In Sheep's Clothing

[Naomi Lang]

De-Purteen, Capitol of Ord Cantrell
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For being in the middle of nowhere in the outer rim, Ord Cantrell was a fracking nice place. Helluva lot better than Imperial center, sure the buildings were still tall, but you could actually see the soil and greenery in the streets. At least that’s what crossed Naomi’s mind as she gazed out over the carefully tended gardens decorating the atrium of her hotel.
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Bright blue Ithorian Roses, rare gifts from the nature-loving race, short blossoms of Ladalum from the dead world of Alderaan, sickeningly sweet smelling Kibo blooms from the moon of Yavin-Four, and half a dozen more precious plants that probably cost the resort a small fortune in itself.
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Naomi snorted, hell, the whole of the Grand Corusca Resort Hotel probably cost the same as a small moon. What with the gold and silver finish on everything. She ran her hand over a polished railing; gods even the wood was real, non of that synthetic crap.
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Definitely the it place to be. Must be why she’d been standing in line for nearly two hours just to fracking check in, Naomi thought with a huff as she tapped her designer shoes on the marble floor.
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Which brought her to the most god-awful ‘catch’ about the Inquisitoriate paying for all of these luxury furnishings. Her she was away from the core on a solo assignment…an undercover job…and she was stuck dressed like a Coruscanti elite. An elegant black dress (http://p.mii.instacontent.net/is.bluefly.com/mgen/Bluefly/prodImage.ms?productCode=2034199&width=300&height=300) wrapping around her made of some fabric she’d never heard of before, exquisite shoes and expensive jewelry, her dark hair meticulously straightened, but worst of all was the damn make-up: painted nails, lipstick and all.
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All of the Nightmares, except for Y’roth of course, would’ve been doubled over laughing….or starring with the mouths hanging open while Danni laughed at them.
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“Thank you very much sir, Jaffry will show you to your room. We hope you enjoy your stay at the Grand Corusca.” Naomi’s tapping slackened as Mr-expensive-silk-suit shuffled of after the bellhop with several assistants hauling a hideous amount of luggage behind. “Welcome to Ord Cantrell. How may I help you, Miss?”
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Thank. The. Fracking. Gods.
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Naomi put on a smile that probably got the host’s hopes up. Carefully sliding up to the desk, she slipped a purse off of her shoulder.
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“Hello, I’m Naomi Lang. I have a registration for an Honored Suite.” She pulled an identification card from the purse and leaned forward on the desk enough to tease the man. He wasn’t that bad looking either, drop the resort uniform and put him in something normal and he could be attractive.
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“A moment please” The card disappeared into scanner. “Is this your first visit to our establishment.”
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“Oh yes, quite a beautiful planet. And the flowers here are gorgeous, I haven’t seen anything like these on I<st1><st1>mperial</st1> <st1>Center</st1></st1>.”
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Behind the desk the host, Kail Assiri (at least that’s what the nametag said, flashed a charming smile back. “We pride ourselves on preserving endangered and exotic plants here.”
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His attention diverted a moment as the scanner finished processing Naomi’s card. She giggled as the man’s eyes widened slightly at the screen. “Miss Damarind, I…I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that such a prestigious guest would be staying with us.
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“Shhhhh.” Naomi cupped a hand over her mouth in flattery, perfectly playing the role Tessa Damarind. The niece of the man who ran an very large and lucrative jewel conglomerate…or so the forged card said. The name would be unknown here in the rim, the corporation usually didn’t bother with the poor regions, but did have a partnership with the resort in hopes of selling to wealthy vacation goers. “Please not so loud Mr. Assiri. Lang, Naomi Lang if you will. I can’t go anywhere in the core without being mobbed, I’d like to keep that from happening here.”
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“Of course.” Kail slid the card back with a wink of his eye. Celebrities and corporate figures trying to get out of the limelight. “What brings you to the outer rim if I may ask?”
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Naomi daintily tucked the card back in her purse. “Oh, just trying to have a good time away from the crowds. Maybe broaden my entertainment horizons if you know what I mean.”
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It hit Kail rather quickly, even with a disguise in the core, the press and tabloids would swarm over Tessa if she did anything if she even strayed within a sector of a club. The wealthy looking to party often traveled to rimward resorts, though they’d usually give the hotels a heads up. Tessa must really be looking to get away.
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Naomi glance down bashfully while running her fingers along the counter. Her voice came out low with false innocence. “You wouldn’t happen to know of a lively establishment.?”
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Mr. Assiri leaned forward and glanced around before whispering across to Tessa. “I believe the Serrassi Haven would cater to your tastes.”
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“Why thank you, perhaps you could show me there later.” Naomi almost laughed at the rise she got out of him. It was so much fun to screw around with the guy’s head. “But if you don’t mind, I’d like to get to my room.”
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The host snapped out of it and smiled. “Of course Miss ‘Lang’, you are in the Adagia Suite. May we help you with any baggage?”
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Naomi slightly shook her head, keeping her voice low. “Uhm, I have my wardrobe being sent from the starport. Could have a droid send it up, I don’t want to attract to much attention.”
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“Of course, it will be sent up immediately. Kaylee will show you to your room.”
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For a moment, Naomi turned to follow, but stopped short. “One other thing, if you or any staff see or hear anyone asking about me, could you please tell me about it.”
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Kail nodded knowingly, keep the annoyances away. Naomi pulled the same turn away/turn back thing.
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“Oh, I really love those Ithorian roses.” She brushed her hand close to his arm and left with a sly grin in his direction before finally turning to follow the impatient guide. Naomi could feel Mr. Assiri’s eyes on her back as she walked.
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Hook. Line. And sinker.

[The Black Man]

Assiri's eyes weren't the only one following Naomi as she followed the guide. The sharp eyes of another watched as she headed towards the turbolift, the guide yammering 'this and that' about the hotel and the planet itself.

With a small curse, 'The Black Man' turned his eyes back to his copy of the local HoloNet. It didn't give out much information: tourist attractions, visiting diplomats and celebrities, sports (who could live without that); but it did help his own cover as a businessman. A businessman whose business was spying among other things.

He'd come to Ord Cantrell to finalize the transfer of almost 3.3 Million Credits from the Bank of Aargau to the Rebellion. But that mission would be scrubbed now.

"Kreissing," The Rebel operative spoke low into a comlink, "Tell Karol the meeting is off. We'll reschedule in the next two weeks."

"Copy boss," Kreissing replied, "Something wrong?"

"Maybe. Get Carruthers and Rawl, then meet me here within the hour. We just had ink stain our plans."

"Lovely. See you soon."

[Naomi Lang]

Naomi stepped into the suite as if she were assessing a new house, her eye wandering to every corner. And quite a house it was, a neat three tiers lead up from the entry way with a curling stair case that would have baffled most architects. The first two seemed not much more than parlor and study areas with a neat kitchenette on the second. The top remained remained sealed, the bedroom and such, she mused.
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“Is there anything you wish, Miss Lang?”
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Naomi moved high-heeled to the broad panoramic view outside. A real outdoor view of the flowing countryside bathed in soft gold light of a soon to be setting sun. She glanced up at the staggered skylight ceiling gazing up at the vibrant azure heavens. Holopanels no doubt, she wasn’t in the top floor, but it was a nice touch.
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Resting her hands on the hand rails, a deep breath filled her lungs. Fresh air from outside, free of the stink and pollution that infested Coruscant. It actually felt pleasant. Naomi glanced over her shoulder, enjoying the warm light on her skin.
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“No thank you. This is perfect.”
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The next half-hour passed slowly with Naomi basking at the window. She did take time to exam her lavish suite, casually strolling along each tier. Inspecting furniture and running her hands along potted plants lining each edge. No Ithorian roses.
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She had little time to explore her bedroom tier, though what she did find was beyond her expectations especially having an old-style hydrobath the size of a small room.
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As promised, a labor droid appeared, lugging a sizeable mahogany wardrobe in its industrial arms. The thing did seem to be struggling with its load. Naomi gratefully guided the droid to the third tier, instructing it to place the wardrobe in the corner.
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With the droid finally out the door and no scheduled interruptions for the next while, a drastic change came over Naomi.
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The woman haphazardly dropped her purse on an unused desk with a thud and pulled out a small mechanical device.
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After a double check to make sure the machine was turned on….. “DAMN IT! I am going to kill him.” She violently kicked off the high heels into a corner, knowing that the VIP suites were sound proof.
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A burning itch burned on her left forearm where a flawless skin graft covered her tattoo. Crestmere had gone and out done himself dressing Naomi up in this hellish getup. How the man put up with his own disguises was beyond her, it was like choking in someone else’s skin.
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Naomi padded on barefeet to the wardrobe, pulling open the door a digging through the rows of elegant clothes and tossing them onto the bed. High class my ***. She soon hit the back panel, but instead of turning to the pile behind her, tapped a memorized sequence on the wooden panels.
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Low hissing filled the room as seems appeared and cracked apart. The hidden compartment took up the entire height of the wardrobe and was obviously not made of polished mahogany, but reinforced durasteel.
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A feral grin crossed Naomi Lang’s face at the sight. From top to bottom were mounted the heavy plates of her personal CMC-300 (http://www.mediacircus.net/finalfantasy___3.jpg) power armored suit. Sitting atop it all was the emotionless helmet that terrified so many people. Even with its ghostly eyepieces dim shiver pleasurably ran its way up her spine.
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To the side hung the other sections of the armor, the grossly modified Russard Enterprises’ body glove and the heavy pack carrying the portable fusion generator and computer relay that was the life-blood of the suit. And below it all lay the massive form of her C-14 Gauss Rifle with its anti-armor module.
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But instead of moving for any of this she palmed a tight-beam transmitter, securely disguised and encoded so that no one outside Project Nightmare could decipher it.
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“This is agent Lang.” Naomi moved to her bedroom window; her voice controlled in an uncharacteristically military voice. “Stage one is complete.”
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A muffled voice responded on the other end, cold and emotionless.
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“Yes, Sir. By your command.”
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She clicked the device off and gazed out at the spectacular view. The red hue of sunset brought a smile to her face.

[The Black Man]

It didn't take long for the quartet of Rebels to make their plans, in fact, all they had to do was make sure everyone knew their job. Kreissing and Rawl were given the task of alerting 'The Black Man' and Carruthers (who remained in the lobby) if Naomi left her apartment. It'd taken about forty credits and the promise to, "keep things quiet," to Assiri, but he'd acquiesced to their request and they'd been given a room a floor below the Inquisitor's.

"Something wrong?" Carruthers' asked in a Coruscanti accent. He'd been a part of Rebel Special Ops to know when 'The Black Man' wasn't happy.

His boss nodded, "Forty creds isn't enough to guarentee quiet, no matter the location."

"Want me to check 'im out?"

'Othniel' thought a moment and gave a short nod, "Follow him when he leaves. I want to know what he does, when he goes off-shift."

Carruthers gave a broad smile, rose from his seat, and headed towards the main desk. He was halfway there when his ears picked up Assiri saying something.

"--when someone asked about you. A couple gentlemen...earlier. Gotta go," Assiri quickly stopped his transmission and gave a smile to the approaching Rebel, "What can I do for..."

He was suddenly cut off, as Carruthers showed his blaster and gave another smile, "Come with me, boy. We're going upstairs."

'The Black Man' noticed the movement and rose from his seat, heading quickly over to where his partner and the hotel clerk stood.

"Did he get a warning off?" 'The Black Man's' displeased voice stated the obvious as they headed towards the lift.

"He did. Prolly to our little birdie upstairs," Carruthers' lilt was still pleasent to listen to but it was laced with anger. The trio boarded the turbolift and it started rising towards the suite floor.

"What's the meaning of this!" Assiri protested, "Miss Damari-err-Miss Lang, asked to be informed if anyone asked about her."

"You realize Miss Lang is an IMPERIAL INQUISITOR!" 'Othniel's' voice rumbled throughout the lift.

In reality, Land was a member of Project Nightmare, but Assiri didn't know it and 'The Black Man' wasn't in the mood to give out that kind of information. Not to this idiot. "You just blew your own operation as well!"

Assiri's eyes widened, "What operation!?!"

The Black Man's scowl caused him to cringe, "The gun-running operation you run through this building. The one I've turned a blind eye to because it hurt the Imperials. Now, you've just exposed your fly to the whole damn planet!

"Kreissing, Rawl," he spoke into his comlink, "Grab your gear and meet me on the suite level. It's time to pay Lang a visit."

[Naomi Lang]

Lang gingerly set the comm. back onto the receiver and paced the room with her fingers to her temples. She had been having a decent conversation with Kail Assiri when the last bit came up.
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"...someone asked about you. A couple gentlemen...earlier."

Only a couple ours into the active mission and the dren was already hitting the fan. This was happening too quickly, she was supposed to have a few days before people started asking questions, after there had been time to set the whole operation up.

Come on girl, focus!

The Inquisitorial agent stared out the window at the darkened landscape and shrouded buildings of the capitol city.

....definately not her unit, they would have made sure to have Assiri pass along the identification phrase. It could be just a random people curiosly asking on after her, after all the Damarind name might have been overheard.

...But you know damn well better than that.

Not once in her time as a Nightmare did something random happen, everything had a purpose behind it and nothing, absolutely nothing could be taken at face value. Project Nightmare and the Inquisitoriate were far too methodical for that to happen (and the rebels weren't that far away either).

Oh well

Naomi slid the window open allowing the warm breeze to flow in. She had changed out of the dress into something more practical, cargo pants with a belt and a loose shirt. To her chargrin, the synth-skin still covered her tattoo, but at least she had made do with the silver necklace hanging around her neck.

It was still covered in brand names that only the well-to-do could afford in bulk, but at least it gave her an endless supply of pockets and the shirt did nicely to hide the compact body armor beneath.

No need to scrap anything yet.

She crossed to the wardrobe, now missing a few minor items, and sealed the hidden compartment before exiting the bedroom. There were obvious shifts in the furniture placement as she descended the stair way down a tier.

Naomi sprawled out onto a couch facing the main door down below and kicked her feet up on an coffee table. She folded her arms across her chest, waiting.

Might actually not be a complication

She hoped that it was, this day had been boring.

[The Black Man]

"Knock," The Black Man ordered.

"What do you mean...knock?!?" Kail Assiri's face, somehow, went even more pale as he stared at the commando group around him. The day had started out so good too. He'd been flirted with by a very gorgeous girl, had another one offer a little something 'special' if she was given a suite, and had an arms deal happening that evening. Now, he was being told the hot chick who'd given him 'the eye' was an Inquisitor and all this by some guy who was spookier than...well anything he'd run into.


"I mean exactly what I say, Assiri," The Director of Rebel Special Operations ordered again, "Knock. Tell her the men who were looking for you were with HoloNet's Entertainment division. Something about a potential show placing her on some backwater planet and having her survive on her own."

His black eyes narrowed into a glare and the hotel porter shuddered.

"Don't do anything more stupid than you all ready have."

Assiri nodded and turned towards the door. The members of whatever this Rebel faction was gathered around the doorframe. They were armored in all black, the mesh weave wrapped tightly around their body so they hardly made a sound. Looked pretty nice too, the arms dealer noticed, as he raised his hand towards the door. He glanced towards 'The Black Man', who'd now donned a black helmet, and tried to smile.

Then he knocked on the door and announced himself.

"Miss Damarin-err-Lang," Assiri cursed himself. Frack his nervousness, "It's Kail Assiri from downstairs.

"May I come in?"

[Naomi Lang]

Ah, there he was. Naomi’s eyes flicked open from her reverie. It wasn’t really a trance or meditation, but something that she’d picked up from being with the Inquisitoriate. It was like clearing her mind long enough to flip a mental switch. Suddenly she wasn’t Naomi Lang anymore, but the Nightmare.
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A cold smile crossed her lips, it wasn’t anticipation or anxiousness or any other real emotion, just the knowledge that she was right. The stutter in Kail’s voice, the change in tone. The man was fracking scared.
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“Oh, just a moment.” Naomi stretched and stood up, moving the table along with her leg. Just enough noise to give the impression that he had caught her at an inconvenient time.
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Her voice changed to a sly pitch, but the hollow remained in her eyes. “I’d have thought you snuck a key or something.”
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Naomi ran a hand along her hip, a combat knife flicked out of the waistband. She let the weapon slide and click along the rail was she descended the stair for a bit more noise. Clever to drag Assiri into this, but he was her pawn first.
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With final glances around the room, Naomi held the knife in reverse with the blade pressed against her wrist, hidden from view, and flipped the lock.

[The Black Man]

Assiri repeated, a bit nervously, but also in an almost monotone what 'The Black Man' had ordered him to do.

"It w-was people from HoloN-net," Assiri smiled unconvincingly. "They wanted to know about th-the show you are rumored to be d-doing."

Lang had a very odd look in her eyes, one that scared the living Force outta the clerk/arms dealer. She gave a predatory smile and Assiri gulped audibly.

He scratched his head nervously, the poor bastard. "I-I ran 'em off. Just like you asked m-me too. Are you all right? You seem...dis-distracted."

At this, Assiris was tossed aside as the five Rebels stormed into the room, their weapons raised.

"On the ground, Lang! Hands in the fracking air!" 'The Black Man' ordered, "Don't do anything foolish, or by the Emperor's Black Bones, I will shoot you!"

[Naomi Lang]

“Aw, I take it this means no roses?”
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Naomi slowly micro-stepped backward, easing her hands into the air with the blade still gripped tight. The predatory grin still never left her face and cold eyes flicked between the five heavily armed agents. Idiots.
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The Imperial Agent carefully shuffled another step away from the guns.
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“I’d pull the trigger now if I were you.”
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One of the rebels to the left of ‘the black man’ stepped around to better surround her so she could couldn’t duck to the side. Everything simple and by the book. And that was the poor fool’s mistake, the Inquisitoriate never….ever…played by the book.
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His foot broke through a laser trip wire hidden on this backside of nearby couch leg. Around the entrance, glaring red lights flashed to life on several incendiary charges.
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“Too late.”

[The Black Man]

'Othniel/Wekom/The Black Man' leaped forward as the explosions tore through the room. His path took him towards Naomi, but she delicately slid to the side and he missed her. Outside of that, Lang made no movement.

Carruthers was bathed in flames and fell to the floor, while Kreissing (who'd been stupid enough to trigger the alarm) and Rawl dodged the explosion but still lay stunned on the ground. Assiri simply scuttled towards the wall, wondering what the hell he'd gotten himself into.

The SpecOps Director rolled and came to his feet quickly.

"I don't fear you, Lang," his voice was full of bitterness. Now that it was the two of them, he could (essentially) speak openly.

"Are you still Valten's bitch? Or are you carving your own piece of the galaxy?"

[Naomi Lang]

How does he...How DARE he.
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Naomi’s eyes widened and for a brief moment filled with anger. But it soon faded away, the Nightmares conditioned themselves above emotion, and the smile was back on her face.
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“Ouch.”
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She brought the blade into an aggressive position and began pacing in an arc around the man. This one knew what he was doing, maneuvering himself in a position that negated her options, both the door and the stairs where risky.
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Not afraid of her? Good, she’d had enough dealing with pathetic bleating.
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“Hahaha, what about you? Big boss Belargic pulling your strings? You, me, the flower boy over there, and this damn room…there may be different people behind the marionettes, but we’re still dancing to the same frelling tune.”
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Naomi advanced in a flash, slashing low with the blade, testing his ability. She wasn’t the best of the Nightmares in hand-to-hand, but she was well versed enough in martial arts, her time with SpecOps commandos saw to that.
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At range, he had the advantage with his weapon. But up close she had the upper hand, even without her suit.

[The Black Man]

The Rebel didn't even bother to shoot. Moving quickly, he swung the butt of his rifle towards the Nightmare's head. She blocked it, then swatted it from his armored hands.

The Black Man's elbow came up towards her head and caught her in the chin.

"It depends on what music is playing, Lang. And who does the composing."

[Naomi Lang]

A sharp pain shot up Naomi’s neck as her head snapped back, the man knew how to give a hit. But Naomi had easily taken worse in her practice spars against the other nightmares. Instead of trying to shove the pain aside, she embraced it and let the momentum take her. Another of the black man’s strikes flew harmlessly past her and Naomi rolled away no worse for the wear.


The Imperial shifted her jaw, keeping her eyes on her opponent. She turned her side, spinning the knife in her fingers, a motion that covered or opposite hand sneaking into a pocket.


“Alright. Who was it that arranged our little tune?” Naomi crouched low, knife hand forward and the other trailing, concealing a tiny disk she had withdrawn. “From here it looks like you’re of beat.”


Without warning, Naomi spun the opposite direction and flung the object at the man. The thing was her own design, and her reason for being with the Nightmares. There wasn’t anything that Naomi couldn’t turn into an explosive, and those small things packed a punch.

[The Black Man]

'Othniel' ducked and the explosive sailed harmlessly over his head. It lodged itself into the wall by the giant open window, before exploding and showering all the occupants with glass, wood, and durasteel. 'The Black Man' was thrown foward (again) and felt searing heat as it singed his face and cropped hair.

He slowly rose to his feet and noticed the Nightmare was standing there cackling like some witch, a wild look in her eyes.

The Rebel glowered at her, before shoving debris off his armored arms and chest. It was then he realized his ears were ringing and everything sounded like it was five miles away.

"Rawl," his voice sounded oddly muted, "Drop her."

[Naomi Lang]

“Krasstkrasstkrasst!” Assiri pressed his back against the wall and prayed to a god he didn’t believe in. One of the rebels (they had to be rebel, right?) was doing his best roasted-marshmallow impression while two of the others were sprawled out cold. Tessa or Damarind or who-ever-the-hell she was and the big guy where duking it out near the stairs.


A chunk of the ceiling gave way and showered him in flames. Assiri raised an arm to ward the sparks from his eyes. What the hell had he gotten himself into? As soon as he got out of this mess he was going to make sure he worked a different post.


The hotel employee-gun runner started crawling on his hand and knees. Sooner or later the fire was going to spread and he was going to be around for that, or for when one side finally beat the other.


A second explosion ripped through the room and sent him rolling towards the door. Out of the corner of his eyes, Assiri caught sight of one of the downed rebels coming to. He heard the big guy say something and the one on the ground aimed his pistol at the woman.


Assiri scrambled to his feet and stumbled out the door into the cool air of the hallway. The awkward ‘squawk’ of a blaster on stun echoed behind him, but he didn’t spare a glance.

[The Black Man]

"Shoot her again and make sure she's down," The Black Man stated, his voice still muted in his ears, as he strode towards Assiri. "Then grab her. We're leaving."

He paused by Assiri, who was collecting his thoughts outside the room.

"If you even breathe a word of this to your girlfriend, boyfriend, wife, mother, father...even a statue. I'll know.

"And I'll be back."

Assiri hurried down the hall and ran out.

'The Black Man' was far from happy about the operation. He refused to leave the bodies of his squad mates behind, even if there had to be an explanation for the damage. To cover it, 'Othniel' broke a gas pipe in the hotel room, letting its noxious fumes start to fill the room. A few minutes later, an alarm sounded and the hotel evacuated.

No one paid mind to the dark-skinned hotel employee exiting the service entrance, even it if was slightly odd he had a laundery bag fully stocked. When asked, the man simply shrugged, muttered something about, "Guests wanting their clothing smelling fresh..." and went on.


* * *

Two Hours Later

They were in a small safehouse, waiting extraction off planet (which was scheduled for another ten minutes). The Rebellion's Director of Special Operations stood with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

"Wake up," he slapped the trussed up Nightmare across the face, "You have two minutes to convince me why I shouldn't leave your body for Valten to find.

"Talk."

[Karl Valten]

Naomi relaxed back twisting her wrists…testing. “Oh come on, holo-vids much?” The Inquisitorial agent glanced around the room as much as her bindings let her. Nothing distinctive to identify, a few crates here and there and a couple poorly maintained light. Probably a temporary joint in a warehouse basement.

She turned to grin in her own twisted way.

“You’ve got the bad-cop routine to a ‘T’. Hair’s wrong, though. Ever thought of using a wig?” Naomi’s head spun, definitely not a slap this time. Violent for a rebel, really not fitting the image. She liked that.

“Sixty seconds, you want it on the left cheek next time?”
The guy knew how to throw a punch that hurt like hell, but oh she was enjoying this wayyyyy too much. A look of mock excitement played across her face, like hyper sorority girl.

“Oh, let me help. We could write a screen play….” Naomi coughed and put on her darkest glare and most spite-filled voice. “…If you wanted to kill me I’d already be dea…..”

*CRACK* “Fifteen.” Now that one really hurt, not just a sting. PAIN!
Naomi hung sat limp as her ache tingled itself away, the blow probably drew blood. It didn’t bother her. She just sat as the black man counted down the last few seconds. The thought crossed her mind. He would kill her, his voice wasn’t getting frantic, definitely not a civi wreck.

“...four…three…”

He was reaching for pistol. Before his hand could touch blaster, Naomi sat up and tossed her hair. Her tone hollow and dead serious.

“You are not going to kill me because you know who I am and who I work for. The prospect of even getting an iota of information outweighs the security risk...” Naomi yawned to flex her jaw. “Only thing is no one knows who I am, any other agent you would have let wander by. Which begs the question, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Ominous, what part of this freak-show of ours are you playing?”

(OOC: weird, I was just logged in as Naomi, sorry 'bout that)

[The Black Man]

"Point taken."

'The Black Man' took two steps back and shot her with his blaster. Naomi fell limp to the groung, blood oozing from her lips and the back of her head.

It had been a stun blast, of course, but that didn't matter. The Nightmare hadn't completely given him the answer he was looking for, but it was enough to keep her alive.

"Pick up's here," Rawl reported from the door, still wincing from his wounds.

"Good. Let's go."


* * *

The Frigate Remembering the Republic-- En Route to Mon Calamari

The black-haired Imperial woke up, her jaw still smarting. There was a bacta patch in front of her and she tried to reach for it...only to discover her arms were still tied behind her back.

'The Black Man' sat in a chair, firmly latched to the floor, and watched her attempt to heal herself. Even if she did get to it, the bacta patch was empty.

"How many Nightmares are there? Who provides the technology to complete your armor?"

[Naomi Lang]

Ord Cantrell – a few hours earlier<o></o>

Sergeant Redmond kept low in the shadows, his black armor blending in perfectly with the dark. The built in macrobinoculars of his helmet zoomed in on the rebel safehouse in a rundown district of De-Purteen. On his HUD white diamonds automatically highlighted occasional passerby, the diamond over the one leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette shifted to red<o></o>

“One confirmed rebel out front.” He transferred the data to his squad through their neural network with only a thought. Redmond glanced around, green diamonds revealed the positions of allies hidden in the shadows. “Snipers hold position; get a continuous feed to Jeffers. I want a TACMAP up in twenty seconds.”<o></o>

In two years with the Inquisitoriate, the sergeant considered himself a hardened veteran. It took a different breed of soldier to survive, physically and mental, the rigors he was put through. Maybe a few weeks longer and he could get decent command position and get off the frontlines. The current op didn’t help, though; his squad had been torn from their post in the core by a guy just calling himself The Agent. He’d heard of their kind before in rumors, not part of the agency and not part of the Inquisitor ranks….and both groups were wary of them. It didn’t help that there were Nightmares with him when Redmond and his squad boarded the transport.<o></o>

“Agent, we’re in position. If the schedule is right they transport will be her….”<o>

</o> "…in six minuters." How did he do that? Redmond had only seen the man once, ever since, all he’d had was neural transmissions. Even the Nightmares had vanished from sight. All that had been said was that the squad should keep watch over the building. Nothing more, nothing less. ”Report.”<o></o>

“Four confirmed inside, they may have more. Once back up is here we can storm the house on your orders.”<o></o>

”You already have your back up, Sergeant.” Redmond caught motion in his peripheral and spun his weapon about. <o></o>

*Thwack* <o></o>

The rifle stopped sharp and the sergeant couldn’t make it budge. Eyes wide and heart racing, Redmond found himself staring into the ghostly blue eye pieces of a Nightmare. His rifle held stationary in its armored glove. The Nightmare let the weapon go and turned towards the safehouse.<o></o>

How the hell did something that big move so quietly? It hadn’t even shown up of the infrared sensors.<o></o>

"Change of plans. You are not to make a move until after they leave. Enter and burn the building to the ground.<o></o>"

Redmond was utterly confused along with the rest of his squad spread out. Next to him the Nightmare just drew an over-sized gun from the holster on its pack. Redmond was surprised to hear a relatively upbeat voice break over his headset.<o></o>

“Lang is going be angry about that, Sir.”<o></o>

"You have your orders, Lieutenant"<o></o>

“Acknowledged.” Behind the cold blue-steel of the Nightmare gear, 1^st Lieutenant Ylor Jerrard smiled slightly, Naomi would be expected a last minute rescue attempt, she was probably already mouthing off to the rebel scum. But as always, the alliance threw a hydrospanner into the works.<o></o>

Ylor clicked the riot suppression module into place on his C-14 rifle. Instantly, a notice blinked to life on his HUD signaling that the suit recognized the new settings. The helmet could display anything he needed: ammo gauge, compass, status indicators for the suit and his own health, aiming reticule, motion trackers, comm frequencies, IFF trackers, maps, holonet-uplink…though carrying the miniature fusion reactor on his back made him nervous every once in a while.<o>

</o> Even so, the Nightmare pulled the clip out of his weapon and manually checked the magazine. Machines break, eyes don’t. At the same time Ylor opened a private channel to the Agent, as they were supposed to call him anyway. “How you holding out, Victor?”<o>

</o> In a darkened alley on the other side of De-Purteen, a figure sulked through the shadows, his features hidden from view. The man paused against a wall and raised a tight-beam comm. to his mouth. “Assiri is giving me a bit of a headache. The idiot is in the rambling phase, he’ll learn his place with the rest of them.”<o>

</o> “He’s not going to be a problem?”<o>

</o> A hollow laugh echoed through the alley. The man stepped into the light. Dressed in the professional attire of a hotel employ, albeit singed in several places. Assiri had a different gait to him, fluid and powerful and his voice noticeably altered.
<o></o>
“No, he’s pathetically weak.” Assiri pulled knife from his pocket and began cutting away at the skin on his neck. There was no blood.<o>

</o> “So what was the change of plans for? Naomi is going to skin you when we get her back.”<o>

</o> The skin at Assiri’s neck tore and he put the blade away. Gripping at the frayed tissue, he began pulling the mask from his skin. Free from the disguise, Captain Victor Crestmere, second in command for Project Nightmare, throwing the synthetic flesh aside.<o>

</o> He didn’t say anything in response to Ylor, instead he pulled up a file from his neural implant and gave the mental command to send it to the Lieutenant’s HUD. The file was a simple picture of a dark skinned man idly sitting in a hotel lobby with a newspaper.<o>

</o> <o></o>
* * * * <o></o>********

Naomi eyed the bacta patch lying out of her reach. She glanced up at the black man.
<o></o>
“Bastard!”
<o></o>
The room she woke to was a spartan durasteel cell with a refresher unit sitting in a corner and a bare cot along the back. On the ceiling the ventilation shafts and glow panels where covered with wire mesh and the other walls where definitely airtight. A low thrumming hummed in the rum accompanied with a consistent vibrations and the air smelled stale, recycled. Starship with a real brig. Definitely a military vessel, probably a corvette or frigate.<o>

</o> “Enough with the bantha dren, the test questions are just annoying.” Naomi sighed, she was well aware of interrogation methods. “You probably know the answers to those questions.” Naomi leaned forward, as well as one can with her hands tied up, her voice was sweet and innocent.<o>

</o> “Since I don’t know the answer to the first, I bet that’s the one you don’t either. Why so interested in ghost stories, most people try to avoid the dark?”

[The Black Man]

A tight smile came to 'Othniel's' face. She had indeed been trained by Valten.

"Very well," he stated simply, moving the bacta patch an inch closer to her fingertips, although it was still out of reach.

He decided to play a hunch.

"Who is the traitor in the Alliance.

"Tell me now and maybe I'll let you have the bacta patch."

[Naomi Lang]

Traitor!? Confusion flashed over Naomi’s face for a moment, long enough for ‘Othniel’ to take notice. The Imperial knew she lost the confident advantage.


“Traitor…. I don’t know of any traitor.” It was time to choose her words carefully, but she kept slipping into deeper thought. Thinking back, all the way to Coruscant when Victor pulled her aside for this part of the assignment, of using the smuggling ring as cover to lure the alliance out. And then the cavalry had failed to show up when the rebels took the bait.


Naomi’s eyes widened as the realization hit her. “BASTARD….” She jerked in her chair, thrashing and twisting, not caring anymore what image she presented to the Black Man and his cronies. She’d been set up.


Naomi slumped forward and gave a short burst of hysterical laughing. Such flawless and perfect work, she hadn’t thought that Victor of all people had the ability. Probably Valten pulling the strings while the Sir was off doing whatever the hell he was doing.


“Clever, frelling, bastard…….whole thing’s a fracking test!”

[The Black Man]

"Test," The Black Man repeated, doing his best to not appear surprised. He changed tactics, "A test you're currently failing, Harris. Letting yourself be captured and failing in a fight against only four men."

He crossed his arms and leaned forward.

"Perhaps sending you to Ord Cantrell was a bad idea. Did you even complete your mission? Or were you too busy playing with your tiara to care?"

[Naomi Lang]

“You know I don’t think you know as much about Valten as you want people to think you do.” Naomi cracked a smile and laughed, her lip starting to bleed from the continued strain. She’d thrown the man off, but she was still more than angry at her squad mates. “Job was to a hold of one of you egg-heads, and you took the bait hook, line, and sinker.”

She wanted him to realize that the Inquisitoriate had known about the rebel cell on Ord Cantrell and that they knew about the black market crew. “Though it looks like one of my so-called allies has it in for me.”

Hell, for all Naomi knew the Inquisitoriate had set up the smuggling ring just to get her out there. What the hell did Valten want from her?

“Nothing’s ever as simple as pass or fail to him, and don’t for a second think I’m the only monkey-lizard in this laboratory of his.” Naomi was getting sick of this whole smarter-than-thou thing this clown was playing at, and she already wasn’t in the best of moods. Getting screwed over by your team, beat up and thrown in a jail-cell did that to you.

“Who says the mission isn’t complete or that it’s even over to him? Send one of your lackey’s back to Ord Cantrell and see for yourself.”

Naomi settled down in the chair with resignation.

"They're going to send a kill squad after me. Take me out and this entire ship."

[The Black Man]

'The Black Man' let a small smile come to his face at the mention of 'the kill squad'. He was about to speak when his complink *chirped* in his jacket.

"Yes?"

"Priority message, boss," it was Rawl who spoke, "You need to see this."

'Othniel' turned back to his prisoner, "I have to take this call. While you 'wait', try accessing your implant."

[Naomi Lang]

Try to access the implants? What frack did he mean by that? Whatever, she wasn’t going to humor him not while he was in the room at least. She kept a glare on his back, probably more angry at her squadmates than this joker, but it was still nice to have someone to lash out against.

At least he was out of the room for a while; it would give her more a chance to look think. Victor was as much a lackey as she was, there was no way in hell he’d change plans on the fly. The order had to have come from above. Y’roth, Valten, one of the other Inquisitors?

In that case what the hell was worth cutting one of their best agents loose? Was it really to test her like she’d told the rebel moron? Naomi doubted it; it was something deeper than that. Hell this was probably part of the mission and she was still part of the op. It made sense actually, a person who thought the really were a prisoner would better play the part (and be furious with her comrades at the same time). Definitely convincing to any would-be interrogator.

Of course those were big ‘Ifs’ and Naomi was definitely a prisoner here and boy was she pissed. She was somewhat truthful with the Black Man, though, they would be sending a team for her. She really hoped it would be the rescue kind.

Only thing to do was to play it by ear and do what she did best in the mean time: take it like a vacation and make everyone’s life around her miserable.
Naomi sighed, and shifted her wrists about. She easily slipped off the bindings and resentfully hurled them into a corner. She gingerly rubbed skin where they had been rubbed raw and smiled mockingly at the hidden camera she knew was somewhere in the room.

Now what the heck was the guy talking about with her neural implants? Naomi sent out the regular thought commands for diagnostic run. Instead of the instant feedback, she got silence, absolutely nothing.

“What the hell?”

She ran a freed hand over the base of her neck, feeling tiny port. Everything felt like it should. She tried accessing again and failed.

“What the HELL??!!!”

[The Black Man]

"And you're sure that's all that happened?" The Black Man's unhappy tone was all too clear to those standing around him. "I see. No I'm not questioning your judgement, you did the right thing considering the circumstances. I'll head directly there."

The Director of Special Operations cut the connection and let out a hushed curse.

"Sir?" Rawl asked, raising a (still charred) eyebrow.

"That was TREESWINGER. FURBALL is dead and Trandosha was indeed a trap (http://sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?t=16247)."

Rawl pursed his lips in disgust, "Where do we go from here?"

"Keep her," 'Othniel' nodded his head towards Naomi's cell, "Locked up. The dosage she has now will keep her drugged for two days. Then feed it to her in her food. Make sure its mixed well so she doesn't notice anything."

A nod from his subordinate, "And you, sir?"

"I'm leaving. I have something (http://sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?t=16910) to check on. Stay here. Understood?"

"Yes sir."

'The Black Man' slipped into the Nightmare's prison cell once more. Naomi lurched from her chair and was only greeted with a dark smile.

"Enjoy your stay."

The doors slid in front of the Rebel and Naomi was left alone.

[Naomi Lang]

Naomi lay back on the spartan cot she was allowed to have in the cell, bolted down of course, everything was bolted down. The last two days since her captor had vanished had been boring, Naomi kept telling herself she was going to go insane.


In fact right at the moment she was tossing a coin in the air, letting the small disk hit the ceiling and trying to catch it at a variety of different angles. The guards probably had no idea where she’d gotten the damned trinket, but after she’d just handed back every retraint they put on her, they probably gave up anyway. They’d take away the next search and she’d just end up with a different toy the next time.


Tink
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</o> Tink


Naomi smiled a bit as she leaned her head back and let her raven hair spill over the edge of the cot. It probably annoyed the hell out of them hearing the constant noise.


SSSSSSWWWWWWWWWWWISSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH


She caught the coin just as the door slid open to admit a caretaker, overseer, soldier, or whatever carry in a tray of food. Naomi stretched on the couch a pulled herself to a sitting position. Of course she didn’t get much farther when the two guards outside leveled their guns at her.


“Your about two minutes slow today. Or something like that anyway.” She flashed a smile at him, and of course he ignored her.


“Oh come on, I’m going nuts in here, lighten up a bit.” Naomi flopped back down on the cot in exasperation. “Sheesh, you guys are as stuck up as the freaking stormies.”

[Samantha Lessard]

Officers' Quarters- Four levels up from Naomi's location

The water cascaded down on and around the woman and she allowed herself a grin. She finished putting shampoo in her hair and leaned up against the refresher wall, breathing in steam. Even though she'd had plenty of showers, it was always nice to have one.

Especially, her grin enlarged as bit as she felt strong arms surround her body, if there's someone to share it with.

She leaned backwards into the embrace, turning her lips up to meet those of her showermate and lover.

"Mmm," she nipped at the neck of Rawl and traced his chin, "It's good to see you."

"Good to see you too, Sam." Rawl sniffed her short, brown hair and held her close. They hadn't seen each other in several weeks and their recent nights together had been spent...playing catch up.

"I can tell," the woman gave a playful smile and ran her hand along the skin where her lover had been burned. Rawl winced at the contact and his companion then kissed the skin.

"Sorry," she smiled, "I forget how sensitive burns can be. I'm glad you weren't seriously injured...you okay?"

The Special Ops member gave a sigh, "Yes. I still feel bad about Carruthers and Kreissing. They were my friends you know?"

Sam ran a thin hand up his face and stared into his eyes, "I know. I know. But death is a risk we all take."

She quickly changed subjects to put him at ease. "So who the new prisoner?"

Rawl got a pained look in his face, "You know I can't always talk about our missions. But yes, some woman. Lang, Lana, Long...something like that. I'm sorry, honey, I don't know much else. Why did you ask?"

His lover smiled, "There were rumblings from the Inquisitor camp someone had gotten captured. They're trying to keep it silent, but one of my sources mentioned something."

Sam pulled away from Rawl and pushed open the door to the refresher, "I think I might go see her. See if I can find out anything more about the Inquisitors I don't know. Maybe even something about this 'Nightmare' program I keep hearing about."

Rawl took her hand and kissed it, "Be careful."

The woman smiled and reached for her cane. "I will, Rawl. I always am. See you tonight."

Then she hobbled out of the room and got dressed.

'Sam', otherwise known as Samantha Lessard, was the Director of Counter-Intelligence for the Rebellion. She'd been one of the top field operatives in Rebel Intel, until a wampa attack on Hoth ended her field career. Doctors had been able to save most of her left leg, but she still lost three toes and the inside of her foot to the damage.

Instead of shuttling her out of Intel, Lessard had been set up in the Counter-Intelligence field, shifting her studies from performing operations to protecting those operatives in place. It wasn't as exhilierating as being in the field, but it kept her busy.

She made her way down the halls of the Remembering the Republic towards the brig, nodding to various soldiers as they walked by. Most of them tended to be overly helpful, due to her cane and limp, and she accepted it with a smile and "Thank you".

In reality, Lessard could walk just fine. After her surgery, she quickly discovered more people were put at ease by her presence and tended to open up a bit more than they should. It was one of the many reasons why Airen Cracken put her in the counter-intelligence field. And why Dasquian Belargic kept her in place.

Lessard stepped into the brig area and checked in with the guard on duty.

"Good luck in there ma'am," the guard stated, "She's just had her meds, so she won't access her implant."

The doors opened and Samantha Lessard hobbled into the room.

"Hello Miss Lang," the guard put a chair down for Lessard to sit, "Find anything new to toss around?"

[Karl Valten]

"You could say that."

The coin lay on the small palate she was allowed, it had gotten boring pretty quickly. She did manage to lift a pen of the one that brought her food in, Corporal Meier or some such, ‘Jake’ one of the guards called him. A fairly decent achievement, Naomi wasn’t near as practiced with the sleight of hand crap like Reyok was, maybe after this she’d tolerate the psycho long enough to get lessons.

"Might want to tell the good Sergeant at the door that the clip on his vibroblade is busted? Wouldn't want that getting loose and hurting someone."

Currently she had been using the pen to hold her hair in place as she carefully put braids in. Pain in the neck without a mirror to start it off, but hell, it’d been a while since Naomi actually took the time to do such. At least for herself and not one of her infiltration missions.

“But, this is new.” Naomi finished the last few strands and tossed the pen to Lessard with a smile on her face. Shame, though, it would have made a decent shiv. “I’m stuck here for…what’s it now? A couple of days...and I get the cold shoulder from everyone.”

Naomi kicked out her feet and brushed a bang from her eyes. In the process she managed to run her hand over a slight scar, her ‘trophy’ from Ord Cantrell. At least the bacta had cleared it up, a few more days and it would be gone.

“What makes you people want to chat now? Not that I'm complaining, of course.”

(*sigh* wrong account)

[Samantha Lessard]

"I'm curious," Lessard caught the pen in her hand and placed it in her shirt pocket, "About why you were on Ord Cantrell. It wasn't just for shopping and relaxation."

The Rebel leaned forward, "What was your modus operandi?"

[Naomi Lang]

“Magna res est vocis et silentii temperamentum. You should know that, Madame Director.”

The High Gothic perked Naomi’s interest. She smiled leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. She wasn’t really the type to play word games, but given the circumstances it seemed like a good change. Anything to get something going at least.

"You've got quite the profile at HQ. I'm not really inclined to indulge you."

[Samantha Lessard]

Lessard gave a cross look, "No I'm sure you're not. Too bad really. I was hoping to find out what was in my file."

She gave a small smile, "Maybe we can help fill out each other's? You tell me things about the Nightmares and yourself. And I'll try to fill-in the information which might be lacking in the Imperial dossier on me."

A shrug, "Or you can go back to your coin."

[Naomi Lang]

"Quid pro quo, eh?"

A toss of the head, she was pleased to find the braids held fast. There was no freaking way that Naomi was going to go back to tossing that chunk of metal around.

"Fine then, I'm off duty anyhow." Naomi quirked a grin and gestured around the cell. "Since I'm the one locked up hows about I go first?"

Turn the detainee into the interrogator, setting things on her terms. It kind of ran with her training, hard to get over that.....And don't give the interrogator time to reply.

"Where'd you learn High Galactic?"

[Samantha Lessard]

"I'm sure my file says that," Lessard gave a straight face a the non-answer/answer.

When the Nightmare didn't reply, the Rebel stated, "At university. Gotta have a little bit of sense to make it in this business.

"I believe you would agree. Now...how did you get involved with Valten?"

[Naomi Lang]

Naomi's eyes narrowed for a brief moment. Some Universities taught High Galactic, but most did terribly. Only Tarkin University on Imperial Centre taught all the tiny nuances and only the Aristocracy and the Inquisitoriate used it. As far as she knew anyway. The moment quickly passed and Naomi surfaced over the nightmare again.

"Ah, that would be thanks to the previous Grand Inquisitor. Served under him when he was still an Intel officer."

Naomi clearly remembered those days. Bren, Ylor, Naomi, and Tear had made one hell of a team. Unorthodox, but that's what made it half the fun.

"Not quite sure, but he probably put in a recommendation. Valten requested the transfer to the Inquisitoriate."

The Imperial rubbed her hands together.

"How'd you get hooked up with (Naomi winced to say it) 'Alliance'?" She'd wanted to say 'renegade, terrorists, idealists', any thing other than Alliance. But she had a feeling that wouldn't go over well.

[Samantha Lessard]

"Oh..." Samantha thought a moment, "Got picked up by someone at the university."

She cocked her head to the side, "That's how they do it, you know. Grab people out of school who are...close to their ideal thoughts.

"And the Nightmares? How did you get involved with them? I assume they're not just stories told by parents to keep their children in line."

[Naomi Lang]

“I don’t believe you.” Naomi slowly shook her, she wasn’t too keen on being honest when honesty wasn’t being shown to her.

“Stories have to start somewhere don’t they? All rumors have their basis in some sort of truth.”

Naomi shifted farther forward on the cot, as close to the rebel as she could without losing her seat.

“But there’s a difference isn’t there? Nightmares are only real to the people who see them…”

Naomi slowly reached a hand out and tapped a finger against Lessard’s forehead.

“… they’re only in your head, Sam. I’m kind of curious as to what your nightmare is. How. Did. You. Get. Involved?”

[Samantha Lessard]

Lessard shifted her sitting position, moving her face away from the annoying finger. One corner of her mouth twitched in an amused expression and she gazed directly into Naomi's eyes.

"We're not here to talk about my nightmares. We're here to talk about your involvement with the Imperial Nightmares."

A small sigh, "I wish my introduction to the Rebel Alliance was more interesting. But I was 'picked up' there. It beat working for Corsec, at the time.

"Now what about you? Your Imperial file says you're supposed to be dead."

[Naomi Lang]

Naomi smiled as the Director leaned away from the offending hand; she let the limb fall and twisted her own head to look directly into Lessard’s eyes.

“Well of course I’m dead. Nightmares aren’t real, they don’t exist.” Naomi raised an eye as if the conclusion should have been perfectly evident from the start.

“Humans are quite frail creatures aren’t they; we pathetic, loud, clumsy, paranoid creatures? Always living in fear for our survival and hiding the darkness and the nightmares away. A simple little distraction and….”
Naomi slowly stretched her arm out as if prod Lessard again, but…SNAP…the Director blinked reflexively as Naomi snapped her fingers so close to the Director’s face.

Naomi’s voice took on a different tone, cold and hollow while her smile remained. “…we let our guard down and the shadows come back and the nightmares with them, we panic and struggle to beat them back again. We’ve seen the horrors that happen when the darkness takes over.”

Naomi laid back on the cot and stared at the ceiling.

"But do you ever wonder what would happen if a person could make that transition without going mad, if they just reconciled with their darker side; accepting and embracing fear, pain, loss, anguish, terror, desire, malice as naturally as happiness and joy. Perfect balance without conflicting thoughts and emotions…”

The Imperial turned her head toward the rebel intelligence officer. “...it’s impossible to understand unless you can feel it for yourself. Good enough for you, Director? Or do you want to meet my Nightmare?”

[Samantha Lessard]

"I don't think I'm ready to 'meet your nightmare'." Lessard shifted her blue eyes briefly to the cell's floor. "Not yet, anyway."

Her tone became more analytical, "Your explanation sounds like some of the files I've seen on Force users. Being 'connected' makes them almost free.

"Am I right?"

[Naomi Lang]

Naomi burst out laughing at the Director’s comment. It was the first time she’d heard an interpretation of the sort, and one so wrong at that. Naomi calmed her giggling, locked eyes with Lessard, and cleared her throat.<o></o>

<o></o>
<o></o>“There is no emotion; there is peace.<o></o>
There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.<o></o>
There is no passion; there is serenity.<o></o>
There is no death; there is the Force<o></o>
<o></o>

Or were you thinking along something different?<o></o>
<o></o>
Peace is a lie, there is only passion. <o></o>
Through passion, I gain strength.
Through strength, I gain power. <o></o>
Through power, I gain victory. <o></o>
Through victory, my chains are broken. <o></o>
The Force shall free me.”<o>
</o>
The Imperial’s smile turned to a glare and she gestured towards the door.<o></o>
<o></o>
“Witty, but insulting. I think you’re done here.”<o></o>

[Samantha Lessard]

The Director gave a nod of her head, "Very well, Miss Lang, I look to talking with you again."

As Lessard exited the cell, two others watched from behind a two-way mirror.

"Does she know what she's doing?" One of them wondered, as she stuck a small cigarillo in her mouth.

"She does," Rawl affirmed before he took a sip of his caf. "Sam was a helluva agent before she switched to counter-intel. If you listened to what she said, she only gave out general info. I don't think you have anything to worry about."

The female agent lit her cigarillo, "Famous last words."


* * *
The Next Day

Lessard entered the cell and set the plate of food in front of the Nightmare. The Rebel had requested she be the one who gave Naomi her food, hoping to gain her trust somehow. The food was still laced with the drug that kept Naomi from accessing her implant, but neither knew it yet.

"I thought today," Lessard stated as she brushed away a lock of brown hair, "I might start with an apology. I didn't mean to offend you by comparing Nightmares to Force Users. It was unintentional and I'm sorry."

[Naomi Lang]

“Got a chance….(huff)…to think about…(pant)…it…”<o></o>


As if she had anything else to do while locked up like this. Lessard caught Naomi in the middle of a workout session. The rebels didn’t give her much to work with and pushups and crunches only got her so far. So she had decided to improv a bit. Currently she was on her third set of bodyweight rows, her head hidden between the cot and palate. For a moment Lessard wondered how the Imperial was doing the exercise without a bar.

<o></o>
“Nnnnggghhhhh…” Naomi finished the last rep and lowered herself to the floor and peeked around the edge of the bed.

“I can see where you could make that comparison, grudgingly accepted apology, I guess.”
<o></o>
Naomi flashed a honey-sweet smile and stood to stretch out, tossing Lessard’s cane from the previous day onto her bed. The thing worked decently as a free-bar. <o></o>
<o></o>
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Naomi shifted farther forward on the cot, as close to the rebel as she could without losing her seat.

“But there’s a difference isn’t there? Nightmares are only real to the people who see them…”

Naomi slowly reached a hand out and tapped a finger against Lessard’s forehead.

“… they’re only in your head, Sam. I’m kind of curious as to what your nightmare is. How. Did. You. Get. Involved?”<o>

</o> Lessard shifted her sitting position, moving her face away from the annoying finger. One corner of her mouth twitched in an amused expression and she gazed directly into Naomi's eyes…
<o></o>
In the brief instant that Samantha Lessard shifted her attention, Naomi’s free hand snaked out lightning fast. She tipped the cane resting against the chair, the pole slipped and the Imperial caught the end with her foot.

<o></o>“Well of course I’m dead. Nightmares aren’t real, they don’t exist.” Naomi raised an eye as if the conclusion should have been perfectly evident from the start.

“Humans are quite frail creatures aren’t they; we pathetic, loud, clumsy, paranoid creatures? Always living in fear for our survival and hiding the darkness and the nightmares away. A simple little distraction and….”
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><o></o>
Naomi slowly stretched her arm out as if prod Lessard again, but…SNAP…the Director blinked reflexively as Naomi snapped her fingers so close to the Director’s face.

Naomi’s voice took on a different tone, cold and hollow while her smile remained. “…we let our guard down and the shadows come back and the nightmares with them, we panic and struggle to beat them back again. We’ve seen the horrors that happen when the darkness takes over.”

Naomi rolled he foot back, and allowed the cane to hit the floor in time with the snap of her fingers and rolled it under the cot with the toe of her foot. She suddenly changed her vocal pattern to keep the rebel’s attention and away from the soft, clink, clink, clink.

Naomi laid back on the cot and stared at the ceiling.

"But do you ever wonder what would happen if a person could make that transition without going mad, if they just reconciled with their darker side; accepting and embracing fear, pain, loss, anguish, terror, desire, malice as naturally as happiness and joy. Perfect balance without conflicting thoughts and emotions…”

The Imperial turned her head toward the rebel intelligence officer. “...it’s impossible to understand unless you can feel it for yourself. Good enough for you, Director? Or do you want to meet my Nightmare?”

[Samantha Lessard]

Lessard had wondered where her cane had gone. In her hurry to leave the cell yesterday she had forgotten in. Rawl had asked about it the night before and the Rebel spy hadn't known where she'd left it. Now she did.

Stupid! she cursed herself as she pressed a finger into her cheek, "Very well, Miss Lang. If you wish to show me your 'nightmare', I'm ready for it."

[Naomi Lang]

“Oh trust me, you’ll get acquainted with her soon enough.” Naomi walked along the edge of the wall, allowing one hand to trail its surface. Her hair held together in clumps after the workout, it gave the Imperial an almost feral appearance.
<o></o>
“I been thinking, or trying to at least. If got a rather troublesome headache every time I try to concentrate on anything more complicated than trying to figure out grade transparisteel this is.”
<o></o>
Naomi slammed her hand on a section of the blank wall she figured was a one-way mirror. “Kind of makes it difficult to focus on anything.”

[Samantha Lessard]

"You might," Lessard offered from her seat, "Start with how we might get your armor to work."

A small smile, "For better accommodations of course. Maybe even some real food. This prison swill can't be that good for you. Even for someone as in good shape as you are."

[Naomi Lang]

“Eh, about the same as field rations but not as many carbs.” Naomi leaned against the wall and crossed her arms in front of her chest with a smirk.
<o></o>
“I was wondering how long your scientists would be bashing their heads against a wall. You sure they put it together in the right order?”

[Samantha Lessard]

"As long as they know which arm socket goes into the other, they'll figure it out," Lessard quirked a smile. "Although, these are 'scientists' we're talking about. What might they be missing?"

[Naomi Lang]

“Hey, its an expensive piece of equipment. I don’t want some idiots touching something that’ll break…or trigger the failsafe.”
<o></o>
Naomi had a worried look to her face on the last comment. The powersuit drew a lot of energy, too much for standard power cells. Instead it ran on a portable fusion generator which could probably rip this ship in half if it blew.
<o></o>
“It doesn’t really matter if you can put it together or who you use as a lizard-monkey to wear it. You won’t be able to get it to respond, all you have right now is a really heavy vacuum suit.”

[Samantha Lessard]

"Really," Sam made a mental note and folded her damaged left leg over her right one, "So how are you able to get it to work. And how are you able to smuggled it around without too many people raising an eyebrow at it."

[Naomi Lang]

Naomi smiled “We live in the shadows and the underworld, smuggling is easy.” A nonchalant gesture of the hand followed
<o></o>
The Imperial’s eyes lingered on Lessard’s ‘damaged’ leg as she moved it before snapping her gaze up.
<o></o>
“Armor is a bit more interesting. It’s not really armor, more like an exoskeleton. A direct hardwired link to the nervous system is the only way to make it tick…” Of course it had to be her nervous system. “…but that really doesn’t help you at all, does it?”
<o></o>
Naomi leaned forward again with a cheshire cat grin. Déjà vu was a bitch.<o></o>

[Samantha Lessard]

"It depends," Lessard absentmindedly rubbed her left foot (the mechanical portion of her foot was itching). "On whether anyone who had an implant could use it."

She smiled, "I seem to remember plenty of 'potential Rebels' getting implants such as yours. I'm sure they might find a joyride in your armor quite...what's the term...novo? Refreshing?"

[Naomi Lang]

Naomi shrugged her shoulders as if she didn’t really care. “I really doubt that, but go ahead. As long as you clean up the mess after you’re done, give it a shot.
<o></o>
“Cerebral hemorrhaging is always fun, but gets kind of nasty when the blood starts spilling out of the eyes. Don’t blame me when one of your techs frack it up.”
<o></o>
She was enjoying this. Inquisitorial engineers weren’t stupid, the bio-mechanical implants converted neural impulses into electronic signals that in turn caused the suit to act accordingly.

The CMC-400 literally responded to the wearer slightly slower than the brain could fire off a neuron. And each suit was programmed only to respond to a certain user’s neurological signals. Anyone else would be stuck trying to move a quarter-ton worth of equipment through sheer strength<o></o>

[Samantha Lessard]

Lessard made another note in her mind. This session was becoming quite informational. But she still didn't know what everyone was wondering.

"So why were you on Ord Cantrell? Who were you meeting?"

[Naomi Lang]

Naomi shrugged her shoulders in response the question. "Now your're just starting to sound like Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Annoying. Why do you think I'd actually tell you something useful?"


The look on Lessard's face almost made Naomi laugh. "Oh come one, Sammy. Face it, nothing I've told you so far helps you in the slightest, I've saved you what? Maybe four hours of work and probably one of your soldier-toys."


Lang just shook her head and huffed. "I'm getting bored with this game."

[Samantha Lessard]

The Director of Rebel Counter-Intelligence pursed her lips. "I guess we're all getting tired of these games. It would be easier if we could act how we want in this situation."

The lips turned into a grin. "Did you at least get the chance to enjoy your hotel suite a bit? Before you were caught by 'Tall, Dark, and Annoying'?"

[Naomi Lang]

“He could have given me some time to enjoy the bed busting my door in…” Naomi patted the flimsy padding she was had the luxury of sleeping on. “…and putting me back on one of these.”
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“What’s up with that guy anyway? He doesn’t operate like the rest of you.”


This was where she really wanted to be going. There was something familiar about The Black Man, something in the way he carried himself, about the way he fought, about that really weird vibe that seemed to run through the other rebels when they were around him.

[Samantha Lessard]

Sam shrugged, "Who knows. He tends to come and go as he pleases." Which was very true. She hardly got to see Rawl but it was a part of the job. When you were hunted by the Empire, relationships had to take a back seat.

"I don't think anyone really knows his name. Except for maybe the Mon and even then, I doubt it." Lessard stroked her hair back again and felt a ghost pain in her foot, "He does take 'cloak and dagger' to a new level. Kinda frustrating at times.

"What about your fellow Inquisitors? Any of them you want to strangle with a mynock's tail?"

[Naomi Lang]

Naomi raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. Have you seen him fight? Really strange style, thought he was a K'tara specialist with the gun in his hands....but then he switches to Echani."

The Imperial evaded Lessard's question, the rebel had finally given her something really good to work with.

"No body teaches those two in combination the way he used them." A sly smile crossed her face. "Well, that may be a bit of a lie. The Imperial Royal Guard used Echani and every commando is taught K'tara at some point."

"Woulnd't be too diffcult for an objective Guardsmen to integrate past skills. Maybe you should learn more about your allies than worrying about mine."

[Samantha Lessard]

"What's she doing?" the Rebel officer asked as he stared through the two-way window, "She's getting awful close to giving out secure info."

Rawl gave a smile, "Sam does a great job at lying. And every one of those has a little bit of truth in it." The officer nodded, but it was clear he didn't understand. Rawl continued, "She really was recruited out of a university. Vanis (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Tay_Vanis) did it I think. Couple years before he died. She was a student in a class on oceanic studies on Wor Tandell (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Wor_Tandell)."

"How does an oceanic student become Director of Counter-Intelligence?"

"She's that good. Sam got her undergrad in economics at Corulag University (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Corulag_University_of_Economics). She never said why she was studying oceanography, but I think she was just bored."

"So she never considered CorSec?"

The smile on Rawl's face grew larger, "Kinda hard to join CorSec when you've only visited the system once. Like I said, Sam's one of the best liars out there.

"She knows what she's doing."


* * *

"You're forgetting our deal," Lessard stated pointly and fiddled with her cane. "I tell you something and then you tell me something."

Naomi started to speak but the Director of Counter-Intel cut her off, "And telling me to pay more attention to my allies. That doesn't count." She gave a grin. "It's common sense.

"So...which Inquisitors do you want to strangle?"

[Naomi Lang]

"Actually if I remember the count..." Naomi ran back and forth on her hand, eventually glancing up with a pair of fingers raised. "...you are up two on the question count."

"I thought you were the honorable ones, playing fair." But the Imperial still left a sly smile, the game was getting interesting again. "What the hell though, right. Mordeci is a cocky son of bitch with a supperiority complex from hell. Wouldn't mind seeing him twitching on the ground."

"But what about your friend there? Ex boy-toy or something, you really don't sound like you want to talk about him."

[Samantha Lessard]

"Who? The Black Man?" Lessard let the code name slip. It wasn't his actual code name, just what everyone called him since they didn't know what else to call him. Plus he never bothered correcting them so it continued. "I don't even know his name, let alone spend time with him. I've only met him twice." A half-lie, it'd actually been four times, but that didn't matter.

"I'd tell you more, but I honestly don't know, sorry." Lessard
gave another shrug. "But I do know something. You were on Ord Cantrell for a reason. Care to let me know? Or just a piece of it. Has to be a specific reason right?"

[Naomi Lang]

"Now, now, that depends. I'm not too keen on anserwing quetions when you're breaking your own rules."

The Imperial crossed her arms, a darkness momentarily flashing across her face. The Nightmare really wanted to break out of the cage, needed to feed. But Naomi kept the urge in check.

"You get me out of this cell and maybe into the mess hall and I might consider talking."

[Samantha Lessard]

"You know I can't do that." Lessard chuckled. It was a request she'd been preparing herself for, but there was no way Lang would be let out of the cell. Even if she wanted her to be. "I might be able to bring actual food into here. One soft plates, without utensils, but anything is better than prison food."

[Naomi Lang]

"Ugh" Naomi flopped herself over on the cot, letting her feet hang of the end. "At least we let the nice prisoners have a bit of fresh air, chance to stretch the legs to y'know."

The Imperial banged the back of her head against the less than comfortable surface several time.

She draped her arm over her eyes and lay in there without uttering a word. Several minutes passed before Lessard rose to her feet, taking her cane with her this time.

But just as the wind-up doll MPs outside were about to open the door....

"Ord Cantrell was supposed to be squeeze op for those gunrunners your boy "The Black Man" was staking out. They may be selling big guns and other toys at bargain to however pays, but they sub-cell of a larger group. Granted the Cantrell lot are a bunch or fraking idiots, but the big-wigs have something my boss wants."

Naomi coughed and let her arm flop of the edge of the soddy bed. "....probably.....no one tells me anything."

She canted her head towards Lessard and shrugger. "But knowing my boss, it's a lot more complicated than anything either or us can guess. Hell, he probably knew about your boy and set me up for whatever the hell reason...."

Naomi drew her legs up onto the cot and sighed. "...ungrateful bastard!" She rolled over to face the wall, slamming a fist against the reinforced durasteel.

"Everything's a fracking test."