodied towel into the waste basket.

That tattoo of his was an interesting one, but Valten’s eyes were drawn to the drained bacta patch. His eagle eyes caught brief sight of a sliver of a symbol just above the leak. It was only a small the piece, the rest of it probably completely destroyed along with the torn flesh.

Still that one sliver peaked Valten’s mind.

"I'd stick 'round here, Kid, but I don't think Nurse Palpatine's gonna let me."

It was spoken low, out of earshot of everyone in the room, but the Inquisitor’s picked it out as clear as day. Karl’s eyes narrowed just barely on a second thought, though. Interesting how protective the man was of young Estelle. The frank references, the absolute refusal to leave…an amount of chivalry he could take, but the Inquisitorial paranoia was taking over. This seemed like something more to Valten.

…….not now though.

He bowed his head slightly to the nurse. “Apologies, Miss...” Even across the room his eyes picked up the name on the employee card. “…Clay. I’m sure your patient needs her rest.”

Valten stopped at the door, gesturing respectfully with his arm for the occupants to leave.

“We can discuss our business elsewhere.”

[Jason Russard]

Eve Clay had seen some sights in her day. A nurse with long experience in the medical field, would. But something about the small knot of men peripheral to her young patient laying prone in the bed beneath her strong ministering hands made her very uneasy.

"You've got your share of troubles, honey" she murmured not unkindly to Estelle. "Sometimes, one can get too much attention, wouldnt you say"

Estelle kept her expression blank, unwilling to venture her trust to another unknown person, however honest she may appear. However comforting it would feel. Estelle suddenly wished Grace Van Der-Veld was here. It was as if Eve read her thoughts picking up on her inner hesitation, an odd look of understanding touching those stern head-nurse features.
"You try to rest now, dear. Leave those men to their intrigues -- you concentrate on getting well."

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

Out in the lounge Jason had closed to the Inquisitor while Kazaar crossed to the coffee machine, fishing in his pockets for the necessary creds to by a strong black steamer, no sugar.

"I can only reiterate my thanks to you, Inquisitor Valten. I know my request for your help was more than our business dealings allow for. You - and the Empire - were very generous to come to our aide."

Jason was not used to the part of petitioner. All his life he had dealt from a place of privilege and strength - his father before him having built the financial empire that he, Jason the Younger, was now the commander of. He was used to having others cater to him, grovel to him. He, Jason was the beneficint one, the provider, the helper. The one other men came to for direction and guidance. But, as so painfully demonstrated over the past 48 hours, all that money counts for naught in a life and death struggle with evil men.

And this bounty hunter - this was definitely a new chapter in Jason's life. His father, toughened through eeking out a living to eventually come up through the ranks to survive--and thrive-- among the cut-throat politics of high business, obviously had a rich experience in dealing with me like Aurelias Kazaar. The old man knew the questions to ask. And the ones not to ask. Knew how to treat and reward such individuals. Jason felt woefully inadequate in this arena. But he could learn.

But first things first. The Inquisitor held him with that steady gaze.

Jason knew he was offering more perhaps than he would ordinarily want to give, but this was an extraordinary circumstance and so, generous with gratitude, the younger Russard continued.

"In the future, if I can repay you in some way, I trust you will let me know."

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar took a swig from his cup of caf.

And almost spit it back out.

By the Emperor's Ionized Bones, that was god-awful.

And he'd tasted Gracey Van-Derveld's caf.

But he needed th'caffiene so he took 'nother sip. This one he didn't spew back up, but still tasted bad.

The Mandalorian head nurse, her eyes fixed on Kazaar's arm, strode up to the bounty hunter; multiple bacta patches in her hands.

As she started to removed the bacta patches, an almost concerned look came on her face.

"You've taken a ton of damage," her voice states as she noticed some of the flesh was charred.

"What cause this wound?"

True be told, Kazaar didn't know. He'd been too busy tryin' t'grab ape-faced Zellid, he'd believed the pain he felt was from a blaster bolt.

'Course 'The Black Man' hadn't said anything either, but Kazaar didn't expect it t'happen.

"This damage is consistent with a fragmentation grenade," Nurse Clay opined as she placed a new bacta patch on his arm.

Kazaar snorted, "Well thanks Nurse Obvious. Thought it was fromma gizka or something..."

The nurse poked Kazaar a little too hard and he winced.

"I was a battle medic during a battle against the Nagai," Clay stated plainly, "I've seen soldiers stuffing their intestines back into their stomachs, then killing Nagai while they bled out.

"Your injury is nothing."

Another smirk from Kazaar as his arm was re-wrapped.

Nurse Clay gave him a short smile, then walked away.

The former bounty hunter shook his head again, then tried t'stomach the caf again.

[Karl Valten]

Valten smiled again, it was starting to get annoyingly painful, the man rarely was anything close to friendly. Not since his promotion had it been necessary to…socialize...with the peasants. Still it wasn’t as bad as dealing with the politicians and naval officers, those arrogant fools thought that they could order him about. They would have to be shown their place in due time.

“We aren’t as bad as the tabloids and rumormongers make us out to be.” It was amusing to see a business mogul so submissive, almost sickening really. Still a sense of triumph seeped into his mind, this was just what he had been waiting for. The smile stayed on his face, only this time it was real.

“Though I’m sorry to say it seems that I wasn’t the best person for the task.” Karl turned to look at the bounty hunter being bandaged by Nurse Clay. Truth be told, the Inquisitor had been more than irked when Morewind had reported a failure. To think a mere bounty hunter succeed before the Inquisitoriate was infuriating, not to mention ground for an investigation. “I may have a preposition for you.” He’d have to keep an eye on this Kazaar.

“But there is a more pressing matter at hand.” Karl moved along the window, tracing a gloved finger along the dark mahogany frame. The every day bustle of the cattle living in the city did nothing to reflect the chaotic speed at which the galaxy was changing.

Inquisitor Valten stopped to look out at the cityscape. “Do you know why you’re daughter was kidnapped?” It was a strange question to ask, but it was needed. With Morewind’s report came the need for answers.

[Jason Russard]

"For money" Jason replied, not really following Karl's question. He'd thought the reason was obvious. "The family name is no secret, our fortune well known. It was, perhaps, foolish of us not to have seen such a turn of events coming, but our Imperial connections are also well known. Only the foolish would risk entanglements with the Empire and in the past this has proven true."

He had not meant the comment as a sleight or an intonation that the Empire was not as feared as it had been. He quickly qualified his remark. "Timander was obviously a fool. Dangerous and bold, but still a fool."

A thought came to Jason which he had not entertained before.

"They also wanted one of my suits - the armor I designed for you." He lifted his eyes questioningly to the Inquisitor. "Do you think this was his main objective...?"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar swigged his caf, still attempting to stomach it. He gave a shake, the kind which was so minimal no one woulda noticed it, even from his muscular body.

His left arm still hurt like hell and even with the fresh bacta patch...it wasn't going away. Kazaar cursed inwardly at th'fact he'd hafta 'trust' the Imps (especially Valtan) t'not frack with his mind while he was indisposed.

Then he tried not to laugh out loud when Valten mentioned how th'Inqs weren't as 'scary' as they seemed t'be.

Yeah right.

Kazaar'd seen holos of some of th'results of 'Inquisitoriate Questioning' given t'various Rebels. It hadn't been pretty. The guys'd been mentally destroyed, not able t'perform their duty anymore.

The worst were th'sleeper agents.

One buddy of the former bounty hunter, named 'Baldy', had gotten caught then had his personality changed by one of th'Inquisitors. Tried t'take a shot at Mon Razien.

He'd been stopped but still...that didn't matter. 'Baldy' was gone, replaced by some Imperial-created monster.

'Course...that monster was gone too...but still...hadn't been pretty.

The Rebel Agent was pretty certain the Inquisitors would be pretty steamed 'bout him grabbin' 'The Kid' before they could. 'Course he wouldn't blame 'em either...but it'd been nice t'hack 'em off a bit.

He popped his knuckles with each of his palms (or tried to with his left hand...ended up having t'use the metal table next to him right arm). The knuckles *cracked* and the sound resonated a bit in the empty 'n sterile hospital room.

His black eyes saw the Imp and Jason Russard raise their eyebrows at the sound, actually it looked like Russard almost jumped at th'sound, but Kazaar couldn't tell.

He gave a smirk 'n gave a lazy shrug.

Damn jumpy people.

[Karl Valten]

Valten shifted his annoyed glance off of the bounty hunter and back on to Jason Russard. In all honesty, the Grand Inquisitor would have preferred it if Kazaar just disappeared. But for some reason the man had such a fascination with keeping ‘the kid’ safe, almost aggressively so.

He probably could throw the man out….and start a fight in the process. No, conflict would only be damaging at this time. No choice but to see how far he could play this out.

“It is a concern of mine. I am extremely anxious about how a pirate found out about the purchases. All of our suits are accounted for and I am certain the leak did not come from our end.” Karl stopped, letting the thought sink in. If Russard Enterprises was insecure, it would be a liability to the Inquisitoriate’s security.

Karl shook his head though, shifting the conversation, leaving it hanging at the back of Jason’s mind. Options ran through his mind, wondering how best to guide this along.

“Timander is a fool, in more ways than one. But no, I don’t think that was their intention at first.” Valten threw a quick glance towards the hunter with a slight sneer. “Mr. Kazaar was kind enough to spare us one of Timander’s flunkies.”

“Let me ask you this; are you familiar with the massacre in the Sah’c district food court?”

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar's ears perked up a bit at the mention of the Sah'c District Food Court. Obviously, that'd been where 'The Kid' and Kal Kristmansen been ambused by Timandar's group.

He finished off th'caf, then rose to his booted feet. He figured he could use another cup of the stuff (even in its awful state it was still caffiene and it'd keep him awake). Plus, the former bounty hunter figured he'd add 'a little something extra' to it as well.

Thank th'Force/Gods/Maker/whoever th'frack was out there f'bourbon. That made things a bit better.

Plus it made his lack of cigar a bit more bearable.

"You realize we don't allow drinking in this place either," Nurse Clay's prim'n proper voice came from over his left shoulder.

Kazaar rolled his black eyes, "What ya don't stick a little somthin' in ya caf? C'mon lady ya ain't that stuck up are ya?"

Clay's expression didn't change.

"Lemme guess...you're gonna tell me not t'mix alcohol'n bacta either."

She gave a taut smile, "I believe you know that all ready."

Kazaar gulped his caf, tryin' t'make sure he could hear what Valten 'n Russard were saying.

He caught snippets of it, enough t'recognize what was bein' said'n what the Inquisitor was insinuating.

"Tell ya what lady," Kazaar didn't feel like arguing, "I'll finish this cup then stash my drink away all right? I'm tired o'arguing with ya."

Clay's taut smile didn't change, although the former bounty hunter swore he saw a look of triumph in 'er eyes.

Prissy little...

"Good. Your bacta chamber is ready as well. I suggest you not waste anymore time either, Mr. Kazaar."

Kazaar gave a snort, "Sure whatever ya say."

As the nurse walked away, the Alderaanian-borne man from Brentaal was certain he saw 'a look' in her eyes.

A look which said, "I know what you are."

His black eyes rolled.

Frackin' Mandos.

[Jason Russard]

The insinuation was not lost on Russard, but he had the good grace -- and the wisdom-- to temper his reply. Valten was, if anything, singleminded about the Inquisitoriate and any suggestion of fault among them was tantamount to heresy. Besides, the Inquisitor was probably right. Russard's business empire was most assuredly not run as securely as was the Imperial Empire. The Russard business dealings were confidential - the Military contracts completely so. But the opportunity for disloyalty to the company was directionally proportional to the punishment it was requited. Jason fired people, maybe sued them. The Inquisitoriate had more final solutions to betrayal.

"I will look into the possibility of any information leak from our end" he assured Karl.

Jason watched as the nurse strode off down the corridor, leading the way for Kazaar to follow. In his peripheral, Russard had picked up something about the bacta tank, but Valten's question had pulled any stray attentions back, along with a feeling of misgiving.

"Massacre? I seem to recall something on the news, but as you can imagine - my mind was on other things"

[Karl Valten]

Half of the Inquisitor’s mind followed the interactions of Nurse Clay and the hunter, the Inquisitoriate paranoia always riding through. Valten subconsciously felt the neural socket at the base of his neck and a thought crossed his mind.

Kazaar unconscious in a bacta tank. It would be the perfect opportunity, but they spark faded as quickly as the idea had come. Not worth the effort on a mere mercenary, not yet at least.

“Put your mind on this then. Timander’s thugs were doing the killing, attacking a competitor it seems. But…”

In the hours it had taken Kazaar and his crew, Karl assumed crew anyway, the man couldn’t have pulled off that job by himself, Inquisitor Morewind had been feeding information. Timander’s pawn was quite talkative.

“…You’re daughter was at that food court when the shooting took place with a known gun-runner, supposedly as his…..romantic attaché.”

Valten looked hard at Jason, this was intriguing. The girl was more than she seemed, suspiciously so. A security risk like that could not be allowed so close to the Inquisitoriate, if she was a risk.

“Our prisoner tells us that she kept giving her name as ‘Danielle’.” The Inquisitor did not go farther, his eyes taking on a dangerous iron gaze.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

They got someone alive?

Kazaar's black eyes were dull, but his mind worked through another puzzle. He'd killed everyone there...save for that damn medic.

Frack!

Chuff-sucking hut'uunla chakaar! Kazaar thought ruefully. He knew he shoulda blasted 'im while he had th'chance.

But nothin' ever went right, it seemed. He might grabbed 'The Kid', but now some overly paranoid Imperial Kark was gonna blow th'whole thing to hell.

The Rebel Spy cursed inwardly again, then tossed his empty caf cup into a waste basket.

His left arm hurt...bad, a tingling numbness coming over it. It started just on the exterior of his bicep muscle, then spread down to his left hand.

It hurt, the bacta patch not doin' a damn thing t'help. Wounds like that...if ya didn't get it treated soon, you'd lose a limb. And Kazaar didn't feel like bein' a cyborg th'rest of his life.

He gave a painful shrug, then pulled a small holdout blaster from his jacket pocket.

Palming it, Kazaar tossed it towards Jason Russard. The Industrialist caught it, then stared at the former bounty hunter.

"In case ya need it," was th'only reply Kazaar gave, "I'm hittin' th'bacta. Ya need me...just pull me out."

He turned on his heel, giving the Inquisitor a glare, then disappeared into the bacta-housing room.

He'd be back inna day.

[Jason Russard]

Jason eyed the blaster in his palm as if it were some unclean thing - its black gleam as if it were a pool of poison in his hand. He had never liked guns such as these. The recreational game hunt was all Jason had the temperament for, but even that had been a deliberate act of will in the beginning. In effort to realise a common interest other than business between himself and his father, Russard the Younger had gone on trips to the forrested moon of Endor to hunt game there. The overall experience had been a tolerable one, with the exception of the actual kill. Where old man Russard had been envigorated and revitilised by such endeavors, Jason had been dismayed and a little repulsed. He didnt have the predatory streak his father had and it was never more apparent than on those early trips. He remembered well how disappointed the old man had been when Jason declined an easy shot of a deer drinking from a river pool. The old man had looked on him as if he were less than a man and hadn't spoken to him all that day, nor the following night.

Over time, Jason had taken the shots, made the kills. He'd learned to steel himself against that awful sick feeling that came with every mark he'd hit. But he'd never learned to enjoy it.

That same feeling resurfaced as Kazaar's blaster had slapped into his hand.

Karl was watching him again, and Jason felt the same judgment he had felt from his father. He pocketed the gun without comment.

"Danielle....Well, that is odd I agree. Perhaps she was trying to convince them she was not a Russard. I dont recall her speaking of any new boyfriend, but Inquisitor, my daughter is 23 years old. She doesn't ask my permission on whom she can socialize with."

He didn't like Karl's tone in regards to Estelle, nor the iron stare. Just what was he driving at anyway? That Estelle was trying to sell Imperial secrets to smugglers and pirates? Now that was just absurd.

"I might remind you that Russard Industries have been loyal to the Empire for over thirty years and to the Inquisitoriate particularly, these past two. I hope you aren't implying my daughter was complicit in this..." he searched for the right word while, if not matching iron for iron - met the Inquisitor's stare with a candid and determined one of his own, "...in this affair"

[Karl Valten]

Karl fixed his eyes on the small pistol; the Inquisitor was almost startled. Sneaky little glittbitter knew how to keep his weapons hidden. He glared at the hunter out of the corner of his eye; this was the third time in so few months that someone had nearly caught him off guard. With a subtle twitch of his wrist, the blade of an ivory dagger vanished back into the Inquisitor’s sleeve. The alien feeling of slipping chilled his spine, he hadn’t even noticed that vibroblade until Kazaar drew the hold-out blaster.

He sighed in response to Russard; the man was stubborn with a flair and vigorously defensive. Most people would have cowered under the gaze of an inquisitor. Still it was a bit admirable; Jason was a father to the core…….family only blinded people.

“I know, Jason, I know.” Karl struggled to soften his expression and gestured with an arm. “But if I don’t ask the questions, others will.”

Valten spoke the truth, it was surprising how often he actually did. If another Inquisitor were to pry Jason enough they’d be able to trace the connection between the Russard corporation and Valten—and lead them to his other questionable actions, questionable even by Inquisitorial standards. And Karl wasn’t ready to deal with the High Inquisitors, not yet at least.

Valten dropped the subject about Estelle’s alias, he’d have Morewind look into things further.

“I’m sorry to press you, especially after what you and your daughter have gone through. Whether the prisoner is right or not, you’re daughter could’ve been used against you without her knowing.”

[Morewind]

The Sah’c District Food Court

He was pacing the area quietly, his brown eyes attempting to spot what other investigators had missed.

Inquisitor Morewind was far from pleased he'd been forced to report failure in aquiring Estelle Russard from her kidnappers but, he reasoned, there were certain things even he couldn't force.

Still, he was in a bit of a foul mood. The good news was, he didn't take it out on his inferiors.

Instead, he worked harder...attempting to decipher what had been missed and what information he could glean from the kidnapping.

There wasn't much...the entire area was still a mess, having not been reopened. The group which owned the Food Court wanted the place reopened so people could 'get on' with their lives and not whisper in hushed tones, 'Wasn't this the place that girl...'

But the Empire wouldn't allow it. They were conducting their investigation and taking their time with it.

When it came to things involving the Inquisitors they tried to be thorough.

But so far, Morewind mused, the thoroughness hadn't turned up anything.

Except for the question as to why Estelle Russard was in the Food Court in the first place? Why was she kidnapped?

Valten was following up on the line of thinking, but Morewind wished it was he doing the questioning.

Morewind thrived on information and the uses for it. The quest of it woke him up, made him put on his Inquisitor uniform, and deal with all of the inferior races in the Empire.

Morewind's sharp eyes noticed something as he crouched near the table where the attack had happened.

It was in the gutter, a shape he couldn't see, but it was definitely something alien to the region.

With a gloved hand, the Chief Inquisitor motioned for one of the ebony-armoured stormtoopers of the Inquisitorate forward.

"Remove the grate," his voice was accented barely, an accent unplacable.

"Yes sir," the stormtrooper's voice was deep, even with the vocabulator. Almost like the dead-Lord Vader.

It caused him pause, the voice was almost familiar. Morewind stored it for later.

The grate was removed and he reached his hand into the gutter.

And found it. A small hold-out blaster.

It was a 22T4. It was strictly prohibited for civilian use and only Imperials had it.

So why was it in a gutter where a crime had taken place?

Surely there was someone within Imperial Intel who wasn't that careless?!?

A small sigh.

"Take this to the lab for..." his voice trailed off as he realized no one was around him.

Something felt wrong...very wrong.

His own blaster, specifically-made for him by Imperial Munitions (the benefits of being a Chief Inquisitor), came out of his waist holster and he scanned the area.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

He spoke into his com-link, "Chief Inquisitor Morewind requesting a squad sent to the Sah'c District Food Court."

His senses caught something to his right and Morewind saw a flash of silver from...something.

It struck his temple and the world went black.

[Jason Russard]

The idea was a disturbing one, and something Jason had never really considered. Well, not in such personal terms as Valten had just put them.

His work for the Imperials was, by definition, sensitive. Russard Enterprises had designed and built the first biosuit specifically created for use in guerilla warfare and had been commissioned by the Empire to tailor it for Imperial use. It had been a coveted contract and Jason had been proud and thrilled to have successfully landed it. While some reservation had been expressed by Jason's father on the outset of the project, Russard had never fully understood the old man's concern. Was this what he had been fearing?

Thoughts that the Alliance rebels would seek to exploit his own family in their fight against the Imperials had not ever worried Jason. The rebels were so few and the Empire so huge. Really - what could they do?

Jason glanced in the direction of Estelle's room.

Could they have done this? Would they?

Somehow, Jason couldn't reconcile the Alliance using kidnapping and such wanton violence against an innocent to reach their desired end. He did not voice this to the Inquisitor, however.

"What can we do, then? How can we keep everything (and by this, he meant everyone) secure?"

[Karl Valten]

Karl paused for a moment in thought. If he could have it his way, he’d have Inquisitorial personnel take over security systems, but that wouldn’t go over well with the Russards or the Moffs. Valten was still getting used to the Grand Inquisitor title, instead of having his word be law he actually needed public appeal. It was a frustrating transition.

“At the least have a slicer run scans through your databanks for foul play and reset the passwords as a precaution.”

Still, Jason probably had more than the company in mind. His concern was for his family first and foremost. Karl could assign an agent or squad to the Russard corporation for use as they saw fit…..No, that would raise to many eyebrows.

Valten stared at the doorway where the hunter disappeared to in his thoughts. He’d have to keep an eye on that hunter as well. He might prove useful in the future, if he was just another credit hunger mynock the Inquisitoriate would just let him loose, and if he turned out to be a thread, he’d be eliminated.

“What about a bodyguard.” The inquisitor turned his head towards Jason while leaning against a window. “Kazaar seems to have genuine concern for his contracts. The Inquisitoriate would cover his price.”

[Jason Russard]

"Thats a very good idea" Jason allowed.

In fact, it was a great idea. The man, Kazaar, had brought his daughter home to him against great odds to the contrary. And whatever the relationship between him and his daughter, it appeared to be one of mutual care.

"Your offer is kind, Inquisitor, but there is no need for the Empire to take the expense of me knowing my daughter is protected. I will however do as you suggest and have my operations thoroughly examined - equipment and personell."

Jason's jaw hardened. "This will never happen again, I assure you"

[Karl Valten]

Valten put on his best ‘friendly’ smile. “Very well, at least allow me to pay the original bounty. We failed where we shouldn’t have.” And the fact was still eating at the Grand Inquisitor’s core, someone’s head would be sitting on Valten’s desk soon enough.

“If you need assistance with security, we will be glad to offer our services. The Empire values her partners wellfa…” Karl suddenly stopped speaking, his eyes taking a vacant look for a mere moment. To Jason it would seem as if the Inquisitor had just been mind scrubbed. In reality, Karl was receiving a stream of encrypted data directly to the implant fused to his neural pathways. In layman’s terms, he was ‘thinking’ back and forth with another source. And the message was a disturbing one, disturbing enough that Valten had actually made the noticeable pause. Such a mistake was only done by freshly augmented agents.

“…re.” Life came back to the Grand Inquisitor’s eyes and his voice caught again. The tone changed to a gruffer and aggravated one. Karl was struggling to keep anger out of his speech. “I apologize, but I must take my leave.”

Karl stood and made his way to the turbolift, sparing a last glance behind. “I may have a proposition for your corporation. I wish your daughter a speedy recovery.”

And in a flash the Grand Inquisitor in his black uniform was down the lift without rhyme or reason for his hasty exit. At the mezzanine the lift disgorge Karl, a heavy dent left in the back rail.

[Morewind]

Morewind was being checked by a medic when Valten arrived at the scene. By his looks (and rather annoyed face) he'd rushed over from the hospital quickly.

Morewind gave him a nod, then pulled the piece of gauze away from the back of his brown-haired head. It came back bloody.

"I was attacked, Grand Inquisitor," his tone was matter-of-fact. After all it was the truth.

"I believe we were infiltrated by the Rebels or, at least, the squadron sent to investigate the Sah'c Food Court was."

He rose from where he sat in the ambulance, motioned Valten to follow, then walked to the metal grate where the 22T4 blaster had been.

Not surprisingly it was gone.

"It was here I discovered a 22T4 blaster, possibly dropped by Timandar's group...possibly dropped by Kamden Tutor."

A minor shake of the head, "Either way...Someone from Imperial Intel either sold their 22T4 blaster or it was stolen."

A moment of silence between the two.

"Also," Morewind continued his report, "I think I know who my attacker was. Would you like a replay of the audio sent to your implant?"

[Jason Russard]

Russard watched Valten disappear into the turbolift, lost as to his abrupt exit.

It was understandable, of course, a man in the Inquisitor's position would be much in demand - his presence or input needed at a moment's notice. But it was as if Valten stalled mentally for a moment, much like a droid hitting some glich in his circuitry and rerouting his intel-drive.

However, it was the change in disposition that was the most unnerving. Jason saw the hardness that came into Karl's eyes. It was there only briefly before it was reigned in, but long enough for it to concern Russard.

Stepping back into his daughter's room, Jason put all worries to the back of his mind - the proposal that Valten had alluded to as well as the proposal that he, himself, would put to the Bounty Hunter Kazaar. For now, he would sit with Estelle - and bring what comfort and strength to her that he could.

[Karl Valten]

Valten’s mind had been skipping in and out of focus since his departure from the hospital. It seemed that the entire galaxy was desperately trying to distract him from his mission.

It was incidents like this that became most annoying. No person in their right mind would outright attack an Inquisitor. But he had no time for this, not with his and Helghast’s plans in their final stages.

“Yes.” Valten hadn’t even taken the time to review the audio yet…so many things to do.

“I doubt Director Esalis would be pleased to hear that her department had made such a blunder.”

Intelligence and the Inquisitoriate, though technically in same brance of the Ministry of Defense, rarely saw eye to eye. But at least they were both devoted to the Imperium.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Morewind shook a brown-haired head.

"No, I do not believe she would...

"Shall I continue my investigation?" he asked almost unneccessarily, both men all ready knew the answer, but it was easier to ask.

All the High Inquisitor got was a nod and the two parted ways, Valten to his quarters for rest, Morewind to the hospital...just to be safe.

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

One Day Later- Heroes of the Empire Memorial Medical Center

Kazaar was dispensed (with a rather relieved look from some of the techs) from th'bacta tank area. He'd refused t'go to the main Bacta Tank area, demanding he'd be placed in one o'the emergency tanks on 'The Kid's floor.

Nurse Clay hadn't liked it, but yielded when Kazaar pointed out th'sooner he was inna tank, the sooner he'd be outta her hair. With a sigh, the Mandalorian nurse threw (literally) Kazaar inna tank and didn't see 'im again until that evening.

He was wearing his usual garb of black pants, white button down shirt, and his long coat. His pants were ripped on the left leg and his shirt was starting t'fray at the elbows, but the former bounty hunter was comfortable and frack fashion trends.

'Sides, they were fickle anyway.

He strode into Estelle's room, noting the Grand Inquistor Bastard was gone and Jason The Younger remained as a semi-guard.

Both father and daughter appeared t'be resting as comfortably as possible, although Jason the Younger looked haggard, strained at th'toll Estelle had taken.

The Brentaal-raised Alderaanian gave a smirk at th'devotion of the father to th'daughter.

If he only knew how well she could take care of 'erself...

He sat down in the nearest chair, rather comfortable actually, and made a sound loud enough t'start the industrialist from his sleeping form. Russard fumbled for the blaster on the desk, then noticed it was Kazaar who'd made th'noice.

"Just got outta th'tank," Kazaar's guttural voice was low enough not t'wake the sleeping Estelle.

"Figured I'd relieve ya at guard if ya wanted t'head on home."

[Jason Russard]

Jason straightened himself in his chair with effort. Not designed for sleeping, the steel frame, though amply padded with heavy cushions, made for a poor bed and Jason's back ached abominably.

"Oh, you're looking better" he observed to Kazaar. Rubbing a hand around his neck, Russard groaned audibly as he popped the kinks that had settled there as he'd slept, "Should've taken a room in town probably, but didn't want to leave her" he explained unnecessarily.

Kazaar nodded. Couldn't blame him.

"We hope to take her home tonight. We'll have a nurse come in and stay - I think she'll prefer that, dont you?"

Kazaar gave Jason a measured look, which could have meant anything.

Russard realised this Kazaar wasn't much of a conversationalist.

"I dont know if I thanked you properly for bringing my daughter home to me, Mr Kazaar. I wondered if you might be available for, um, further employment perhaps..?"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Before Kazaar could reply, an orderly walked into the hospital room. Russard turned his eyes towards the tall, black man and Kazaar's face twisted into a semi-smile/smirk. 'The Black Man' had durasteel ones, that's f'sure...and prolly the size of sweetmelons.

"Sorry to bother you," The Black Man spoke as he started writing onna small clipboard, "The doctor wants some bloodwork done on Miss Russard before we release her."

While he was speaking, the secretive Rebel bumped into th'chair Kazaar was sitting in. The clipboard he was carrying fell to the ground and both Kazaar and 'The Black Man' reached for it. The way they were positioned kept the Elder Russard from spying the text.

The note was simple, "You're stationed on Coruscant now. Take the job."

Kazaar gave a small nod as the text started disappearing. 'The Black Man' retrieved his clipboard, then headed by 'The Kid's' sleeping body. He pressed a small syringe into her arm, then started to leave.

As 'The Black Man' was walking out th'door, Kazaar replied t'Jason Russard's question.

"Yeh. I'm available. What'd ya have in mind?"

[Jason Russard]

Jason watched the orderly come and go, syringe tucked into his coat pocket, beofre replying.

"I think it would be wise to keep some one capable - such as yourself - close to my daughter. This event has, I admit, shaken me quite badly. Having someone I can trust watching out for Estelle, keeping her safe, would find me very grateful"

Russard was used to dealing with money. Propositions rewarded with good money. It was a rare man who refused him, and Russard the Younger had already determined he would not take a "no" from Aurelias Kazaar. His firm gaze said as much. If Kazaar was a smart man - and Jason was certain that he was - Aurelias could well name his own price.

"What do you say Mr. Kazaar?"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

"I'd say ya gotta deal," the smirk on Kazaar's face turned larger, "Gotta condition though, I think you'll agree with.

"Let me take care of this bastard, Timandar. My own way too. What he did...he don't deserve t'live."

A larger smirk, "Should take me a couple weeks t'do it too. Talk t'Gorgja if ya want t'work outta fee. He handles that's stuff...pretty fair too."

[Jason Russard]

Normally, such a suggestion would revolt Jason. Cold blooded revenge was not something that Russard would be party too, let alone encourage. He would normally have no use for such a man as the one seated across from him. It was his father who was at home in this dubious arena and who could talk on common association with such nefarious characters. Funny that Jason should think of his father at such a moment, and feel that the old man would somehow be proud..

"Do whatever you can, Mr Kazaar" Jason agreed with uncharacteristic coldness. "You have my full support"

"We will expect you at the Estate on your immediate return.

Please keep us informed"

Estelle stirred in the bed beside him, and Jason realised she had been listening to their exchange. She was looking at him a little sadly, and a tinge of shame crept into his cheeks. Jason squashed it defiantly.

This was an exceptional circumstance. His daughter must see that?

"God speed, Mr Kazaar. Do this quickly and come back to us safely."

[Aurelias Kazaar]

The look on Kazaar's face was something 'The Kid' recognized. It said, 'Hey it's me. I'll come back.' The big question was always in what condition he'd come back in.

The bounty hunter/Rebel Spy paused by Estelle's bed before he started his hunt for her injurer. His scarred face turned into a kind smile and he took her hand.

"Won't be too long, Kid. I'll be back b'fore ya miss me," Kazaar let go, leaving the black butane light in her hand. It was a promise, he would return.

Kazaar gave a nod to the elder Russard and exited the hospital room, leaving the two Russards to sit in silence.

[Estelle Russard]

Her fingers folded around the lighter and Estelle watched Kazaar leave. She knew what he would do, knew that he would not settle until he finished things with Timandar. As long as he came back, that's all she cared about.

Her father looked tired, but some of the strain had left his features now as he sat on the end of her bed. "Did you mean that? We can go home?" she asked.

Jason stroked her cheek softly and smiled down at her, both of them remembering the many times he'd done so as he tucked her in of a night growing up. "Sleep now, Elle. I'll arrange everything"

Estelle did as he said, and allowed herself to drift off to the peace of sleep.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar strode towards the turbolift happy t'get the hell outta this hospital. It'd take him up to the roof, The Flying Dutchman, and the chance t'hunt down that bastard Timandar.

Evey Clay was waiting for him as he passed by the nurse's station. The head nurse handed Kazaar his blasters, as well as a vibroblade, before following him towards the lift.

"Mister Russard has arranged to pay for your bacta treatment. I don't agree with it mind you, but I suppose since you brought the girl in, you deserve the respect."

A smirk came to th'Rebel's mouth, "Yeh, yeh. Was that all ya wanted t'say, Evey? Or did ya have something else t'take up my time."

The Imperial Nurse glared and Kazaar was pretty sure not a ton of people called her 'Evey', "I know people, Kazaar. People who'd be interested to find out about you."

Kazaar snorted. Hadn't been th'first time someone tried t'recruit him into some organization or another. He gave Clay th'same answer he'd given everyone else of this type.

"No. Not interested Clay. Ya wanna run 'round and recruit people t'fight your battles fine. But not me. I ain't interested."

The Mandalorian woman's face remained in its glare, "I wouldn't brush us off so quickly, Kazaar. Like I said...I know things. About you."

The former bounty hunter rolled his eyes, coming to a stop before th'turbolift. The sooner he got off this place and it's frackin' secret organizations the better.

"Ain't interested. And I ain't interested in blackmail. Ya wanna say I've got Mandalorian blood? Fine. Say it. I don't give a mynock's wing 'bout it. Ya wanna tell ya 'secret buddies' 'bout it? Fine say it. I don't givva damn."

Thankfully th'lift doors opened and Kazaar stepped into the lift.

"But I ain't frackin' interested. Got it?"

The doors shut before Clay could say anything else.

Kazaar made it to th'roof, thankful The Flying Dutchman was still where it was. All he needed was f'some damn Imperial bureaucrat t'impound the ship and keep him on planet. If that'd happened, Kazaar woulda ended up in the brig again. And prolly for a helluva lot longer than his seven-month stay in a Rebellion brig.

The Brentaal-raised Alderaanian walked up th'ramp to The Dutchman, greeting 'Trey' as he entered the ship.

"They try t'stick anything on here?" Kazaar strode towards his humidor, where he pulled outta very dark cigar. As the R5 droid *twittered* his response, the scent of burning tobacco started wafting through the ship.

Kazaar took a couple puffs before responding, "So try tried but it disappeared sometime last night? I have a pretty good idea who caused that t'happen.

"Speaking of which...ya wanna come out now. I know you're here, Black Man."

The air off t'Kazaar's left started *shimmering* a bit, as a black-clad man suddenly appeared. The mask was removed and 'Othniel' stood there, his arms crossed.

"Whatta ya want 'Othniel'," the ship's owner's voice was as petulant with this black-ops Rebel, as it was with pretty much everyone else who enjoyed bein' sneaky, "Wait...don't tell me. Ya wanna recruit me t'be in your group."

A tight smile came onto 'The Black Man's' face, "Not comepletely Kazaar. I do want to continue our working relationship, but there's more important things to worry about right now.

"First off," the secretive Rebel pulled a small hold-out blaster from somewhere in his bodysuit, then tossed it to Kazaar. It was the 22T4 Hold-out Blaster, Kazaar'd given to Estelle over eight months ago (http://www.sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?t=15177), "I found this at the scene of the kidnapping. I thought you could use this."

Kazaar rolled the blaster through his fingers, "Thanks. Ya see 'The Twins'?"

"I didn't bother to check out Agent Russard's apartment, but I think she has it there," 'Othniel' replied, "But I need to talk to you about your employment..."

Oh great, Kazaar thought.

"The agreement between my organization and Belargic's is this: You've been reinstated with full benefits into Rebel Intelligence. But you'll be doing more business for me as well. Your position has yet to be determined, but it will at a later date (http://sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?t=16108). Miss Russard will also be a part of the group as well."

The former bounty hunter gave a scowl at th'notion of doing work for this black-ops lovin' nerfherder, "And if I don't agree t'it?"

A sly smile came to 'Othniel's' face, "Your cell is waiting for you."

Frack, Kazaar thought, "Awright, ya gotta deal. Ya know where Timandar might be?"

'The Black Man' handed his new operative a manilla envelope, "He should be headed there. It's been a sanctuary of his for quite some time."

Kazaar shook his head, "Great. Now get th'hell outta my sight."

'The Black Man' gave an almost bow, then pressed something on his belt. A moment later and he was gone.

"I frackin' hate that guy," Kazaar grumped, relighting his cigar. The damn conversation had forced 'em t'forget he was even smoking. That sure as hell didn't happen very often.

"Let's get outta here 'Trey'. Next thing ya know, the Inquisitors are gonna want me t'help 'em out."

Ten minutes later and The Flying Dutchman joined the space traffic headin' outta the Imperial Center. Up next...Kazaar would pay Ghlar Timandar a 'visit' and teach 'im the true meaning of the word 'pain'.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Epilogue: Coruscant- Two Weeks Later

It was one of the few times that rain fell upon the city-planet of Coruscant, the Empire decidin' it was time t'wash away 'the smell' of th'city. 'Course when 'the smell' had everything t'do with who was in power and not the emissions coming from all th'factories on the planet.

And whoever was at th'controls of the 'weather machine' decided t'make it a real fracking thunderstom, complete with flashing lightning and booming thunder.

In the Russard Estate, Estelle Russard was curled up in her bed. Her dreams were still vivid, filled with images of Ghlar Timandar and his ape, Zellid. She tossed in her sleep, her eyes clenched as she tried t'push the nightmares away.

After one particular horrid dream, her arm shot out...and grasped a strong, firm arm.

Her eyes shot open and she turned t'see the smirking face of Aurelias Kazaar. There was something odd 'bout the smirk though, it had a kind, sympathetic tint to it. As if Kazaar knew the dreams she was experiencing. She pressed her hand into his arm again and Kazaar's smirked widened.

"Yeh it's me, Kid. I ain't an illusion. Got in 'bout an hour ago and came straight here."

'The Kid' noticed there was a new scar on her partner's face, one that was vaguely 'star-like', and Kazaar's left arm was inna sling. Even then, it was her partner, her rescuer.

And of course, he was smoking a cigar.

Kazaar tossed a datapad onto her bed and Estelle stared at it.

The body a man found flayed and beheaded has been identified as noted smuggler and arms dealer, Ghlar Timandar. The 45-year-old Timandar was found on Denevar and took three days to ID because of the nature of the remains. Authorities aren't sure if Timandar was killed on Denevar or brought there by whoever killed him. Their investigation is ongoing...

Estelle's eyes widened and Kazaar took 'er hand again, "You okay, Kid?"

[Estelle Russard]

The scene the datapad depicted was a gruesome one, but Estelle did not feel her usual sense of abhorrence to such an image. This surprised her a little, but she could not bring herself to feel guilty for the lack. Timandar got what he deserved.

"You were thorough, as usual" she said with approval.

"Had t'be done" he replied.

If her coldness concerned him, he did not show it.

"It will help the dreams" he added, as if he knew about such things.

Estelle nodded.

"He put up a fight..?" she asked, referring to Kazaars armsling and his new red scar.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar gave a smirk, "Wasn't easy."

Estelle smiled a small smile and glanced at Kazaar's hand and wrist. There was something odd about his injury, as if something had left an indention on a couple fingers. It almost looked liked there were eyesockets of some kind.

Her curiousity got the best of her, "Did you punch something metal?"

Her partner gave a dark glare, "Don't ask, Kid. Don't frackin' ask."

Even at the late hour, 'The Kid' almost started laughing, "You did punch something metal. Oh Aurelias, you really are a mess."

The words sent a shock through Kazaar. It hadn't been th'first time he'd heard a female close t'him say something like that. He did his best t'keep his features controlled and t'be honest, the bodyguard wasn't sure if he was successful.

'The Kid' didn't seem t'notice it so it must not've.

"Just don't go t'Cloud 9 on Bespin forra while. Spenny turned th'damn thing into a frackin' non-smoking bar."

Estelle couldn't help but laugh at the entire situation.

"It ain't funny, Kid. I'm serious, it ain't frackin' funny."

She kept laughing, she couldn't help it.

Kazaar shook his head and gave a smile, "Heard from th'guys upstairs. We're gonna be working t'gether forra while."

[Estelle Russard]

Working together for a while? Well, that sounded just fine to her.

Kazaar had been the one who brought her home, and she would not soon forget it.

When she had been losing hope and the faith that she would come out of her ordeal alive, it was his rough, worn face that had been the most precious thing she could have seen. Some how, she knew he was the one. Every body had a "one". Someone that would never fail them in the crunchtime. For all his rough edges and brusque manners, Estelle could think of noone else she would rather partner up with.

"Looks like Bossman knew what he was doing after all, huh"

Her smile matched his crooked one.

"Yeah, well, lets not get carried away praisin' Belargic. Im t'one with the busted hand"

Her smile widened, thinking of Spendrim and the wrath he must have incurred from Aurelias. The man sure enjoyed his cigars.

"I hear you're to be my driver" she said, humor returning to her voice. "Does that mean Im in charge now?"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

"Don't get cocky, Kid," Kazaar shot back, although there was laughter in his dead, black eyes, "I'm supposed t'talk with ya dad and grandfather tomorrow 'bout what my job 'round here will actually be.

"Hauling ya 'round may be a part of th'job. But ya got plenty t'learn too," his hand reached out and and pressed 'The Kid's' head against his shoulder. It was an odd gesture, the almost hug. There was no other way t'describe it. It was just...odd, "We'll talk 'bout it later. Get some rest.

"I ain't gonna leave ya tonight."

Estelle settled back onto the bed. The last thing she saw when she closed her eyes, and the first thing she was when she opened 'em, was the watchful form of Kazaar.