Recalling the Guild: Chir'daki

[Darven]

Corellian Space, two days after Empress Tarkin's coronation ceremony


En route to his destination - the exact midpoint of the distance between Selonia and Drall - the Mandalorian was skimming the news for anything worthy of his interest while waiting for the results of his system's searches. He was using the time in subspace to run a holonet search for anything on the De'Ville woman, but she was proving an elusive one.

Which was why he was now headed for that shabla dead-space in the middle of nowhere. No one in their right mind would have picked a place like that - except for this one man. If anything could be ascribed to him, then it was the ability to irritate and confuse.

He actually quite liked him.

Chir'daki - human inspite of his Twi'leki name - had once been a bountyhunter like himself before settling down and becoming one of Black Sun's lieutenants. A few years ago Darven'd been hired by them to bring in an ex-employee of theirs - Chir'daki's own predecessor, in fact - and the oddly named man had been his contact inside. They'd stayed in touch afterwards; every now and then the other man had passed him news of some bounty before it was released publicly, giving him an advantage over his colleagues.

Apart from his current interest in the bounty on the De'Ville woman, he was going to inform him of the newly reformed guild. Black Sun was as problematic to start with as any other big client, but they'd all see the point in it once things got on their way.

Another two hours to kill. And the search protocols kept on running.

[Chir'daki]

Blue Shadow - at the rendezvous

The music that echoed around Chir'daki's chambers was soft and lilting, a strange mix of mellow strings and warm, rumbling brass. Woodwind instruments snaked through the melody, flitting about within the notes like leaves tumbling on the breeze. It was Alderaanian; an original recording from one of their premiere orchestras from a few short years prior to the planet's destruction. Like everything from the deadened world, the recording would have been highly prized among the orphans of Alderaan. It had cost Chir'daki far more credits than it had been worth to him, but he needed it: needed to deprive everyone else at the aution from winning. It wasn't because of malice; he was simply the sort of person that didn't like to loose. When he stepped into that auction room, he knew he wouldn't be happy leaving unless he posessed something new; an item so hardly sought after was the most worthy prize of all.

Of course, the fact that it had caused an extra degree of suffering for his Alderaanian target at the time had been a pleasant side effect; as an appology, he'd made sure to deduct the eventual price of the recording from the target's finances. He'd obviously wanted to pay for it badly: might as well allow him his dying wish.

Jabbing a digit into the controls, the music came to an abrupt halt. Chir'daki clambered stiffly out of the seat he'd been reclining in. Clearly, he had lingered for far too long; best to pace the ship and loosen his muscles. When you had an encounter with Darven - even when you had made sure to arrange the meeting safely on your own terms - you never knew what was going to happen.

Pacing out into the corridor, Chir'daki ran his fingers through his slicked-back hair, his other hand trailing against the cold durasteel plates that lined the ship. He counted the paces as he passed; exactly fourty-seven between his quarters and the ship's control room, same as always. He mentally checked off the concealed weapons caches as he passed, hoping he wouldn't need to use any of them when Darven came aboard. Buying new power packs was so tedious.

He supposed that his paranoia might be misplaced, but he prided himself on his ability to read people. The message from Darven had been simple; a request for information regarding Lileana DeVille, just like any of the other similar requests the Mandalorian had sent his way over the years. But something about it had nagged at Chir'daki's mind. There was a hidden agenda here: something that Darven hadn't been upfront about. He hoped that their meeting was as innocent as it seemed, but one could never be too careful: bounty hunters might be moral creatures, but they certainly weren't sentimental.

Still, if anyone was intending to do away with him, he was honoured that they'd thought him worthy enough to deserve the best.

Chir'daki's attention was destracted by the sound of the control room's doors opening. An instant later, his armour-plated Astromech droid shot out into the corridor, smashing into his shins. True to form, little R2-N8 blurted a string of angry sounds in droidspeak before dodging around him, and shooting off up the corridor. Chir'daki sighed, and shook his head. He should probably have the thing's memory wiped, but the grumpy little droid was oddly endearing at times.

Stepping into the control room, Chir'daki stepped forward to stand between the two pilot droids, passing the stoic unmoving form of his bodyguard. Clasping his hands behind his back, he stared out at the space outside the viewport. "What's our status?"

"A vessel is approaching," one of the Rutian Twins informed him, the old Trade Federation droid's head twitching and pitching as his ocular sensors shifted focus between the various computer readouts before him.

Chir'daki nodded, silently. Darven was exactly on time. No surprises there. "Transmit permission to dock with the starboard airlock," he instructed.

"Roger, roger," the other Rutian replied.

The bounty hunter's gaze lingered for a few moments longer on the distant stars, before he executed a perfect turn on his heel to face the exit. His gaze settled on the Super Battle Droid that usually accompanied him into situations where intimidating potential business partners was required. "Come on," he instructed, knowing that the droid would fall in step behind him as he left the control room. "Lets go welcome our guest aboard."

[Darven]

Sourly he noted the mechanic voice on the other side of the comm channel as he was cleared for docking to the other ship. He'd never had any great use for droids, of any kind.

Docking with another ship was a tedious process; his own vessel was an ancient KDY Phoenix Hawk-class starfighter, an ungainly older brother of the Firespray blastboat that Fett had brought to fame. The only access ramp and docking port was on its belly, and required him to align his ship's underside with the access port on the other ship - most of which were smaller and built in a way that his ship's magnetic claws could find nothing to hold on to in the positions they held. Once they had found something to hold on to, he had to extend a tunnel between the hatches.

Having to knock against the durasteel access hatch on the other side always made him feel somewhat foolish.

Fortunately there hadn't been any need for it for many years; usually he'd waited until they'd gone to ground and caught up with them there. The thrill of space captures had worn off a long time ago. A long, long time ago.

When he banged his gloved fist against the outer hull of Chir'daki's ship, right over the hatch, he felt a fresh wave of annoyance at the Black Sun agent for this unconventional mode of meeting. The hatch hissed loudly, then popped open with a bang as it slammed backwards onto the hull, making just enough room to let one person in, feet first.

What was this...? Some kind of supply chute???

He landed on his feet - a dull pain jolting from his knee joints all the way to the back of his neck - and winced inside his helmet. But the next moment he forgot all about it, and pulled his blaster in one smooth motion, swearing profusely:

Droids. Not just any droids, but Trade Federation droids. Very familiar.

What in haran....?

A trap of some kind. He aimed the blaster at the nearest droid, and started calculating the odds of him being able to take them all out.

[Chir'daki]

Chir'daki bit back a laugh at the Mandalorian's reaction; it was a hard-fought battle however. The sudden snap movements of the armoured Bounty Hunter would ordinarily have seemed impressive, intimidating, and perhaps even a little frightening. Unfortunately - or fortunately, depending on your point of view - Chir'daki had just watched the spectactle of Darven appearing feet-first from the ceiling.

The hatch was inaccessible by design: a means of ensuring that potential threats were reduced to arriving aboard one at a time. That made establishing a defense against boarders much easier, and allowed Chir'daki a little reaction time should there be a double-cross. It also afforded him some mild amusement whenever guests came aboard. Chir'daki on the other hand only ever left the ship via the aft bay; unfortunately for Darven, that was currently occupied by his Lethan, and wouldn't have afforded space for his bulky Phoenix Halk even on a good day.

Standing out of sight in the protective shadow of his Super Battle Droid, Chir'daki cleared his throat. "Nu jurkad Mando'ade, burc'ya," he said, drawing on the smattering of Mando'a he'd picked up over the yeas. "I'd prefer it if you didn't damage my sentry, if it's all the same to you." Stepping out, his arms casually folded across his chest - and a Relby-K23 concealed in the axilla of one arm, just in case - he muttered something low under his breath. At the issued command, the B2 Battle Droid tucked up its arm, the wrist-mounted blasters safely aimed elsewhere.

Unfolding his arms and letting his gun hang loose at his sides - Darven knew him well enough to assume that he was armed anyway - Chir'daki threw the Mandalorian a slight and lopsided wry smile that tugged into the unscarred side of his face. "Su'cuy gar, old friend."

[Darven]

He watched the SBD turn his blasterarm away, and the frown on his forehead grew more prominent inside the helmet. He'd often wondered if the Black Sun agent knew of his past, and this display made him speculate further. Had the droids been put there to get a specific reaction from him, or were they simply doing their job? There was on way to be sure. His annoyance couldn't be filtered out by the helmet's systems; when he finally spoke his voice was thick with it, holding no attempt to disguise it.

"That's a wise call... friend."

He remained standing where he was even though the stabbing pain in his knees returned as he relaxed his guard slightly when there was no perceivable direct threat coming from either sort of droid.

"If this is how you welcome a friend, then I do not envy your enemies."

His voice was carefully neutral at that, but he didn't put away his blaster just yet.

[Chir'daki]

"I'm sure there's probably some Mandaloran addage along those lines; treat your friends as enemies, and your enemies as friends, or somesuch. You boys usually think up profound things like that."

Chir'daki allowed his smile to remain for a few moments longer, before finally letting it relax. He turned to his droid, and issued another order; after a brief pause to process the new instructions, the droid turned and disappeared into the bowels of the ship with its characteristic ungainly walk.

Allowing a few moments for the clanking of the droid's frame to disappear out of earshot, Chir'daki turned and gestured for Darven to lead the way down the corridor, but knew full well that he would insist on following. It was a simple precaution, but an effective one: at the moment, Darven knew there was nothing behind him; while he couldn't be entirely sure of what lay in front, he knew that at least one combat droid was there, and wouldn't be willing to stagger blindly into an ambush.

Of course, that mystery was exactly what Chir'daki hoped to cultivate. Ordinarily he would not allow a guest aboard his ship, but his own paranoia insisted that this meeting take place on his own ground. He had ordered his battle droid to Wait with the others - a cryptic instruction that had led to the delay in the droid's processing. Of course, by 'others' Chir'daki merely meant the other droids aboard; two harmless pilots and a sturdy astromech that was tougher than most, but no match for a combattant of Darven's calibre. The bounty hunter however would not have such an intimate knowledge of Chir'daki's inventory. It was a crude deception, but worthwhile, he hoped: anything that might give Darven pause in an attempt on his life was a security that he could hardly ignore.

Leading the way along the corridor towards his chamber, he threw a glance over his shoulder towards his armoured companion. "In your message, you requested information," he stated simply. Not the best conversation starter, but one that would no doubt work, given the circumstances.

[Darven]

Darven knew excessive paranoia was one of his own faults, but Chir'daki seemed to have turned it into a form of art. His helmet's systems picked up on the man's command to his SBD, and everything about the bountyhunter tensed at hearing it.

Join the others? Had the Black Sun agent an entire army of SBDs watching over his ship?

Before taking a step forward and following the other man - indicating with a a curt shake of his head that he wasn't going to lead as requested - he activated the HUD's radar and scanned the ship's interior.

The radar sweep showed five signatures besides his own: one living, four mechanical. Including the SBD. It seemed Chir'daki was playing games with him.

Sourly he stalked the Black Sun man and the SBD down the corridor towards what the radar had indicated was a larger chamber at the end of it. He heard his words, but didn't acknowledge them until they would be in whatever place the other man was leading him. The Mandalorian preferred to be in a position to face his opponent; he wasn't sure what other surprises Chri'daki had left to spring on him.

[Chir'daki]

Chir'daki led the way into his chamber; a space that combined an odd sparseness of furniture with an over-abundance of trinkets and collectables, all displayed in a manner appropriate to their function. Furniture was minimal, but oppulent; luxurious couches and delicately ornate glass tables created a social seating area towards the fore of the room, while a dark and sturdy ironwood desk designated the far end as being strictly for business. Conspicuously absent was a bed; no doubt the human slept elsewhere on the ship; if he even slept at all.

A section of one wall - flanked by support pillars for the ship's infrastructure - was adorned with various bladed, melee and ceremonial weapons from worlds across the galaxy: a twin on the opposite wall displayed more advanced equivalents; blasters, rifles, and the like. Standing sentry in various corners were various uniforms and suits of armour, liberated from Imperials, mercenaries, and even the odd bounty hunter from time to time. Most notable to Darven perhaps was the display behind the luxury desk at the far end of the chamber; a practical assortment of weapons was hung in a cabinet, while the armour of a Mandalorian ori'ramikade stood sentry beside it.

The route that Chir'daki led didn't reach as far as the 'office', however. Settling himself down on one of the couches close to the entrance, he gestured for Darven to do the same. The Mandalorian's surley mood didn't seem conductive to conversation; Chir'daki decided to cut the pretense. Laying his blaster down on the cushions beside him, he leaned forward and retrieved a strategically-placed datapad from the table. Flicking the display into life, he let his gaze shift to Darven. "This is all that Black Sun has about Liliana De'Ville," he explained, brandishing the datapad for emphasis. His eyes narowed. "That isn't why you're here though, is it?" He hesitated, a frown forming. "At least, that's not the whole reason."

[Darven]

If Chir'daki meant for him to be impressed by all this clutter, he was going to be disappointed. The former clone commando, whose entire belongings could have fit into a small satchel - if one discounted the armor and weapons he had acquired over the years - had no eye for any of it. All he could read from it was that the Black Sun man had more credits than was good for him.

The sight of the ori'ramikade annoyed him: he knew that the other man had no ties to the Mandalorian supercommandos. He hoped the man had more sense than to venture out into the open with that thing.

His irritation kept on growing. Dealing with Black Sun was never simple, but today was so far the worst. And the meeting hadn't even started properly!

But just as he'd arrived at that thought, the other man turned into someone else again - more like his usual self.

Interesting.

A moment later, Chir'daki suprised him, after all, by showing he could see past the obvious. Darven hadn't thought it would be that easy to tell. But he wasn't ready to talk of the Guild yet.

"What's Black Sun's interest in De'Ville? The woman's had a bounty on her head for over a year now, by the Empire, so what do your bosses want with her?"

Nevermind that the new bounty was only information.

[Chir'daki]

Darven didn't seem impressed; not that there was a particularly sure-fire way of reading the emotions of someone so tightly wrapped behind the full-body mask of his armour. There was just something about the way that blank, expressionless mask remained perfectly faced in the same direction that hinted at the Mandalorian's mood.

Not that Chir'daki was particularly bothered, of course. The display was intended to intimidate the Black Sun underlings that came to visit him in his 'private offices'; they were usually far more impressionable, and the display of weapons - the rumour mills claimed that they had all been taken from his victims, and Chir'daki had no desire to disuage that notion - usually knocked those sorts of people off-balance, and made meetings like this somewhat smoother.

Darven of course would not be so easily affected; Chir'daki had expected as much. The manner in which Darven batted his own request for information aside was frustrating, but Chir'daki resolved not to let that show in his expression or body language. For a moment, he wondered if a permenant mask might serve him well also.

"I know very little," he said eventually, setting the datapad back in place. If Darven was going to hold his own cards so close to his chest, there was no way he'd let go of his own ace without something from the Mandalorian. "Best I can tell, the bounty came in from a private customer." He smiled a little as a thought floated through his mind, certain things left unsaid. He fixed Darven with a twinkling eye. "You know how eager Black Sun is to protect the identities of their clients."

[Darven]

He had a certain suspicion about this client. Fact of the matter was - it didn't sound like Black Sun to put out a bounty for information only. Nor had he ever heard of them putting up a bounty for a client. The organisation usually didn't bother with a creature unless it needed to be brought in, preferably in a breathing condition so they could do themselves whatever punishment they thought it deserved - for personal use, not that of clients. A bounty for information only was a half-assed thing; it smacked of desperation or something they were being forced to do. But who would be stupid enough to put pressure on the mightiest criminal organisation in the galaxy?

He could only think of one "client" stupid - or powerful, if one wanted to see it differently - enough to do so: The Empire.

And that was an interesting idea. After a year of silence on the matter - why was it suddenly so important to them that they would bother to go through Black Sun? What did they think Black Sun could do? Unless of course this was a Black Sun bounty after all. Which he thought unlikely.

So he decided to put the idea out there and test his opponent's reaction.

"I've never heard of Black Sun dealing with small fry. Why just information? Because the woman is a force freak? Tell me if I'm wrong but this stinks of the Inquisitoriate digging its claws into your merry band of vigos, trying to milk their connections when their own ran dry."

[Chir'daki]

Chir'daki held his hands out in a sign of surrender. "I'm just the messenger here, D," he countered, converting his gesture into a shrug, but could sense Darven's probing stare even through his helmet. Chir'daki wasn't a mindless drone, but he did understand the concept of right time and right place. When someone from he Black Sun inner circle brings a bounty to your attention, you don't waste time and fray patience by asking undue questions about it.

Chir'daki fixed Darven with a determined look. "That datapad is all I have for you. Take it or leave it: you ain't getting anything more." His brow twitched into a frown, something twinkling in his eye. Chir'daki wasn't a mindless drone, and though he knew when not to ask questions, he also knew when to pay attention. There was more that he knew, but he was saving that ace for last; maybe Darven's curiosity would allow for enough leverage to get some answers for himself.

"Unless, of course, you want to tell me why the hell this chat of ours had to happen face to face?"

[Darven]

The bountyhunter had to admit that Chir'daki was good at playing innocent. It was, however, blindingly obvious to him that it was an act; the man's body language spoke volumes to one skilled at reading every minute detail.

The last statement was a simple confirmation of it. They both knew there was more - if he, Darven, was willing to offer up something of value in return.

For a moment he found himself toying with the idea of simply leaving the agent sitting there amidst his amassed riches, stewing on his own curiosity, while he would be heading back to his ship. He didn't know how but he knew that he was right about this client of theirs, and it was giving him an oddly perverse sense of satisfaction to know more than his opponent. But getting information hadn't been all he'd been after when he'd asked for this meeting, and playing games like that would be extremely childish and petty.

That was an odd realisation. He was neither of these things, usually. Something about the man opposite him seemed to have a strange effect on his instincts.

He decided to take his cue from Chir'daki's last words. His hands went to the clasps of his helmet, and undid them smoothly. Then he pulled it off, revealing his greying hair and the scarred face underneath, the deep lines of progressing age etched into his skin. After settling the helmet ceremoneously down on the empty space of the recliner in front of him, he put his arms on the headrest of it, and looked down from that position onto Chir'daki, who was still sitting on the other side of the table. Darven preferred to remain standing.

After the silence in the chamber had reached an unpleasant length, he finally remarked: "We're reforming the Guild."

His voice, unfiltered and unaided by the helmet's audio boosters, sounded unnaturally deep and gravelly compared to Chir'daki's, who had never heard nor seen him without the helmet.

[Chir'daki]

Chir'daki's initial reaction was one of confusion. That Darven had so blindly thrown away the barrier that prevented his emotions from being clearly read was obviously some sort of manoeuvre, though its purpose currently illuded Chir'daki.

For a moment, he allowed himself to muse over how human the Mandalorian appeared. He realised that he had always assumed that the men beneath the Mandalorian armour would be different somehow, like the Ubese. But this man, though threatening, could easily be lost in a crowd. Perhaps, Chir'daki realised, that was exactly why he went to such lengths to hide his face from the galaxy.

It took the human a moment longer to identify the guild to which Darven was referring. The Bounty Hunters Guild had existed up until a year or so after the destruction of Alderaan; internal politics had torn the organisation to shreds. The Empire and Black Sun had made the best of it, providing some limited structure for a few select hunters kept on permenant retainer; Chir'daki had been one of those lucky few. For the most part however, the bounty hunters had been left to their own devices, picking up what scattered bounties they could.

So, this was Darven's secret, then: he was here on official business. Chir'daki had to admit, he was certainly intreagued by the notion, but such a simple statement raised far too many questions in his mind. He shot the unmasked Mandalorian a wry grin. "You'll have to be more specific than that, friend."

[Darven]

With some amusement he noted the Black Sun agent's obvious surprise at seeing his face. At first glance, it always seemed to come as a surprise to anyone how ordinary his face was, even with its disfigurement. He knew that some even thought him something other than human.

His amusement didn't show. In fact, his face remained a bland surface; it was nothing but a second mask. He'd schooled himself well not to let any emotion show, regardless of how deeply he might feel about something.

He liked to remain unreadable.

Nevertheless he allowed a hint of impatience to creep into his voice. Surely the man knew what he was talking of?

"We are reforming the Bounty Hunters' Guild. There's too much rabble going around without having something keep an eye on it all." He was referring to the small army of creatures all feeling free to call themselves bounty hunters these days but who were nothing but spoilt Imperial brats with an inflated sense of self-importance and more credits than was good for them.

"Can't have the galaxy thinking they can post bounties for low rates just because any of these half-brained rich kids only care about the sense of adventure and not the money. It's bad for the business and gives us a bad rep."

What he didn't need to say was that he was expecting Chir'daki - and his employers - to accept the Guild as the only organisation to deal with in the matter of bounties. He figured the agent was smart and would get the idea.

[Chir'daki]

The Bounty Hunters Guild - the solution that had formed after the galaxy found itself flooded with far too many sharks and not enough prey for them all. It had worked, after a fashion; the odd combination of a strict honour code with the threat of total annihilation from the other members of the guild if you stepped out of line.

Back in the day, Chir'daki hadn't had all that much patience for the conglomeration; the idea of competition and rivalry kept you on your toes, and made the job all the more challenging. It certainly made for a better alternative - to his eyes - than the formation of a selected elite who got all the best jobs, while everyone lower down was forced to scrabble around for the scraps. That notion had been formed from the perspective of someone at the bottom of the tower though, trying to comprehend the mentality of the people sitting in the penthouse. His current status changed things of course; with his time so taken up with his responsibilities to Black Sun, what did he care about the welfare of the galaxy's bounty hunters?

Black Sun. That was of course why Darven was here. "You want me to convince my employers that backing your reformation efforts is in their best interests." As one of the largest crime cartels, Black Sun was the obvious point of call for people who didn't want to go through the arduous process of recruiting one of the freelance hunters. It was hardly their main or most profitable service, but it did pull in some significant credits from time to time. Black Sun wouldn't take lightly to losing its cut and commission on the proceeds.

Chir'daki shook his head, slowly. "They aren't going to like that," he found himself saying, a little surprised that he'd referred to they and not we. He folded his arms across his chest and reclined further in his chair. "Having Black Sun ratify your organisation takes out one of your major competators; our backing would likely make your Guild far more attractive to potential customers as well." He cocked his head to one side. "What's in it for us?"

[Darven]

He noted Chir'daki's odd dissassociation from the organisation that paid him, and felt intrigued by the possibilities it hinted at. He'd known that getting Black Sun on their side would not be an easy task; it always involved politics, and he didn't like the cloak-and-dagger side of it that it entailed. But something about the agent's words told him there might be a simple fix to it yet.

"They might like it if they got to keep a percentage of some of the bounties. They might also see the benefit of it if it meant their own people were freed up to go about other business. Of course, if they have any psychopaths who need to make a kill every once in a week or so they would be free to join the guild themselves. We're not a competitor."

He didn't like that sort of creature, himself, and he certainly didn't like killing for the fun of it, but he knew they existed, and was sure the Guild would find something to do for them if they really wanted to.

But now he needed to put out the bait that would net this aiwha.

"But Black Sun aside, we would like to welcome you back into the Guild. There are no clans this time, but you'd do well as a lieutenant of the guild, overseeing perhaps any of the hunters dealing solely with Black Sun matters ... would you not think?"

The guild was still a theoretic construct so far; none of the details had been set in stone, but as the Guild master's second he felt secure enough to know that offering Chir'daki a job like that wasn't impossible to carry out. Darven suspected Ecks was making his own plans for further lieutenants; he himself had two more so far.

[Chir'daki]

Chir'daki couldn't help a slight chuckle. Quite a strange turn of events it was to see the Mandalorian appealing to his own sense of personal greed in order to achieve his objectives. Chir'daki had become used to such things from his colleagues at Black Sun; he wasn't sure whether to be insulted, or simply amused by the assumption that he had dissolved into the same mercenary ways.

Even so, the offer that Darven presented was tempting. As a Lieutenant in Black Sun already he posessed a certain level of authority, and while additional responsibilities within the Bounty Hunters' Guild would certainly place a strain on his time, it would be time spent returning towards the occupation that he had left behind, rather than the dull and dismal administrative duties that currently occupied him. Besides, there were pleanty of enthusiastic young Black Sun officers who would probably relish the opportunity to have some of his more menial responsibilities delegated to them.

There were of course obstacles. "I will have to clear this with my supervisors," he said honestly, but there was a hesitation in his voice. "I will, however, advocate your case personally." He reclined in his seat, mulling over just how he planned to do that - propose such a radical concession to the leaders of Black Sun without getting shot, dismembered, or otherwise damaged for his insolense.

A reassuring thought brought a faint smile back to his lips. His focus returned to Darven. "I assume that as a -" He searched his memory for the term that the Mandalorian had used. "- Lieutenant in your guild, I will be permitted to handle the finer details of the contract with Black Sun personally?"

[Darven]

His offer seemed to have worked its charm quite well. He congratulated himself on having had the insight to put it to Chir'daki on the basis of that slip of tongue. He'd not done something so instinctive for ... well, not for a long time.

Maybe he'd do well to be a bit more spontaneous again in his dealings with other people.

Of course it wouldn't be this easy from hereon. Darven held no doubts that Chir'daki would prove every bit a sharp negotiatior while settling the details of a contract between the two operations, but there was a price to every success, and if the Guild wanted to succeed then they did need the support of these organisations, Black Sun as well as every other major player out there.

Something told him dealing with Black Sun would be a much simpler affair than trying to get the same out of the Empire's agents.

"That's a fair assumption," he therefore replied to the agent, and inclined his head in agreement, while his mind already started wondering in advance what sort of a deal an Inquisitor might try to cut with them, and how much of the guild might be left over after it.

[Chir'daki]

Chir'daki mulled over the situation he had volunteered for, and what they would need to achieve to make this situation work. He wondered for a moment which 'they' he considered himself part of. In the coming negotiations with Black Sun, was he one of their agents trying to carve out the best deal for them, or was he a Bounty Hunter hoping to exploit as much as possible for the benefit of his bretheren. Was he both? Neither?

He forced those thoughts aside. He would of course need to be whichever would benefit him most at the time. The negotiations would require a certain objective approach when he formulated his proposal; the actual confrontation with Black Sun over its acceptance would call for a Bounty Hunter to assure that the Guild's corner was fought at the table.

After that? Well, he'd just have to wait and see.

He scratched at a non-descript patch of the corner of his jaw, and allowed his musings to continue for a few moments longer. "You won't be easy to track down," Chir'daki said aloud; the statement applied to both Darven and his intended creation. "Where is home these days? How do I find you?"

[Darven]

Darven was still trying to work that one out for himself. He'd told Ecks he'd see to a good location for the meeting - and the Guild itself - but as much as he'd thought of it, he hadn't been able to come up with anything suitable.

So far all he had were contact points - and they were his own. There was the old Clone network support chain, and more than anything he considered their locations "home"; they were anonymous enough, yet provided all the simple necessities of his life: a bed, nourishment, information, supplies. He wasn't going to offer up any of them as the Guild's headquarters, but any other locations in the galaxy he'd come up with all had something speaking against them. Sooner or later, if he couldn't think of anything else, he'd have to see how well one of his own hideouts would do. Maybe the one on Nar Shaddaa; Progga was probably the least troublesome to deal with.

His decision - at least for a temporary contact point - was made.

"You may find me at these..." - he took his datapad from a pouch on his belt and punched a sequence of keys into it, then held it out for Chir'daki to read - "... coordinates, or you may leave a message in my absence. The bar's proprietor is an old... associate, and will get the message to me."

That would have to do. He wasn't comfortable handing out even that little information, but this wasn't just any situation, either.

It seemed their dealings were nearing an end, with everything about the matter having been said. Which brought him back to the other reason he had wanted to speak to the man about.

"We were talking about the De'Ville merchandise before. Is there anything you would like to ... add... to what you've so generously handed to me already?"

[Chir'daki]

"Officially," Chir'daki said at length as he glanced over the datapad that Darven had passed over, setting it down on the table for later consideration, "I know nothing more than I have told you already."

He hesitated. A shady and mysterious organisation like Black Sun guarded its secrets closely, and would not look favourably on them being shared. However, Chir'daki's motivations were hardly cavalier; if Black Sun and their mysterious benefactor wanted the job done, then the people they were relying upon to make it happen would need to know all the facts.

"Unofficially, I did some digging. A few weeks ago, Sasseeri Reeouurra disappeared. I'm told that she was seen calmly leaving her office and departing via a shuttle landed on the roof, which suggests that no foul play was involved; however, a crew replaced one of the windows of her office, so I'm not so sure."

The halted for a few moments, collating his thoughts on the matter. "She reestablished communications with Black Sun shortly after; that's when this Bounty was established. Black Sun is keeping the details very quiet, but it seems that one of her seconds has been left running things; she certainly hasn't returned just yet."

Warning bells chimed in the back of Chir'daki's mind again as he reconsidered the facts. Her disappearence seemed to him like a kidnapping; leverage to ensure that the bounty was taken, if not something more sinister. However, Black Sun was keeping this under the radar, and didn't - as far as he'd been told - have any plans to mount any sort of rescue. They probably didn't even know where she was.

Still, the buck of leadership being passed downwards a little did come with its advantages, however slight: fewer people with less time meant that the number of irritating beaurocrats pestering him had reduced to a more pleasant and tolerable level.

"I don't know on whose behalf this bounty was placed. Given the circumstances though, I'd wager it wasn't the Empire. At least, not an official branch of it."

Chir'daki rose. Darven had what he'd come for, and Chir'daki presumed that the Mandalorian shared his distaste for remaining in the same location for too long. He tugged down the front of his jacket, and clasped his hands behind his back. "I will need to return to Coruscant in order to handle these negotiations in person. While I'm there, I'll see if there is any more information I can uncover."

He hesitated, again, hand slipping from their grip and flexing involuntarily at his sides. "If you require any assistance -" His voice trailed off. No point in ending that sentence; the Mandalorian probably wouldn't call for his aid even if it was offered. He restored his composure and stance instead. "Safe journey, Darven."

[Darven]

That was valuable information indeed. It would take some time to consider all the ramifications of it, and all its possible meaning.

He was about to respond to the other man when something in Chir'daki's demeanor changed.

Assistance? What did the Black Sun agent think he needed assistance with?

Darven didn't know how to deal with that. So he took his helmet and lowered it over his head, feeling great relief at being able to hide his confusion - and growing consternation - behind the faceless mask again. Sometimes it wasn't easy keeping a neutral mask. Being back inside the helmet meant he could now simply incline his head, and acknowledge his thankfulness for the information in that way without showing his annoyance with himself of being unable to cope with such a suggestion in the correct way.

"I will send you the details of the meeting, when time and location have been set," he said from within the helmet, his voice modulated by the helmet's filters to hold no trace other than cold, calm surliness.

Then, with another nod, he pivoted on the spot, and marched off into the direction of the access tube, aware of the stares of man and droids in his neck.

[Chir'daki]

Chir'daki followed a few paces out into the corridor, but hesitated as he reached the hatch that led to the cockpit. He remained as the Mandalorian disappeared out of sight around the curving corridor, and let out a sigh when he was sure he was beyond the range of even Darven's helmet-enhanced hearing. There had been a time when he would have acted on the information - and his curiosity - himself, but that time was sadly long passed. Instead he was forced to watch while others did what he was no longer permitted to do.

He sensed the appearence of his Super Battle Droid at his side. He didn't bother to aknowledge the droid's arrival; no other units were present, and Roy was programmed to only accept instructions from him, unless ordered otherwise. "Instruct the Twins to plot a course back to the Core," he said, the sigh still tainting his voice. "Have them bring us out of hyperspace on the edge of the old Alderaan system; engage as soon as Darven's ship is beyond hyperspace range."

He turned, a slight whistful smile forming on his lips as he looked towards his droid. "Inform me when I arrive; I will be in my chambers."

The droid didn't wait for any further commands; instead he dutifully marched back towards the control centre, mechanical limbs clanking against the deck plates. Chir'daki waited a few moments longer, mind processing the conversation he'd just finished. A reformed Bounty Hunters' Guild. The expression on his face grew. That was certainly something worth smiling about.