The Exquisite Thief

[Garrett Felth]

Nar Shaddaa. Currently under the ownership of The Sith Order. Currently a cesspool of abysmal. Crime and deprivation, all falling into the trickle-down run-off pool. Once a member world of The Fringe World Alliance, in fact a prominent base of research and development. Felth had originally planned for it to be the centre of his operations, once the redevelopment programs had taken effect. But unfortunately, the alliance had dissipated into nothingness.

Things change.

When all FWA assets were handed over to TSO, little was done in terms of refitting ships or changing system protocols to fit in line with TSO operations. One of the shipyards on Nar Shaddaa had remained just that. Though not as important as the many other shipyards throughout TSO's territory, it was still used as a refueling depot for ships in the area. And considering it's apparent worth, security was small and manageable. Not only was it manageable, but a walk-over. The group of men were gathered around a few tables in the "Oddfellows Local" across from the main run-up to the shipyard itself. They were here for one purpose. Robbery. Not exactly the most frowned upon of crimes in the galaxy. And Nar Shaddaa wasn't exactly the best place to find exotic items worth stealing. Hence, there would be little need for tight security. Perfect! They were here to steal a number of ships. Previously belonging to the Fringe World Alliance anyway, the ships were mainly transports no bigger than a few hundred metres, so crew needed to actually get the ships out of the shipyard and to the rendezvous point would be extremely small indeed. Disguised as shipyard engineers, the group would gain access to the shipyard and steal the ships whilst the crews were on leave nearby. But they would have to be quick, as security, though small, would respond quickly. Not to mention the possibility of a TSO Sith being on-site.

"Well gentlemen. I think it's time we made a move. Lets do this!"

Garrett stood up, and the others did likewise. They were all similarly dressed, except for a particularly tall man, who was wearing a black cape and hood. His facial features were unseen in the shadows. The cape and hood were waterproof - which was advantageous considering the pathetic weather outside in the streets. In unison, the group left the "Oddfellows Local" and made their way to the shipyard entrance.

[Garrett Felth]

Garrett stopped suddeny as he caught site of a freehouse on the corner of the street that led to the shipyard entrance.

"You lot carry on - wait for me at the main entrance. I'll just be a second."

As the group of hired hands carried on, Garrett jogged over to the freehouse and made his way inside. It was just like every other similar functioning establishment if the kind; smokey, noisey and dark. Staying by the entrance, Garrett scanned the room in search of the bartender. There he was. Not wanting to attract attention, he didn't call out to him. The building was occupied by none other than the crewmen on leave from their ships in the yard. How convenient. Just as Garrett had planned too. Then, the bartender caught sight of Garrett. Garrett looked at him questioningly. The bartender nodded in acknowledgement of their earlier agreement. Garrett smiled, and turned to leave as the bartender shouted out to the inhabitants of the freehouse...

"All drinks are on the house. Profits are good and the stockrooms gettin' full! Drink up - free of charge for the rest of the night!"

A cheer managed to escape the building before Garrett closed the door and picked up speed to rejoin the men on their way to the yard down the main strip. Alcohol was going to make this operation a whole lot easier.

[Garrett Felth]

When Garrett rejoined the group, they had already successfully fooled the guards into thinking they were maintenance personnel. But it wasn't too hard - they were grunts afterall; the kind of people who get tired having a battle of wits with a stuffed Dewback. Garrett walked past them, gesturing towards the group. The troops nodded in acknowledgement and turned back to what they called "gaurding." Thanks to their lack of perception, they were about to be castrated because of Felth.

Once they were inside, it did not take long to hack into a security terminal to locate the yard control room. From their current position, it would take them ten minutes to walk there. Luckily, there just so happened to be a repulsorpad nearby. It was large enough to carry the entire group bar one person. That one person was the rather large guy in black. Most of the other men were astounded at how well he kept up with them underneath all the equipment he was carrying. After maybe two minutes, they arrived at the lift that led up to the hanger area.

"Alright, I'll go first with Tel'Mah. When I give you the signal, follow us up!"

Felth stepped towards the lift with Tel'Mah - the big guy in black, once again. The group of men armed themselves with Blaster Pistols, in preparation of the slim chance that they'd need to engage security. The doors closed, and the lift ascended. Inside, the two men had a brief chat...

Felth: "Long time no see, old friend!"

Tel'Mah:"Back at you!"

Felth: "So how's the old...dead...thing...going?"

Tel'Mah: "Never felt better!"

Felth: "Really!?!? Well that's good to hear! How exactly..."

Tel'Mah: "I'll tell you later."

Felth: "Okay sure..."

The lift slowed down quickly before coming to a complete stop.

Felth: "You ready, big guy?"

Tel'Mah: "As always!"

Felth: "Do your thing!!!"

The doors opened, and Tel'Mah shot out, reaching inside his black cloack as he ran towards the nearest TSO stormtrooper...

[Garrett Blade]

Tel'Mah's blade hummed into existence in the blink of an eye. He silently ran up behind the trooper. The last thing Felth saw before the elevator doors closed was the saber raising above Tel'Mah's head. The first thing he heard after the door's had shut was a scream. That meant anyone else in the immediate area had probably heard it too. That's why Felth had contacted Tel'Mah. His excellent specialty - subtlty and discretion.

He was less than five metres from the door that swooshed open. The men in white poured out. Tel'Mah grinned beneath his black robing. It wasn't simply a smug grin that most Sith or Jedi directed towards lesser beings. It was more of a maniacal, sadistic smile - the kind not seen beyond padded walls. Each trooper walked aimlessly into the intense, pink blade wielded by the towering shadow. A few minutes past, at which time Tel'Mah comm'ed Felth, who comm'ed the others, who made their way up to Tel'Mah's level. The scene was very abstract indeed. Tel'Mah knew a few arty-types down in the Coprulu sector who'd be delighted to take some snaps of his little masterpiece. A title on a whim would be along the lines of "Death in a hurry". Felth stepped forward, making sure not to slip on any of the blood surrounding Goliath.

[Garrett Felth]

"Nice...er...job! We should hurry!"

Too right. The quicker they finished their job, the better the chance of getting into hyperspace with all the ships they'd came for. Time to steal some ships. The other hirelings had arrived up the lift now, and they were making their way over to Garrett.

"Okay, first two teams, take the two end docks. Second two, you're on the Corvette's on the next level. Last team with me and Tel'Mah."

Here's where the fun begins.

[Brask]

Pacing the bridge of his corvette, Admar Brask felt his crew watching him intently. They had no idea why they were near Nar Shadda, of all places. They knew that something was going on but what was comletely unknown.

"Ensign, report on comm traffic if you please."

The Ensign a young man of barely twenty looked over his board. His knowledge of the system was good but he lacke dpractical experience.

"Chatter on alll frequencies through the..."

"Not all frequencies," growled Brask cutting his subordinate off. "The frequencies for security at the shipyards."

The young man turn slightly red with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, sir." He adjusted his controls. "Nothing but chatter from guards, sir. No internal or external alerts."

"Very good. Continue monitoring."

Come on Garrett don't let me down...

[Garrett Felth]

The teams departed the brightly lit room. Some used the doors, others ascended in the lifts to the upper decks. One of the remaining mercenaries turned to Felth, asking what their job was. Felth answered matter-of-factly as if it was common knowledge, in a parental fashion.

"We're going to secure our escape route. It'd be very unfortunate if we fell at the last hurdle."

He walked over to one of the consoles as the mercenariy asked another question along the lines of 'how do you suppose we do that?'. Simultaneously, Felth brought up the video feed from docking bay 19-B. It gave a clear view to everyone in the room of the huge drone frigate idle to one side of the huge bay.

"Any questions?"

They nodded with satisfaction of the plan, and readied their weapons and equipment. Tel'Mah tap-danced to one side as they all shuffled towards the service turbolift.

Meanwhile...

On the other end of the shipyards, the first two teams had encountered heavy resistence. A rather egregious oversight on Felth's informants part. He was unaware that TSO had stationed droid security here. And the bad part was that they were Basilisk War Droids. Not exactly an astromech with a laser upgrade now was it? The call came through as Felth and Tel'Mah left the room to follow the others.

"Droids? Well how many? What!? Okay, just hang tight, I'll see what I can do. Just bear with me a minute! --- Big Guy, I need you to get to the end docks quick. They're pinned down. If we don't get those ships then this whole thing just isn't worth the effort for the Corvette's alone. I'll try and sort it out my way but you're my back-up plan, got it?"

He gave a nod and simply left. That was odd. Felth was expecting at least some kind of witty remark before he left, or maybe even a funny insult and a grin. Fair enough - after all they didn't really have time for pleasantries of any kind. He tried the lift but it took too long, so the behemoth cut a hole in the nearest access shaft and disappeared down into the darkness. He'd gone down to sub-level three, and the men were pinned down on Level 1, Deck nine.

That's the one thing I've always admired about you Garrett - your sense of direction!

He thought to himself, staring at the black space where Tel'Mah had been moments ago. Truning away and back to the othe rmen, he switched channels on his wrist comlink.

"Brask, we've got heavy Class-Beta Droid resistance in Dock's 8 and 12. Think you can give my men a hand? - they're pinned down and my hands are tied."

And on the upper level...

The third and fourth teams had a field day boarding the corvettes. No security whatsoever. Why? What was so undesirable about the corvettes for them to be considered less important than the dreadnaughts? No. What was so special about the dreadnaughts for them to be considered more important?

[Brask]

Brekis, the current security chief of the Asenti Dockyards, strode towards the control room. What the hell was happening?

One minute he had been doing his rounds the next he was getting reports of a breach, not his day. He crossed a catwalk over a hanger bay and glanced at the frieghters below. This was certainly a step down from his previous position as Security Director for an entire sector- babysitting freighters. But the pay was good.

He continued towards the control room.

[Solomon Daenal]

The hangar was buzzing with life. Mechanics darted about, clad in faded gray, grease stained jump suits. Remotes, R2 units, and droids of every description littered the dura-steel landing pad. Cruisers, freighters, and even fighters occupied every available parking as they were systematically inspected, cleaned, refueled, and repaired by a plethora of attendees.

All in all, no one took notice of the security chief’s trek on the catwalk, save one odd looking technician. The six and half foot member of staff watched Brekis intently, as he half-heartedly tinkered with some frayed wires beneath a Corellian cruiser. Strands of fire red hair dangled just beyond the safe cover of his hat which was pulled down to mask the eyes and much of the face. His pallid uniform was painfully too small, clinging several inches above the angles and wrist as well as being stretched to the literal breaking point by a large, muscular frame for which it was not made.

He continued to glare at Brekis until the security chief disappeared into the control room, then he moved. Sifting through the hangar’s profound living sea, the enormous tech made his way toward a freight elevator. Tugging at the shirt collar, Solomon obscured a small crimson blotch – remnants of an unlucky repair man.

[Brask]

High above Nar Shadda, Brask was still pacing when Felth's voice came over the comm system. He stopped pacing

"Brask, we've got heavy Class-Beta Droid resistance in Dock's 8 and 12. Think you can give my men a hand? - they're pinned down and my hands are tied."

Literally or figurativley?

Out loud Brask said, "I can send a Electro-Magnetic Pulse to fry their circuits, but it will short out all the doors as well. We have to wait for Target 1 to be eliminated. Brask out."

He started pacing again.

[Brask]

Brekis turned to the left, into one of his short cuts. Like all good security chiefs he could get anywhere from anywhere in a very short time. This particular short cut ran through the maze of pipes that fed areas of the shipyards with water and power.

He moved quickly along the path way, an access route for maintenance crews which was rarely used. A few MSE droids scuttled along the passage chirping occasionally- useful little blighters MSE droids.

As a security director fort he Empire, Brekis has used MSE droids to keep tabs on his collegues. He had also used them to apprehend the occasional fugitive. Vey useful indeed.

Brekis continued his march along the dimly lit corridor...

[Solomon Daenal]

The doors slid open and Solomon stepped from the elevator into the upper level corridor. He sauntered past numerous maintenance personnel, ship crews, and even a handful of security officers. Each appeared transfixed with the goings on of a small universe extending only a few feet beyond their limbs, having neither the time nor patience to acknowledge the lumbering imposter. However, the assassin’s cover of disregard would be short lived; more prying eyes neared.

Rounding the next corner, Daenal observed a trio of MSE droids scuttling ever closer. The tiny spies, housed in innocent shells, posed the greatest threat to his objective. Though armed with no blaster, blade, or weapon of any kind a single alarm from just one of their monitors could alert the entire station to his presence.

Daenal began pouring over several options as he quickly ducked behind a corner. First, there was the obvious choice, attempting to fool them, but he soon realized his crude disguise, though fine for neglectful employees, could do little to deceive the observant droid. Second, he considered eliminating them, except it would be necessary to destroy them simultaneously lest one be provided enough time to sound the alarm. Then revelation struck, staring into the dark recesses of a fallen panel.

The automated scouts turned the corner, ignorant of a villain who dangled about the rafters. Once Solomon felt assured the MSE droids were beyond him he eased back down, falling through wires and piping which masked him. He continued to follow his target waiting for just the right moment; very thankful for ongoing repairs and unmotivated staff.

[Brask]

Brekis moved towards the end of the passage, his mind planning for what was to come. He stopped. H turned. He was sure he had heard something behind him- an object hitting the floor.

He looked back along the dimly lit corridor...

[Solomon Daenal]

Brekis turned and the door of opportunity lay open. Solomon tugged at his hat, pulling it further down and hoped the poorly lit hall would obscure his identity.

“Brekis...Sir.” He spat out the second word with bitter disdain. “There is a disturbance in hanger section seven. The foreman requests you come at once to deal with the matter.”

[Brask]

"What? Can't you see I'm in a hurry!" Brekis turned on his heel and carried on up the corridor.

He stopped

I've heard that voice before

He turned

He looked

[Solomon Daenal]

Subtly had its place, but patience was needed to continue this little charade. Solomon was rarely a patient man.

With both deft and silent precision Daenal unclipped his side arm, raised the blaster to shoulder height, then squeezed the trigger. Neon blue ringlets sizzled on stale, manufactured air before slamming into Brekis’ shoulder blade.

The weapon’s blast caught the Security Chief completely unaware and its effects were instantaneous. He fell limp, turning only to catch one faded glimpse of his assailant.

“Don’t be alarmed.” Solomon mocked. “You’ve only been stunned.”

Brekis’ eyes rolled back into his skull and the lids slid down. A sickening thud accompanied the victim’s full collapse. Now unconscious, it was a simple matter for Solomon to hoist his target up by a fireman’s carry.

Daenal moved swiftly further down the passageway; arching his neck to speak into a hidden com-link clung to the upper body.

“Brask, I’ve got Brekis.”

[Brask]

"Incomming message, sir!" shouted one of the comm officers breaking the silence that hung on the bridge.

"On speaker." snapped Brask

Brask I've got Brekis came the crackling reply.

Brask hit a key on his board, "Excellent. Make your way to the drop point. We'll get you out now." He switched channles, "Garrett, Target One is secure. Are you ready?"

[Solomon Daenal]

"Excellent. Make your way to the drop point. We'll get you out now."

The com gave way to static, then switched off.

"Time to make my exit." Solomon mused with a smile, glaring at the trophy strewn across his shoulders. "But first, I think a little sweet revenge is in order. Any objections?"

The unconscious Brekis made no reply.

"I thought so."

Daenal drew a menacing combat knife from its concealed sheath just beneath his jacket. He toyed with the weapon, twirling it about watching gleams of pallid light shimmer down its razor edges. Then, returning the dagger to its hold, both men slipped into a darkened maintenance room.

[Solomon Daenal]

“Time to wake up, Sunshine.” The ghostly voice beckoned.

Brekis stirred. Though blurred at first, his vision soon focused on the inverted image of his attacker – a man he was regrettably familiar with.

Solomon watched gleefully, whilst Brekis violently thrashed about suspended by the ankles and strung up like a side of beef. The pitiful security chief made several attempts to call for help but intense, searing pain was his only answer.

“Now, now. Trying to talk will only make the wound worse.” Daenal brandished the knife once more, however this time his dagger ran red. “I couldn’t find anything to use for a gag, so I had to make…other arrangements.”

Brekis’ eyes widened in horror. Shock coursed through his every fiber for he was now painfully aware of his true plight. Burning streams of blood seeped through his teeth, over the lips, and down his face emanating from the crevice where his tongue should have been.

The noble officer gave a child-like moan as tears flowed into rivers of blood.

“Do you know how easy it would have been to have ended your life with one simple shot.” Solomon chuckled. “But any two bit thug can kill a man. I, on the other hand, am an artist.”

Daenal rose, stepping back into the hallway. “I want you understand my pain, Brekis. I want you to pay for leaving me to rot. Most of all, I want you to feel the agony of coming so close to freedom you can taste it…but to then have it coldly snatched from your grasp.”

Pressing a small switch upon Brekis’ belt, he continued. “I’ve activated your distress beacon. Which means in about ten minutes security personnel will flood this corridor in a vain effort to save you. However, they don’t realize that you have a detonator…” he gestured to a rectangular device secured to Brekis’ chest “…strapped to you. This particular bomb is very unique in that once submerged in darkness the slightest bit of light will trigger the explosives. The resulting chaos will supply with ample time to escape, not to mention incinerating you.”

With that, Solomon shut the maintenance room door and hurried to the extraction point, sealing Brekis’ fate.

“Good night, sweet prince.”

[Brask]

This is going adequately. Barely.

Brask turned to Lt. Wern his second-in-command. The tall, rather bland, officer was standing watch over a bank of consoles manned by three men. Each man was sifting data gathered by the comm system, the data uplink, and by agents on the surface, with the help of Shadow's highly sophisticated computer. Wern was very good at his job, perhaps he would get his own command once the fleet was in their hands. A fitting reward for such good service.

That was something that Brask was always careful to reward good work and to encourage those who failed to do better. He should have been a schoolmaster like his father and grandfather, but then it would not have been so much fun.

"Ready the EM pulse," he ordered, "As long as no-one does anything stupid we will have our fleet. Move people!"

[Solomon Daenal]

"This way." The officer urged his subordinates onward. A small gauge flickered in his hands as he stealthy guided ten heavily armed troops further.

Suddenly, a high-pitched alarm pierced the air. The officer halted only a foot in front of a dingy metal door inscribed with a single word - "Maintenance."

He tugged at the collar of his tailor made, tan uniform. Blatant indications of nervousness marred his features.

"All right men." His voice wavered. "Commander Brekis is just inside. Take your position."

Without hesitation, the entire company scrambled into various places encompassing the doorway, weapons drawn and stance at ready.

"Ready." Metallic groans echoed as each soldier tightened his grip on their blaster.

Steadily the officer eased his hand nearer the door's console.

Meanwhile...

Solomon made his way across a glistening, silver, landing deck; shedding his tech disguise in favor of a cut off tee-shirt with military issue trousers and boots.

His com-link and true identity were now quite visible, yet he appeared unconcerned.

"Brask, I'm ready for pick up."

A hollow rumble of distant thunder sent violent shock waves throughout the entire sector. The warm glow of flames licked at the horizon. Daenal glanced at his watch then over his shoulder, a devilish smile upon his lips.

"Hmph. Two minutes early."