The command center was fully manned, and yet somehow placid. There was an emptiness to it that was difficult to put to words. Even the lighting was set several tiers lower than what would be deemed military standard. This was all, of course, due to Thane. The Justicar wasn’t one for bright lights. It was a pain, for him. The quietude was just a by-product of the Firrerreon’s own stillness.
“These were selected?” Thane’s low yet lilting voice rang out in question. The officer standing across from him nodded in affirmation, appraising his own datapad.
“Yes, sir.” The Justicar’s eyebrow twitched. He had no fondness for titles and formality. “They’ve all been notified and instructed to group-up, making way for Metalorn in the Mid Rim.”
Thane sighed, offering no other response. The call had been made and they were the ones that answered. Some he knew personally, others by name only. They were a hodge-podge excuse for a team at best. At worst? Liabilities.
He could work with that.
En Route to Metalorn The Scrawny Bantha
Thane stood before one of the viewports, watching as the stars pierced the sable curtain of space. He supposed he should be thankful to have received as immediate of a response as he had. Still, the Justicar’s mind wandered through the labyrinthian possibilities that lay before them.
Was there ever a plan that survived the first encounter, after all?
The ACE crew kept the Scrawny Bantha immaculately clean; despite this, the freighter felt somewhat dingy. It was essentially a giant box floating through the void, open at one end to catch whatever detritus it could find. No amount of cleaning could give it any glamor or class.
Alethia didn’t bother masking her footsteps or her feels as she strode through the corridor towards the Firrerreo. It was a subtle token of respect to the Justicar, despite his obnoxious insistence that the entire vessel’s light be kept dimmed. “I take it you don’t expect the negotiations to get anywhere?”
Do they ever? Thane thought, while only stating, “Perhaps.”
He wouldn’t be upset to be wrong, though. The man turned his black-gold gaze towards Alethia and nodded in greetings.
“Can’t be worse than communications with Capital Enterprises,” a low, lilted voice added casually. as if commenting on the weather in passing.
Marick didn’t intend to sneak up on the pair, but he moved very quietly on what seemed like programmed instinct. Alethia and Thane were probably keenly aware of the Hapan’s presence, but his comment still was a bit of a recognition of him occupying the space besides them.
That, and the fact that he was wearing a dark tailored suit with a dark tie, white shirt. A BD-unit droid perched on his shoulder, watching thoughtfully, but otherwise he appeared to have no discernible weapons.
His bright blue eyes glanced around the Scrawny Bantha, taking in details, making notes, and quietly sitting on comments about the decor.
Marick glanced down at his personal comm. He slid his finger across the screen. He sent a message to Socorra, who should have not been too far behind.
With Thane and Alethia.
Be there in
Socorra looked up from her datapad, wordlessly determining where at least two of the Force signatures were before replying.
5
The most brilliant minds were often the most slow and methodical, but Socorra had no patience for that osik. She slid the pad away and thought and walked with purpose, hips sashaying and boot heels striking the deck with clear intent. She wore her custom Herald robes, her waist-long raven and white-streaked mane cascading over the shoulders and missing eye. The Socorran woman was neither stealthy nor loud as she sidled up next to the small group; she just simply arrived.
All three aristocratic accents were in such stark contrast to her own, which would betray an uncivilized, savage heritage. Socorra preferred to listen rather than stand out. She offered Alethia, whom she had only read and heard about, a nod and perhaps a wink - too hard to tell with one eye. A slight smirk to Thane, whom she had once gotten drunk with and played truth or dare. And nothing outwardly to Marick. He already knew she appreciated him there- this time, at least. Before the war he had been an overprotective dragon when she was still recovering. But now it was a bit different; now Socks carried his nephew.
Aylin kept tugging on her suit. She had no idea how Appius was able to convince her to wear one. It was tight and annoying and forced you to be all girly like, she hated every bit of it, but she had promised him that she would help them even if the explanation of why was a bit vague.
Tugging on the hem once again she walked after someone else who was also neatly clothed. She guessed they would be meeting up somewhere.
When she saw the others she tried to be all aristocratic, but failed miserably and blurted out a hi to them.
Glancing up from his chair Korvis gave the newcomers a nod acknowledging their presence. He went back to work cleaning his Westar-35 pistol. He found the act both calming and another measure to ensure the operation was a success. Equipment had a bad habit of failing when needed most and he would not have his be the reason something went wrong.
He still wondered how he had got roped into the mission. Sure Anubis promised to knock a chunk of credits off Vizsla’s bill to repair their ships but he was more apt to break the jail than actually break anyone out. He looked around the room trying to find Ricmore but the sith was nowhere to be found. He was probably tearing something apart knowing him.
“I am going to find Ricmore before he tries to upgrade something from working to not.” The Mandalorian stated as he turned back to find the cargo hold.
Zentru'la stood in the corner of the Scrawny Bantha, vigilant eyes constantly scanning the ship, its inhabitants, its escape routes and dark corners. He had demanded and received a thorough briefing on the new allies he found himself sharing a ship with, not that he needed one for Aylin Sajark - where the eccentric Nautolan went, chaos followed, although to her credit it was usually chaos that miraculously worked out favourably. Whether the others really needed a contracted mercenary to watch over them, Zentru'la had his doubts from the dossiers, but the heavily armoured tank of a man might add some legitimacy to their cover. What wealthy aristocrat didn’t have armed guards in a time like this? Either way, the brotherhood was paying well for him to ensure the mission’s success, and when things went south, his blaster would be ready.
Marick was able to recognize the Nautolan woman fairly easily, despite never having corresponded directly with her. He made eye contact with Aylin, acknowledged her arrival, but then shifted his attention wordlessly towards the Consul of Clan Vizsla as he exited. He made a quick note in the back of his mind and returned his attention to quietly observing and standing perhaps a bit protectively just besides Socorra’s shoulder.
Socorra slightly turned to the young Nautolan that had followed her in, her arctic eye intensely studying her. It was not often the woman smirked twice in a day but it was there, lifting the corner of her ruby lips.
“How was honeymoon?” she asked quietly, jokingly referring to Appius and Ankira’s wedding that Aylin presided over. It had been a hell of a reception. The Socorran tribal accent lent a flat pitch and harsh tone, with every syllable distinctly stated, especially it’s rolled Rs.
The cargo hold was amazing! Multiple massive sections of crates carrying miscellaneous goods, all sitting there waiting to be tinkered with. Even accounting for the room needed to store the various personal ships the freighter contained a treasure trove waiting to be explored. Hector Von Ricmore roamed the cargo hold, hungrily eyeing the varied containers with barely suppressed desire. ACE had generously allowed himself and the other Brotherhood members use of the ship and its contents to enable the safe recovery of their “business partners.” The true nature of the relationship was of no concern to Von. This was a job and he was being paid to do it. Regardless, he preferred that both the targets for recovery and the team assigned to the job made it out alive. As such, he made a beeline for one of the crates labeled Medical Supplies. As he leaned down to open the crate his sensitive ears picked up the sound of a door opening behind him. His eyes made out a figure in polished, chrome Beskar. “Ah Korvis! A pleasant surprise to see you here. I’d offer you a seat but ya know…” Von said as he gestured to the cargo hold devoid of seats. “I’m sure you can sit on a crate or something.”
“Hello, Aylin,” Alethia said with a warm smile. As we’re apparently the only two here who speak.
She gently turned her attention back to the Justicar. “Is this just your usual optimism or did the briefing fail to mention that negotiations have already failed?”
From his perch on Marick’s shoulder, Biddy, the BD-unit, trilled and beeped optimistically at Alethia.
“Yes, hello Biddy.” Archenksova wasn’t sure how her life had devolved into being the messenger for her droid’s friend but it wasn’t worth worrying about now. “He’s doing quite well, thank you for asking.”
I always hope for better, but… “It is just how it goes,” Thane acknowledged in response to Alethia’s query. “These people have suffered enough.”
The Justicar reviewed his datapad once more, confirming the dossiers of ACE’s partners and their charges. They were a splattering of whatever would stick to the wall. A hint of espionage, a smattering of theft, with a dash of conspiracy to murder. The former two were considered far more severe on Metalorn.
How corporate.
“Try talking first,” Thane reiterated, his own senses drifting over each of those gathered. If you can manage.
“Understood,” Marick replied. After a moment he smiled without showing any teeth.
“The honeymoon was a success,” Aylin said with a big grin on her face, before eyeing the others with a more serious face until she saw the little droid.
“Oh! Siky! Look a little friend for you,” the Nautolan said happily, totally forgetting who she was with.
A little modified Milicreep poked its head up from between her tendrils and chirped happily towards the BD-unit. Quickly it scurried down towards her hand while chirping and beeping.
“It’s been a while since he saw a small droid friend,” she explained with a sheepish smile on her face.
Biddy bounced up and down once and made a little bow with his head in a way of polite greeting while tittering a series of beeps.
Marick spared a curious glance up at the droid, then directed his attention back towards the group.
“I suppose mind trick involve some sort of…talking.”
Marick frowned. “They will be expecting that. So we’ll need to subvert those expectations…” he added calmly.
“If the Children have been subtle, it’s entirely possible that nobody on Metalorn has seen a lightsaber since the Clone Wars. Do we have any indication they know what they’ve gotten themselves into?”
“Doubtful,” Thane confirmed. They are merely acting on the evidence at hand.
“Then I guess we need to…” he trailed off, trying to recall a popular phrase he’d recently learned. “…fly casual?”
There might have been a hint of upward inflection on the delivery, but it was smothered by the Hapan’s habitual, even-keeled monotone.
Ricmore had been scavenging supplies from the medical crates as Korvis watched. The Ratattaki didn’t understand his Quaestors obsession with all of this but he had learned to let him have his fun.
“Alright you have had your fun. Let’s head back to the team. We should be leaving hyperspace soon and need to get briefed.”
“That is correct term,” she added with a nod to acknowledge and approve of his attempt.
An alert pinged across the ship’s intercom. Just a basic trill, nothing fancy or worrisome. It was a queue to let them know that they would be arriving imminently.
“You should decide on your approach,” Thane warned them. I am just here to oversee, after all. The ‘face’ of this party will be one of you.
Marick quietly pointed to Alethia with his thumb.
“I believe Alethia and I can take point. We should have…cover identities and backgrounds? Might help.”
Placing some additional medical supplies into his pouch Von replied “Alright, I’ll make my way there now. We don’t know the condition of the prisoners and everything seems to end up in a firefight these days. Don’t think I should be blamed for wanting to be prepared to treat whatever we encounter.”
“We could approach it as a legal front, or humanitarian relief…” the retired spymaster mused aloud.
“Well since blowing the front door wide open probably isn’t on the table, I will let the group come up with plan B.” The Consul stated in his usual stoic manner.
Marick glanced at Korvis and offered a faint shrug. Then, without making any further gesture, a few of the crates and loose supplies started to lift up into the air before becoming suspended in place by an unseen telekinetic grip.
“There’s always a plan B?” he replied calmly, and let the items return to their original resting places? “
Thane said nothing, but one of the large crates loudly shifted three inches to the right.
Marick’s bright blue eyes slid glacially towards Thane. They might have narrowed ever so slightly.
The Justicar shrugged with his eyes, the edges of his robes tearing away into ghostly smoke before reforming in an endless loop.
Marick’s focus on the asymmetrical sleeve might have caused his eye to twitch faintly.
Socorra blinked at the Plan B statement and slowly turned her head to Marick, a dark eyebrow raised.
Aylin tilted her head at the curious display of Magic and shook her head slowly, “I always thought plan B was blow everything up, you know, because of the B is for Bomb thing.”
“The legal front sounds most believable,” said a thunderous voice from the corner, each syllable landing like an artillery shell. “And as high profile lawyers that have made many enemies over your careers, you require armed protection outside of any planetary jurisdiction. That’s why you hired this mercenary.”
Fake names and subterfuge was best left to the experts. That was not Zentru'la. His ‘cover’ story would simply be the truth. It was easier that way.
“Ideal scenario is the invalidation of the evidence held against the partners,” Thane explained. Behind him, the planet could be seen coming into view as the ship disengaged its hyperdrive. “Wanton acts of violence are to be avoided.”
Marick glanced around. “Socorra, how quickly could you modify files on an encrypted code cylinder, without leaving a trail?” He scrolled through the rolodex of dossier information in the back of his head about the Brotherhood members gathered, trying to recall if anyone else was a proficient slicer.
Alethia tapped one finger to her lip, giving the suggestion conspicuous consideration. “That would get us access to the evidence and our contacts.”
She turned her face to Marick and Socorra. “But they won’t let us have the only copy. If we can’t find some artifact of forgery, perhaps you could use their own code cylinder to delivery a payload to their central databanks?”
“That was my next thought, yes.”
“Unfortunately I terribly out of practice,” Socks frowned slightly. The brain damage and coma had required relearning some skills. “But,” she glanced back to Aylin. “If not mistaken, Aylin is very accomplished slicer. If she no explode things first.”
Marick glanced towards the Nautolan. “We would just need to ‘sell’ a that we’re not super proficient with technology. That would be an organic cover, and perhaps give you a chance to plant…something in their code cylinder that would give us a backdoor into their systems?”
Having arrived at the meeting and listening in on the conversation Von decided to make his opinion known. “It’s a good plan. Bold and not without risk but an effective plan nonetheless. Timing the switch during the conversation will be crucial. I’d like to offer my Battle Meditation to the situation. As one of the pilots I could remain hidden inside the ship but within meditation range. The ability could help ensure that the con is pulled off. I’m afraid I lack the subtlety for much more than that; I’m placing my trust in the capabilities of the rest of the group.”
Siky chirped and nodded, making its antennas flutter around.
Aylin chuckled at its eagerness, “it will be an easy task to copy the cylinder and to get access to their data.”
Marick nodded, the response good enough for his ears.
Socorra slightly turned to Alethia. “Would you like bodyguard, or assistant?”
Thane watched, his eyes the only thing moving as he glanced from speaker to speaker. It looked like a plan was coming together, and one that didn’t outright involve wholesale destruction.
That’s nice.
Since they all seemed on the same page, once the last of the team committed to the plan, they could begin their decent.
“Remember the function of a bodyguard is to deter trouble, not respond to it,” said the heavily armoured mountain of a twi'lek. Infiltration and deception were not his strong points, but personal protection was his bread and butter. Perceived weakness, however misplaced, could attract unwanted attention.
“Agreed, I will take the role of the other bodyguard. Look tough and keep my mouth shut.” Korvis replied to the Twi'lek
“It would seem we have an accord,” Thane declared. “Let us depart.” There is much to do.
The Justicar’s words were punctuated by the ship’s descent towards Metalorn. He paid no attention to the bustling industry and buildings as the planet’s infrastructure came into view. He didn’t see the heavy traffic and active security ships. What he saw was a group that was about to get the job done.
That was good enough.
Marick clasped his hands behind his back and waited patiently for their arrival and greeting. He had a bad feeling their loosely formed plan wasn’t going to survive much contact with the ‘enemy’, but he’d been through much worse.
Biddy, despite not having hands, tried to mimic Marick’s ramrod and professional posture. The small droid straightened his legs tilted its head up so his large eyes were facing upward, dignified.
The industrial planet came into view as Korvis watched the pilot head for the landing pad outside the prison known as the Unreal City. A leftover from the Confederacy of Independent Systems it was somewhat less imposing now that it was as a prisoner of war facility. With the destruction of the Jedi during the clone wars the prison no longer needed to house Jedi and so the security measures were not kept to the high standard they used to be.
Giant factories and slums whizzed past the ship. It was a travesty of greed, corruption and exploitation. Fitting for a planet that had been enslaved by the Empire. Cruelty had become the normal way of life.
“`There wasn’t much to say visually about the Unreal City, save to say that it was unmistakable. Visible from space, the underground prison hadn’t changed much, at least not outwardly.
In lieu of organic receptionists, droids took on the majority of the administrative functions and busy work. Beeps and trills announced their activity, only the lights on the consoles denoting that the oncoming ship had been authorized for landing.
Lights blinked on and off in greeting of the ship’s extending landing gear, a puff of air rushing away punctuating the final touchdown. Several utility droids moved into place to quickly begin the standard refueling process which doubled as a means of locking down the vehicle.
Several guard droids and a few organic wardens made their way towards the ship’s currently closed landing ramp in readiness to greet them.”`
Marick didn’t have to work very hard to maintain ramrod posture and a business-professional air of indifference and confidence. His hands clasped behind his back, tugging faintly at the sharp accents of his tailored suit appropriately. His glacial eyes glanced sidelong at Alethia, who he assumed would do most of the talking. He did manage a tight smile, and offered a polite bow towards their approaching dignitaries.
“`"Greetings, um…” The warden paused as he reviewed his datapad. “Sirs.”
Clearly, the man gave up on individual level greetings.
The guards were on edge, but it didn’t seem especially more-so than usual as they evaluated the motley crew. “It is our understanding you wish to address the circumstances surrounding your clients?”“`
“That would be correct,” Marick’s low, calm voice replied. He glanced slightly at Alethia who seemed to be doing her stern-faced spymaster face, so he guessed he was up. “We wish to review all relevant data and ensure that we have a full understanding of the data room compliance protocols on their behalf.”
“My associates are here as additional security. Can never be too careful, times being what they are,” the Hapan added with a faint bow.
Standing to Marick’s right side he did his best to stand just far enough away to appear like a bodyguard but close enough to act if needed. Behind his visor he scanned the guards with his eyes. Standard weapons and low grade armor seemd to be the standard. No doubt well trained but at least these guards escorting the Warden were of little threat to the assembled team.
Alethia pulled a datachip out of a pocket and offered it to the warden. “You’ll find our firm is well regarded and fully authorized to practice on Metalorn,” she said
"Is it now?" the warden declared with callous disregard. A few more beeps rang out as he reviewed his datapad once more, not shy about the sidelong glances he was giving towards the gathering in its entirety. "In the meantime, you and your 'security' shouldn't have any objections towards a routine pat-down, aye?"
Marick’s face remained a calm, dispassionate mask. “Of course.”
He slowly raised his hands up, palms out and open.
The security forces fanned out and went to each of the newcomers in turn, doing two at a time. As they came to each, they performed the same practiced steps. A routine pat down, if you would, coupled with scanners checking for any potential weaponry or threats to the prison.
Marick slowly made a complying motion of removing the dagger from his boot. He handed it, pommel out, point towards his own chest to the security guard. “Sorry, old habit.”
Before the guard even got to him Korvis turned around and started handing weapons to the attendant next to him. After he was done he motioned for them to be taken back aboard the ship.
The guards made a pass over him with the scanner and his bracers caused a load alarm. He cursed under his breath. There were too many weapons to remember.
“It is just a plasma shield.” He stated as he fired it up.
The guard looked up at Korvis then to the warden who gave a nod of disapproval. Korvis shrugged and removed the bracers as well. He had hoped to at least sneak those through the checkpoint.
Going into the prison unarmed was not a problem, The General’s huge frame was enough of a deterrent to the average attacker. He detached his heavy repeating cannon from his back. Then his grenade launcher. And the pistol. Then the bag of grenades and thermal imploders. He glanced at the security checkpoint, then the guards, and growled, “I might need a bigger box.”
Socorra, acting the personal assistant to the ones actually doing the talking, removed the majority of her weapons without fuss. The woman waved off the scanner though - don’t come near me with that thing - lifting a portion of her clothes to reveal a real baby bump and not a dummy model to smuggle weapons in. Those were concealed elsewhere. She buried her nose back into her datapad as if to conclude their annoying check.