Guns and Lilies - (semi closed)

[Sniper Tondry]

(ooc) Originally, I had planned to get some opposition in this thread in the form of other characters. Couldn't get that, but if you have an interest in participating, e-mail me and we'll talk.

(ic)
"Well, old man, it's been- what, a week?- since I came to talk to you. I told you you'd need protection. Told you the galaxy's a real dangerous place. Accidents happen all the time. People go missing."

The recording pans outward to show a young female Ho'Din bound and gagged in a chair, the green, grass-like tendrils on her head waving and undulating. The recipient of the message knows it to be a unique sign of emotional stress.

"As you can see, old man, it is a dangerous galaxy. Of course, if you let us run our deliveries from the spaceport through your shop, things can be easier for both of us. Think it over, let me know, and leave the authorities out of this. You have two days."

The old Ho'Din sighs as the message finally ends. Being a nonviolent race, there is only one solution for the Ho'Din that does not involve police.

Besides, when you're a poor alien living invisibly on Coruscant, there is only one solution when dealing with Black Sun's remnants, anyway.

Give in.

Sighing, the alien goes back to doing that which all Ho'Din are in tune with- tending his shop's plants.

[c] ######[/c]

Pierce Tondry was sitting in a bar on Coruscant.

For a rough-and-ready soldier like Pierce, the setting wasn't so strange. Just his purpose for being there.

Crime had been on the rise recently on Coruscant. The constant flux of war between galactic states had apparently given the criminal element time to recover and rebuild from the breakup it had suffered during the Rebellion, after Xizor's death.

And given that Coruscant was his charge, it only made sense for Pierce to be looking into things.

Unfortunately, there were no current leads, so just about all he could was wait for something to happen.

Pierce lifted a mug to his lips and took a quick pull of Corellian Lum. Hopefully something would happen some time. Being drunk during combat was not usually conducive to victory.

EDIT: Heh... mispelled the title. <img src=http://www.ezboard.com/intl/aenglish/images/emoticons/ohwell.gif ALT="">

[Lady DeVille]

She stepped off the ramp of the borrowed freighter, a light dust cloak draped over her slim shoulders. Darven Calmoarn thumped down out of the ship behind her, kneeling on the duracrete to press his hand to the sun-warmed surface.

He looked up to see her smiling at her. "I have never been so glad to be back on Coruscant." He straightened, and led De'Ville off of the landing pad and into a turbolift. Once out of the sunlight he visibly relaxed, his dark body leaning against the side of the 'lift.

She smiled, and he looked at his old friend and returned the expression. Darven shrugged, "I can't remember the last time I was above ground that long."

"No fear, Darven, soon you will be back in your nest with the rest of the rats." De'Ville laughed as he glared at her for a moment before his face settled back into the anticipation of returning to his people.

________


Three hours later the pair had made their way through a maze of forgotten hallways and deserted turbolifts and had arrived at their destination, deep in the belly of the city planet. Three pale complexioned human males waited just out of the pool of light cast by an abandoned neon sign. The Open All Night sign flickered on and off, only a hairsbreadth from losing power completely.

The shorter of the three men stepped forward, and Darven silently clasped his hand in greeting. The other two stared at the female, and fingered their blaster rifles. They were an old Imperial model, but deadly nonetheless. De'Ville ignored them, focusing her attention on the dank surroundings.

Darven turned back towards her. There was nothing to say, they had said their farewells already. She raised her hand, palm forward and fingers splayed apart, and he returned the gesture before slipping away into the recesses of the under levels.

De'Ville sighed, and turned on her heel, walking briskly out of the area. Once she reached the landing pad again she was surprised to find a general commotion around the freighter.

Obviously Dzym was not correct about no one missing this one... she gritted her teeth and cursed under her breath. There was no way she could get off the planet now, not with the police presence around the freighter. She wished again that her TIE Interceptor had been ready for space travel, but the modifications on the weapons systems had just barely started and the pieces were probably still strewn about one of TSO's hangers.

She cursed again, and slipped back the way she had come. De'Ville was not afraid of being found by the local enforcers. There was nothing on the ship that could be traced back to her or TSO, unless, of course, there was something else Dzym had failed to inform her about.

[Lady DeVille]

De'Ville wandered through the old Imperial Center, staying on the non-restricted levels. Low level diplomats and senators' aides moved by her, each intent on their own little missions. She brushed her palms against the cloak she had bought to cover her jumpsuit...the richness of the dark purple cloth felt like air on her skin.

She walked down a quieter hall, heading for a turbolift. Once inside she leaned against the side, palms flat on the 'lift. The temptation to reach out with the Force and feel the minds of the political drones was strong, but De'Ville knew she had to keep a low profile. As a Sith knight, the NR would more than likely choose to detain her if they could. She itched for the Dark Side, almost as if she would dare them to try her power.

The 'lift slowed, and then stopped on a lower level. De'Ville stepped out, drawing her hood over her head. The thick cloth protected her from the cold breeze that was whistling between the 'scrapers. Here in the shadows of the buildings, the sun only shone for about three hours a day.

She headed for a public access communications terminal, weapons concealed under her cloak, but nearby in case there was any trouble. De'Ville ached for a good game of sabaac and a strong drink, but knew that what she needed most was information about the fate of the freighter Madeline.

Tapping on the screen, she entered into the newslink, reading a few headlines as an Ithorian lumbered by. De'Ville hunched in closer, and sliced into the mainframe, fingers moving with incredible speed. She bypassed the encryption and entered the NR security files. De'Ville had done this countless times in the past, the codes were different now, and the encryption had been updated, but her skills at slicing had increased as well. It would take quite a bit to trace her actions.

Finally a file popped up on the screen, and she read quickly.

/../:HIGH.LEVEL.CLEARANCE.:/poss.Black.Sun.connection./://.

Freighter. Madeline.under.surveilance/impounded.per.investigation.for.Black.Sun.//:.

Pilot:UNKNOWN:no.personal.effects.found../poss.human../

Investigation.underway.DNA.samples.not.available../

.//:END.FILE../:update.234981.///:.

De'Ville exited the mainframe, cursing silently the whole time. There was no way she was getting off Coruscant any time soon. She had a little comfort in the knowledge that the New Republic had no files on her, and therefore there was hardly a chance any DNA evidence would lead them to her. There were some benefits to keeping a low profile.

She drew her cloak in closer around her as she closed down access to the terminal. "Damn!" De'Ville hastily wiped down the terminal with the edge of her cloak, irradiating all fingerprints. She had tripped a security trap in the mainframe. It was only a matter of time before someone noticed the download of the information, and possibly traced it to this very terminal.

De'Ville walked briskly away, taking a 'lift up a level and ducking into a nearby bar. Cigarra smoke wafted up her nostrils, making her eyes water momentarily. She coughed once, and walked up to the bar. The 'tender nodded as she ordered a Sullustian beer, and as she waited she looked around the establishment.

It was dark, and full of smoke and liquor, just another bar on another planet. They were all the same: sabaac tables in the back, bar in the front. She took her drink as the bartender slid it to her, wrinkling her nose at the poor quality of the drink. Just like every other bar... She slouched down at the bar, concentrating on being ignored.

[Sniper Tondry]

"I’ve got something for you, General," a voice whispered into Pierce’s left ear.

He ran his hand through his hair on the side of his head, inconspicuously activating his hidden comlink. "What’s new, Ludos?" he asked quietly, standing and moving over an empty booth.

"There’s been a kidnapping, and some ship’s been impounded."

A puzzled frown crept across Pierce’s face. "What does the one have to do with the other?"

"Suspected involvement. The freighter’s a Corellian make similar to a standard Black Sun freighter, and it put in just today. Twenty-four hours ago, the daughter of a Ho’Din who runs a flower shop by the spaceport was reported missing. There's Black Sun fingerprints dotting the whole mess, but NarSec doesn't have any links to backtrack. They’re searching for the ship’s owner but she’s nowhere to be found."

"Corellian, eh?" Pierce mused. "Wouldn’t be suspecting Sith Order involvement, would they?"

"NarSec? Possibly, but the general attitude doesn’t seem to lean that way. Just straight Black Sun extortion."

Pierce considered this over several gulps of lum. "All right," he said. "I’ll stop by both areas, see if I can learn anything new. In the meantime, get Vadgrin to hack into NR CompSec and run down security footage of that area. I want to know what the owner of that ship looks like."

"You gonna turn ‘em in, General?"

"Probably not," Pierce said. He withdrew several credits for the lum from one of his pockets and dropped it onto his table. "Way too coincidental. In fact, this sounds like someone deliberately pointed a finger at that freighter as some kind of cover. But I need to get some answers out of that shuttle’s owner to be sure. Anyway, after Vadgrin’s done working his ‘magic fingers’, alert our free agents to keep an eye out for anyone fitting the description of that shuttle’s pilot."

"Yes, sir. I’m on it."

Pierce drained the last of the lum from his mug and set it onto his table, then stood and headed purposefully to the bar's rear where the refresher was.

When he was done with his business, he splashed some chill water from a dingy tap on his face and hands to shake off the effects of the alcohol. Pierce smiled at finally being able to make progress and returned to the bar proper.

The smile slowly slid off his face as he made his way across the bar, causing him to stop halfway to the door. Something felt wrong.

[Sniper Tondry]

Dark eyes scanned along the bar, over the tables and behind glasses. There had been few changes since he'd entered the 'fresher. A man at the bar had passed out from drink and was now salivating in his sleep, a woman had sat down next to him, two Twi'lek females were now attending to a well-dressed patron in the back, the members of a Bothan couple were now rolling beneath a table, deep in alcohol and arousal.

Beyond that, nothing appeared out of place.

Pierce continued towards the door and stopped as he reached it. He glanced back at the bar, one hand on the door-

A cold tickle settled on the back of his neck and he sighed. His brain had obviously picked up something wrong, and the rest of him now had to figure out what it was.

His eyes re-crossed the area again, spotting the man and the woman at the bar, the Twi'leks, a Chadra-Fan in the act of pickpocketing, the Bothans now being kicked at by the bartender, a drinks droid serving a Gotal. Still nothing out of place, though he could end up here all day trying to pin down a feeling as nebulous as this one.

Pierce lifted a hand to the door again, shaking his head to himself. He had work to do, and needed to get at it.

The hand dropped. This was troubling him enough that it merited his attention.

Pierce stepped away from the door, just in time to let a large, bumbling Chevin in a filthy looking cloak wander in. There was the man, the woman and the Twi'leks, the Chadra-Fan-

Information clicked in Pierce's mind, and he realized what that something was that he was missing. No matter how he glanced at things, he was always including the woman at the bar with someone else, as if the two were somehow a pair with the attention being directed away from her.

No, not directed- diverted.

Focussing on the bar's patrons the way he would targets at a range, Pierce's eyes swept the bar again. There was the man, falling off his barstool, and there was the woman in the Jedi-reminiscent cloak.

Realizing he had finally managed to bypass whatever was encouraging him to ignore her, Pierce analyzed his target.

She was about an average height, with short, black hair. From beneath the cloak, he could see that she was attractively muscled, and her lips were curved in an angry frown that did not detract from the aura of dangerousness she held.

The woman suddenly turned to look at him, and Pierce could see that there was something odd about her eyes, as though they were liquid in a reflecting pool. The cold tickle on the back of his neck increased tenfold, but he kept a bead drawn on his target.

The woman got up and stalked angrily over to him, and Pierce quickly decided he needed to probe and see if this Sith just happened to be related to that the ship in lockdown and the kidnapped girl. Sith did have a way of getting landed in the middle of events, he'd noticed.

The woman put one hand on his chest, then grabbed a handful his shirt and pulled him close. Pierce's hand shot up reflexively and latched onto her wrist, but it was almost like grabbing something made of hard clay. "Is there something you need?" she hissed, plucking his fingers off her.

"If you are who I think you are," Pierce hissed back. "There's something you need, and I think I can help you get it."

The fingers released themselves, and gave him a slight push backward, the momentum of which Pierce countered by rocking on the balls of his feet. "Who do you think I am?"

"Depends," Pierce said. "Who are you?"

[Lady DeVille]

De'Ville didn't need the attention that a confrontation could draw to her. She scanned the area behind him with her eyes, but there was no activity by the doors. The bartender was attempting to get a couple of Bothans out from under a table behind her, their amorous display was turning off his other patrons.

She returned her cool gaze to the man, barely masking her anger at this annoyance. "Is this where I just tell you who I am?" Without waiting for an answer she continued, "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to talk to strangers?"

De'Ville slipped past him and strode out the door, an uncomfortable prickle at the base of her skull. He knows... How he knew, and why he was watching her...those were questions that needed to be answered.

As she knew he would, he followed her out the door like an annoying pest. De'Ville turned down a dark hallway, and stepped outside, the wind whipping at her cloak. She settled back almost lazily against the wall, waiting for the man to follow her out. When he did, a minute later, he exited the 'scraper like he actually knew how to properly follow someone, slowly and carefully. He stayed away from the edge of the tiny rooftop space, and walked over to her. She did not move, but let him approach.

He was taller than she, and now obviously either military or recently ex, but the height difference did not bother her. The military part did, although he had a casual air about him that did not quite fit. He looked at her, waiting also, and she finally spoke.

"My name is Lilaena, and there is nothing you have that I could possibly want." De'Ville gave him her given name, which she had not gone by in years. The man stepped a little closer to hear her in the wind, but she grabbed his shirt again, and pushed him against the wall. "Blood and ashes, what do you think I need?"

[Sniper Tondry]

"A way off this rock!" Pierce replied. The volume of his voice increased so he could hear himself above the rushing wind. "There's a ship under impound. Palace District. Corellian make. Suspected ties to Black Sun. Sound familiar?"

The woman who called herself Lilaena searched his face with her deflecting eyes. "Tell me what you know!" she hissed, increasing the strength in her grip.

"We do this my way, or it doesn't get done."

Lilaena glared at him, then shoved him against the wall in the process of releasing him. The back of his head knocked against durasteel and Pierce grimaced, rubbing it with one hand. "Watch it, Sith," he said, quietly now that the wind had died down some. "If I get too damaged, you might find yourself the center of unwanted attention."

"You seem to know many things about me," Lilaena said suspiciously. "Who are you?"

"You're referring to me calling you a Sith just now, right?" Pierce chuckled. He cleared the last of the pain in his skull away with a quick head-shake. "I know because I've seen and fought with enough Force-users to pick them out of crowds. Jedi always have a dismissive calm around them; Sith have an overpowering 'I'm better than you are' attitude."

"Then you should know that to anger a Sith is to die."

"Tell that to my collection of bodies in the morgue." Lilaena's eyes flashed at Pierce's words. "Enough playing. You want to know why you're stuck on this rock? I'll tell you."

"I think your freighter was fingered by Black Sun criminals as one of their own- don't ask me how," he said quickly, seeing Lilaena's mouth open to speak. "Because I don't know any specifics. Fact of the matter, is, that's just my guess. But I know two things: that they've stepped up activity recently, as though they had something major in the works, and that there was a kidnapping recently that has Black Sun fingerprints on the whole thing that no one can prove or backtrack."

Lilaena's eyes searched his again, as though looking for the truth of his statement. "What's your name?"

"Alexander," Pierce replied. It was the literal truth, just not the whole of it- Alexander was his middle name. He'd used the same trick under dozens of false faces on just as many planets, and the mental jump and guilt associated with that kind of deception had long been eliminated from his conscience.

Neither of them spoke for a time, and the wind began to pick up around them. "Listen- there's some checking I need to do. Black Sun's a hard yarn of lies to weave truth out of. You have any money?"

"Not enough to purchase transport, but some," Lilaena admitted, raising her voice.

"All right," Pierce rubbed his chin in absent thought, noting the act had turned into a habit. Best thing for this woman to do was to sit tight until he could pick up something. "The best thing for you to do, Lilianna-"

"Lilaena," she corrected him. It was nearly a shout.

"Whatever," Pierce waved a dismissive hand. It was a hard name to wrap a tongue around. "As I was saying- best thing for you to do is find a good bar and get drunk while I do some checking. There's a place just two streets over on 34th block. The bartender and owner are business associates. You can get in touch with me through them if you need to. Sound good?"

He looked around while she considered her answer. A dark swirl was forming in the sky above and the wind was coming in gales. The nearby air traffic could be seen making hasty landings and scurrying for cover among the monolithic skyscrapers. "Better decide quickly," he added. "Because it looks like a storm, and you want to be indoors for storms on Coruscant."

[Lady DeVille]

De'Ville looked up and saw that Alexander, as he called himself, was correct about the storm. She didn't want to have anything to do with this man, but he did have a good point. They did need to get inside.

Turning into the wind she stalked back into the skyscraper so they would no longer have to shout at each other. Once out of the wind, she turned towards him. His insight into her situation was uncanny, and the fact that he was right was infuriating. However, strange circumstances made strange bedfellows.

She gave him her best icy stare, but he just stood there. There was a little spike of fear in his sense, but not enough to satisfy her. This Alexander was almost nonchalant about the Sith, but she didn't have time to beat respect into him.

"I will get in touch with you at the location you indicated. Tomorrow." De'Ville looked around, but the hallway was deserted.

Alexander nodded, almost absently lighting a cigarra. "Good. I have a feeling this will be mutually beneficial."

She interrupted him before he could start another sentence. "If you do find that Black Sun is behind the Madeline being impounded, how will that help me?" Damn it, why did I give him the designation of the freighter? Now he would know that his guess work was all correct. De'Ville stepped a little closer, managing to stare him down despite the height difference. "And how do I know that you're not with the New Republic? If you are, there's no way in hell I'm doing anything with you. And if you're not, what are you doing investigating the Black Sun Syndicate?"

He blew his smoke to the side, but it still irritated her eyes, causing them to tear up momentarily. She cursed again inwardly, getting angrier every second. He had to be Imp, or ex-Imp doing private investigations. No sane New Republic agent would dare approach a possible Sith alone, and she had already made sure that Alexander was by himself.

The Bothan couple from the bar just around the corner were walking down the hall, still wrapped up in each other quite literally. Alexander spoke quietly. "Leave me a message with the bartender at the bar I mentioned. Two streets over, 34th block. I'll have more information for you after tonight, and I am positive that you will want to hear it."

De'Ville could have choked him to death, but she restrained herself. He was right, and she was in need of his help. He turned to walk out the hall the way they had entered it, but she knew of another way out. When he looked behind him, she was gone.

_____


"Lilaena, I'd love to help you, but you know there's no way I want any sort of government finding out about us down here." Darven had been apologetic, but final in his decision. De'Ville had not expected much from him, as he was hard pressed as it was to take care of the people who depended on him. They were mostly refugees and their descendents from the old Imperial days, all living in fear that the Empire would find them. Ex-programmers and civilian workers who had said the wrong word at the wrong time, or crossed their superiors in one way or another, all living together in a group of feral humans. Perhaps they find vitality in the basest fact of their humanity. De'Ville had lived among them, a long time ago.

Calmoarn was walking away already, disappearing into a niche in the wall. She sighed. It seemed that she would have to depend..no, work with Alexander after all. She detested Imps, and was almost positive that he was one. Although, he displayed a better command over his mind than other Imps she had known.

De'Ville headed to section 35 -there was a cheap hotel there where she could sleep for the night. Black Sun... On second thought, a drink or two was in order. It wasn't every night that she was stranded on the most populous planet in the known regions, and without a scrap of decent clothes. She smiled, a short game of sabaac should remedy that...

[Pierce Tondry]

The door behind Ken Ludos opened, and Pierce Tondry walked into the dimmed main area of Intelligence’s Coruscant office. “Good to see you safe and sound, Vice Director,” the agent greeted his employer from his desk.

Pierce grunted. “Wonderful night out there,” he said sourly. “Every hair on my arms and head feels like it’s sticking straight up. Electrical storms are hell.”

The exploding pop of a lightning bolt hitting the complex caused Pierce to look up. “Do me some good, why don’t you?” he shouted.

Ludos chuckled. “What’re you laughing at?” Pierce growled. “Your computer’ll be the next to go. Hey- while you’re on, do a search on these two IDs.”

Two ID cards landed on Ludos’ desk. Pierce pulled off the sweater he’d been wearing and tossed it into a chair, receiving several static shocks in the process. “Ran into a Sith tonight,” he said nonchalantly.

Ludos looked up from where he was checking the IDs. “On Coruscant?” the agent asked. “What’re they doing here- hey! These are real!” He looked up at Pierce with mild disapproval. “Let me guess- NarSec’ll find the bodies in the morning with crosshairs cut into their necks?”

“You know my feelings on the matter,” Pierce replied with a grin. “Anyway, she’s stuck here. That freighter impounded with suspected Black Sun ties- it wouldn’t happen to be named Madeline, would it?”

“Yes it would,” Ludos answered, handing him a nearby datapad. “Here’s all the information I could pull together on that situation.”

Pierce read the report. “Wonderful.”

“I’ll take that as sarcasm, General.”

“Do that.” Pierce set the datapad down. “Here’s some new information for that. Madeline is currently being flown by a Sith calling herself Lililaynar, or something. She talks real formal, but has a bit of a Corellian accent. The Sith Order’s based off Corellia, right?”

“Yep.” Ludos set the IDs down where Pierce could reach them. “I presume you’ll be wanting those back.”

“Of course,” Pierce plucked the cards off the desk and shoved them into his wallet. “Anyway, since this affects her, I figured I’d bring her along for the investigation.”

“She trusts you?” Ludos lifted an eyebrow.

“She has no choice, unless she wants to sit around bored or turn herself in,” Pierce shrugged. “Meanwhile, Black Sun gets away with whatever they have planned. No, I’m going to bring her with me. She’ll probably be useful at some point, not that she cares about stopping criminals or saving innocent children.”

“Thought you didn’t like aliens,” Ludos said.

“Don’t mind Ho’Din, actually,” Pierce shrugged. “They’ve never done anything against the Empire that I know of, and I always thought of Ho’Din flower shops as neat places.”

“That’s a pretty feeble reason.”

“It’s the one you’re getting,” Pierce shrugged. “Who’s in for green status? I’ll probably need at least one other agent to get this done.”

Ludos keyed up a list. “Tau’s out, Vega’s out, Ynidrix is out,” he paused. “Tarkin’s team is mostly out- looks like Dominguez is in. He was taking personal time when the Tarkin unit left, which is why he’s not in the field.”

Pierce’s lip twisted. “Get him to do some surveillance on the Ho’Din’s place. I’m going to take the Sith there tomorrow to question the owner. Call it a trust building exercise,” he replied to Ludos’ lifted eyebrow. “She sure as hell doesn’t trust me, and the feeling’s mutual. Considering the nature of Sith, and what TSO did to our men, I’d rather see her pushing up flowers than breathing. But for the moment, I’m more interested in seeing Black Sun docked a notch or two.”

“She could be here to gather info on us, you realize,” Ludos suggested. “It’s possible TSO wants to know more about us from those rousing little threats you made. This whole impoundment thing could be a front.”

“Could be,” Pierce shrugged. “And if I see information that leads to that conclusion, she will be pushing up lilies. In the meantime, I don’t want to jeopardize anything by taking rash actions. She could be handy; don’t forget that Sith have certain talents regarding intuition and the reading of minds.”

Ludos stared at him, then shrugged. “It’s your neck, General. Just try to keep it on your shoulders.”

Pierce brushed down a few standing arm hairs. “That won’t be a problem. What will be a problem is finding Black Sun. There’s where I’ll need the most luck.”

[Lady DeVille]

De'Ville walked through the city to the bar Alexander had mentioned the night before. She had decided against more drinking the night before, but now she was sore from the lumpy mattress in the hotel, and in no mood to be stuck another day on Coruscant. She walked up to the door, wearing the same black jumpsuit from the night before, sans cloak. Peering in through the darkened transparisteel windows, De'Ville knew that it was too early for businesses such as this bar to be open.

She hit the wall in frustration, and took to wandering the neighborhood. This far from the old Imp Center, her jumpsuit was attracting a few stares. Where to find a clothing store... There weren't any near here that she was familiar with, at least, no good ones.

Not minding the fact that she was leaving section 34, De'Ville headed towards a little bit of relaxation. Trying to keep a low profile, she eventually got into a clothing store, and out again minus the jumpsuit. She was wearing a tight pair of green snakeskin pants, and a white tank top which showed off her muscular arms and shoulders. And, by her side, a matching green purse, concealing her blaster and saber very nicely.

I don't have to meet that Imp, or whatever the frell he is, until tonight. What...to...do... She had about four hours to kill before it would even get dark on the topmost levels. She saw a flower shop caty-cornered across the hall, and momentarily froze.

The lilies displayed in the window were familiar, and as De'Ville walked closer, she remembered why. Her mother had always made a point of having fresh flowers in their home. "Just because we live on Coruscant doesn't mean we can't enjoy nature!" Lilies had always been in their home, and these, a type cultivated by the Ho'Din, had been her mother's favorite. De'Ville found herself staring in the window at the white flowers, caught up in the memory of the past.

[edit: repeated word usage]

[Steve Dominguez]

Dominguez was still new to Intel, but he knew what he liked, and this wasn’t it. He was a man of action not one to sit on his butt all day and watch some flower shop.

Stupid frellin’ surveillance. Interrupt my vacation too. I better get paid extra for this little mission. Oh wait I forgot I don’t get paid, I’m working solely for the pleasure of serving the empire, in all its glory.

Dominguez continued to mumble in frustration about having been interrupted on his leave for what he considered a menial task. Every so often he would look up from the data pad in his hands that he was reading and look at the flower shop.

After about 3 hours he looked up and as usual saw nothing, but than he did a double take. Picking up a hard copy of a picture he compared it to a woman that had entered his view. They were the same. “Better call this in.”, he thought. Activating the mike and earpiece he quietly contacted the Intel communications room.

Comm. Centre, this is Tarkin three.

“Go ahead three”

Yeah, I got a visual on that lady the boss man gave me a pic of. She’s here at the flower shop checking out flowers. Oh knowing him, better let him know that they look like lilies or something.

Dominguez finished the proper protocol and turned off the mike but not the earpiece and watched the woman in case the boss wanted to know more info.

[Pierce Tondry]

“General?”

Pierce grimaced, suppressing the urge to put a hand to his ear. Instead, he turned around and began walking away from the Madeline. When he reached a relatively obscured alcove, he stepped into it and clicked the talk function on. “Go ahead, Ludos, but keep in mind this isn’t good timing.”

“Dominguez called in about five minutes ago,” Ludos replied succinctly. “The mystery Sith is outside our flower shop.”

Pierce paused, then grinned. “You’re kidding? She just found her way there?”

“Apparently. Dominguez said she was attracted to the lilies in the window.”

Pierce gazed into the distance beyond Madeline’s pad. He could actually make out the flower shop from where he was, and though he couldn’t see the Sith, he could see Dominguez in the window at the building he’d been assigned. ‘ At least he’s professional enough not to be a rooftop skulker,’ Pierce thought.

But the Sith was already at the flower shop, several hours early. Should he go there and interrupt her?

Well, why not? Pierce could postpone the rest of what he had to do until later.

He quickly made his way over to his personal speeder bike. It was an MX-11, one of Intelligence’s latest prototypes. So far, it ran like a dream, and got higher lift and braking off the repulsors than on an MX-10. He opened the throttle and eased out into the street.

[c] ######[/c]

De’Ville was still gazing wistfully at the flowers when her thoughts were interrupted by a wispy old alien. “Do you like them?” asked an old Ho’Din who stood in the flower shop’s doorway. “You have been staring at them for several minutes.”

“They just reminded me of someone,” she replied. “But I do like them.”

“Is that so,” the Ho’Din’s head tendrils writhed in what seemed to be amusement. “Do you know their name?”

De’Ville bit her lip as she tried to recall their name. “Stargazer lilies,” a familiar voice stated from behind her. “Several kinds of them exist, but those in the window come from Ithor’s sacred jungles.”

Alexander stopped when he reached them and further examined the plant. “D’panthric region, no less. Someone has good taste,” he remarked, looking casually at a startled Lillian- ‘ No, that is not it. There has got to be an easier way.’

It was easily apparent she was about to say something, and probably something demeaning at that, but the Ho’Din spoke first. “Ah, Mr. Didrov,” he said quietly, with a light shining in his face. “I welcome you to my shop.”

“And I am honored to be welcomed,” Pierce replied. He held up a hand with splayed fingers, and bent the ring finger, then gestured in a sequence, which the Ho’Din copied after Pierce was finished. “May we speak privately, as I requested?”

“Of course,” the Ho’Din nodded his head respectfully. “You must excuse me, Miss-“

“She’s with me, actually,” Pierce replied. “And if you will pardon us for a moment, respected shopkeep, I must have a few words with her.”

The Ho’Din nodded again, this time to both of them, and returned to the inside of his shop. Pierce turned to the Sith- “So your last name is Didrov,” she remarked challengingly. “That is interesting to know.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Pierce snorted. “Grahme Didrov isn’t any more than one of dozens of false faces. Just stick with Alexander.”

Disappointment was reflected in her face. “You’re quite an eye-catcher,” Pierce remarked. “Do you ever dress so as not to attract?”

The Sith’s eyes narrowed challengingly as she eyed Pierce, no doubt taking in his bike-riding outfit: a casual brown shirt in the short sleeve style, stone gray-blue jeans, and black, tanned barve-hide boots. “I am not afraid of those fools who regard me as an object to be lusted after.”

“I didn’t mean it that way. Anyway, listen,” Pierce continued. “There’s a few things I need to tell you before we talk to this guy that I’d intended to tell you later this evening when we were scheduled to meet. First off, Ho’Din all treat each other with respect, so the more you say the phrase ‘respected shopkeep’ or something similar, the more the Ho’Din will respect you.”

“I know something of the Ho’Din!” she snapped, though whether she was actually insulted or just didn’t like the implication that she was ignorant, Pierce couldn’t tell.

He raised his hands soothingly. “Simmer down,” he said. “I’m not trying to insult you, just inform you. Now, I suspect that the flower shop’s wired for monitoring by Black Sun, so we need to be discreet. I’m good with leading questions to get people to get onto subjects I want to talk about, but I can’t be too obvious or there might be trouble. How good are you at reading minds?”

[Lady DeVille]

The question bothered her. Of course I can read minds, those of the weak and of the strong. De'Ville looked at him for a moment, probing his mind with the Force-

-and encountered a mind block. Mildly surprised, but not too taken aback (after all, he was obviously military or ex-military, and indoctrinations did that sort of thing to you), De'Ville probed a little lighter, and then smiled.

"How good are you at losing your rifle?" He blinked at her comment, anger filling his sense, and she continued, "I can read minds, but if you want to use me as some sort of eavesdropping equipment, it doesn't work exactly like that. I can also read most sentients's emotions. They reek of them like yesterday's fish dinners. For instance, you are angry about your rifle." De'Ville enjoyed the uncomfortably angry look he gave her, and turned back towards the window, watching the old Ho'Din tending some light blue flowers.

Alexander stiffly nodded towards the door, "Shall we?" His voice was controlled and smooth as ever. She entered the shop ahead of him, feeling his eyes on her.

She bowed her neck to the old alien, and smiled sweetly at him. "Respected shopkeeper, your flowers are the most beautiful I have seen here on Coruscant." As she spoke, the slight Corellian accent disappeared, replaced by a pronunciation of Basic which was a mix of several accents. It was how most of Coruscant's citizens spoke, so many different species and planets were represented in the populace that there was no planet specific dialect there.

The eldery Ho'Din brightened at her compliment, and motioned the two of them into the back room. Inside, the sweet smell was almost overpowering, flowers were cut and laying in boxes for delivery, and a few were growing in small pots on a well lighted table in the far corner. De'Ville walked over to them, and the Ho'Din took a tired seat behind a clean desk. Except for the flowers and plants, the room was spotless.

Alexander took the only other seat in the room, so De'Ville stayed where she was, leaning against the table. Even before the Ho'Din began to speak, she was almost nauseated by the amount of fear he was pumping into the room. Fear, and also determination.

[Pierce Tondry]

Pierce buried his shock from being surprised into the recesses of his mind, mentally preparing himself for his questioning session. His companion had just proven one of the reasons Dark Jedi were so dangerous, and he needed to clamp down more than ever on his thoughts if he wanted to keep his secrets. "Honored florist," he began. "I have come to see you on a matter of minor importance." As he spoke, he put slight emphasis on the word minor.

"Your message stated as much, Mr. Didrov," the Ho’Din replied. "But did not mention what you wished to speak of."

Pierce gazed at the plants about the room, catching the florist’s name engraved on a sign by the door. "Do you have offspring, Mr. Jujevi?" he asked abruptly.

The Ho’Din’s expression closed in on itself. "Yes," Jujevi replied solemnly. "One daughter, who is the greatest thing I have ever cultivated."

Pierce nodded seriously, noticing the Dark Jedi- Let’s call her Lily- brushed some hair back behind her ear that had fallen out of place and shifted position slightly. "Then you understand how youth are so important to our future," he stated.

"I do." The Ho’Din’s reply was soft.

Pierce smiled and leaned close. He’d seen businessmen do it hundreds of times, usually when they tried to persuade him to buy something. "We want to save the youth of Coruscant," he said sincerely, again adding emphasis by using tiny pauses around the word save. "From becoming too wrapped up in technology and secular concerns. My associate and I would like to discuss hiring you to grow and tend a garden for one of Coruscant’s skyhooks."

Jujev frowned. "Skyhook?" he asked.

"Yes," Pierce confirmed. Lily brushed her hair back again and returned to standing still, with a slightly faraway look in her eyes. "If you could identify the weeds, our crews would remove them. Your job would be to encourage their growth and development."

"Plants do not grow well on skyhooks," the alien replied uncertainly. "The low gravity affects them in their early development."

"Is that so?" Pierce’s brow furrowed with discontent. "Well, they are very rare- most of them are one of a kind. Perhaps we can bring them here and let you- how did you put it?- cultivate them until they’re mature."

The alien’s eyes widened, and its’ head tendrils wavered uncertainly. "I do not believe your crews are trained well-enough to safely deliver rare plants."

"Why, you’ve never met them," Pierce spread his hands expansively and leaned back in his chair. "In any case, that’s why I need your help, Mr. Jujevi. You know what weeds can do damage to what plants, and how we can best eliminate them. I’m sure you must get stock in all the time that needs to be treated for parasites and diseases."

The tendrils waved in the air, then relaxed. "I do not think I can help you, Mister Didrov," he said finally. "Now, if you will excuse me, I am expecting a shipment to be in half an hour from now, and I must prepare space."

Pierce stood up and bowed. "You have honored us with your time, revered grower," he said. "If you do not mind, I will take note of the flowers you have grown before leaving."

"As you wish," the Ho’Din inclined his head to both Pierce and Lily, then went into the shop’s back room.

Pierce slowly wandered through the flora that was presented in the shop, the Dark Jedi close at his heels. As he circled back towards the desk where the meeting had taken place, he caught the eyes of a holoportrait that was placed off to the side in an out-of-the-way fashion. Two people were featured: the Ho’Din with whom they had just spoken and a younger, feminine version of the species. Her skin was a light green bordering green-gold, and the long tendrils atop her head were a bright pink. Pierce stared at the picture, absorbing every detail he could, especially the girl’s light blue eyes, which were a vast contrast to the bright splashes of color on the rest of her face and upper body. Her mouth and eyes were smiling.

He gestured to his companion to take note of it. "That's probably his little flower," he remarked in his salesman’s tone. "Darling, isn’t she?"

"Quite," his companion replied.

Pierce nodded towards the door, and the two of them left, Pierce holding the door open for the Dark Jedi. "So, Lily," he asked once they were outside. "Did he figure out what I was trying to say?"

[Lady DeVille]

Outside of the small flower shop, De'Ville frowned at Alexander. "Its Lilaena, but if you're not intelligent enough to get that right, call me whatever you want. As for the Ho'Din, you almost lost him at the beginning, but I think 'reverend grower' Jujevi understood you at the end. He wants to help you, but he is afraid of the 'weeds,' as you so poetically put it. I can only say it has something to do with family."

Alexander nodded, "And the weeds?"

"He's afraid of them. Jujevi was very calm on the outside, wasn't he? Inside he was terrified." She smiled, "And determined as well. He sees you almost like a lifeline, a beacon of hope -whatever that means." They walked on in silence for a minute or two, and she added, "There was something about the delivery he mentioned at the end...he sensed urgent about that."

Her companion stopped in his tracks, and turned towards her. "The one that was in a half an hour?"

She nodded, "I tried to dig a little deeper but its difficult to pry information out of senscients without damaging something permanently." De'Ville turned towards him as well, getting a little angry. "What does Black Sun and my freighter have to do with this tiny shop? Black Sun has taken to smuggling in rare plants?"

He held up a hand, and turned to his commlink. He spoke in low tones, but she heard every word clearly. "Dominguez, be advised, possible drop in thirty." She smiled as Alexander turned, and raised her arm to brush her hair back.

Her loose sleeve fell down to her shoulder, fully exposing her arm in the light from a window. De'Ville stretched a little, absently rubbing a tattoo on the inside of her arm, and waited for Alexander to explain. He seemed to be processing something in his mind, and a quiet anger began to radiate from him.

"The Ho'Din has fallen into the wrong situation with Black Sun. The current leader of the syndicate has decided to route all his shipments of illegal products through the shop. Notice how close it is to the spaceport."

"And they put their fingerprints on my ship so that no one would be looking this way-" De'Ville gestured towards the shop that was some distance behind them, "whenever these shipments start happening?"

Alexander nodded, anger still present in his sense. "You're pretty smart, Lily." He looked at her strangely, and she straightened up, stepping back from him.

He did not stop looking at her, and there was still the anger. De'Ville glared back at him. "What?"

[Pierce Tondry]

“Lean against the wall,” Pierce said quietly, suddenly shifting gears. “And if you can disguise your presence, I’d advise you to do it.”

Wariness flashed onto her face. “Why?” she asked suspiciously.

“Do it,” he growled urgently. “Act like we’re a romantically involved couple, and use that ‘ignore us’ trick you did in the bar where we met.”

Although her demeanor was still untrusting, Lilaena leaned against the wall. Pierce put a hand to the wall right beside her face and leaned his head on that arm. “Brush your hair back and casually look over my arm,” he said quietly.

De’Ville did so and froze in the act. Pierce eyed her with a satisfied smirk. “I see you spotted him.”

“I will kill him,” Lilaena hissed. “Move.”

“You want to kill him, and you don’t even know anything about him?” Pierce said, half-turning his head. One eye fixed on the man already past them and casually walking along, blissfully ignorant of the situation developing across the street. “His name for instance?”

“His name will not matter once I have killed him,” Lilaena replied, her attention focussed on her target and her arm still brushing back hair. “All Jedi must die.”

Pierce examined her carefully. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said after a moment, burying his emotions behind the cold tactical analysis he’d developed during his military career. “He’s here for a reason. I want to know what that reason is.”

Lilaena’s eyes stared into his own. “The reason will not matter either, once he is dead,” she argued.

“That logic’s not gonna fly,” Pierce replied. “In fact, I think you were both destined to be here.”

Lilaena stared at him. “Explain.”

“Later,” Pierce said. “And not here, on a street where we can be spotted.”

Lilaena gazed into his eyes, as if trying to read whatever it was he had in mind. It was almost as if he could feel something slippery winding itself through his thoughts in search of the tidbit of information he had put together. Pierce grinned smugly and allowed his reason for mentioning it to surface.

Lilaena's eyes widened. “You tricked me!” she spat angrily.

“Not tricked,” Pierce’s lip twitched, and he looked over his shoulder at the departing cab that held the Jedi. “Tricking you implies that I lied, which I didn’t. All I did was delay to the point where you wouldn’t be able to attack him.”

Lilaena’s hands suddenly wrapped themselves around his throat. Pierce found himself physically lifted into the air, despite the fact that the smaller woman did not look like she could be doing this. Anger and lightning mixed themselves together in her eyes, and abruptly the world fell down to street level.

The Dark Jedi knelt down by Pierce, who was busy allowing his body to settle itself out. “Do not ever do that again,” Lilaena whispered in his ear. “Or I will kill you despite whatever usefulness you have.”

Pierce sat himself up and regarded her with hateful eyes. He gave himself a quick shake out, then got to his feet.

Lilaena’s hands were at his throat again blindingly fast, lifting Pierce and shoving him against a wall. “You will not distract me from killing Jedi again,” Lilaena said smoothly, as though the act was no effort at all for her. “Say it.”

“Alright...” Pierce gurgled out. She let go of him, and he fell to his feet. He inhaled deeply to catch his breath.

Lilaena was staring blaster bolts at the street that contained the departed cab. Pierce snorted, rubbing his throat. “You know that if you revealed your presence here by going after him, you’d be in more trouble than you’d like,” he said calmly. “There are other Jedi on this planet as well, as well as NarSec police.”

Emotions warred across her face for less than a second, then she was composed again. “You might be right,” she conceded.

“I know I’m right,” Pierce replied. “But this Jedi only comes here occaisionally. That’s what makes him worth watching.”

“And how do you propose we watch him?” Lilaena turned on him angrily. “He’s gone now, thanks to you.”

“And he wouldn’t be alive if you’d had your way,” Pierce countered. “Besides, we aren't going to watch him anyway, because we need to go back to my place where we won't be spotted.”

Pierce pulled a commlink out of his pocket and clicked it on. “Dominguez, we’ve got a new contact that needs babysitting.”

“ Give me all the good assignments, don’t you boss?” the commlink crackled. “ Where are you?”

“A few streets over from the flower shop,” Pierce said, eyeing Lilaena who was watching him. “Keep an eye out for a bright yellow cab speeder heading in your direction.”

“ It’s not gonna be able to go very far,” Dominguez replied. “ We’ve got a traffic jam here.”

“That’ll be Black Sun’s work,” Pierce surmised aloud. “While they sneak that shipment in. I’m betting that Jedi will happen upon wherever the shipment ends up.”

“ Jedi, eh?” Dominguez suddenly sounded interested. “ What’s his name?”

“Morgan ‘Fewdman’ Evanar. Keep an eye on him, Dominguez, and keep him alive using whatever means necessary. He could be our ticket to nailing those ruthless bastitches.”

[Morgan Evanar]

The traffic was awful. The taxi moved maybe five meters in a minute, after it had rounded the corner. Morgan got out of the cab; the driver began to wave his arms madly and bellow. A pair of credit chits smacked him in the face a moment later as the Knight headed down the street, wading through the mass of stopped veichles. Of all the times he had visited, the traffic on this corner had never been this bad. The line of speeders began to extend in four directions from this corner, although there was already an established parking lot ahead. He swung himself over various vechiles, ignoring protests and threats as he went, and spotted a man who seemed to be vaugely following him.

No, following him for sure. It wasn't really as much of a big deal when you can simply dissapear from sight, so Morgan decided to find out why the traffic jam was so extensive.

Two heavy freight trucks had crashed, and looks like they had only just secured the modular freight containters that had come loose. He would have dismissed it outright as an instance of extremely poor driving, but all parties involved reeked of apprehension. Especially the two in the now northbound truck.

[Sith Summoner]

Dominguez was trailing the Jedi through the streets. Tailing someone was not his specialty and he was doing the best he could not to be made. Though obviously it wasn't enough. The Jedi had entered a group of people heading for the other side, when he should have emerged he didn't.

I hate Jedi. Stupid frellin' mind tricks.

Dominguez searched the crowd hoping to spot the Jedi. Finally as he was about to give up and call in his failure he spotted Morgan heading after the northbound truck. Hurrying to catch up Dominguez tried to be a little bit less obvious this time.

[Lady DeVille]

Jedi are always more trouble than they are worth. All that power and no balls to use it. De'Ville had stopped glaring at Alexander, if simply for the reason that it didn't seem to do any good, and was figiting with her purse. Her blaster and lightsaber were contained within, and they were calling to her. The man with her was very calm in demeanor, even though she had had him in her hands, ready to be ripped apart. He was enfuriatingly calm again.

The Jedi, this Morgan whoever, was too far away now. Alexander and she would not be going back to the flower shop today. His place? De'Ville didn't like the sound of that. She stood still with him in silence, her face as calm as his, and watched him.

He was studying her face, as if he were trying to read her. There was nothing there to read, all was locked up safely in her mind, and nothing showed on the outside any more. She was drinking in the feelings that were emanating from him. He was full of anger now. Her attack had done that.

It was good, felt wonderful to be as close in proximity to his anger as De'Ville was. Of course, the anger was directed at her, but nontheless it made him all the more attractive to her... She blinked.

What am I doing? Alexander was attractive in a roguish sort of way, but beyond that she had no interest in him.

He inclined his head up the street, motioning for her to follow him. She stood firm where she was. "Where are we off to now? A fruit stand for apples?" De'Ville batted away his hand that was reaching for the crook of her elbow. "I'll need something better than 'your place.'"

Alexander frowned, anger spiking up again, and then dying down. "That's all I can tell you right now."

"Fine then, let's go." She made sure he didn't try and grab her arm again, probably wants to try and keep me from killing people, and followed him closely.

Black Sun, Imperial investigations, NarSec and her freighter... It was like a big puzzle that she was seeing all the pieces of for the first time. His daughter... There was something fuzzy there that might come into focus later.

Unexpectedly, De'Ville was bumped from behind, and she felt her purse being snatched away from her. She increased the intensity of her grip on her purse with the Force, and yanked, pulling the would-be thief towards her. The thief was female, and she was surprised at the sudden turn of events. De'Ville smashed her fist into the other woman's temples, and the girl dropped like a stone.

De'Ville kicked the thief in the stomach and then stepped over her unconscious body and towards Alexander. He was blending into the crowd, and she did not walk up to him, but rather around him, allowing him to lead her from a distance. After causing a scene, she knew better than to attract attention towards their mutual presence. She used a little Force illusion to cause the crowd's eyes to slip away from her, as they were unable to focus on her.

Catching up to Alexander, she glared at him. "Are we any closer to 'your place' than we were ten minutes ago? I have all day, but that's no excuse to waste my time."

[Pierce Tondry]

“We aren’t going directly to my place, as if we could,” Pierce snorted. “On Coruscant, with the Republic’s eyes everywhere, you can’t do things directly. They’ve always got to be roundabout, so you can use the law instead of working against it.”

The two of them rounded a corner and Pierce spotted his speeder bike, safe and sound. He tapped a button and a sphere made of blue electricity suddenly appeared around the bike, then crackled down to nothing. “My bike,” Pierce introduced the vehicle with pride. “Hop on the back and we can get going.”

“You want me to ride with you?”

The bike’s engine whirred to life as the inciter did its’ work. “Unless you’re scared,” Pierce said, swinging one leg over the bike and taking hold of the handle grips. He twisted the throttle and the whirring noise changed to a muted roar.

Satisfied that his bike was in working order, Pierce looked over his shoulder. “Well?”

Lily scowled at him. She strode over to the bike, planted her hands on the passenger seat, and vaulted into it.

The bike took off as soon as Pierce felt the woman in the seat. There was some jostling in the back as Lily scrambled to secure her safety straps. “Stay down, and stay centered,” Pierce called over his shoulder. “That’s the trick to riding one of these.”

“Good of you to let me know!” Lilaena shouted over the rushing wind. Pierce kept his face straight ahead and grinned.

The bike picked up speed, but Pierce deftly kept control of its’ movement, maneuvering through the traffic with experience born of a decade of military service. He could feel the thrill of working the bike rise within him. Here was one of the better fringe benefits of military work.

A short ten minutes later, Pierce pulled into an underground parking area beneath a residential complex. He drove down two levels and approached a gate, which lifted out of his way. Pierce drove through and the gate closed behind him. He pulled into a small room that had several types of speeders, from luxury to common, as well as other bikes. A turbolift was imbedded in the far wall, but there was nothing else in the room beyond that and the vehicles.

The room became quiet as Pierce cut the bike’s engine off. “Welcome to one of my humble abodes,” he said.

“You live here?” Lilaena asked as she unbuckled herself.

Pierce shrugged, swinging his leg off the bike. “When I’m not working, which means I’m not here much. Good thing I was able to sport for a cleaning droid to keep the dust down, because I actually use the place for business every so often.”

The two of them entered the turbolift, which was about average size. It probably would have held eight or ten people, tightly packed. There was only one level button, and Pierce pressed it. The lift smoothly started climbing.

As it slowed at the top (the reaching of which took half a minute) Lilaena frowned. Pierce guessed that she could feel the void created by the several clusters of ysalamiri that were in the ceiling and floor of the penthouse suite. Intel had measured their area of effect through interesting and obscure means, and had determined that they would not obscure any Force users in their current position. With a simple command, however, they would shift position and become a deadly Jedi trap.

But that wasn’t necessary, not yet.

The lift doors opened and the two of them stepped into the suite proper. The entire place was finely furnished, with occasional plants and positioned lighting adding to the impression of wealth and means. There was an adjoining kitchen, where a droid could be seen busily cooking something.

Behind the two of them, the turbolift doors slid shut, and were hidden from view by a wall panel that slid seamlessly into place. A second lift was visible in the middle of the room- any visitors arriving through it would be overwhelmingly impressed.

“Enjoy the place,” Pierce said, heading for a balcony. “The droid will make you something if you’re hungry. I’m going to make a few calls, then be back. Oh- and don’t enter the armory or my bedroom. Those two are offlimits, and you’d be surprised at what I have in place to protect them.”