Posted: Wed Jan 16, 2008 1:58 am Post subject: Hide and Seek
For fleeting moments Tylana was tempted to present herself to one or two old friends. Friends, it seemed, from another life. She had often wondered about them, those people she knew, studied and worked with when she lived in Kor Vella. She often looked back with fondness. Yet she knew that most of those people she could never see again. Her sense of self-preservation far outweighted her sense of sentimentality. Her life was very different now and she was determined to make the most of it. For that day, however, she allowed herself to wander the touristy streets and soak up the atmosphere of the city. The many street performers, the eye-pleasing architecture, the buzz of the many squares. Funny, she thought to herself, that business would bring me back here one day. The Truant had been unloaded, her job complete. She had found herself killing time before her promised return to Kellen Vita. She sighed. Time his sister doesn't have.
*
Even as she emerged from the refresher she felt slick with sweat. Her damp hair hung limply down her back and her once white vest top clung to her body like a second skin. She felt all the after effects of a vigorous workout, just without the actual workout. Wiping some residual perspiration from her hairline she approached the recreation area of the Truant.
Kellen was slouched ungainly in a chair, a half-empty glass bottle clutched between his arm and chest. His eyes were heavy with brandy enduced tiredness and his high forehead glistened. She had certainly seen him looking better.
“Trying to make a dent in my stash?” She crossed her arms over her chest and nodded at the bottle. His lids barely lifted to look at her. “Should have taken the Gemini,” he muttered. “Not only does the air filtration system work but the brandy is much better.”
She unfolded her arms and took a step toward him. “Sorry about that Kell. Knuckles is working on it.” She reached out a hand to touch her ship. “He is being very difficult lately.”
To her surprise Kellen began to chuckle. “Not unlike it's namesake.” Tylana grinned in response and sat down opposite him. “So tell me about this source.”
“Well,” Kellen made an effort to sit upright, “His name is Andon Holst. We did a job for him last year.” He grimaced and removed his bottle from its resting place in the crook of his arm. “Wasn't our finest hour to be honest. We were running spice and we were being pursued.”
Tylana raised an eyebrow in interest. “Who was after you?”
Kellen shrugged. “Spaceport authorities. I don't know but it felt bad so we dumped the load. Holst wasn't a happy customer. Its weak I know but it is all I have to go on at the moment.”
“So we go and see this Holst. Talk to him a little. Maybe put a blaster to his face.” This seemed to cheer Kellen up somewhat. “Have you managed to get through to any of the old crowd?”
Tylana nodded. “Everybody knows to keep their eyes and ears open. You should get some sleep.”
Kellen shook his head. “I'll sleep when I find out what happened to my twin sister. Let's get to Bela Vistal before I sober up and realise what a mess I'm in.”
*
From her position in the pilot's chair Tylana sucked in a breath. She looked out upon the mountainous vista with what felt like fresh eyes. This truly is a beautiful place. She flew, taking in the scenic route, enjoying the experience and enjoying her own company. That was until her guest shook her from her appreciative reverie.
“Remind you of home?” Kellen was behind her, a hand on her chair. She hadn't heard him come up behind her. Complacency is not my mate.
She snorted in response to his question. “Doubtful. Besides, why would I want to be reminded of home.”
Kellen folded his tall frame into the co-pilot's chair. “I don't know, Guns, its a while since you've been, right?”
“And it will be a lot longer if I have anything to do with it.” This was not a topic Tylana cared to discuss. With anyone. Sometimes, she mused to herself, that man is too sensitive for his own good. Steering the conversation to safer ground she stole a glance at him. “So do you fancy giving me some co-ordinates? You know, so I can land this heap of junk somewhere? Preferably not on a mountain face. If you don't mind.”
“Don't worry, I know a place.” Preoccupied, Tylana missed the glint in her new companion's eye. _________________
Thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four.. It really was a beautiful city, but Zec had never been fond of heights. Even from this distance, he felt a bit uncomfortable. Of course the one place I need to be is on the third floor. "Zec?" He tilted his head to the left, averting his gaze from the window where he had earlier been counting the passing speeders.
He cocked an eyebrow at the woman, as if he were to lazy to simply ask what she needed.
"We have the file you requested."
He couldn't help but let a little surprise seep into his features. That's the fastest I've ever gotten anything around here. Standing up from the chair, he walked over to the desk and waited. The woman behind it, Tari, was rather new to the force, having just transferred in a month ago from the academy. Zec still didn't know her that well, but her use of his first name obviously indicated that she new him. Intelligence types... he thought with a hint of unease. She slid a data card across the desktop. "There you go." she said with a warm smile, before turning back to her console.
About ten minutes later he was sitting on a bench in front of H.Q. So, these Vita's have a thing for smuggling? That made his job all the harder. He didn't find anything major on their police files, but that did nothing to calm Zec's nerves. The good ones don't get caught... The only reason he even knew they were, or at least had been, involved in smuggling was the memory that was triggered when he saw their ship's name. The Gemini wasn't necessarily notorious, but he had seen the name somewhere. During his first few years in CorSec he was buddies with a guy who said he once had a case that involved the ship. At the time the man has just said that he could never pin anything on it's crew, but he was convinced they were smugglers. Of course, Zec wouldn't usually believe everything he heard. On the record though, the missing woman, Yazura, had at least a dozen drunk and disorderly charges. Smugglers liked to get wasted after a job, he knew that much from experience. I'm still just assuming. For all I know they may not be the original owners of the Gemini. He sighed in frustration. The records gave him very little he didn't already know. It looked like the only way he was going to get a shred of reliable information was by talking to Kellen himself, and he didn't fancy meeting up with a suspected smuggler. And a distressed one at that. No matter what you did for a living, family was usually important. Zec could only guess Kellen was sour, and probably not in the mood for a visit from CorSec. He had a job to do though, and with a resolute grunt, he stood up and started for the cantina. At that moment, Zec was glad that he knew a certain Rodian who owed him a favor.
<_>-<_>-<_>
In a matter of a few hours he was making his way southeast, towards Bela Vistal. Roola, had been reluctant to turn his speeder over, but Zec needed only to remind the Rodian of a few things, and he was more than willing to help in any way. Including giving Zec some valuable information. He didn't know anything for sure, just what Roola had told him. Apparently a human had been skulking around the cantina on and off a bit recently. Not too uncommon, but he matched Kellen's description. Roola said that was all he knew, and that he hadn't seen the man that day. So, Zec went the star port and asked a mechanic about it. The guy said a man matching the one Roola described had made off with a human female shortly before Zec's arrival. The mechanic only knew that they were heading southeast. The only sizable town in that direction was Bela Vistal. Of course, he didn't know for sure if that was where they went, and frankly, he didn't much like Vistal. It had always been too Imperial-friendly for his tastes. Still, a lead was a lead.
She pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head vehemently. “You want to do what?” Tylana was beginning to think she did not know the man beside her at all. Or at least not lately. She readily surmised that Kellen Vita had gone insane. Or was certainly skating the thin line.
Firstly, he had insisted upon leaving her ship, her livlihood, with a complete stranger. Well, a stranger as far as she was concerned. Kellen had repeated, to little avail, that he would vouch for the man and had no doubts as to his character. Tylana had formed her own opinion of the small, agitated man now in possession of the Truant. In fact, she had made her mind up as soon as she had descended the ramp and onto the floor of the shuttleport under the control of the man that approached to greet them. His small, beady eyes had openly appraised her, looking her up and down and lingering on certain attributes, as though she was Kellen's cargo and for sale. She had glared at the man as he turned and shook Kellen's hand. His speech was particularly slurred and spit sprayed from his mouth as he spoke, moistening his greying facial hair, but mostly moistening Kellen's face. She decided she was glad he had deemed her not worthy to speak to, as she definitely would not have enjoyed being in this man's oral firing range. She had wasted no time in letting her companion know of her misgivings.
“Excuse us,” she had interrupted as she transferred her glare from the half-inebriated spitting man to Kellen Vita. She clutched Kellen's arm and pulled him toward the Truant's ramp. “I am not leaving my ship here.”
Kellen, from his considerable height, looked down at her, amusement beginning to show on his face. “I know Lomar is a little on the strange side, but he owes me a favour and he has no choice but to pay up. The Truant will be fine, trust me.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “Trust me.”
Tylana sighed. “I do trust you. I just don't trust him.” She glanced in the man's direction, only to find he was still eyeing her, this time while rubbing his generous gut in clockwise motions. Tylana's features adopted a look of disgust. “And if he doesn't stop looking at me like that I swear to the Gods I'll cut his ugly little eyes out,” she threatened loudly as she reached a hand behind her back to grasp one of her knives. Kellen, recognising exactly where this situation would end clutched her wrist and pulled her back toward him. “Calm down, Guns. Look let me deal with this, okay? We'll be out of here in a nanosecond.”
Kellen approached Lomar, who was now trying to appear engrossed in a datapad. “Alright Lomar, you know the deal.”
The portly man nodded smugly. “Sure thing Vita. Just here for routine maintenance. And I have a speeder waiting for you.” He cocked his head in Tylana's direction, who was now keeping a safe distance, and let out a low whistle. “Have a lot of domestics I'd wager. Women, eh? What can you do with them?” He rolled his eyes to the heavens and elbowed Kellen in what he must have considered a conspiratorial nature.
“Just watch the damn ship Lomar.” Kellen had turned on his heel and made for the door, Tylana falling quickly into step behind him.
Now he was telling her his plans for their impending visit to Andon Holst. She couldn't help feeling that the loss of his sister was making Kellen more than a little careless. A trait she would not have before associated with the smuggler. But then, she mused, Losing someone you care about does strange things to a person. And she understood that concept more than most. She sat forward in her seat and pressed a control on one of the panels before her. The retractable canopy of the airspeeder incapsulated them from the wind that their speed had created. She turned her head to view his profile. His jaw was clenched. “Kellen...”
“I know, I know. I'm asking for trouble.” He banged a fist on the side panelling. “I know I botched up a job for this guy in the past, and yeah, maybe he does have people here on the look out for me in case I'm stupid enough to come back. But I don't really care.”
“Okay,” she relented quietly. “We do this your way.”
*
Holst's residence was a striking one. Almost moulded to the edge of a steep incline, it could be seen from quite a distance. Winding paths led from the base to various houses that dotted the length and breadth of the lower half of the mountain. Lush greenery and trees provided extensive cover and privacy for what could only be described as the living quarters of the city's wealthy and elite. Holst's mansion was one of the topmost residences. A huge circular building, built with what appeared to be yellow Selonian marble, and large, expansive windows, spanning the circumference of the house, many leading onto numerous terraces. This was how Kellen planned to enter.
“What, you're not gonna walk through the gardens and knock on the main door?” Tylana had asked sarcastically when he had informed her of their entrance route. He tossed his pair of electrobinoculars at her in response. She caught them and brought them up to her eyes. She was eager for a closer look.
They were standing on a slightly slanted ledge approximately two clicks from the residence. The mountains natural form had produced many crevices, cracks and small caves and it was here that they took cover in order to survey Holst's mansion. Kellen told her what little he remembered regarding the layout of the building. His knowledge was by no means extensive and the details he recalled contained nothing of any security systems he may have noted, but together they pinned down some semblance of a plan.
*
_________________
Last edited by Tylana on Mon Feb 18, 2008 5:59 pm; edited 1 time in total
Joined: 28 Dec 2007 Posts: 90 Location: Illinois, USA
Posted: Thu Feb 07, 2008 6:54 am Post subject:
Silik looked down to the controls slowly before he started back to the living area made up in the remainder of the shuttle that was not devoted to engineering applications. The Treadwell unit that he kept with him should have been more than sufficient to operate the remainder of the Astronavigation tasks ahead of them.
He was not, in any sense of the word, a bounty hunter. However, this was not to say that he was incapable of...taking the lives of those that he considered to be committing certain injustices in the pursuit of his occupation. Being of a predatory nature, he deeply valued freedom. Very deeply. So much so as to be a staunch abolitionist. Surely, slavery was outlawed by the bureaucratic legal systems of most planet-side governments. However, he was not one to have much respect for how inept those governments served. He often took little thought into killing a slaver.
In fact, he probably had devoured one or two.
Therefore, he was rather disappointed when his scanner showed no activity in the local area. Nothing did they show in fact. Nothing of any interest...except...
Were those remnants of activity? Some sort of espionage scanner? Perhaps the residual effects of radio frequency alignment that was transmitted and transacted some short while ago. If there were, there was something bound to be of interest here. And where there was interest, surely there was profit. And where there was profit....
The Shistavenen seemed to sulk slowly; he was walking the entire length of his cell-like bedding area near constantly now. It was very clear that he had built up a reserve of energy that he would have rather liked to have rid himself of. Usually, his tasks around the ship would have helped. At least, those tasks assigned to him by the droid that was intended to assist him. However, that droid was now doing his task too well. He was clearly doing all the work that was a necessity. Being organic had fallen into obselecense.
This did not mean, though, that he was going to hold a grudge against the Treadwell unit. Was it not ridiculous to be angry with a droid? Nor was he going to hide the fact that he did enjoy what had transpired in the last mission...there was an old saying that, though the scout found it too often quoted, fit in a bit with this occasion. However, whatever saying was upon the tip of his tongue had now totally escaped him; all for the better he thought.
With that, his mind started to escape him. He was no longer here. In fact, he was too in a far distance place in space and time that could not be described as the morgue in even the most remote details. Rather, his eyes beheld a field of blue soil.
This planet was clearly not of a common sort, and this soil flashed a number of vibrant hues in the crystalline sunlight. He gulped as he stood up over the ridge, glaring down at the stench of death mixing with the misty fog swirling about the horizon line of the foreign, alien world. Shaking his head, he tried to reach down the ridge though the dirt quickly gave out and he skidded down with a bit of a jolt to his legs.
A buzzer rang, signifying that he had arrived in the system which erupted in such activity. Thankfully too; he was now able to escape the prison that his mind had placed him in.
And he would be free to run about.
[Hey, wasn't there another RP here?] _________________
Camron Devall had quickly grown bored with the woman. His captive was loud and borish and she had taken weeks to succumb to the deprivation. And when she finally had broken under the physical stress of starvation and torture he had lost interest. He sat in his over sized office at his over polished desk and pondered his next move. It would only be a matter of time before the next phase of his plan would come into play. All he had to do was wait. But he was not the waiting kind. He punched a console with his fist, activating a comlink. "Bern, get in here now."
Less than a minute later a heavyset man appeared at the door of Devall's office. His steps made thumping noises as he crossed the room to stand in front of his boss. Bern was what Devall called one of his "assistants" - someone hired to deal with the Syndicate head's every whim and need. Devall favored Bern above his others at that moment in time. No task seemed to gruesome for the man.
"Any word from Corellia?" He asked his assistant, the impatience showing in his gruff voice. "They are still on the planet, sir. Last report had them arriving in Bela Vistal."
Devall nodded. He wasn't displeased with the progress. "Good. I doubt Holst could hold his fodder when confronted by a desperate sibling. Especially a sibling with such a...colorful past." His smirk was almost feral and did not reach his glassy eyes. "And I will enjoy dealing with him when news of his betrayal reaches me." Devall's assisstant bowed his head. Bern had quickly learned not to interrupt his superior. "Keep an eye on the situation and be sure to inform me immediately when they leave Bela Vistal." He ordered. Bern's bow lowered even more. "Dismissed." Devall barked as he raised a hand to wave the man away.
His thoughts turned to business as he plucked a datapad from his desk and studied the rolling figures. Although they were favorable and business was flourishing he felt unfulfilled. Women were nothing but passing fancy to the powerful man. Family would never be a huge priority to him. In fact the only remaining family he had was his younger sister and though he had never harmed her she was an ongoing annoyance to him. It was his own blood lust that kept him happily in his line of work. He was a cruel man and he enjoyed it.
Tylana knew that getting into Holst's mansion would be the easiest part. Actually locating and apprehending him without any technical aid would not be. Casting a last baffled sidelong glance at Kellen they took off slowly in the airspeeder, making their approach to the residence with caution. Their plan was simple in its desperation. Kellen would pilot the speeder to the bottom most balcony, where Tylana would disembark and enter through the open door. He would then fly to the furthest balcony from that point and enter himself, leaving the speeder stationary. Tylana had been quick to point out that the position of the abandoned speeder did not exactly lend itself to a quick getaway. His reply to which had been merely to hold up a small, silver remote, retrieved from a toolkit under the pilot's seat.
Well at least that unwashed barve did something right. She was still quite nervous leaving her ship in Lomar's possession, regardless of the circumstances.
As the airspeeder reached the desired balcony they heard faint strains of music, dimming the droning hum of their vehicle. She nodded once to Kellen, her signal that she was ready. In response he reached out a large hand and squeezed her own. Smiling grimly and briefly she extracted herself from the speeder and vaulted lightly over the balcony rail, landing in a crouched position, one hand on her blaster holster. She turned her head in time study the speeder as Kellen carefully began to move it further upward. She would begin to work her own way through the building as he would descend; the goal to hopefully encounter each other again somewhere in the middle, if one had not found their intended target first. Taking a deep breath she surveyed her surroundings. Within her limited scope of vision the room before her appeared to be empty. She silently counted to ten before emerging from her crouch and into a hunched stance. She edged carefully toward the entrance of the room beyond, blaster now drawn and feeling slick in her palm's grasp. Pressing her right side against the railing she strafed swiftly to the center of the glass panel, ready to fire upon or threaten anyone who came into view. Nobody did. She exhaled slowly, and entered the room. Her way was temporarily clear.
She had thought about the reasons why this particular door had been open. Tylana herself was not as adept at breaking and entering as her companion was, and so she was the logical choice to make her entrance the “easy” way. Yet this had bothered her. The balcony door had been left open, leading into this room. The music she had heard earlier was now slightly louder and she could discern the sounds of specific instruments, whereas she had not been able to before disembarking Kellen's speeder. Logically she surmised that someone had very recently used this room, and although the soft tones of the song were not originating from the room she now occupied, according to her ears they were not a great distance away.
She tread as softly as she could across the room, not for the first time grateful for her dancer's legs. From the ceiling a magnificent chandelier hung, unlit, over the center of an ornate and beautifully laid table. The remnants of a meal for what appeared to be four people remained uncleaned. Covering the walls she noticed many different kinds of artwork; some she did not recognise, most she thought a little over the top, gaudy and not suited for the elegant and airy dining room. Still, she thought to herself, Fancy digs. Someone has done very well for themselves.
Mental calculations ran through her mind as she approached another door at the far end of the room. Andon Holst and his wife. Two guests. Four people. Plus whatever bodyguards and staff he may have. She quickly consulted the chrono on her wrist. At this time all but the required employees for Holst would remain. At least one or two guards within close proximity to the man and more than likely some element of security. She pursed her mouth as she positioned herself against the wall, this time to the left of the door. Best case scenario: ten to two. She knew from firsthand experience that many people in her own line of work disliked odds, it disheartened them. Yet crunching random numbers in her head always calmed her somewhat. She liked to be ready and she had found it useful to be prepared for any eventuality during her stint as a hired bodyguard. With her blaster at arm's length in her hand she turned and faced the door, slapping the control panel with her free left.
The door swished open and revealed a long, narrow corridor. She saw two doors similar to the one she had just opened. They were on her right and positioned close to one another. At the end of the hall was an archway. This was where the music originated; now mixed with soft chatter and a short, booming laugh. She guessed she had found Holst and his guests. She moved quickly along the right corridor wall, her back pressed against it, the cold steal of her knives almost piercing the leather harness wrapped around her upper body as she attempted to keep her profile as small as possible. She did not take her eyes from the archway, although her view was greatly obscured. She could not see, but only hear those inside.
She froze suddenly as a distinctively masculine voice assailed her ears. She strained to hear the words. “Just one moment, chums... go and see if Cook left any of those delicious...for us....drinks!”
Propelled by a sense of urgency, and realising that someone was undoubtedly coming her way, she touched the panel of the door closest to her and dove inside the room. Thrown slightly off balance on entrance she leaned dangerously to her right, reaching a hand out to the tiled floor to balance herself before bringing her head up to take in her new surroundings. She was in a kitchen, or galley of some sort. And thankfully it was empty. She inwardly cursed herself for her carelessness; had she not been alone her cover would have certainly been blown by a shout or a scream. Backing herself up until she hit the wall she pulled herself up straight, belatedly realising that the door had neglected to close.
The sounds of heavy footsteps were now upon her. A voice hummed along in an off-key tone to the music playing. She readied herself for contact.
He breezed through the now open door, oblivious. In one quick movement she sprung forward, a hand snaking around his pudgy face and covering his mouth, the other pressing her blaster against his neck. The man she had in hold was by no means a tall man, and for this fact Tylana was lucky. Standing at a mere 5'3” she had struggled in the past to overcome tall men without the use of her weapons. His gut, on the other hand, was considerably more hefty than her own slight frame. She leaned close enough to hiss in his ear.
“You move, you die.”
Maneuvering him a step backward with her she bashed her elbow repeatedly at the wall, eventually finding the correct control to shut the door. Temporarily satisfied with the belief of privacy she leaned in a little closer once again.
“You speak, you die. And then after I watch you die I'm gonna watch your wife die. Understand?” He grunted against her hand in response, the noise one of frustration she thought, or perhaps anger. She kneed him in the small of his back, sending him with a thud to the ground. He scrambled from his sprawled position and turned on his behind, looking at her incredulously. She brought a finger to her lips and kept her blaster trained on him. With her now free hand she reached into her pocket and activated her commlink.
“I've got him,” she spoke into the communications device softly. “First floor. Drop what you're doing and get back to the speeder. Give me two minutes.”
Kellen's response was instant. “I'm on my way Guns, keep him there!”
“No, Kell, too risky, too many people. Wait for me.” She deactivated the comm and returned it to her pocket without waiting for a reply. Although she had told him not to follow her, she had a sickening feeling that he would disregard her order. Better get this over with quickly then.
“Do you know who I am?” The man on the ground in front of her was quivering, in body and in voice. She wasn't sure if this was from fear or anger. Perhaps a mixture of both.
“I could guess.” Tylana took a step closer to him, eying him intently. “Nice place you got here, Mr. Holst.” She did not know for certain that this man actually was the person they were looking for, but she guessed from the vague physical description Kellen had provided her with earlier, and the fact that he had come to the kitchen to retrieve something for his guests, that this vast bellied man was Andon Holst.
“You will be killed before you can even leave this room!” He spat, his cold blue eyes raging.
“I wouldn't be so sure, Mr. Holst. For you see, nobody knows I'm here.” She smiled a sweet smile at her quarry and took yet another step toward him. Her left arm rose over her shoulder and caught hold of a Zeeda throwing knife; her favourite choice of weapon. She removed it with a satisfying scrape and extended her arm, both limbs now pointing weapons at Holst.
“You are going to tell me what I need to know Mr. Holst.”
“I will tell you nothing!” He declared defiantly.
“I was hoping you would say that.” Tylana allowed a carnal smile curl her lips as she glared at the man. “I have two of these knives. And I like using them, very much. The first I will aim at an area that will render you useless to your wife. The second I will aim at a primary artery in your neck, which will kill you pretty quickly, but not before you give me a name.”
Another step forward. Andon Holst was unconvinced and he looked upon her with hatred. This was a man who did not appreciate being threatened, and did not frighten easily. Tylana had been ready for this.
Now satisfactorily close enough, she jumped slightly in the air, simultaneously landing on his sprayed ankles, and as he lurched forward in reaction she leaned in and rammed the nose of her blaster into his mouth in attempt to muffle any cries. Holding the knife aloft with the tip pointing downward she let it slip from her hand and fall, embedding itself into Holst's right thigh. The noise he emitted from his throat was half cry, half gurgle, and she wasn't sure if the cause of the sound had been the knife piercing his skin and possibly hitting bone, or the fact that she had probably broken his ankles. With her hand pressing against his chest she pushed him back on the floor, her own body following his in order to keep the blaster in his mouth and subsequently keep him quiet.
She positioned herself between his legs; her right knee against the crotch of his swiftly staining pants and her left leg extended fully, to give her sufficient reach to the knife. “Where is Yazura Vita?”
His eyes enlarged as he focused on her, chugs and sobs then the noises he made. He shook his head. She reached between her own legs until her hand met her knife and she shook it roughly. His eyes began to roll back into his head and for a moment she was worried he would pass out.
“Where is Yazura Vita?” She repeated the question. His lips moved, striving for speech. She pulled the blaster back slightly. “What was that?”
“Devall!” He muttered, struggling through his now swollen mouth. Tylana's mind raced as she recalled the name. Devall rang one or two dozen warning bells. “The Devall Syndicate?” She asked breathlessly.
He nodded wordlessly. His breathing was coming heavy and fast and his nose had begun to whistle. “Camron Devall knows where Vita is?” He nodded again, this time a slower effort. She studied the semi-conscious man. The ramifications of what he had just told her, if it was the truth, were huge. She did not have much time to dwell on it however as the noise of a loud crash and a shout reached her. Bloody men. Why don't they ever listen? Knowing that Kellen was now on his way and making quite the entrance she worked fast. Removing the blaster from Holst's mouth she twirled it in her hand and boxed him in the side of the head with the hilt. Not so hard as to kill him, but hard enough to knock him out and keep him from causing her any trouble. Keeping her blaster in hand she reached down to remove her knife from the unconscious man's leg. She returned it, dripping with his blood, to it's sheath as she walked briskly to the door. Turning her head first to the right toward the archway she saw two women and a man looking straight at her and then toward the other end of the corridor. She exited the kitchen and pointed her weapon directly at them. “Kellen?”
“Right behind you.” The innocent bystanders looked from her, to the imposing figure behind her, fear and confusion the expressions of the day.
“Back up, let's get out of here,” she called over her shoulder, stepping backward, her weapon still pointed at the archway and now eager to get out of the mansion as soon as possible, before some sort of alarm sounded. Still stepping backward she bumped into something, or someone, and felt relief as Kellen placed an arm on her shoulder. He led her back into the dining room. Once there they turned on their heels and sprinted for the balcony. When Tylana caught sight of the speeder she almost cried out a cheer. It was facing in the opposite direction and so she threw herself into the craft first, landing rather clumsily in a mess of limbs and hair. The speeder lurched slightly as Kellen hopped into the pilot's seat.
“Crank it!” She didn't bother to right herself into a sitting position. “Now.”
This time, Kellen Vita did as she asked. He coaxed the airspeeder to maximum velocity. Tylana took a few moments to catch her breath. Only after putting a few clicks of distance between themselves and the Holst mansion did he risk an inquiring look in her direction.
She had been ready to drop Holst's bomb on him. “Devall.”
Kellen's jaw looked as though it would fall off his face. He looked at the speeder's controls, and then back at her. She wasn't sure if his disbelief was borne of the fact that the notorious syndicate crime boss knew where his sister was, or of the fact that there was a chance she was actually alive. Either way this was their lead. A lead neither had expected and if they had, this certainly was the worst case scenario.
Joined: 22 Mar 2008 Posts: 61 Location: The Final Frontier
Posted: Mon Mar 24, 2008 6:19 am Post subject:
"Approaching five mile mark. Increasing resistance level by 25%."
The incline on the treadmill started to make a humming noise as it slanted upwards, with the intent of pushing its current user to the limit. Sweat beaded down his face as he continued onward with little outward signs of pain. The well conditioned machine that was the human body needed to be tended to, and this human was trying to make the most of it in his Coronet hotel room. The young man appeared to be hardly on the lookout for any social activity however; there was a wild, crazed look in his dark hair that showed signs of obvious stylistic neglect. Even with no gravity stimulator the run was proving to be a bit more challenging than he had expected. Maybe he was starting to forget about his conditioning? Nah, he was just being paranoid....
The dark haired man's thoughts were interrupted when there was a beeping noise on his mini hologram. He had an incoming call.
"Take it." he commanded.
The mini hologram started up, made a crackling noise as a blueish figure came on screen.
"Jaren! Good to see you didnt get your ass burned off in space from a third rate pilot from dozing, eh?"
"Oh come on, that was just a...a..." Jaren's voice strained under the added pressure of running, slowing his thought process. "A...freak accident. Never before happened to me in my life." Jaren's response paused for a moment, and then continued. "Don't tell me you called me just to gloat. Oh...yeah, you dont let anything past Shane."
"What can I say, I pay him the credits." Hughes chuckled. "But why dont ya come down to the cantina? Youve been in the hotel for two days already. What the hell are you doing in there? Throwing a party? If so, well come on, invite me in on this. I got enough ale to satiate a Krayt Dragon."
Jaren started to speak for a moment, and then cut himself off. Hughes didnt know about the Gem, and he didnt want him to know anytime soon. He had spent the new free time he had meditating on himself, yet he found no real results except a few very strange dreams. The Force Gem was indeed bugging him and he did not know why he was getting these strange dreams. Though he was a freelancer now, he still could not break the habit of medtitation - it was almost a ritual for him now, similar to sleep. The insight granted from meditation was invaluable as well, though he was not gaining the information he had wanted from the meditation for the Force Gem - only more questions than answers. For one thing, why the hell was it embedded into his chest? It was still a shock to him every time he looked into the mirror.
"Well I wasnt stuck in the hotel for the entire time. I do stuff..." Jaren started, but his voice started to trail off into the distance.
"Oh yeah right, stuff. Well, what kind of stuff?"
"Stuff...like..." Jaren's deep baritone obviously stalled, trying to think of something. "Fun stuff." he quipped defensively. The Jedi wracked his brain attempting to try to pull something out of his ass quickly.
"Fun stuff? Fun?" Hughes bent over laughing. "Oh come on Jaren. You, doing something fun? All you do is train and beat ass. Seriously, when was the last time you went out and enjoyed yourself?"
"Well... recently." Jaren repulsed defensively.
"You're a yellow Jawa eyed lier. And I dont even need to be a Jedi to figure that one out." Hughes grinned.
Jaren rolled his eyes in defeat. "Alright Hughes, I'll come down. Besides, whats gotten you in such a good mood?" Hughes was showing signs of general contentment could only mean one thing. "Don't tell me, theres another missing person? Lots of drama?"
"Right on target. Ive got it all on the big screens. Theyre all interrogating me for information, but Ive been saving the juicy bits up for you, since I heard you landed back on Coronet. I got some info of my own from a friend. You know how it is. I cant hold back the vultures for long though, and I cant resist the creds forever, Jaren. Eventually I'm gonna crack. Credit offers makes me happy." There was the obvious tone in his voice that told Jaren he wasnt lying.
"Alright. I'll head down in a bit."
The hologram snapped off signaling the end of their discussion. Jaren spent another mile or two on the treadmill before getting off in a heap of sweat and headed off to the showers and refresher. After slipping on his usual attire - some jeans and a simple white T shirt, Jaren flung on his favorite leather jacket and head out on his hover bike to the cantina.
---------------------
Jaren's bike ended its groaning trip with a roar, shutting itself off in front of the cantina. Jaren looked up at the sign, "Hughes' Hitters", and shook his head with a slight grin. The name always brought a little change in his face. With a slight adjustment of his leather jacket, he head inside.
Hughes' cantina was quite large and could handle quite a bit of people. The cantina spread out into two guest rooms. First and foremost was the main bar room which contained a few tiny plasmas - the second, a larger more recreational room that sported special lounge chairs, large plasmas and even a small band playing. It was a bar for the masses, and handled a variety of guests. It was no surprise when Jaren walked in that all types of figures sat in chairs, of all different races - Bothans, Kaminoans, Nautolans, and even Wookies all gathered in the social area. Jaren walked up to the bar, and waved to Shane.
"Hey bud." Jaren smiled back. "Good to see you again, Shane. Is Hughes - "
"Yeah the boss'll be with you in a minute. You want anything? As always, its on us." Shane seemed to be juggling quite a few customers (and he was known to screw up sometimes) so Jaren ordered something simple.
"I'll take some of the light stuff."
The bar wasnt too crowded today, but as usual sported a variety of public figures. Jaren preferred to keep to himself. Though he could be the social type around people he knew, he'd rather not socialize with random people met in cantinas.
"Hey, there he is. My main man!" Jaren's thoughts were interrupted when Hughes came up from behind him. "You want to get right down to business eh? You want the scoop?"
Jaren nodded in confirmation. "So its another missing person eh? I'm assuming theres credits involved?"
"Of course, or I probably would not have bothered calling you down here from your *obvious* busy work at the hotel." Hughes answered sarcastically with a chuckle. His brown eyes made a quick go-about in the room before landing on Jaren, and Jaren took the cue to lean in a bit while Hughes lowered his voice.
"This isnt a boy this time, its a girl. She was apparently kidnapped by a major crime lord. I dont know the specifics, but Ceela told me this over a few drinks. You remember Ceela? The blue Twi-Lek that runs that weird mechanic shop over in the South side?" Jaren nodded. "Yeah, well, go talk to her for more information. I hear there could be a big reward in this, her brother wants her back."
Jaren nodded. "Can you give me any names?"
Hughes responded with a shake of his head. "No, I cant give names. You'll have to talk to Ceela if you want anymore info. Ceela's a bit of a rough one, though. Shes fiery. Better be careful with her."
"Thanks Hughes. I can always count on ya." Jaren smoothly turned to the exit.
"Hey, wait, you gonna finish this?"
Hughes took the drink in his hand, and his eyes converged on it for a moment. Jaren hastily grabbed the glass out of his hand and quickly finished it before walking out of the door. His face showed no signs of strain. Hughes turned to his bartender. That wasnt Correlian ale. He recognized the slight bubbles in the liquid. That was....
"Hey Shane, did you pour some Corellian ale for Jaren?"
"Yeah, why?"
"That wasnt the ale. That was the special weeded Yeade we ordered for the Bothan."
Shane's eyes went wide. He turned around real quick to see the Bothan that ordered the Yeade. The Bothan handed him the drink with an annoyed quip.
"Can I have my Yeade now? I had a real bad day at work....I want to get wrecked."
--------
Jaren arrived at Ceela's, parking his hover bike in front. His hazel eyes scanned the area real quick. This side of the city was a bad more seedy, and wasnt exactly Jaren's tastes. Even though he was perfectly comfortable working in these areas, considering his experiences with Nadaan, you could never be too careful. The shop was a dingy lot - it was pretty much a large open hangar. Jaren, upon walking in, could hear voices arguing. The voices carried and echoed throughout the large shop, as if they dwelled within a cave. Indeed, Jaren looked up towards the cieling that could probably fit a small civilian transport inside. Various scrap metal items were scattered around the shop in heaps of space junk. The old feeling of a mechanic shop crawled back to Jaren as these surroundings brought back memories of being back home on Bespin with his father. Memories of another lifetime. These memories never really got the chance to develop as he heard voices carrying across from the administration.
"- Like I told you, I'm NOT giving you a refund - what, oh yeah? Well threaten me all you want, but I have twenty three - no wait, twenty FOUR laser cannons pointed straight at you. So make a move - but after you break the desk, you'll be a pile of meteor dust!"
Jaren walked over to the administration area of the hangar shop and saw a blue Twi Lek arguing with a Wookie. The wookie made a couple rude gestures, and then yelled that it wasnt the artwork that he wanted. That only seemed to enrage the Twi Lek even further and Jaren thought for a moment that they actually may go at it. Which would be interesting to see. Part of him may actually bet on the Twi Lek, surprisingly.
"I TOLD you, it was under my discretion. So out. OUT!" The short female Twi Lek actually pushed the big wookie out towards the door, much to Jarens surprise. Whoa. Did he just see a short Twi Lek push out a large Wookie? And he thought he'd seen everything.... the wookie brushed past with an obvious anger to his step.
Jaren walked up to the Twi Lek at her desk. The blue Twi Lek was an interesting sight; she dressed up quite ountlandishly even for a Twi Lek; Jaren felt like he was at a fashion show. The young man had trouble even counting the number of piercings she had on one side of her head. She seemed quite flustered, but Jaren was sure he could calm her, especially if he had to resort to the Force. "Greetings. Is your name Ceela?"
"Yes, thats me." she answered, her voice displaying the remnants of the past battle. Jaren decided to be extra diplomatic. "I couldnt help but overhear your past discussion with your customer. Sorry about-"
"Its alright." Ceela interjected. "No really, its fine." she sighed, clearing her eyes. "Come on, I need to get out of this office." Ceela got up and made a quick gesture to walk out of the office together. Jaren followed silently.
"So what are you here for? Power converters? New Engine? I got some new spare Quadex if you need one for your speeder." she offered, her tone business and professional.
"Well actually, I'm just here for information. Obviously, since youre not busy, I think now is the best time."
"Information?" Ceela's brow went up in interest. "Well...." she made a knowing glance at Jaren. "Youre still taking up my time. So I'm going to need some....compensation."
Jaren nodded. "Fine," he started, whipping out his datapad. "How much-"
"I dont take bribes!" stated Ceela defensively. "I dont! You have to be a...a...paying customer. I Dont take bribes, and thats final!" her eyes went up in utter horror in seeing the datapad. Ceela cringed from it as if it was some kind of evil.
"Paying Customer?"
"Yes. Meaning you have to buy one of my services. Sorry bud."
He didn't really need any mechanical assistance, considering he already was taught many of the basics of mechanics from his father. Damn. What was he going to do? Ceela was indeed quite strange. Hughes was right. He was going to have to tread lightly with this one. "Alright, well I dont need anything major done on mine. I'm looking for something more stylistic."
"Well, we could do something that wouldnt cost you much. New windows, replace some of the seats? Oh, how about a new color job?"
Color job? Well, he guessed he could use a new paint job on his E-Wing. He didnt exactly like flying around in an E-wing that had the insignia smudged out on it.
"Alright. I have my E-wing that could be refurbished."
"Excellent! Oh, I always love doing new color jobs! Gets the girly side out in me. Come here so I get the color panel." Jaren followed the foot-bopping Ceela to her office, as she ripped out a sheet of holograph presenting different colors to him. The holograph flipped through the colors extensively in the model of the E-wing, representing what the starship would like in each color.
"How about this one? Or this?"
Black would just be idiotic. Teal....no, too bright. Brown? Too boring....suddenly, his vision began to fail, and he felt dizzy. Jaren grabbed the seat woozily. What was happening to him? He shook his head trying to clear the dizziness. He should be able to resist most drugs....this was odd. Where did this come from? Was it the drink from the cantina? Oh no....Shane did it again. Shane was known to mess up drinks at the bar - and it was actually one of the reasons going to Hughes' was interesting, at times, and what made it popular. Regardless, Jaren figured he should be able to resist most drugs. This must be something quite exotic. Quite exotic and quite strange. Perhaps it was something that they did not complete in Jedi training. Regardless, Ceela was too engrossed in her "work" to really notice.
"How about this color?"
Jaren pointed to the blue one, simmering in the light next a brighter shade of light red....was that it? He couldnt tell. The blue patch swam. "Yeah, t-that one." Jaren stuttered a bit. "OH! This one? Are you serious!? Fantastic Jaren, you rock!" she exclaimed enthusiastically. Jaren wondered for a moment why she was so enthusiastic about his choice, but he couldnt really care all too much at the moment - all he wanted to figure out was why things all of a sudden got so blurry. He was going to have to Force purge himself. Jaren closed his eyes, trying to concentrate - but to his frustration, he found it near impossible. Jaren could simply not find the energy nor concentration to summon up the Force, as strong as it was inside of him. Ceela noticed his distress.
"Jaren, are you alright? You seem you look like you took some bad drink...here, let me transfer your E-Wing over here from the Coronet hangar and we'll get it color finished in no time. It should take no more than an hour. Oh, this is going to be great!"
Jaren had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.
------------------
Jaren's hazel eyes fluttered open. His head was hurting bad, and he shook it quickly, waking himself out of his stupor. The dark haired man looked around him. Alright, everything seemed to be normal. He was in the hangar shop with Ceela. He had his datapad. Checked datapad. No credits lost. He wasnt mugged. Blaster on him. Check. Lightsaber on belt. Check.
Bright pink E-Wing, check.
What?
Ceela came over to him.
"Oh Jaren, it looks great! That thing looks hot! I couldnt believe you picked it. You out of all the guys that came in here look the least likely to choose pink. Hey you okay? You were out for about an hour....yeah, you look fine to me." Jaren could feel his datapad ripped from his hand as Ceela transferred the credits. Jaren's hazel eyes wandered again to his now girlified pink E-wing. He stared at it for, from what he recalled, ages.
I am the least likely to choose pink!
"Ceela..." his baritone voice growing in anguish. "What do you mean, it looks hot? Ceela, its PINK! My E-wing....ITS PINK!"
"Hey, what can I say, youre the one who chose the color."
Camron Devall paced his personal chambers repeatedly. He was nodding his head in agreement with the voice coming over his speakers.
"So I was right. Holst couldn't hold his own fodder." He stopped pacing abruptly and a cold smirk crossed his face. His plan was beginning to come into fruition. "So how bad did Vita mess him up?" He was rubbing his hands together with something akin to glee and waiting for the gory details.
Bern's voice over the communications link corrected him. "It wasn't Vita, it was the woman with him. He was unconscious when his wife found him. Both ankles broken, severe stab wound to the leg and a concussion. Nothing a dip in a bacta tank couldn't fix."
"He'll wish he'd been killed there and then. By the time I'm finished with him Bern there won't be a part of him left for his widow to bury," Devall growled. He tapped his jaw with his fingers as he considered the new development. He had assumed that Vita himself would take care of Holst. The man had been a thorn in his side and greedy in his takings. He had wanted him taken off the radar and had thought Vita would have completed that task for him. It was a surprise to him that he hadn't taken on the task himself and he had thought that the woman had been merely just along for the ride, or for Vita's own personal use. "Send me all the information you have about the woman. I want to know exactly who she is, where she is from, her known associates...Hell I want to know what she has for kriffin' breakfast."
"Sending now boss," came his henchman's reply. Devall crossed the room in three long strides and stood at the holographic read out studying it carefully. "What about family? Her birth wasn't immaculate conception!" His voice was growing stronger and louder in force with his frustration.
"She hasn't been on the radar until recently. There are no CorSec records of her before she entered the smuggling trade."
"Well find them!" He roared back at his assistant. "Everyone has a family. People that can be used as collateral. This is information I should have had Bern." He drew in deep breaths to calm himself. Bern would get him the information he needed or he would suffer by his own hands. "And get yourself on a ship to Coronet. I want this pair watched. Every step of the way." The last thing he needed was this plan to go awry. He had special uses for the Vitas.
"Yes sir," came Bern's emotionless reply. Devall cut the connection. He sat on a chair and stared at the holographic display. He ran a hand over his emerging beard. Gradually he succeeded in convincing himself that there would be no further problems.
"A desperate brother and a washed up bodyguard. Get a hold of yourself Devall."
Joined: 28 Dec 2007 Posts: 90 Location: Illinois, USA
Posted: Sat Apr 12, 2008 8:27 am Post subject:
This was not going to be easy. The wolf had assembled his sensor unit in a laboratory, that was correct. It would utilize the gaseous anomalies of interstellar space to force a sound wave through that medium in the manner of the fashion that sound waves travel in an atmosphere.
However, that was the easy part.
The difficult part was transporting it off of the inside platform of a Lambda class shuttle-craft. There he had the device, appearing much as though it were a sealed plastic crate that bore little semblance to anything in particular. Looking at it gleam under the internal lights of the craft, from the helmsman's seat, he found little in it that was not wholly anti-climatic of the event.
Therefore, it was only fitting that the less simplistic part of this mission was the part that was going to cause him a problem. The transponder controls had failed as the box erupted into a certain blue flash. The airlock thus opened, and though Silik was shielded, the device was ejected. Therefore, he had begun to wildly move his claws across the control panel as his tail fell quite stiff. One wrong move and there could have been this device materializing between decks and causing a breech. That was the problem when something was ejected in such a way as to transform it into energy...
However, it was needed to detect what was going on. After all, it would be wholly outside of Silik's melodramatic fashion to not think something serious was going on when certain visitors were at the mansion below him.
As he finally set it down along side the vessel to attach to the outer bulkhead, he reminded himself of the dangers of transporting an object while in warp transit - regardless of the fact that two objects sharing in equal velocity with lessor acceleration will appear still to one another.
The wolf wagged his tail slowly as he spoke to his droid, "Less than a day's time I assure you. I can deploy such material without interference to the remainder of the ship's systems. I will have to, however, ask for some unrestricted access to the computer core to align the device. I do hope you understand I would not create malice, Tread." _________________
They had a lot to think about; a lot to work out. Yet Tylana was in need of a stiff drink or two and she generally was not one to deny her body anything it required. Having arrived back in Coronet with the Truant they had docked once more, and discussed their next step in great length. The first, and most important, piece of information they must get their hands on was the present location of the Devall Syndicate headquarters. It was headed by a cold, evil man by the name of Camron Devall, who oversaw the Syndicate's day to day running from a Mon Calamari cruiser, which jumped from system to system sporadically in order to avoid detection of the authoritative persuasion.
Kellen had been certain that one of his contacts would be able to procure a set of coordinates for them. While Tylana appreciated that the man had many favours he could call in, she was becoming more than a little impatient with his recklessness. She was not used to being the sensible member of the team and the role was almost an alien one to her, but she valued her life and she certainly did not want it to end by the hand of a syndicate tyrant. When she had pointed out to Kellen that they actually had no way in, and unlike their unlawful entry of Holst's residence, it would not be easy. They would be killed on sight, if not by Devall's men then by someone equally unpleasant.
He had shouted and yelled at her; telling her that if she wanted to continue to point out the issues and holes in his plan without offering a solution than she wasn't helping, only hindering, getting in his way. Although she knew that lashing out at her was just a way of venting his frustration and grief, she had left him to it. Muttering one or two choice curses as she angrily descended the ramp of the Truant, leaving the docking bay and storming toward the nearest cantina she could find. She wanted to drink until her mind was pleasingly empty.
She walked with purpose through the doors of a seedy establishment, the name "Dirty Dan's" emblazoned in crackling pink neon on the graying walls. Not bothering to take in any of the occupants of the half-empty cantina she made her way straight to the bar, not interested in anything else but getting a drink.
“Corellian double brandy,” she barked at the bartender, parking herself on a grimy stool. She drummed her fingers impatiently on the bar as she waited for the over-weight, middle-aged man to fix her brandy.
“Rough day 'lil darlin'?” He asked, an eyebrow raised and a small smile on his face as he placed the glass in front of her.
Tylana rolled her eyes and grasped the drink. The last thing she wanted at that very moment was conversation. “Less small talk, more brandy.” She brought the glass to her lips and knocked the contents back in one gulp. “And keep them coming.”
The bartender snorted, a guttural sound that had the consistency of phlegm, and the ability to turn her stomach. Shaking his head he plucked a bottle from the shelf behind him, and turned again to pour her another.
“Leave the bottle.”
And so she continued the process for the following couple of hours. It was a simple one and all she was required to do was drink. Eventually her mind succumbed to the tempting haziness that only mass alcohol consumption could bring. It was while she attempted to order another bottle of whiskey that she noticed a man take a seat beside her.
While her slightly shaky hand poured another brandy her eyes studied him closely. There had been plenty of free bar stools in the cantina, there had been no need for him to chose the stool next to hers. She decided to pointedly ignore him while she continued about her business of getting wasted. Some people just have no sense of boundaries, she thought to herself as she drank. Her train of thought was cut short however, as the stranger beside her began to speak.
“This doesn't seem like the sort of place for a woman to be drinking alone.” His tone was low and as she turned her head to glare at him she noted that his smile was a weak one, and did not quite reach his eyes.
“If I want your opinion I'll ask for it,” she slurred, her eyes narrowed. He was a bedraggled looking man, she guessed in his mid-thirties, dressed in tattered dark garb and boots. Even to her bleary eyes he looked the worse for wear and in need of a shower.
“You would do well to listen to a friendly warning,” he replied, his eyes flashing at her dismissive retort.
Tylana did not respond well to orders or suggestions when she was sober, and when she had alcohol in her she downright despised them. Especially when they came from a complete stranger. “Well you and your friendly warning can crawl back into whatever hole birthed you, 'cause I ain't interested.” She signaled the end of the exchange by returning her attention to her brandy. Unfortunately, her new bar buddy had other ideas. He stood swiftly, his stool making a scraping sound on the floor, and grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head backward.
“Stupid girl,” he snarled, his mouth now close to her ear, close enough she could feel his breath. “I'll break that dirty mouth of yours.”
Oh you're in for a world full of pain now, pal. Tylana grasped the brandy bottle in her hand and with as much force as she could muster she shattered it against the bar.
*
_________________
Last edited by Tylana on Tue Apr 15, 2008 1:45 pm; edited 1 time in total
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