And the beat goes on...

[Kal Olorin]

Well, well, well. Wasn't this a mess?

I put my boots up on Sassy's desk and lit up a cigarra, a slim nicotine laced cigar that tasted a little like cinnamon. It was what some smoking enthusiasts called girly cigars. And, to be honest, it was.

It was also from Sasseeri's desk drawer, and she would be furious to know that I'd found it. But then, she quit smoking last year, and so I was doing her a favor. Really.

Tick looked in without knocking, but the cat was away, so to speak, and I waved him in. No, I wasn't glad Sassy was stuck up in space on a crazy Inquisitor's Star Destroyer, but I liked the breathing room. The silent Twi'lek male walked in slowly, his lekku arranged on his shoulders. "Anything come in from the usual places yet?"

He shook his head.

Hmm. Fjind Ljilaena De'Vjille she'd said. The Inquisition wanted this woman, and wanted her bad. Bad enough to use Sasseeri's power and criminal contacts to find a lead. Not to mention that she is now caught up in some sort of strange power struggle, with there being two Grand Inquisitors, or some such drokking nonsense. She kept saying she was the guest of Grand Inquisitor Tear, but the current Grand Poobah was named Valten.

Tear had been around a little less than two years previously, only to disappear without a trace. I inhaled deeply, the spicy smoke tickling my lungs, and then exhaled slowly.

"I have another meeting with the Jaarhu delegation. I'll have to think up some excuse for why the Vigo can't meet with them." It wasn't going to go over well. Trakkins, the Hutt's majordomo, was here personally, and he was an uppity son of a Bith. Except that he was the son of a Chagrian.

Tick nodded. I think he was concerned about his twin, but as usual he kept to a stoic silence. "Come with me, we've got work to do." He turned and followed me as I left the office.

[Chir'daki]

Chir'daki stared out of the viewport onto the Coruscant cityscape. It had been a while since he'd set foot on the Empire's homeworld; longer still since he'd witnessed any part of it beyond the few square miles that surrounded Sasseeri Reeouurra's private offices. Usually his visits were of a strictly business nature, but he hoped that this time he would have a chance to mix in a little pleasure. Not the sort of pleasure that the Cizarack Vigo was into, mind: he much preferred the kind that involved killing things.

Chir'daki had been in the neighbourhood anyway, but the rumours of an exciting new bounty being sent Black Sun's way had been enough to grasp his attention. Officially, Chir'daki was in retirement, his bounty hunting days behind him now that he was working full time for Black Sun. The profits were good - better than good, in fact - but there were times when he missed making an 'honest' living. True, contract murder might not seem the most glamourous of careers, but at least there was no subterfuge or political menouvering: when you finally caught up with your mark, you knew what was going to happen. Chir'daki missed that kind of clarity: you couldn't do anything around Black Sun without some crook trying to usurp you.

The sound of footsteps from behind drew Chir'daki's attention back inside. He turned slowly, the bias of his focus shifting towards hearing. His honed senses picked out two distinct sets of footfalls, still some distance away down the corridor - one set smooth and regular, casually confident; the other irratic, inconsistent, and a little nervous. Angling himself towards their approach, he clasped his hands behind his back, and waited.

[Kal Olorin]

"Well just serve them some more drinks!" I shouted at my commlink, and stuffed it into my pocket. "For frell's sake, I don't have time to babysit some stuck up Chagrian who's too -"

I clamped my mouth shut as we rounded a bend, seeing the bounty hunter Chir'daki standing there. Tick didn't like him, but then, the Twi'leki bodyguards (it was hard not to think of them as a set) tended not to like people who made their living killing other beings.

Of course it was okay if they were doing the killing. PROTECTING. Anyway. Frell, I had a conference room full of Jaarhu's delegation, and they were upset that Sasseeri wasn't taking time out of her day to spend with them. This stupid Liliana thing.

Oh.

I pointed at Chir'daki. "Walk with me, I have something for you to work on."

[Chir'daki]

That was a simple enough instruction to understand, and to follow, although Chir'daki felt a minor stirring of annoyance at the tone in which it had been delivered. He wasn't particuarly happy about the manner in which the Twi'lek was staring at him; outside of the few who knew him personally, very few of the species were comfortable with a human sullying their language by adopting it for a name. Chir'daki's reborn name had been carefully selected however: the Death Seed plague killed slowly, the droch parasites that caused it draining the very life force from their host until they eventually withered and died. The Bounty Hunter appreciated the ironic aptness, given his chosen profession. He also appreciated the discomfort it generally caused in those around him who managed to translate his name's meaning.

Falling into step betside Kal Olorin, Chir'daki kept his hands behind him and intentionally lengthened his stride, one for every two of Olorin's, compounding the air of calm and casual menace that he so carefully cultivated. Subconsciously, his fingers drummed against the small of his back, the nerf leather of his jacket - an artifact from Alderaan in fact, making it the kind of hard-to-obtain artifact that he just couldn't bear not to posess - resonating in rhythm with his steps.

As they walked, he remained silent: no doubt Olorin would speak his mind in due course. Instead, Chir'daki focussed on the footfalls of the Twi'lek, who had dropped back a few paces behind them. No doubt he was hoping to give himself enough distance to snap off a blaster shot should Chir'daki try anything. Despite himself, the hunter couldn't help a small, disconcerting smile from forming on his face. If he ever did feel the need to act out against his employer's personal lackey, there would be very little either of them could do to prevent it.

[Kal Olorin]

"Have to meet with Jaarhu the Hutt's delegation. They're royally fracked off about Sasseeri skipping town instead of seeing them." I looked over my shoulder at Chi'daki. "But... look, something came up."

I halted in the hallway and turned towards the bounty hunter. "Sasseeri wants me finding out about some domestic terrorist that the Empire hasn't been able to get its hands on." I rubbed my hands through my hair. "De'Ville, something. I'll get you the information after the meeting. We need everyone on this."

Turning back towards the door that led into the conference room where a disgruntled Chagrian was waiting with his entourage, I added, "If you're not busy now, sitting in on the meeting with me would be helpful. These guys like to play like they're tough, but they'll just need a little bit of persuasion to stay in line."

[Chir'daki]

Chir'daki felt his lip curl slightly in distaste at the prospect of involving himself with such a blatantly political aspect of Black Sun's organisation. His responsibilities as a Lieutenant bordered on business and negotiation from time to time, but he usually managed to balance out his negative feelings by scaring the frak out of someone afterwards; sometimes even during.

With any luck, Olorin wasn't really asking him to do anything, though. A little bit of persuasion sounded like exactly the sort of thing he was in the mood for right now. And with the people sitting across the table being a Hutt delegation, well; he'd always hated the slimy, bulbous slugs and their assumed supremacy over everyone that worked for them. Chir'daki had a hard time respecting someone who had to rely on a bunch of lackeys to threaten people, rather than being formidable enough to do that on their own.

A slight hint of a smile crept onto his face. "I think I've got a big enough gap in my schedule to spare you a few minutes."

[Kal Olorin]

"Great," I said, and the three of us entered the conference room that held Jaarhu the Hutt's delegation.

"Trakkins!" I said warmly, spreading my hands wide in an expansive greeting. "Sorry to keep you waiting, but you know how it is."

The Chagrian stiffened, his lumpy brain tails and sensory horns twitching. "Where is Ms. Reeouurra? We have been waiting for her and -"

I folded my arms and took a seat, although everyone else in the room remained standing. "She's too busy for your minor Outer Rim squabbles. And that's all there is to it."

[Kal Olorin]

Trakkins harumphed impressively, but finally sat down. "And I am to deal with you in her absence then, Vigo Olorin?"

"That's right." I drummed my fingers on the table top. "What is it that Black Sun can do for your organization, Trakkins? I thought Jaarhu was pretty set on being an independent contractor."

"Yes, yes. But recent events have brought to light certain... holes... in his business plan." Trakkins looked like he was sucking on a sour fireberry. It took a lot for a Hutt, or a Hutt's majordomo, to admit any shortcomings. "We had a large amount of weapons stolen. Jaarhu would like to... partner with Black Sun... in return for added security and enhanced screening technologies."

I narrowed my eyes. "So, he wants help? We'll have to think about it, of course."

"Of... course..." said the Chagrian, his blue skin nearly purple with whatever weird emotion he was suffering at the moment.

I steepled my fingers under my chin. "Out of curiousity, just who was it who did the stealing?" Must have been a big gang of some kind... or... well frell, who knew with Jaarhu, the Hutt was more hormonal than a sack full of whisperkits in heat.

Trakkins scowled. "A woman - a Force adept called De'Ville."

I froze at the name, but quickly recovered. "Must be some dame to get Jaarhu's panties in such a bunch."

[Chir'daki]

A laugh escaped Chir'daki as a stealth hiss of air from his nose. The delegation was made up of faces he didn't recognise personally, but likely only meant that they were too powerful - and thus too expensive - for anyone to have put out a bounty on them. His status within Black Sun didn't require him to be knowledgeable about these upper echelons of business: he just paid attention to the bureaucrats and middlemen he had to deal with on a regular basis, and didn't bother with any extraneous faces. Still, it was always funny to see some smug, Sithspit bastard taken down a peg or two with a little well-placed sarcasm.

By rights, this conversation was none of his business; the mention of De'Ville dramatically changed that, of course. Stealing weapons in itself didn't tell him much, but there were implications at work here, and the revelation raised countless questions. Were the weapons stolen for profit, or for personal use? Was this an isolated event, or were there more thefts of other technologies waiting to be uncovered? There could be countless reasons for the theft: opportunistic profiteering; arms dealing; even a private army.

Chir'daki thought back to the wise words of his mentors, searching for some useful lesson they'd bestowed upon him about the need for patience and caution when dealing with an unknown enemy. He found nothing specific, but that didn't matter: it was a lesson he'd already learned on his own countless times, anyway.

No doubt Olgrin would reprimand him for speaking out of turn, but he couldn't make the assumption that the man would be smart enough to work out the right questions to ask before this meeting is over. He directed the 'question' as a statement to Olgrin none the less, out of curtsey to the man's ego, adding a knowing look that he hoped the Vigo would understand. "A copy of their security recordings and reports would allow us to analyse the gaps in their current measures; help us assess just how much we're committing to before we agree to anything."

[Kal Olorin]

It was incredible. De'Ville was practically falling into our laps the moment we started looking for her. I nodded at Chir'daki, and turned to Trakkins. "Well? Did you bring any reports or recordings, or were you expecting that we'd have private contractors to spare to send to your" drenhole of a "planet at a moments notice just because you asked nicely?"

The Chagrian scowled, at least I think he was scowling, and his sensory horns trembled as he snapped his fingers at a dog-faced Klatooinian in their retinue. "I brought a copy of our security holos of the recent heist, at Jaarhu's request." His tone indicated that he had advised the Hutt against doing so. "And a breakdown of our current security measures, of course."

I reached out to accept the datapad the lackey handed to me, and I gave it to Chir'daki. Best to give the hunter something to do, before he got restless and started shooting smarmy majordomos. "Why don't we take a look at the get-away. See if its your security measures that are lacking, or if your opponent is just... too good." I held up my hands, palms out. "Hey, it happens sometimes. And with so-called adepts sometimes there just isn't much you can do to stop them."

Chir'daki slipped the datacard into the conference table's holoprojector, and flipped through recorded holos until he found the last one on the disk.

[Chir'daki]

Chir'daki watched the recording with calm detachment. He didn't give a frak about security plans, and procedures: He just wanted to see this DeVille: learn how she moved; how she fought. He recognised elements of her fighting style: some classically Jedi; others distinctly not. All of her styles however revealed just how formidable an opponent she could potentially be. All that power, and all that prowess? The thought of going up against that brought the slightest hint of a smile to his face.

Too good indeed, he mused. Not that he would be allowed to kill her, or course. Or even fight her, if he held to the letter of the bounty. They wanted information. But still: accidents could happen in the quest for knowledge; and he doubted the sponsor of this particular job would mind all that much if he brought her in regardless.

His hint of anticipation turned sour as the freighter revealed its contents. Most of the galaxy wouldn't recognise the armour of her apparent back-up; wouldn't understand the significance of a style that had last been in fashion nearly four thousand years ago. Even if they did, they'd dismiss it as a relic, or a replica.

Chir'daki knew better. He knew what those helmets, and those plates of beskar meant: he should, given how he owned a suit of the same himself. There was only one place in the galaxy he knew of where such things were readily available; and as he watched, he recognised the skills and combat styles that confirmed it; the same ones he often made use of himself. These men - though generations removed from their more familiar cousins - were Mandalorian: no doubt about that. And that meant two things.

I know where I need to go, he thought, clamping down his expression tightly, hiding his inner revelation from the Vigo. And I can't tell him. Not yet. Not until I know what this all means.