Desperately Seeking Serena

[Abarai Loki]

It started with a brawl. First, curses coloured the air, the crash of an overturned table, all eyes locked on the mis-matched couple exchanging stinging jabs and nasty right hooks, and soon enough they were on the floor, rolling in ale; an ecstacy of fumbling. The clinking of stormtrooper boots scattered the crowd, and with heavy hands they intervened, and the Battle of the Drunkards came to an end. That was when Loki made his move, and with nimble fingers he plucked the datapad from under the lieutenant's nose, and they had their first clue: the cleaning schedule.

There were more clues to follow; and after three days, two nosebleeds, and one close call with an angry bith, they had completed their mission.

The Bad Mamma Jamma bursted onto the scene above Dac. It's captain, a round togorian with chocolate fur, squeezed a final piercing note from his kloohorn, then altered course for Coral City. They plunged towards the sapphire night below but not before catching a tantalizing glimpse of daylight, crowning the planet a crescent of crystal blue. Loki stirred from the co-pilot's chair and leaned over the console to see the ocean planet in all its glory, and in the reflection of the transparisteel he noticed the captain reaching once again for his wretched instrument.

"Captain Radley, we are grateful for your services but we must ask you to please control your crew once we've landed."

"Don't sweat it, little man," he said with a gravelly purr, the kloohorn hovering near his lips, "My cats are cool... like iceeee... Oh, and remember..."

The young Jedi turned a curious gaze on the hulking felinoid, anticipating another of his cryptic pearls of wisdom. Blissfully, he discarded his instrument. A broad sleepy smile curled his amber stripes, he leaned into his aching chair and fixed a thick cigar between his teeth. He lit up and said:

"Call me B.B."

There was a splutter from the back of the cockpit and Loki sought to spear Corell Capstan with his gaze. His eyes crept over to Anbira who, like Corell, still sported small cuts and discolourations to the face after their somewhat animated distraction several days previous. The captain started humming to himself, a soft rumble in the air. His face twisting into a scowl, Loki turned to face the window and the sight of a floating city over the sea.

[Corell Capstan]

Pinned under the young Jedi Knight's gaze, Corell lifted both eyebrows and held up her hands in surrender. When Loki had decided that it would be best if they travel to Bespin aboard a neutral ship, a fortuitous turn of fate had brought the Bad Mamma Jamma into range of the Wheel. As some-time mechanic aboard the tramp freighter, Capstan had put in a good word with the captain – a Togorian so chilled he made Hoth look like a sauna – and secured them their passage to Bespin and beyond, providing the crew could double up and transport a little cargo of their own along the way. Loki had spent most of the trip in the cockpit, saying very little but coughing pointedly whenever a puff of second-hand smoke drifted his way. Not even his glower could change B.B. Radley and his boys.

Pulling herself to her feet, Corell paced down the length of the cabin and folded her arms across the head of Loki's chair. She dipped her shoulders low enough to peer out of the main view-port, at the glittering waves below. Just the sight of them give her a little chill of excitement.

“How can you frown at a view like that? It's so-”

Parrrrrrp! went the captain's kloohorn. Corell, having long ago learned to tune its wail out, smiled.

“Peaceful.”

[Abarai Loki]

"Peaceful or not..." Loki began, sounding very much the latter, "We will not be around long enough to enjoy the view."

And speaking of views... Coral City expanded in the viewport a myriad pearly seashells which towered, arched, and spiralled into the sky, glistening like jewels in a warm yellow haze. A swarm of vessels weaved between spires and domes, catching the city lights and winking like fireflies high above its streets. The Bad Mamma Jamma whined. Captain Radley wrapped the flight stick in a large paw and eased the ship down, it banked towards a large circular landing platform full of ugly freighters and inwardly, Loki mused on the irony of it.

"Let us hope Mon Calamari efficiency is more than just an expression," he said at last, glancing back at his apprentice, "Corell Capstan, are you feeling particularly rebellious?"

[Anbira Hicchoru]

Anbira didn't say a word, but he was a bit lost in the sight before them all. He'd grown up land-locked, soldiered for the Empire in a largely land-locked place, and, well, never seen anything rivalling the expansive seas of Dac. It was almost enough for him to forget why they were here, but he pushed it aside after a moment, thinking about their dangerous mission to Bespin, and where it led them next. Now, they were going to petition the Rebel Alliance to join with them in a most dangerous mission to save one of their order. Inwardly, Anbira was unsure if they would agree. The cold, hard calculus of their choice might seem too risky, but inwardly, he knew the galaxy needed a sign of hope. That was worth the risk. It had to be.

[Corell Capstan]

As the YT-2400 freighter curved down towards Coral City, it was as if they were a tiny fish dipping into an underwater reef. There was no denying that the sight of Cloud City floating above Bespin took your breath away, but it was clearly man-made. Coral City looked as if the Mon Calamari might have raised it up from the watery depths.

The ship set down on the landing platform, amongst a variety of other Corellian freighters. On the platform itself, Corell could see figures in the familiar uniforms of the Rebel Alliance. Mon Cal port officials directed visitors away from the landing area, whilst others checking over data-card flight manifestos.

When she looked down at Loki, Corell could almost swear there was a knowing little smile working onto his lips. It had to be just a trick of the lighting.

“Always, master - always.”

[Abarai Loki]

"Good. Keep that mindset. Captain Radley, we will contact you when we're done."

On the cusp of speech, the Captain fell into a coughing fit, spewing a cloud of cigar smoke about his head like an old steam engine. A satisfied nod, Loki swept out of the cockpit and into the main body of the ship where Alejandro was waiting near the boarding ramp. He was a stringy zeltron with wavy blue hair and an easy smile. Throughout their journey it had been his personal mission to coax even the slightest hint of humour out of the youngster, and sensing an opportunity, his grin stretched and he shifted from the bulkhead with a squeak of leather.

"Alejandro, please spare me, I am in a fantastic hurry."

His response was drowned out by a howling wind which forced itself deep into the cargo hold. The chill of the night air roused Loki from his hyperspace-induced gloom and, with one last check of his decidedly civillian attire, he stepped outside. The landing pad buzzed with the comings and goings of visitors, and the uniformed officials who ushered them swiftly about, clinging desperately to the hats on their heads. Loki stood steadfast, arms folded while his clothes and hair tossed violently in the wind, the solitary flag before the onset of the storm. One of the port officials approached with a large dataped wedged under her arm.

"Something of a wild one isn't it, young sir?" she said, bracing herself against another rush of frosty air, "Can I see your permit?"

[Corell Capstan]

Corell gave Alejandro a look as she passed the smirking Zeltron by. Of all the crew, he had taken the most enjoyment from teasing Abarai Loki throughout the trip. He held his hands up in a gesture of surrender, but Corell merely shook her head and stalked on after Loki. Her boots clanged against the landing ramp as a port representative approached Loki, the two of them tousled and tugged at by the restless winds.

“We got our permits,” Corell said, half-shouting above the howling of the storm. She handed over a data-chit that had spent most of its life tucked into Captain Radley's pocket. The port official plugged it into her data-card and narrowed her eyes against the wind as she read the contents. With a crisp nod, she lifted her eyes back to the pair and gave them a polite, almost anxious, smile.

“Welcome to Coral City, ma'am, sirs,” she added, glancing beyond Abarai to the broad figure of Anbira Hicchoru. “Your arrival has been eagerly anticipated.”

[Anbira Hicchoru]

Anbira's wild hair and beard were tossed about in the gale, and he struggled to keep a face of composure through the tempest as he spoke to the greeting party.

"We anticipate arriving even further, it will do us all the better."

He gave a glance at the approaching storm. It seemed to be a fitting allusion to the hard tasks ahead. He walked along with his fellow Jedi and the Alliance minders to head inside, noting a few lingering stares that fell onto his white blastoid armor. It was, perhaps, not the most conciliatory of garments to wear, but the Felucian hermit figured he'd let his deeds speak for him rather than appearances.

[Abarai Loki]

They were led to the centre of the vast landing platform where a chain of taxicabs formed a crawling semi-circle, dropping off the departures and ferrying away new arrivals. Their dainty guide dipped her head into one of the cabs and a moment later resurfaced to open the door. Her button nose wrinkled when she talked.

"In you go, ma'am," she said eagerly to Corell, gesturing to the empty back seat, "If I'm not mistaken, your first port of call is Central Cay, just off the Wash. This kind citizen has offered to take you there. On the house!"

"On the house?" Loki repeated, throwing the young lady a dubious glance as he rounded the vehicle. He lowered himself into the seat next to Corell, allowing Anbira to occupy the passenger seat in the front. Their driver was a plump old mon calamari with salmon skin speckled brown and long pronounced barbels on his chin. A single bulbous eyes swivelled slowly in the side of his head and fixed on the young Jedi. He clapped his hand to the steering wheel and spluttered laughter like dry soot.

"Well, salt me gills, if I'm not in some sterlin' comp'ny an' no mistake. Central Cay, y'say? Why I've not been in that neck o' the reef for a while. A pleasure to have ya aboard, good sirs, and me lady. I call this old boat the Fisherman's Ferry, she's a sturdy old girl so sit back and enjoy the ride!"

And in an instant they were off, the cab gave a hefty lurch and soared into the air to join the lanes of manic traffic swimming through the city. Loki gripped the edge of the seat and kept his eyes fixed forward, oblivious to the sound of the rain as it started drumming the glass bubble overhead.

[Corell Capstan]

Corell bit down on her lower lip and fought a splutter of laughter. She'd met Mon Cal before but never like this. Catching a glimpse of Loki, his knuckles white as he practically glared holes into the back of the cab drivers seat, was almost too much. The blonde smothered her grin with one hand, propping her elbow against the cab's window sill as she stared out at a world that looked as if all its colors were running.

Central Cay was a fair drive away, but the Fisherman's Ferry ate up the distance in good time. It helped that, beyond a certain point, they parted ways from the flow of the traffic and entered a lane that was clearly not a frequently used thoroughfare. On more than one occasion, they crossed bridges which gave the three Jedi a view of Dac's thrashing oceans, waves rising just meters short of crashing against them. Their driver hummed a jaunty tune all the while, seemingly oblivious to the storm.

Corell did not noticed they had arrived until the driver ground the speeder cab to a halt, with a painful sounding crunch of its brakes. He grinned at them all. “This is as far as the old Ferry goes. You've not a long walk from here.”

He was right. The Central Cay was a matter of twenty feet away. There was no security check point to pass through, but the world at large had given the building a wide berth. It was the kind of place though, whilst not exactly menacing in appearance, radiated an aura of authority and austerity that one could not argue with. Like most architecture of Mon Calamari design, it lacked elegance or extravagance. The smooth, pale stonework reminded Corell of a mollusc's shell.

Beneath an arched entryway, there was a solitary figure bracing themselves against the rain.

[Genevi Varco]

She was shivering. Whether from the cold, or the anxious ball of energy that had been growing inside of her for the past hour, it was hard to say. With characteristic brevity, the Director had given her no indication of who or what to expect, aside from the unexpected. Like so much of the galaxy, Genevi Varco's mental picture of the Jedi had been pieced together in equal-parts from Imperial propaganda and pro-Republic nostalgia. Irrationally, she had expected something more than three bedraggled figures climbing out of an equally bedraggled speeder cab.

The Mon Cal driver stuck his head out of the cab window and tossed the trio a wave as he swerved away, leaving them to jog the rest of the distance towards her. She acknowledged each of them with a nod, stepping out of their way as they filled into an immaculately featureless foyer. As the door sealed shut behind them, the rain became a distant pitter-patter. Genevi smiled tightly as she peeled away her raincoat. Already, puddles were forming at their feet.

“Your identification, please.”

[Anbira Hicchoru]

Anbira's eyes widened a little with that question. He looked to Loki, and looked to Corell.

"That's not a question I'm normally inclined to hear. I would love to tell you it's simply a matter of leaving it in my other set of armor."

He patted around his Imperial utility belt, coming up with nothing that would do him justice, until he unclipped the lightsaber at his belt and held it up to the Intel officer.

"Will this do in a pinch?"

[Abarai Loki]

"Abarai Loki. Designation JK-zero-one-one-alpha."

He handed the the woman an identichit and cast Anbira an incredulous glance as she ran it through her reader. Once the small handset blinked blue, he gestured to his comrades.

"And this is Anbira Hicchoru and Corell Capstan. I trust you were expecting us?"

[Genevi Varco]

“Yes, of course.” Genevi returned the identichit to its owner, pausing for only an instant to consider the dynamics of the group standing before her. True to Grace Van-Derveld's word, the unexpected had arrived in the form of a teenage boy, a Stormtrooper raised by Wookiees, and a spacer who appeared to have stepped onto the wrong transport out of the Outer Rim. As far as heroic guardians of justice went, they didn't immediately inspire confidence.

“Genevi Varco, Alliance Intelligence.”

Foregoing any further instructions, she gestured further into the Cay. Set into the nondescript walls of the foyer was a set of doors, which hissed soundlessly open at their approach. Beyond was an equally characterless corridor, through whose walls the hum of computers and the muted chatter of voices could be heard. Genevi stalked down the hallway until she reached a seemingly random doorway, which she palmed open to reveal a small office.

“We understand that you have received contact from a Rebel agent in the field?”

[Corell Capstan]

The dimly-lit office had been kitted out with little more than a computer terminal and a meeting table. Corell made herself comfortable in one of the chairs, though resisted the urge to prop her feet up on the tabletop.

“Rebel agent?” She quirked an eyebrow as she looked in Loki's direction.

[Abarai Loki]

"James Prent," he said, in answer to both women.

He took his seat without taking so much as a second glance at their surroundings. Genevi's office was suitably spartan and very much in accordance with his own standards of aesthetic; no distractions, no trinkets with which Corell can fidget. He placed a small circular holo-emitter on the desk and an image of the aforementioned agent sprung into view.

"Presently stationed on Cloud City, Prent has made contact with one of our men, and informed him that Serena Laran, an important figure in the Jedi community, was taken by members of the Inquisitoriate while her allies fled Bespin some months ago. We have since followed up this report with an investigation of our own and have come here today in the hope our findings corroborate with your own. Presuming, of course, you have any."

[Anbira Hicchoru]

Anbira sat, content for now to let Loki give their part of the briefing. There wasn't much more substantive-wise they needed to say at this point. This mission was mainly to put feelers out for the Alliance, and whether they had intel to work towards Serena's release, and whether they could possibly be even more forthcoming in an effort to get her back.

[Genevi Varco]

“In spite of the recent Imperial occupation of Bespin, the Alliance maintains a network of field agents in the Anoat sector. We have.. contacts on the fringes of the Inquisitoriate staff, but their arrival on Cloud City was not something we could foresee.”

Foresee. Was that the right word to use, in the company of Jedi? Through their mystical power of the Force, it was said they could draw back the veils of time itself and peer into the future. Alliance Intelligence relied on less... ambiguous methods.

“The departure, however... is less of an enigma. For some time, we have been working to break the Empire's encryption ciphers. There are some used routinely by the likes of Imperial Intelligence and the Imperial Security Bureau. They change their encryption techniques on a predictable basis – but the Inquisitor's alter their ciphers seemingly at random.”

Frustration had begun to creep into Genevi's voice. The amount of time and effort it took to unlock the key to an Imperial encryption was staggering, even more so where the Inquisitor's were concerned. It was if they allowed their ciphers to remain static until the very moment that the Alliance cracked them, then reset the entire encryption system and rendered all of the Rebels work completely pointless. Well... not completely. Patterns were beginning to emerge and one or two of the more skilled cryptographers had even managed to successfully guess elements of new ciphers before they were even implemented.

Scattering the mental tangent away with a blink, Varco glanced back at Abarai Loki. “Suffice to say... our efforts have been fruitful. It has been possible to establish that, following their short stop in the Anoat sector, agents of the Inquisitoriate returned to the Core on a priority mission – with an armed escort, carrying cargo acquired on Cloud City.”

[Abarai Loki]

"Can you verify the date of the transport's departure from Bespin?" Loki asked, and without awaiting a response, elaborated, "We can confirm that on Imperial Standard Five-Twelve-Twenty-Six, a maximum security compound was commandeered by a squad of elite troopers and was prepped to recieve an important prisoner."

He reached for the holo-emitter and gave it a couple of prods until the image of James Prent was replaced with that of a chubby Trandoshan. He was slumped against a table, hands locked in binders, and mumbled in mutliated basic:

"It was she... woman, I sure... face... no see, for hooded like... like priest... but remember... hair... red, like dying sun... and... and a man, armour not like others... he- he tell me... delete records... tell no-one... or... or I toast. And day after... they gone."

The hologram faded, Loki raised his eyes to Genevi, and took on a tone of trademark indifference.

"The jailor was particularly reluctant to answer our questions. In the end, the unique persuasive talents of my comapnions won through. I believe they called it the... Good Cop-Bad Cop technique?"

[Genevi Varco]

“A department favourite,” Genevi suppressed a smile, not the expression the boy's dead-pan delivery elicited in his companions. She wondered for a moment which of them had played the good cop and which the bad; they both looked as if they would have relished playing the latter. Agent Varco went on, “We don't have the precise date of departure at this time, but we do have a short window, a matter of days in fact, during which we know the transfer must have taken place.”

[Corell Capstan]

Corell smiled thinly at Loki, knowing full-well which part of the double act she had been. For all his chastising, he had to admit that the Corellian had her uses. She watched the holo-recording of their Trandoshan 'contact' with the look of someone remembering a fond memory. When it was over, she blinked and looked across at the Intelligence agent.

“The Core. Where, exactly?”