A Deadly Game (Closed RPG)

[Director Isard]

This is a closed RPG thread. Only the players I have approached about it in the past week may reply. It's my answer to DT's challenge. If you have any comments, start a different thread, please.

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INTRODUCTION

It is several months after the Battle of Yavin. Since the destruction of the Death Star, the Alliance has managed to deploy it troops successfully all over the Galaxy, winning planet by planet in covert rebellion and bloody fights. The Empire seems no longer a great and invincible foe to take on, but one that will slowly crumble from the inside out, if the necessary force is applied to it.
After the battle of Yavin, the Rebel Command had it proclaimed that General Jan Dodonna, military leader during the Yavin crisis, has been wounded and captured, if not killed, by the Imperial troops invading Yavin after the Rebels had left. The loss of such a great leader is great, but life has to go on – the rebellion has to go on.

On a remote Imperial system in the Outer Rim – a system of unusual peace and quiet – riots are breaking out and are spreading all over the planets in the system. The Sector Moff, a man of a quiet and even temper found only rarely among his Imperial brethren, suddenly finds himself confronted with a rebellion that seemed so unreal and far away before. Trusting the advice and word of his Aide and advisor, a woman named Leesia Creynor, he employs an Imperial Officer with an apparently great reputation and an impressive history to defend and fight for the Empire in the system.

Unfortunately, the Rebellion is a little closer to him than the Moff had thought – so close, in fact, that he could just reach out with his hand and grab it by the shoulder. Under the mantle of Leesia Creynor, his Aide, hides a Rebel Undercover agent, sent to cause mischief and as much damage as she possibly could, without getting caught. As such, when she is approached by another Rebel agent, she introduces him to the Moff as the right man to defend the system, and chaos takes over.

__________________________________________________ ____
Coruscant, Imperial Palace, the Emperor’s Throne-room

Grand Admiral Thrawn’s eyes were following the Emperor’s hunched-over figure pace the space before his throne. He had not yet been told what the reason for his call back to Imperial Center was, and having to wait and watch Palpatine’s increasing broodings was making him restless – and uneasy. Ever since his unfortunate official “banishment” from Palpatine’s Court, he had been on a so-called mapping expedition out in the Unknown Regions, defending the Empire from alien threats never before encountered. But now he had been ordered back – with no explanation, no word, nothing. And here he was, waiting.
Finally, Palpatine paused in his pacing, and looked up. He seemed somewhat surprised to see Thrawn there, as if he had forgotten. “Ah yes, Grand Admiral….there you are. Good of you to come.”
Thrawn suppressed an irritated reply. He had better things to do than wait upon the Emperor’s pleasure.
“Have you ever heard of the Jevifi sector, Thrawn?”
The Chiss slowly shook his head.
“No? Yes, I thought you might not.” Palpatine slowly walked back to his throne, and settled back into it with a small sigh. “Jessu Gardan is the sector Moff – a very placid and somewhat insipid man who tends to forget his duty to the Empire.”
Thrawn looked up at Palpatine with a puzzled frown. “And you wish to send me to him to teach him a lesson? I would think sending one of Lord Vader’s calibre would be more efficient.”
Palpatine’s cowl did not cover his face sufficiently to hide the raised eyebrow. “You think I called you from your duties to send you terrorizing my Moffs?” He cackled to himself. “No – no, indeed, I do not think you would be good at that. As you said, Vader is a more efficient tool to inspire fear among my servants.”
That wasn’t exactly how Thrawn had meant it, but he ignored the implied insult.
“No, I had something more fitting for you in mind. There are certain problems we have experienced lately in that system, that I would like you to settle.”
“Yes, my Emperor?”
“Recently, Rebels have started over-running some of the out-lying planets. And regardless of how hard our garrisons stationed there have tried to defend themselves and their planets, it has all been for naught. Now my spies have brought me news of a rather unknown Imperial Officer who has been sent to gather the defenses and strike back. But if I had any hopes that the situation would turn with his employment, they are now buried. This Imperial “Surface Marshall” has managed to lose even more planets than we would have without his aid. I find it somewhat unusual even for a man of Gardan’s reputation that he would employ such a man.”
Thrawn considered what he had been told, and assessed it. “You fear this Surface Marshall is a Rebel?”
The Emperor rewarded him with one of his rare smiles. “Yes, indeed. It looks to me like the rebels have found themselves a way to attack us from the inside. They have to be stopped. At all cost.” Palpatine cast a grim eye upon his Grand Admiral. “I asked you to settle this situation for two reasons. Firstly, you might not like the idea of ruling through fear, but you inspire enough fear through your position, if not your Alien-ness, to rally the Imperial command in the sector.” He tapped his walking stick against Thrawn’s stomach. “And secondly, I think you need to be reminded from time to time that you are a part of the Empire. Out there, fighting against that alien scum, it is easy to forget what side you’re on.”
Thrawn nearly choked up the contents of his stomach. This was almost too much to take. Palpatine knew him far too well to know what would rattle him – and he enjoyed pushing the knife a little deeper than necessary. And all he could say in reply was an obedient, “Yes, my Emperor.”
Palpatine rested his arms on the sides of the throne. “I would have you make your own assessment of the situation, before I proceed to brief you any further. You will receive a communication from me soon enough once you have landed on Rheamma. I advise you to make sure of your environment first, before taking matters into your hand. And I warn you not to make any rash moves – you might have won my interest once with your unconventional methods, but do not expect this to work for you forever.”
By the time Thrawn left, there was fury boiling in his veins.

__________________________________________________ ___
Jevifi System, Planet Angorna, Spaceport

“I do not like this.” Leesia Creynor, advisor and aide to Moff Gardan and secret agent for the rebel Alliance was saying, more to herself than to anyone else in particular, as the shuttle they had boarded to bring them to Rheamma left the spaceport hangar. “I do not like this at all.”
Gardan overheard her muttered concern, and decided that she wasn’t the only one to be uncomfortable in this situation. Suskiss, who was Imperial Governor of Rheamma, had asked them for a meeting. Neither of them liked the man; he was an Imperial of the worst sort - brutal and aggressive. Moreover, he had made several attempts to oust Gardan from his position, and meetings with him had therefore always been held on Angorna, the Moff’s own planet. Going to Rheamma to meet him was like sticking one’s head into a snake’s nest – the chances of survival were atomically small.
“This is wrong – we shouldn’t be here. What does he want?” Leesia turned to the Moff at her side. She was thoroughly nervous. For weeks, she had managed to direct every report about the situation in the system, every call for help, every shout of outrage, to land in her own hands. Gardan she fed with tales of success, of great victories and terrible defeats, until he thought he was facing a foe that no one could withstand. When he had tried to contact Imperial Center, she had intercepted his reports, and hoped that no one would get suspicious. Now, with this visit, it would all be disclosed, as Suskiss would take no care to leave any detail unknown. It would be time for her to act. But how?
Gardan could feel her anxiety mired by his, and could do nothing more besides pat her hand. He didn’t know what would happen, or if he would get away alive. Suskiss would surely take this opportunity to get him out of the way, kill him if he needed to. And Creynor would not escape with a fate better than his.
The shuttle entered hyperspace.

__________________________________________________ ____
Coruscant, Imperial Intelligence HQ, Director’s Office

Director of Intelligence Ysanne Isard looked up from the report she had been reading, and met the eyes of her Advisor, Jekaan Oludh, with a questioning frown.
“Yes?”
“Director Isard—“ he began, but she cut him off.
“Don’t call me that!” she snapped, with an angry tone in her deep voice. “That was my father’s title, and I don’t want to hear that traitor’s name uttered in my presence!”
Jekaan gulped, and caught himself before he could betray his fear of her. He had known her a long time – long enough to know that her father was no traitor, and that she would have his head if he would ever say anything to the contrary; and since her assuming the title of Director of Intel, she had given him more concern to fear her - and admire her, if truth be told – than ever before.
“Madame Director?” he began anew, hoping that she’d be more satisfied with that.
Isard inclined her head at him, assenting.
He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and resumed his report. “I have received a report from one of our agents in the Jefivi system. Apparently, he has been answering a summons there from Grand Admiral Thrawn. I do not know how Thrawn would be able to summon one of our own. Was it a plan of yours I did not know about?”
Isard’s eyebrow rose another notch higher. “Which agent?”
“Tondry. The sniper.”
The smile on Isard’s face could best be called cold and calculating. “Oh yes. Tondry…” she let the name hang in the air for a long moment. “I left word about him with the Emperor once. No, I believe Tondry is acting on his own in this. The Emperor must have told Thrawn about him, and Thrawn is using him for one of his schemes.” Once again, she broke off to ponder the implications of this news. “I believe Tondry shall report to us soon.”
A light began blinking on her comm console as she finished talking. “That will be him, I presume.”
She stabbed a finger onto a button, and the sonorous voice of Pierce Tondry filled the office.
“Madame Director, Pierce Tondry, sniper, reporting in. At 0800 hours last night, I received a high priority command from the Jefivi System, to meet with Grand Admiral Thrawn. I proceeded to the meeting place and was informed of a plan to assassinate the Sector Moff Gardan and his aide. Thrawn would have me carry out this assassination, then disappear. What are my orders?”
Isard’s mismatching eyes were ablaze with cold fury. “Assassinate one of our own Moffs? HA! I believe this shall be the end of Thrawn’s career!”
Jekaan grew concerned. Thrawn had been the thorn in Isard’s side for a long time now – a thorn she would like to extract. But Thrawn had also the protection of the Emperor, and was no man to be underestimated. If Thrawn sees need to assassinate a Moff, then there has to be a reason for it. Feeling more courageous than he had in a long time in her presence, Isard’s aide quickly stepped forward and put his question to the sniper before Isard could stop him. “Has Thrawn told you of the reasons behind this bold move?”
Isard turned her head around, and froze him to the spot with an icy glare. “Madame Director?” asked the voice from the console. She relented. “Yes, Tondry, answer his question. It’s only Jekaan.”
“Ah. Then I shall,” the voice went on. “Thrawn has not told me himself, but I managed to gain the confidence of one of his security staff, and found out myself. It appears that the Moff has been unable to curb the riots and rebellions against the Empire in the system, and it seems likely that either he himself, or his aide, is a Rebel collaborator. Thrawn has been sent to the system to drive back the rebels, and it seems he thought to start at the top and work his way down, if I may say it bluntly.” The voice paused for a moment. “Shall I accept this mission?”
A cruel smile formed on Isard’s lips, as she assessed the situation. “Tondry, is it possible to fake their death in such a way that Thrawn will be convinced they are indeed dead?”
Tondry remained quiet for a long while, then his voice came on again. “It is possible, Madame Director, if not a little difficult. But I can arrange a bomb with a trigger that will go off when I fire a low-sensor data-beam…”
Isard cut him off. “Yes, well, Tondry, see that you do that. And arrange for the Moff and his aide to be brought to secure holdings, and to be kept there, until my arrival. I shall be in the system as soon as I can. Then report to me again. Isard out.”
The comm.-link clicked once, and silence filled the room. Jekaan looked at his Director, unable to read her expression in any way that would have told him what he had to expect. And he expected anything from mild retribution to being shot dead for interfering.
So it unnerved him even more when she threw her head back, and laughed raucously. “We have him, Jekaan! All those months of planning, and he drops his own life into our hands!”
Jekaan allowed himself a thin smile, but he still had no idea what she had in mind.
“Pack your bag, Jekaan. We’re going to pay a little visit to our alien upstart.”
He fled the office.

__________________________________________________ ______
Coruscant, Imperial Palace, Emperor’s Throne-room

The frail old man on the throne shut down his comm-monitor with which he had been listening to Ysanne Isard, and smiled a cold smile.

__________________________________________________ ______
Jefivi System, Planet Rheamma, Spaceport

When they descended from the shuttle, Suskiss was there waiting for them like a hunter observing his prey. No word was exchanged apart from the usual niceties, uttered in clipped, cold tones. Then they boarded land-speeders that were to bring them to the Governor’s Palace in a slow procession through the busy city streets.
To Leesia Creynor, it felt like walking to her own execution. Suskiss would not mince words – he would accuse Gardan of everything short of murder on his own people. And Gardan would stand there uncomprehending – as uncomprehending a fool as she had made him look. Was this the price she had to pay? To lead an innocent old man who had showed no cruelty to her or anyone of his men, to his death? IN all her time she had worked for him and with him, she had not managed to find in herself the dislike for him she had been told to feel for Imperials. So why did he deserve to die? If anyone deserved it, it was the man sitting in the first speeder, basking in the admiration and fear of his citizens. And he would be the means to her own end.
Suddenly a small noise could be heard from the speeder ahead. A faint tinkling that gradually grew louder and made itself heard over the noise and buzz of the crowded street. Then there was an orange flare, and with a big booming noise, the street vanished in bright flames and scorching heat.
Leesia and Gardan were thrown into their seats, and the land speeder they sat in was catapulted high into the air. Then everything went black in front of her eyes, and her last thought before loosing consciousness was: This is what death must be like.

[Jekaan Oludh]

The moment the shuttle touches ground on Rheamma spaceport, something shakes the ground. Somewhere nearby, a loud booming sound goes off, and the smell of explosives spreads in the air.

In the first confusion, Jekaan grabbed Isard's arm, but as the tremors subside, he quickly lets go again, fearing that his slight loss of self-control will bring Isard's wrath down on him again.

He turns around to see how Isard is keeping up, but instead of a worried frown on her face, he finds her smiling coldly.
"I believe," she says "our Sniper has delivered his present."

Jekaan stares at her, with as much puzzlement in his dull-grey eyes as ever before. They've come all the way from Imperial Center, and still Isard has kept him in suspense. 'It worries me. Her temper sometimes wins the better of her, and then everything goes awry -I do not wish to be around her if this happens here. Thrawn is no man to play games with.'

[Dodonna]

Since he had been named Surface Marshall, Vemryk had not once been able to get a clear view of his desk. Today was no different. New data pads had already been deposited for him to review concerning the loss of yet another planet in the system. Now he was pouring over his desk much like a wampa over a freshly slaughtered tauntaun. Taking a deep breath, he picked up what was probably the tenth data pad so far that day, and began pulling up stats on forces lost.

"This can't be right," Vemryk expounded. "I can't believe that we lost that many men." He knew that his men were tired and becoming unreliable. That they desperately needed a break from the incessant battles. There was no way of knowing how long the present armistace would last, but he sincerely hoped that the men would be able to fight on just a short amount of rest, for who knew when the battle would begin to rage again.

[Sniper Tondry]

"All right, everybody, clear away, there's nothing to see here," the man in the head medic's uniform said, shooing people away from the speeder's wreckage. "You and you, load those bodies into the Medical Speeder and get them out of here."

"Hey, are they going to be all right?"

The medic turned. It was some fellow wearing a backpack. "They're dead, I'm afraid," the medic shook his head. "Now go home!"

The man with the backpack nodded, turned, and left.

And Pierce Tondry turned his head away, grinned privately to himself, then shut the Med Speeder's doors.

[Grand Adm Thrawn]

<font size=5>On Planet Rheamma</font>

Thrawn waits in his quarters about 15 minutes after the explosion, Then the leader of the squad that was sent with Thrawn knocks on his door. Thrawn grins but quickly turns his expression into shock before he answers the door. "What is it," Thrawn says in mock suspense. "What happened?"
"Sir, There has been an explosion," The Squad leader answers in a shaken voice. "You must come quickly sir," The Squad leader insist.
"Alright give me a minute to get ready, and secure the area, I don't want to show up and have another bomb blow me away," The chiss replies in a bitter voice, then closes the door quickly in the squad leaders face.
Thrawn readies his things and then heads off to the damaged area.

--------------

"Who is in command here?" Thrawn says as he walks onto the bombed site.
"I am Sir, Lieutenant Blair 1st Class at your service," Blair trys to say as powerful as he can but it comes out rather husky.
Thrawn blinks slowly and shifts his piercing eyes to Blair. "Do you know what type of bomb was used?" Thrawn says thinking about how easy this was but maintaining a some what clueless understanding of what is going on.
"No sir, not yet," The Lieutenant replies with an concerned look on his face. "Sir, Sector Moff Gardan, he was in this area and believed to be dead...." Blair says his quickly.
"Good lord, is this the kind of security this planet has?" Thrawn says sarcastically.
But before Thrawns conversation can go on further, a field cadet approaches him with a Encrypted Message from Coruscant. Thrawn thinks to him self pondering what this message could be as he walks back to the onsite com station.
Thrawn inserts the message and enters the decryption code.

Message plays:

A slight flickering of the holo projector emits a hunched over Palpatine. Palpatine has a cruel grin on his face barely noticeable through the holo projector. The message quickly starts "Thrawn, I take it everything is in order. I sent this encoded comunica to inform you of the arrival of Director Isard. She will be aiding you in some matters," Palptine cackles evily as the messaged fades

Thrawn is both puzzled and angered by this message. For the Emperor to send Isard here is clear to Thrawn that the Emperor has no faith in Thrawn and his abilitys.
Thrawn trys to think in the little time he has. but before he can think about much he is interupted by the field cadet. "Sir," the cadet says
Thrawn gets up from the com station and
says "Yes what is it?"
"Director Isard is on her way here sir," the cadet says sernly.
"Here? why is she comeing here?" thrawn inqueryed
"She aparently is looking for you sir," The cadet says a bit worried.
"Very well when does she....." Thrawn is interrupted in mid sentence by a sneered voice behind him.
"So here you are scum, looking over your handy work?" Isard says with pure hate in her voice.
Thrawn turns with an angered look on his face as he sees Isard. "Welcome Isard, so happy you could join us," Thrawn replys with total sarcasm.
"Well i would love to chat with you further "Chiss"," Isard emphasizes the fact that Thrawn is an alien to goad him further. "But I didnt come here to discuse matters" she ends coldy "Arrest him," Isard orders the Troopers behind her....

[Director Isard]

Of all the possibilities, this was was the one Thrawn has least expected. So he can but protest, even though he knows it will get him nowhere.
"You are doing what???"
"I am arresting you." The smile on Isard's face is at once cold and condescending, while in her eyes smolders the fire of bitter hatred. "I arrest you for treason, for wilful murder on three loyal Imperial officers, for--"
"You honestly believe you can arrest me, Isard, without making sure that what I am guilty of is indeed treason?" Thrawn is sure that, whichever way she gained knowledge of his plot, she can not truly know what she is doing. So he clings to his hope of lack of evidence on her side.

Isard gloats at him. If things would proceed her way, she would put Thrawn against a wall, and shoot him herself. 'I have been waiting long enough for this opportunity - nothing will change this. And he thinks he is so safe. HA!' When she speaks, therefore, a dangerous edge in her voice warns Thrawn that he has every reason to fear her - that maybe her unreasonable hatred speaks not only of jealousy, but also of madness of a certain kind.
"Do not be so sure that I have no evidence for your treason, Thrawn. Indeed, the man you sent to carry out the murders was one of my own agents. He has left a written and recorded report of your meeting in my hands. Let that be evidence enough."
She laughs at him, then, confident of her victory, and orders her assistants to escort Thrawn to the holding cells.

[Jekaan Oludh]

Jekaan creeps up behind his Director, and clears his throat. He is hoping that she won't take her temper out at him, but the chance of that not happening is relatively small, judging by he content of the message he is holding in his hands right now.

"Madame Director?"

Tapping her on the shoulder and calling her name doesn't seem to have any effect. Jekaan clears his throat once more, noisily.

Isard turns around abruptly, and comes face to face with her assistant, who is clutching a datapad with such vehemence that his knuckles are white from exertion. Irritated at being interrupted, she snaps at him.

"What is it now, Jekaan?!"

Jekaan cringes as he hears the sharp undertone in her voice. But he scrapes together his confidence and answers dutifully, trying not to stutter too much.

"Madame Director, a message just reached us from Imperial Center. It's...it's...the Emperor!"

Isard grabs for the datapad Jekaan holds in his outstretched hand, and scans through the message displayed upon it. The flickering of rage in her eyes seems to heighten the more she reads. Finally, she snarls and throws the datapad into a corner.

"NO! How can he possibly know about this? I only arrested him now!" she says.
"Wha-what? Who knows what?" Jekaan asks, puzzled.
"HE knows. The Emperor. How can he know? I do not understand this. How can he know that I would arrest Thrawn?" Her open anger seems to be replaced by cold fury, and a helplessness that she only rarely allows to show.
"He knows?" Jekaan gulps, loudly, terrified.

Isard's face sets back into its usual blank, stony mask. Her voice takes on a cold, emotionless tone as she speaks.
"He commands me to let Thrawn go, but set him to get the planets back from under Rebel hands. I shall investigate this matter of the rebel spies, and bring the evidence to Palpatine."

Jekaan breathes out slowly. And retreats out of the room.

[Director Isard]

Isard is sunk in reverie. She can't understand how Palpatine can know already what she has done. The need for evidence is made even clearer - if she can't find any to lay blame with Thrawn, then it might cost her her own head. Find no evidence in Thrawn's case, and she might get away with her life by finding the Rebel traitors. Find no evidence at all, and she would be executed. These games were never just for play.

For a game it is - so much is clear to her now. Palpatine's game; the Emperor manipulating both of them like a puppet-master. Playing his loyal servants against each other, in a game which could cost both their lives. 'Am I thus dispensable to him?' she thinks, but knows no answer.

She turns in time to find Jekaan sneaking out of the room.

"Jekaan! Come back in here, you cowardly rat! Come back, now!"

Jekaan retreats his steps, until he is once more face to face with Isard.

She stares at him for a time, without a sound, gathering her thoughts, making new plans.

"Jekaan, you are my most trusted advisor and assistant. We have worked together many times, and I know you will not fail me on any mission I send you on." She pauses for a second, to look him in the eye. He squirms slightly, under her scrutiny. "I want you to go out there, and keep your eyes open for anything that seems out of the ordinary. I want you to find the people behind this rebel insurrection. If you can't find me the leaders, then find someone I can blame. We need evidence - as much evidence as we can find."

Jekaan nods.

"Now go. I do not wish to see you again until you have brought results."

With a heavy heart, she sits down in the chair once occupied by Governor Suskiss, and watches Jekaan leave. 'This has to work - something has to work. I do not intend to loose this game.'

EDIT: last line code

[Dodonna]

Vemryk sighs and tosses one of the data pads down on his desk and picks up another one. Finally, the last one; a inventory of the suplies and munitions the garrison has remaining. One of the troopers wandering by ouside is startled as he hears a scream eminate from the Surface Marshall's office. He thinks about entering to see what happened, but is afraid to proceed for fear of facing the brunt of his wrath. Although, being yelled at is better than possably being killed for not entering.

Pivoting on his heel, the trooper turns and enters Vemryks office just in time to see the data pad hit the wall next to the door, as it pulverizes into tiny pieces, and falls to the floor in a rain of sparks.

"What do you want?!" Vemryk expouns as he notices the trooper that has so rudely entered his office without even knocking. Dumbfounded by the Marshall's curtness, the trooper dosent really know where to begin. "Well?..." Vemryk prompts.

"Uh... well... " Becoming agitated with the troopers ignorance and inability to talk, Vemryk walkes around his desk, and stands only inches away form the stammering soldier. What is it!? He screams at the trooper.

"Well Sir, I heard a scream, and I thought that it would be best if I checked it out, Sir."

Vemryk grins slightly before responding. "See, that's the problem. You're thinking for yourself. You graduated form the Imperial Academy to learn how to be a soldier, how to follow orders. Not to learn how to think for yourself." Turning his back on the startled trooper, Vemryk begins to pace his office floor. Breaking out in a cold sweat, the trooper wants only to get out of the office as soon as he can, but he dosent know how to begin. He has the feeling that if he stays there much longer, he will never make it out.

"You're probably one of the troopers that is wasting so much of our provisions. With soldiers like you, it is no wonder that the Rebellion is gaining so much ground in this sector. All they have to do it follow behind your patrols, and pick up the suplies that are dropped. do you realize that we have lost or used up more than half of the power cells we started with since last week?!"

The trooper shifts his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot as Vemryk makes his way back to his desk.

"With so many wasting provisions, all the stinking rebels have to do is wait, and cut off the suply lines. I dont plan on giving up this system that easily. I'll just take care of those that dont use what we have to the optimum."

Vemryk's eyes turn cold as he raises a blaster to bare on the trooper. It takes a moment for the unwitting soldier to realize what was happening before his reflexes kicked in. That all the time he needs though. As vemryk squeezes off a shot, the trooper manages to move his head just enough that he is not hit square on. The blaster scorches the side of his helmet, leaving a black, smoldering scar where it had contacted. Without looking back, the trooper takes off, not even taking the time to close the door behind him. He thought that he was lucky to escape with only the blaster burn on his helmet.

Once the trooper had left, Vemryk places the blaster back in his desk drawer, and walkes clamly over to the door, and shuts it. He tkaes a deep breath, noticing just how strong the smell of burnt ozone is, and leans back against the door for a moment. Knowing that he will not be bothered for some time now, he can think. This is more difficult that he had thought it would be. Who ever thought that being cold and ruthelsess was so difficult? Sure the troopers had not used more than would be expected, but they didnt know that. There was no doubt that they would obey his every order form now on.

[Sniper Tondry]

Pierce Tondry stomps unceremoniously into Isard's office, past a confused-looking Jekaan who makes a small attempt to prevent his entry. After shoving Jekaan out of the way, Tondry plops down onto the couch, standing his rifle up between the floor and the wall. "Got 'em," he says. "Posed as a medic, sedated 'em, and nabbed 'em. Not a bad job for a green agent, huh?"

Isard's face becomes slightly amused. This man, Tondry, is one of Intelligence's newest recruits not because of his skill in Undercover work (although that has just been demonstrated) but because his commanders in the army found that he had a knack for long-range sniping. The Merr-Sonn ERR-544 that sits beside him now was apparently a gift from his comrades-in-arms back in the Imperial Army.

"Good work, Agent 12037," she states in a dignified tone. "I'd like to welcome you as a successful addition to Imperial Intelligence. Now, report."

Tondry sighs. "At 0900 hours," Tondry begins in a bored tone. "I infiltrated the Medical Speeder Unit by taking the place of one of their chief med techs. His body was disposed of by disintigration to leave no evidence and the rest of our team was assimilated under the guise of medical assistants to the speeder. Using my guise as a CMT, I planted a bomb on the parade's VIP speeders under the pretext of checking them for health hazards. At 1315 while the speeder was on daily rounds and within close proximity of the parade, I detonated the bomb by remote."

"After which you proceeded to the site of the explosion, palmed them some drugs, and drove off with our prizes," Isard finishes.

Tondry chuckles. "Naw, I decided to run some blasters down to Derra IV first. Course I went there."

"You will be disciplined for that remark, Agent," Isard says casually, picking up some paperwork. "We have standards at Intelligence just as they do in the Army."

Tondry snickers. "Look, lady, if I cared about standards then I'd do all the weapon checks we're supposed to do before I shot someone. Probably get shot myself in the bargain."

"Nonetheless," Isard continued in a frosty tone. Apparently the Army had gotten rid of an insubordinate when they shipped Tondry to Intelligence. "When reporting to me, you will use formal address. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir!" Tondry clicks his boot heels together and salutes, even though he's sitting down. "As clear as one of the Emperor's commands, sir!"

Ysanne pauses and blinks. "When have you ever been commanded by the Emperor?" she asks curiously.

"On occaision, the Emperor has contacted me using a secret holonet frequency known only as Dark 1010, sir," Tondry states. "All Imperial communications equipment has the frequency hardwired into it. The Emperor can request the activation of any comm unit using that frequency. He was using that frequency to listen in to our conversation, sir."

So that was how his Majesty had known of events so fast. Isard stares. "And how do you know this?"

Tondry drops his stiff posture and a look of disbelief crosses his face. "Don't they teach you how to pick up secure-line comm taps in Intel using the revibe-frequency method?"

This was news to Isard. Something the Army had conveniently forgotten to mention to her, no doubt. "No, they haven't," Ysanne replied through stiff lips.

Suddenly, she remembered Jekaan. "You may go, Jekaan," she waved him off. "I have something private I wish to discuss with this agent."

"Yes, Madame Director," Jekaan scurried out of the room. At least he had proper fear instilled in him.

"Now, Tondry," Isard says, leaning forward. "Explain this method to me, and if you do it well, then I may refrain from administering discipline to you."

"Right," Tondry's insubordination and lack of fear are conveyed in a single word. "Sure, why not? Here's how it works."

[Director Isard]

Ten minutes after he had been asked to leave Isard's office, she calls him in again. Grumbling and muttering under his breath, Jekaan walks back into her office, and finds the Sniper and Isard hunched over a drawing on the late Governor's desk, while the computer consoles behind her are running something that looks suspiciously like decryption strings.

You called me, Madame Director?

Isard looks up from the drawing, straightens up and smiles lightly at the Sniper.

Ah yes, Tondry, this is indeed interesting material. I shall have the proper people look it over and test it out for our own uses back in the HQ.

She puts the drawings aside, and gestures towards the door.

Now, I believe you should lead us to the location of our "guests". Shall we go?

Without waiting for an answer, she walks past Jekaan and the Sniper, and out of the door.

[Sniper Tondry]

Tondry nods and leaves the Director's office, slinging his pack over his shoulder and carrying his rifle. "We figured it'd be best to put them in the VIP prisoner quarters while they healed," he explains, heading down the hall. "In case we needed to pretend they were still in good with the Empire. Quill was in there a while ago, and he probably injected 'em with truth syrum or something."

"I see," Isard says coolly. She pushes a button and the turbolift begins a descent. "As good a place as any, I suppose, though I personally would like to see them over an interrogation array."

Tondry shrugs. "Time for that after they're proven guilty."

"True," Isard concedes.

The remainder of the ride is done in silence. A soft ding occurs as the lift tube reaches the right floor and both Tondry and Isard step out. Isard briefly realizes that she left Jekaan several floors up and doesn't regret it. For something of a vital nature, Jekaan is best stuffed into a closet somewhere.

As is the sniper, for the moment. "You may go off duty," she instructs, looking the sniper up and down. "We can't have you here; they might recognize you somehow."

Tondry nods. "I'll be in the mess getting a bite to eat."

Isard suddenly smiles and holds out a finger. "Go to the officer's lounge and tell them I wanted our new recruit to be welcomed properly. If things go well, I might be along later and we can... talk."

Tondry's eyes narrow ever-so-slightly. "Right," he states as if he has an idea of what might actually be discussed. "If I don't find something else to do."

"I certainly hope you don't," Isard smiles again and leaves Tondry alone in the hallway.

Tondry bites the inside of his cheek in thought and the phrase "black widow" comes to mind.

[Director Isard]

As she walks down the long and exceedingly dusty corridors towards the Prisoner Facility, Isard ponders about the Sniper and the possible uses she might find for him. Already, he has proven his worth - and his loyalty to the Empire - by providing her with information vital to Intel, and he seems adequate in what concerns his missions. His careless manner and disrespectful airs might be excusable, if he could be guided in the right way. The man has been independent for too long - she will pardon his bad behaviour for now.
Besides, there are certain other ways to make too independent men follow orders...

Just as she is about to enter the medical wing of the detention center, a thought occurs to her: What about Thrawn? She has to let him out - she has to let him go, if she doesn't want to go against Palpatine's orders. But what could she do with him once he is free?

One thing comes to mind, and it should theoretically give her the necessary time to get the evidence she needs.

Retracing her steps, she walks back to the high Security Wing. Outside the door of Thrawn's cell, she stops, and takes a moment to think over her decision. Then she nods at the guard standing watch, and he punches in the code to unlock the door. Isard steps inside.

EDIT: edited out ooc comment to Tohmahawk and put in this instead.

[Grand Adm Thrawn]

Isard enters seeing Thrawn lying on a dusty cot with his eyes closed. She clears her throat to make sure he is awake.
Thrawn opens his eyes and turns his head to see Isard standing in the doorway.
"Yes?" Thrawn says while he sits up. Isard looks at Thrawn with contentment. "I have been advised to set you free."
Thrawn's eyes widen with surprise at this news but his expression quickly shifts into a superior manner. "Oh is that so?" Thrawn asks as he sits up.
"Yes, but only on one condition."
Thrawn raises an eye brow, intrigued, "And that is?"
"That you eliminate the Rebel influence in this system within the next ten days," Isard states with a cold look upon her face.
"And why should I follow your orders?" Thrawn replies with a bitter tone.
"The order was not mine but from above," Isard replies with a equally disrespectful tone.
Thrawn takes note of that, "I see, very well then."
Thrawn is escorted to his quarters soon after his being informed of his release. But Thrawn couldn't help but think about what Isard said about the order being from above.. Thrawn was disturbed by that, knowing that the Emperor was toying with him.

[Dodonna]

Vemryk sits perched at his desk, fondeling his blaster rifle. As his mind wanders to far away places, and times past, the ground reverberates with a powerful shock, jarring him from his memories.

What in the name of...

Before he is able to finnish his sentence, one of the troopers bursts into his office, noticable shaken by the goings on outside.

S... Sir. We're under attack.

Vemryk notices that the trooper appears to literally be shaking in his boots. This muct be one of the new recruits that were sent to replace some of the ones that had been slaughtered in the previous battle.

I can see that you blathering fool. Now get out of my sight and do what you were trained to do...

Vemryk steps right up to the young man as his voice continues to rise, unsetteling the young trooper even more.

Defend this planet!

Despite the opaque surface of the trooper helmet, Vemryk can tell that the young man's face as turned the same color as that of his armor, and that he is about ready to fait right where he stands. Despite the troopers surging and confusing emotoins, his training shows through as he snaps crisply to attention.

Yes sir!

Turning, the trooper runs from the office to join his commrades in battle. Vemryk follows the soldier to the door and glances out, using the thick door as cover. All around the compiund, blaster fire is painting the sky a bright vermillion, and the smell of burnt ozone, and burnt flesh permieates the air. The death wails of soldiers on both sides can be heard over the blaster fire. Vemryk watches as the young trooper that just left his office, takes cover behind a small stack of supplies that had yet to be stored away. Blaster fire licks out at the young man as he cowers there for a moment, gaining his composition.

The new crates are now covered in carbon scoring as the trooper stands to take his first shot. Evidently someone in the nearby trees was waiting for him to make his move. Before the young man had gotten his blaster rifle clear of the crates, he was shot down. One clean shot, straight to the center of mass. Such a waste.

Vemryk begins to peer around the door further, and just as he is about to, for the first time, take in the full view of the battle rageing outside, a bolt slams into the door, just above his head, singing some of his hair. Upset at what just happened, he sticks his blaster out the door, and not taking the time to aim, squeezes off several shots before shutting his door and locking it from the inside. From the brief scene he saw, he knows that the battle is futle, and it is only a matter of time before the rebels take control of this planet as well. He knows what he needs to do. He's been through the drill before.

As he reaches his desk, he stoops down to pick up several data pads containing information that cannot be allowed to fall into the wrong hands. Quickly, he reaches under his desk and flips a switch on a small device planted there, intended to destroy his entire office and ensure that there be nothing left that give the rebels information regarding what the empire has planned next. With this accomplished, he turns and runs towards the far side of the room, and safety. Just on the other side of the door there, is his personal shuttle. He should have just enough time to get the engines powered up, and get into low orbit before his office blows. At least, that's how it has worked before.

[Milstran Cophenaar]

Having been among the crowd relatively close to the speeders as the made their procession through the strees of the city on Rheamma, Milstran was continuing his mission of shadowing Leesia Creynor, tracking her every move, and keeping himself apprised of the situation. He witnessed the incident with the speeder, and felt that it was now be his time to take her place. The Alliance must keep their ‘in’ with the Imperials so that their tactics could come to fruition. He turned away from the remnants of the explosion, and considered his next move.

[Director Isard]

Sitting in her temporary office in the Governor's palace on Rheamma, Isard was contemplating the events of the last couple of hours as she occasionally took a sip from a tumbler of brandy.

'Tondry's little present went off well,' she was thinking to herself. 'Certainly Thrawn has no idea that the Moff and his traitorous aide are still alive. He will not dare involve himself in my investigation.'

Still, the entire scheme had cost her dearly. She had presumed to be one step further then she actually was, and had acted accordingly. 'If I hadn't assumed victory over Thrawn was finally here when I heard Tondry's report, I would have thought over the situation in every detail. I shall remember not to make any fast presumptions in the future.' Instead she had rushed in without much thought, and ended up being reprimanded in a subtle way by the Emperor himself.

That was not good.

'Then there is Tondry and his insolent way, his direspectful manner.' As much as she had rejoyced in the information he had brought her, as much as his professionalism had to be admired, she felt wary at the thought of working with him again. But that was the future. For now, it sufficed that he had carried out her orders as she had wanted him to.

She had gone to let Thrawn out of his prison, had set him to work taking back the system from the Rebels hands. Not for one moment did she expect him to slink away like a beaten animal - everything that she had witnessed before, everything she knew about the man, told her that she had to expect running into a trap of some kind.

'Every step I take from now on will be under his scrutiny - not only Thrawn's, but also the Emperor's. This is a game he has set for us, and I will play my part, however reluctantly, and do my best to thwart Thrawn.'

It was as deadly a game she was playing in, as it was dangerous. At best, they would both get away with a punishment - at worst, it could mean both their heads.
But if Thrawn was willing to play, then she could not stand back. That was for certain.

That afternoon, as she had been about to visit the Moff and his aide, she had decided to let them stew in their own ignorance for a while. Not knowing why they had been assaulted, why they had been half killed, and why they had been rescued but imprisoned in a medical center, had to rankle a bit with them.

Isard hoped that once they had established that they were in actual fact imprisoned, they would discuss the events with each other. She was hoping that one of them would give something away that would provide her with a lead.

She had had spy-cams installed in the MedCenter, keeping her prisoners under continuous observation. A live-feed was relayed directly onto the monitors in the ofice she had claimed for herself.

They were sleeping still.

Reports and messages she had viewed in the database - reports concerning Creynor, the Moff, and the strange officer they had appointed as Surface Marshal; reports about the ongoing battle between Rebel and Imperial forces out there, and the messages going to and fro between Imperial garrisons stationed in the system - they all gave away nothing but signs of the Moff's incompetence, and Creynor's attempts to cover them up. There was nothing to be found.

But still she remained certain that one of them had to be a traitor, that one of them had betrayed the entire system to the Rebels - passively or actively, somehow.

It seemed her career was hanging upon the several thin strands of hope she still had - her assistant's spying skills, a hidden spy-cam, and a few hints here and there.

"Madame Director, we have an intruder alert. Shall I put it on screen?"

A thin metallic-sounding voice came through on her intercom console, and disturbed her contemplations. She sat up and leaned forward in her seat, to observe the feed on her small datapad screen.

Half-way between third and fourth floor - and half-way on his way to the roof - someone dressed in a black combat suit was climbing along a rope leading up the building.

As the spy-cam she received the broadcast from panned in further onto the black figure, Isard swore to herself: the face remained hidden behind a mask of some sort.

"Capture him. Then bring him here."

Her command was carried out immediately. It happened too quickly for her to see in the darkness what exactly had happened, but one moment the black figure was climbing another foot upwards, and the next moment, he hung there limp from the noose around his midriff. The troopers on the roof hauled him up somehow and everything again was peaceful.

Isard got up from her seat and began to pace the room up and down, waiting for the troopers to bring her the man who had dared to try to infiltrate the Governor's Palace.

[Jekaan Oludh]

They dragged him into a sort of communications lab, with his head sunk low and the rubber soles of his boots faintly screeching as they scraped over the stone-floor.

His head still throbbed from the blow one of the soldiers had administered to it with the butt of his blaster-rifle. He was glad that the soldiers hadn’t insisted on making him walk by himself – he had used the time it had taken to being dragged along here to fight unconsciousness, and gather his wits. From here on, he had to consider every move – as important as he might think he was to Isard, she wouldn’t hesitate to have him punished for the slightest glitch in her plans.

Into his limited field of vision moved a pair of shining black boots.

Groggily, he slowly raised his head. The boots became red pants, a red tunic, a black belt, more red tunic, black hair, a slim neck, and, finally, a blurred face. He couldn’t see properly from his position, but he knew that the face had to belong to Isard.

As if the troopers had read his thoughts, they raised him up, and someone gave him a kick in the back. He stood straight, and almost at once his vision got clearer. He was indeed looking at Ysanne Isard.

A furious Ysanne Isard.

“YOU!” she hissed. “What are you doing here?”

The troopers holding him up looked at her, non-plussed. The last thing they had expected was the Madame Director actually knowing this intruder. Now they weren’t sure what to do. As if reading each other’s thoughts, they simultaneously let go of the prisoner’s arms, and he sagged to the ground between them.
That was even worse – if this was one of Isard’s agents, he most probably outranked them, and not assisting him would mean instant punishment. They grabbed the prisoner again and helped him up.

If Isard had noticed the troopers behaviour, she was not acknowledging it in any way, and instead motioned for them to leave the room.

“Agent Oludh, what are you doing back here so early?” she asked him again, once the troopers had gone. “I had sent you out to do a job. Why are you not doing it?”

If Jekaan Oludh felt fear at this moment, he hid it well under his black combat suit and the black face paint. Her calling him "Agent Oludh" instead of simply "Jekaan" did not sit well with him - that was a sign that she considered him expendable for the moment, if he didn't provide a perfectly logical and good explanation. Which was exactly the thing he could not provide her with.

“Madame Director, your orders - I—“ he began to explain, but she cut him off.

“Do I detect a slight criticism for the wisdom of my orders, Oludh? Let me guess - you were unable to carry them out due to your own incompetence?” she said, apparently amused, but there was a dangerous edge to her sneering voice he did not fail to overhear.

Jekaan immediately became defensive.

“No, Madame, I did not wish to criticize your orders – that is not for me to say “ --pearls of cold sweat began to form on his forehead— “but it seemed almost as if everyone has been warned about exactly this kind of thing."

She looked at him, with a questioning look in her smoldering eye. He hastily went on to explain his statement.

"I managed to insert myself into a group of suspicious-looking students who were sitting in a tapcaf spouting all kinds of propaganda against the Empire. I went with them when they left, and they did indeed bring me to the local rebel headquarter. But neither did they react to any of my carefully dropped hints of an Imperial Admiral sitting like a lame duck in space not far away from their own location on Grondo III, nor could I get my hands on any information about their agents in this system. They operate in a system of independent cells, and get their orders by means of notes dropped here and there or messages via the holonet.”

What was left of his courage, seemed to wilt under her molten stare.

“Indeed, Madame Director, they seemed to be suspicious of me afterwards, and kept me distant because of it. They don't know what is going on outside of their cell, and there is no way, even if they had wanted to, that they could tell us who is responsible. When they left for a mission, I was told to stay behind, so I decided it was in my best interest to leave.”

Isard stood more than six feet away from him, but he could feel the anger emanating from her. But she kept it in check, and only remarked, in a half-exasperated, half-jocular tone: “So what am I to do with you now, Agent? By rights, if I understand the situation correctly, I should have you executed for your failure to come up with anything remotely crucial for the solving of this case -not to mention the fact that your courage seemed to have run out and you just ran instead of capturing one of them and providing me with someone to blame.”

In his mind, he went through several gruesome methods Isard had liked to employ in the past when a situation like this had come up, and none of them appealed to him as pleasant.

But as he pondered his own imminent death, Isard’s comlink went off.

[Dodonna]

Taking a deep breath, Vemryk leans back in his seat, gazing
out at the mosaic of color as his shuttle blazes though hyperspace
towards Reahmma. Checking the chronometer, he sees that there
is just over one hour left before re-entry. That should be plenty
of time. As he climbs out of the pilots seat, he finds his mind
mulling over his escape. He had worked through the plan many
times in his head, and knew how everything was going to turn
out before the battle had even started, but he still had a hard
time accepting the fact that he had been a part of the atrocity
down on the planet's surface. But was it really him?

Now standing in the small fresher unit the shuttle was equiped
with, he looked at his reflection in the mirror. Reaching into
one of the drawers, he pulled out a small jar of chemicals, and
began to massage them onto his face with his nimble fingers.
Slowly, flakes of flase flesh began to fall away, slowly revealing
his own features. As more and more of his real face began to
appear, Jan Dodonna realized how happy he was to finally be rid
of Vemryk. It was harder than he had thought it would be to
portray an imperial. Sure most people would understand that
it can be hard to play a role for so long, but to play the role
of someone that stood for everything you despised? What you
were willing to give your life for? As he picked off the last
flakes of flesh from his face, he became aware of just how tense
he was.

There was no doubt in his mind that this last
battle had affected him more than any of the others. To see
such a blood bath right before his eyes, and one that he had
planned! There was no excuse, and he knew it, and that made
his feel all the worse for what he had done. While he had not
taken part in the firefight, he knew that each life lost down
there was his responsibility. A sigh, weighted down with the
sorrow and responsibility of someone that has seen more death
and distructing than anyone should in one life time escaped his
lips. At least some good would come from everything.
<
br>
While it was expected that his office would be destroyed
by the explosives it was rigged with, no one would be around
to tell the sector Moff that something had malfunctioned, and
information had fallen into rebel hands. Sure there was an explosion
shortly after he had taken off, but that had simply destroyed
the shuttle bay. Leaning forward, resting his chin in his hands,
he wondered what the survivors of the battle would think when
they found a man in the ruins of the shuttle bay, scorched by
the blast, that vaguely matched his description. Would they
delieve that Jan Dodonna had finally met his end, or would they
not even realize that he had been there?

Taking one
last moment to look at his face in the mirror, he tried to focus
his mind on the task ahead of him. Once he got to Reahmma's
surface, he had to meet up with Commander Creynor’s shadow.
He had heard some information about this figure from intelligence,
but it was far from enough to make the task of finding him easy.
Reaching down into the drawer once more, Jan removes the false
bottom, and reaches down below, pulling out a case containing
some more false features. Although he is not looking forward
to taking on someone else's face once again, he knows that it
is necessary to ensure that half of Imperial Intellegence is
not called down on him as soon as he sets foot off the shuttle.

Once he is happy with the new features, he returns
to the cockpit and checks the instrument pannel. Just as he
had thought, he still had a few minutes until re-entry. He reached
into his pocket and pulled out his data pad. He had heard that
there was a tapcaf somewhere on the surface that was supposed
to be a local rebel gathering point. That may be a good place
to start looking for this shadow he was supposed to meet. Although,
there was the chance that they would be keeping a close eye on
that place, thinking that a high profile rebel as himself would
make an appearance. As he tried to decide on a deffinate course
of action, the alarm began to beep, jarring him from his thoughts,
and alerting him that it was time for re-entry.

Upon
exiting hyerspace, he had surprisingly little trouble obtaining
clearance from the controller, and landed without incidence.<
/I>

This is almost too easy, [i]Jan found himself mumbeling
to himself. Either I am walking straight into a trap, or
they have not caught up with me yet. Taking a deep breath,
he tried to calm himself, and assure himself that there was not
a group of troopers waiting outside his shuttle to take him in.
Upon securing his blaster to his side, he made his way towards
the hatch, and opened it. Some of the tension left his neck
and shoulders as he realized that there was no welcoming party
for him. Not this time anyway. Securing the hatch behind him,
he made a quick decision to check out the cantina about half
a block from the known rebel tapcaf.

He knew that
there was little chance that he would be able to easily find
the shadow, but he thought that it would not hurt to check out
the cantina, and treat himself to a drink. A strong one. After
all, there was always a chance that the shadow would be looking
for him as well, and reduce the trouble a little.

As he neared the cantina, he overheard a small group of young
men discussing something of a speeder accident. Evidently someone
had been killed. Jan didnt seem to think much of what he had
overheard. Accidents happened all the time, especially when
young men were being reckless and showing off. The thought never
crossed his mind that the person that was killed in that accident
was Commander Creynor.

[Milstran Cophenaar]

Sitting in the local Cantina he listened in interest as the accident that had recently occurred seemed to be the talk of a rather good sized group of people just a table or so away from him. Keeping his eye focus away from them , so as to not draw attention, he watched the various patrons come and go through the entrance which he was facing.

A couple of uniformed Imperial officers entered the establishment and began looking around as if they were searching for something or someone. He sipped at his Alderian Ale and looked down at his belt, seeing that his blaster was still at his side and in easy reach, in case of trouble. If these three guards did decide to get a little too inquisitive, he would be prepared to defend himself, though it might end up blowing his cover, as Creynor’s Shadow. He let one of his hands move down off the table and to his side slowly and casually.

The officers move by his table without asking him any questions and head toward the table where the group of patrons are discussing the incident with the speeder. They begin to ask them questions about what they saw and if they had witnessed any thing suspicious about any of the bystanders and Milstran looks back toward the door continuing to sip from his drink casually.

[Dodonna]

Upon entering the cantina, Dodonna finds himself momentarily blinded as his eyes try to adjust to the dim lighting. Before his eyes were able to adjust, he found himself colliding with an empty table creating an irrritation screech that seemed to stop everyone in their tracks. Stoping, and grabbing onto the chair that was about to tip over, Dodonna realized that he now had everyones attention in the cantina. including two Imperial Officers that seemed to be questoining a small group of individuals.

His mind began to swim throgh possable outcomes of this situation. Would the Imperials realize who had just stumbled into the cantina despite the change in his appearance? Would he end up in their custody before he had completed his mission here? Could he possably go unnoticed after what had just happened?

Taking a step forward, Dodonna stumbled again, hopeing to make the Imperials think that maybe he was just another drunk. As he continued to stumble towards the bar, the patrons and the Imperials returned to their business.

Corellian Ale.

The bartender gave him a once over, and once the credits were placed on the bar, slid the drink over to him. Grabing his drink, Dodonna proceeded over to one of the few empty booths, and seated himself in the dark corner of it. Taking a sip from his glass, he scanned the room with a wary eye. The Imperials appeared to be finishing up with the group they had been talking to. Other than that, it appeared for the most part, to be a normal cantina. As he finished scanning the room, he noticed one odity. Over on the other side of the room, facing the door. Why was he looking this way? As soon as Dodonna realized that the man was looking at him, the other patron looked away, and returned to his drink. Dodonna did the same, as his eyes wandered towards the door.

[Milstran Cophenaar]

The Imperial guards seemed to be finishing up their questioning just as Milstran noticed a lone individual enter the establishment, he tried to watch casually as the person entered, but at the same time, was studying him for any clues to determine if this was his contact. His curious glances followed him to the bar and then to his seat, but he suddenly felt as if his inspection was noticed, when the man suddenly looked up at him, his eyes showing that his curiosity was also piqued. He quickly averted his eyes and turned back to the entrance, hoping that he had not given himself away or even aroused the suspicion of what could possibly be an Imperial agent working in disguise.

As Milstran samples some more of his ale, he watches the Imperial guards leave the cantina and sighs inwardly, relieved that they did not bother him with any questions, and happy that they are gone. He feels a vibration on his belt and looks to see the display of his data pad flashing a small red light, indicating there is an urgent message. He realizes that that it could only be from someone within the Rebel alliance, and as he pulls the data pad from his belt, he notices that it is a Rebel broadcast message, which all field agents in this area would receive. He sets his pad to record and places it back on his belt, looking around warily, hoping that his actions didn’t seem any more out of place than a trader doing some quick business.

He rose from his seat and moved toward the back of the cantina, looking to get away from prying eyes, so that he could check the message. It must be important to be broadcast over the Rebel channels and he was uncertain if maybe it involved either his contact or Creynor. As he moved to the back he noticed the man whom he had seen walking in earlier, was also heading back this way, and had just done something similar to himself, as he slipped a data pad onto his belt.

Could it be? He thought to himself.