Search and Seizure Mission: Felucia's Folly

[Aurelias Kazaar]

continued from here

Felucia: Three Days Later

The night was hot as hell.

It was these types of planets, Kazaar hated with a frelling passion. The steam was everywhere, thick and hazy...clinging to jackets, shirts, armor...everything...And yet the planet was held by the Galactic Empire, just like the Confederacy of Independent Systems held it before, and Commerce Guild before that. Kazaar always figured it was the fruit and the out-of-the-way location. Perfect for some sorta illegal activity. It was even rumored Gorgja the Hutt had a stake on Felucia...somewhere.

The former bounty hunter could never figure out why people loved this planet, but he never bothered to actually expound on his theory. If they liked it...great. If not...he didn't give a damn.

He'd decided to be 'sneaky' about coming into Felucia, preferring to use a small, private spaceport on the outskirts of Kway Teow, instead of the main hub in the capital city. There were times Kazaar would use the main starport, but he's never been to Felucia and figured it'd be easier just to sneak his way in and avoid the Imperial questioning he'd face. Rebel questions were bad enough, 'Why'd you disobey orders?', 'Why'd you decide to help out Agent Russard?'...Imperial ones would probably force him to explain why he joined the Rebel Army.

And Kazaar did feel like repeating the line he'd told one Imperial captain, 'You blew up my fracking home planet, ya putz!'

The Rebel spy puffed on a cigar as he sauntered down the concrete roads of Kway Teow. The buildings here had a distinctive organic feel to them, as if the now-dead Emperor hadn't been able to completely turn the planet into a copy cat of Coruscant. The buildings only halfway reached towards the sky, their looks were a mixture of grey and brown, with a bit of orange thrown in for some reason. The streets were lit with the occasional street lamp, which kept the organic-feel: they were snake-like, a mixture of grey and blue stripes reaching for the sky. It was a unique feel...but Kazaar preferred a much larger city.

As Kazaar searched for his location, he ran his fingers through his, now blonde, hair. The dye was temporary, it'd last only a few days before fading away into nothingness. He'd heard the art of changing ones appearance as mixing the real with the unreal, a suggestion he followed as much as possible. Although nothing was like having someone know who was going after you...especially when your hands were on their throat, choking what little life they had in them.

His brown eyes spotted the club's neon signs, flashing against the brown and grey of the building. It read 'The Twirling Lekku' and a smaller one below it flashed, 'Now featuring both Twi'leks and Humans!'

For club that was considered a haunt of Imperial officers, Kazaar thought as he strode across the street towards the club, it was sure out of the way. He figured it was because it gave off the appearance of officers actually doing their work, in stead of just relaxing. Besides, Kazaar knew where the Rebel version of the club was on a different planet. And he smirked at that thought.

The Rebel spy made his way to the entrance and nodded to the Gammorean bouncer.

"Twenty Credits," a droid standing next to the guard said tonelessly. Kazaar paid him and wandered in, his eyes searching for any group of drunk Imperials he could follow home and have a 'chat' with.

Kazaar walked over to the metallic bar, as the sound of jizz music filtered throughout the establishment. It was dark and loud...the perfect place to sit and hide in plain sight.

"Gimme a Corellian Ale...whatever ya have is fine," a moist brown bottle was placed in his hand and he brought it to his lips. The taste was sweet to his lips and mouth. It filtered his senses and quenched his bit of thirst he had from his walk into the capital city.

"Toowa smeeku?" a soft voice inquired to his left, and Kazaar saw the blue Twi'lek sliding up next to him. She had a dancer's body and, lack of, dress. Her blue eyes gazed into his eyes and delicate hand touched his shoulder.

"Sure," Kazaar smirked, "I'll take one. Over there," he pointed to a chair which had the vantage point of group of Imperials.

As the Twi'lek started dancing in front of him, Kazaar smirked again. Who said ya couldn't have fun and work at the same time?

[Estelle Russard]

As Kazaar had been arriving planetside on Felucia, Estelle had returned back to base to make preparation for her departure to Imperal Center, where she would be taking to herself once again the mantel of Art student -- a return to her old life to disguise her new one.

Her mind wandered again to Aurelias Kazaar and the unlikely partnership they had struck up on Spindrift.

She was still flush with the success of Mission Birdsong and every time she thought of that laser fire on the rooftop, and the incoming gunship with its hungry searchlights, she found her heart had involuntarily picked up its beat.

Estelle shut the light to the laundry where she had been foldling neatly her clothing to go into her suitcase and moved into the bathroom, casting a glance at the digital chrono that flashed on her bedside table as she passed through. She had not heard back yet from the slicer she had contacted. And not for the first time, she wondered what was causing the delay.

The information Mirko Spendrim had given them had been straightforward. Hadn't it? All she wanted was a double-check, confirmation on what they already knew. Estelle felt a lingering responsability to the Birdsong follow-up mission - which Kazaar in all his arogant splendor had been assigned by Director Belargic - and she wanted to do what she could to see that it got off on the right foot.

She had told herself that she was expending her efforts needlessly. She was new to the game. She should let the more experienced agents do what they do. But, she just wanted a double-check.. Where was the harm in that?

Stepping into the sonic shower, she hoped some message would be waiting for her when she got out.

She shampooed her hair to give the slicer an extra five minutes to the already too long a time she had been waiting.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

The Twirling Lekku-Felucia

Kazaar leaned back in his chair, smiling as the Twi’lek danced before him. Her blue skin glistened with sweat as she twirled, her movements both fluid and seductive at the same time. Her garments were few, a strand of a stretchy fabric ran from her headdress, down her neck, across her chest in a criss-cross fashion before settling along her waist. It left nothing to be imagined then used the same pattern to slide down her lithe legs and onto her dainty feet. The dancer’s grace she showed was more than enough to get anyone hot for her. Although the Rebel spy’s brown eyes were on the dancer, his mind was elsewhere.

He threw a smile on his face, a gaze displaying his own pleasure, while his hand sneaked out the small microphone from his sleeve. An ear piece connected to his ear, small enough to be concealed in his thick locks of hair but powerful enough to catch everything said in the club.

Kazaar moved his hand slowly, trying not to draw attention, as he searched the room for snippets of conversation.

"...can you believe the girls they have here...?"

"...trade you the green Twi'lek for one of your creme ones..."

"...market is still acting wierd..."

"...did you hear about Spindrift...?"

The former bounty hunter's ears perked up at the mention of the planet he, Spendrim, and Estelle had just recently departed. The words came from the group of Imperials sitting five meters from him, their faces visible even through the smoke of the dimly lit room.

The Imperial who answered was tall and lanky, with browning-grey hair closely cropped to his skull. When his moustached face moved, the thin piece of brown hair made it look even more rat-like.

"Of course I heard about Spindrift," his voice sounded irritated, "Captain Lehman mentioned it to me this morning. Damn shame if you ask me...a transport accident like that."

One of the other Imperials gave a snort and cursed, "Don't tell me you buy that line of poodoo...We all know it wasn't that. Scuttlebutt says there was a Rebel in the facility...that's why the transport accident happened. Someone didn't want to be discovered."

Kazaar turned up the volume just a bit on the ear piece, smirking as the dancer in front of him pulled at one of the strings of fabric around her lekku. Slowly, the string slid down her graceful body and to the floor.

The moustached Imperial replied, "No I don't buy it...but Lehman would know more than I. He's the one in command. But y-you know how command is on...this sort of thing. If you ain't a captain, you find out nuttin'. Haw! Haw!" the laugh was boisterous and full of alcohol.

"Once I make Captain," Imperial Moustache said, "I'm transferring offa this planet. Too damn hot for me. Although...the girls do make it...a bit easier."

A round of laughter, full of booze, filled the Imperials as they started for the door. Kazaar's eyes flickered in their direction, just as the Twi'lek dancer turned her back to him. A portion of her pale blue skin was painted in some sort of tribal design, only enhancing her exoticness.

She finished her turn and posed. Had Kazaar more time he might've considered seeing what else she did...but his quarry was leaving and it was time for work. The Rebel spy thanked and paid her, then exited the club into the dank air of Kway Teow.

The Imperials were two blocks ahead of him and it appeared they were going in their separate directions. The moustached one, his laughter still echoing down the streets, turned and strode his way down an organically lit street. His boots *tapped* the pavement and his stride was one of someone who wasn't concerned with any sort of pace.

Kazaar followed Imperial Moustache, his eyes darting left and right, his pace slow and silent. The streets grew darker as the lights spaced out more. Clearly this was a part of Kway Tuoy which wasn't meant for the angels.

The former bounty hunter began to quicken his stride, keeping as silent as possible, but he knew this would be the best time to strike and 'question' his prey. And Kazaar knew in the Imperial's present state, he wouldn't need much prodding to give up the information he needed.

The Imperial suddenly turned, as if his alcohol dulled systems caught something. His moustached face scanned the street behind him but found nothing...only organic lights and the occasional speeder.

He shrugged, then turned...straight into Kazaar's gloved fist.

A grunt.

Then a groan, as Kazaar pressed the man's back against a wall. A vibroblade pressed against the man's throat.

"Where is Captain Lehman," Kazaar's raspy voice wasn't asking a question.

Fear filled the drunk Imperial's eyes. He was alone and unarmed.

"H-his quarters at Hotel Terrakin. Buh-but it's gu-arded. You-you'll never m-make it."

Kazaar's smile was deadly and his eyes flashed. It was almost a challenging look, a look demanding the cowering Imperial to try to stop him.

"W-why me?"

Kazaar's answer was simple, "You're not a captain."

Then he grabbed the man's lapels and pulled, his right hand grasping the Imperial's moustached head in a fluid motion. Using his momentum, Kazaar sent Imperial Moustache spinning into the alley.

Kazaar was on him in an instant, a look of deadly delight on his face. It took only a moment, but Kazaar relished the time...especially when the man's face came into contact with the durasteel building in front of him. He slid to the ground, leaving a trail of blood on the wall.

As the Rebel spy emerged from the alley, he pulled another cigar from his pocket and lit it with his butane lighter. The flavor filled his senses and he strode down the streets of Kway Teow. His eyes were filled with a fire he didn't feel except in certain circumstances.

Hotel Terrakin wasn't far from here...and he needed some more action.

[Morgan Evanar]

Getting into the terminal’s manifest logs hadn’t been difficult. Sure, they were encrypted and all that nonsense, but that was to deter the people who didn’t have access to the system itself. And now he did, piggybacked through three other Imperial cargo terminals. Someone had to be using some sort of password in that place. Felucia wasn’t a big port, but with the Imperials around, it had enough traffic. After the hour he went back and pounded through the raw traffic with the log analyzer, looking for headers initiating encryption, which would be a login. Twenty minutes after that, he had broken down the password. It was just a clerk’s, but it was enough to start looking around the network.

An hour later, he had the junior administrator’s password, which granted him far too many rights to make the system properly secure. From there, it was a simple matter of reading everyone’s messages. To make things less complicated, he looked for unofficial but from an Imperial source. It took more time, but he found exactly what he was supposed to, but it didn’t say what it was supposed to.

The shipment was supposed to be processed in Felucia, but was going… to the Unknown Regions. Now he was back in front of Estelle’s door, with a datapad in his hands.

[Estelle Russard]

Her shower long done, her hair washed, dried and even unprofessionally trimmed with a pair of scissors she'd laid her hands on in impulsive urge for "a change." Estelle stood in front of the mirror in her grey jogging suit and tried to decide for the fourth time if both edges were even. The decision would have to wait, though, as a low repetitive beep announced someone at her door.

Seeing Morgan as the door slipped aside, the young rebel pulled him gingerly into her room.

"Hi." The preliminary greeting was brief as she ushered him over to take a seat in the small living area. "How did it go? Did everything check out?"

She didn't know why, but she was half-expecting Morgan to tell her something of importance. She was probably just re-directing some energy or something, but there was a small niggling tick in the back of her mind that only Morgan Evanar's report could still.

Seated beside him, she peered forward at the datapad resting in his hands.

[Morgan Evanar]

Morgan handed the pad to Estelle.

“Felucia was a ruse. They’re shipping it to somewhere in the unknown regions.” He said.

“It doesn’t say where beyond coordinates. It’s near one of those numbered star systems.”

[Estelle Russard]

Estelle's eyes grew round with astonishment and a little disbelief as she accepted the datapad from Morgan. She'd been right?

"Are you sure about this?"

Evanar's bland look was answer that he was, and that if she knew him better she'd know there was no need for the question.

He touched the face of the datapad and the display reconfigured to bring the co-ordinates into a closer focus. Russard didn't find any clarification from the adjustment, but murmured an appreciated something or other.

She gave up examining the screen, not finding an elaboration on things in the configured quadrants.

"Do you know what's being shipped or when its leaving?"

[Morgan Evanar]

"Hah, no." Morgan said and waived dismissively. "They don't create cargo manifests for this kind of shipment. Box x goes to point y, and don't say anything, or you get z." z being zzzzt.

"I'd say anyone who's handled the cargo beyond the point of origin has no idea what's in it. I suspect at certain points they've put the box in the box for tracking reasons." Morgan shrugged. "But that's just my best guess. It's possible they're not that clever."

[Estelle Russard]

"So what we really know, is that we dont really know where the shipment is going"

Her dismay was clear in the way she spoke. Estelle lifted her eyes from the datapad, hopeful Morgan could somehow pull a rabbit from his hat. If he even had a hat..

"Is there anyway you can hack, or slice these co-ordinates? Put them through a computer and get a solid location?" Her awkward use of technical-speak showed just how unfamiliar this side of the spygame was to her.

She sat forward, earnest in her manner, "We need more than this, Im afraid"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

The air was still heavy as Kazaar strode toward the Hotel Terrakin.

It wasn't just the humidity...but the fact it seemed like the weather didn't know what it wanted to do. There were times the former bounty hunter wanted to raise his head to the Felucian sky and yell, "MAKE UP YA DAMN MIND!" but he figured people'd look at him even stranger than most people all ready did.

But Kazaar didn't care. He just wanted t'get off this rock.

He'd stolen the boots from the Imperial officer he'd killed, realizing his own knee-high boots wouldn't help him for his plan to get into the Imperial hotel. In fact, they'd prolly shatter his knees for what he had planned.

The Imperial's boots were short and brown (far from the standard Imperial issue boots) with a re-inforced sole and ankles. They were just a pinch twice...probably a size too small than Kazaar's footwear. If he'd had more time, Kazaar woulda grabbed his own boots...but with night ending, he needed to move fast.

The Hotel Terrakin was a five story building about four miles from 'The Twirling Lekku', with tall windows and a broad roof (much different from the current architexture of the day). On the roof, the Empire had established a semi-retreat, where officers could go to relax from the oppressive humidity.

Just one of th'benefits of trying t'rule the galaxy, Kazaar thought as he slipped into the building across from the hotel. It seemed odd to Kazaar the Empire wouldn't choose the tallest building in Kway Teow t'be their base...but it must have something t'do with luxury not tactical genius.

Empire's finest.

He made it to the top of the roof, his boots *clacking* against the durasteel sheets covering it. The distance between the two was about thirty yards and there appeared to be a stormtrooper guard on the roof.

Kazaar smirked as he walked to the edge of the roof.

Stormtrooper armor was supposed t'make people fearful...make them run as hordes and hordes of soldiers (clones or not) poured into battle like a bursting dam.

But instead of scaring Kazaar, they only urged him on. The bone white stood out against the darkness of sky around. The light, filtering from the street below, did little to mask the armor from Kazaar's sight.

He started running, his pace taking him across the roof...the Imperial's boots cushioning his feet as they smacked against the durasteel plating. The air was still hot and heavy as he breathed it into his lungs...if he were any other man, he'd probably have to stop because of the humidity. As it was...it made this task difficult.

Kazaar reached the other edge of the roof and jumped, his momentum carrying him across the expanse between the two buildings. Had 'The Kid' been there, she probably woulda said something like, "Are you crazy?!?", and that made Kazaar smirk.

She had a lot t'learn.

The other roof was closer now and Kazaar could see there was only one stormtrooper, his back currently turned, on it. Kazaar's PSU (personal shield unit) was fully charged and it would give him some protection when he landed. But most of it would be where he landed.

***************************

"This is Alpha Two...nothing to report," Stormtrooper TX-345 was bored. Nothing ever happed on Felucia...not since it was a hotbed during the Clone Wars. TX-345 wasn't a part of it, he'd joined the Empire when he'd turned 18, he'd wanted to see the galaxy and everything.

Instead, he was on some humid planet with no chance of leaving. Atleast when they put the 'squeeze' on 'The Twirling Lekku' stormtroopers got to enjoy some 'fringe benefits'. At least, not when the officers took 'em all for themselves. Or let General Kaake take 'em all.

And that'd happened twice. In the last month

The stormtrooper sighed and hefted his rifle. It was heavy and made his shoulder ache. At least the armor was light.

He still hadn't made his full patrol when his ear-microphones picked up something. A *whoosing* of some sort.

He sighed...just the wind.

*************************************

The stormtrooper was growing larger and Kazaar could see he'd timed his jump perfectly.

Empire's finest...not even checking his six.

Kazaar let his body spread out as his body got closer to the stormtrooper...expand the impact...make th'moron feel it all over.

The Rebel's feet hit the trooper's back, sending him to the roof. The two tumbled together, Kazaar staying on top, while the stormtrooper took the brunt of the impact. He heard bone break within the armor and the stormtrooper went silent.

Quickly, Kazaar pulled off the white helmet and grasped the blonde hair beneath it. He pulled and heard a *snap*.

Smirking, Kazaar grabbed the Imperial's blaster rifle and checked it for damage. Finding none, he strode towards the rooftop entrance into the hotel.

Pulling it open, the Rebel gazed down the stairwell.

No one guarding stairwell.

The door shut behind Kazaar as he made his way into the Imperial-held hotel.

[Morgan Evanar]

"Um, well, we don't really need to. We just need to wait until it gets there. Besides, it's in Yaga Minor, middle of nowhere. I'm sure there is some kind of historical document that can tell us more about it. There can't be too many places for it to go. Maybe a settlement or a station or something. Might be logs from an expeditionary mission or whatever." Morgan didn't understand the scope of the mission. He had just been told to look up whatever he could regarding that shipment.

"It might help if you could tell me more information."

[Estelle Russard]

"Of course" she replied.

Estelle had forgotten Morgan would be operating in the dark. Intel Ops always functioned on the 'need to know' basis which was all well and good if you got to know what you needed. Which wasnt always the case. She had just given him the data to process, no background had been expounded upon.

She explained.

"An informer we secured from an Imperial Communications relay station on Spindrift gave us intel that an extremely important shipment was being delivered to Felucia. That's the part you already know. Agent Kazaar has been assigned to intercept and retrieve the shipment, if possible, or at the very least gain further information as to what its purpose is."

Kazaar's mission was rather loosly defined. Estelle would not be surprised if Kazaar blew the shipment up, whatever it is, if he cannot get his hands on it.

"We have reason to believe that this is something of high sensitivity to the Imperials and Kazaar - who had been working closely with the informer - is on Felucia as we speak. And as we now know, he is way off target.

The risks Aurelias is now exposed to have just increased ten-fold. The Imperials are most likely on the lookout for rebels on Felucia in anticipation such intel had gotten into Alliance hands. The Imps know Spendrim, our informant, has been redeemed by us. It would not be a stretch for them to assume Felucia would be our next target. In short, Kazaar is walking into a setup."

The worry, other than Kazaar's well-being of course, was that this opportunity would be missed. And that was not satisfactory. They could not just wait out the shipments arrival if no one was there to follow-through on it. By the time they caught up, it would probably be long gone, and the trail dead. The damage done.

Estelle looked at Morgan as she tried to figure out the next step.

"We will have to advise Director Belargic of this development. And we must get in touch with Agent Kazaar to update him."

She placed the data pad down on the coffee table.

"Is there anything else you can tell me? Any suggestions you would make, Morgan? I would really appreicate any thing you might think would help"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

The Hotel Terrakin-Felucia

The light within the hotel opened up once Kazaar made it to the top floor. The carpet was blood red and spongy, the kind which said the hotel was 'high-class' but not too 'high-class'. But it afforded a certain luxury not many others had.

The walls were alabaster with trim of the same color, sliding across the walls in a rectangular design. The ceiling was spaced with conical lights, providing plenty brightness (and little shadows). While this annoyed the Rebel, he noted, with a bit of joy, the air conditioning was on.

At least the Empire was smart enough to leave that working, Kazaar thought scornfully.

His black eyes scanned the hallway, noting four stormtroopers (their armor looking shinier than ever) standing by a large white door at the end of the hall. Four other white doors, each spaced far enough away to give privacy to their occupants and enough space inside for the occupants to enjoy whatever thrills they were getting inside.

And enough space to give Imperial officers a home when they decided to spend their time with 'non-combat personal'. Kazaar smirked...everyone had t'get their joneses somehow.

The former bounty hunter didn't have a head for figures but whoever owned the joint wasn't getting much out of the use of his suites. If anything, th'Empire sure as hell wasn't footing the bill.

The current problem Kazaar's brain faced was figuring out how to get down the hall. He'd wanted to play it nice and quiet, taking out the Imperials one by one...savoring it as much as possible. But with their position at the end of the hall, it limited what he could do. Besides...he wanted t'have a 'chat' with this Captain Lehman...one that wouldn't be interrupted by Imperials.

He'd have t'be sneaky or fast...and probably both.

Smoke bombs will only do so much, Kazaar thought as his gloved hands touched the small black orbs in his belt pocket. Vibroblades might take out a couple but then the blasters'll alert the rest.

Finally, he came to a decision...Frack sneakiness!

With a smirk on his face, Kazaar stepped out into the hall, the blaster rifle in his hands. The four stormtroopers, all looking bored, raised their ebony helmets in his direction.

"Drop your weap-" one the troopers started to yell as Kazaar shot him in the throat. He fell, his body glancing off one of the other troopers, his blaster going off once as it settled on the ground.

The Rebel Spy kept his pace up, unleashing a hell he reserved for times such as these. His blaster rifle spat out its arsenal at the remaining troopers.

As the *Ka-kow* filled Kazaar's ears, it reminded him how much he hated that noise. There was always something about stormtrooper rifles which bugged him. Yeah they worked...but something never rang right with him.

Must be th'noise.

By now the three stormtroopers were dead, their bodies strewn across the hallway like cast away parts from some machine. As Kazaar strode down the hallway, he dropped his blaster rifle, preferring the cold durasteel of his blaster pistols.

Now these...these were weapons he enjoyed using. The pistols were a gift from a fellow bounty hunter. Someone who Kazaar had tangled with over a bounty...his first bounty actually...Kazaar'd taken the blasters from the guy's corpse, but he still called it a gift. It was th'only way he could explain to the hunter's guild what'd happened.

Without getting shot.

The former bounty hunter's boot slammed into the alabaster door, separating the lock from door. He sauntered into the bedroom, his blasters in front of him...

Into a candle-lit room.

Before him, huddled on a bed sheet, the smell still wafting from it, were two beings. An Imperial officer (Captain Lehman) and an olive-skinned Twi'lek female. Judging from the perspiration coming from the two (and the lack of dress) Kazaar knew what they'd been up to.

"Out," Kazaar's low voice uttered and the Twi'lek obliged, running quickly out of the room.

The Imperial, his black hair starting to recede from his forehead, reached for a pair of dark boxers, the Imperial logo plastered upon them in white stitch.

Kazaar shook his head, "You stay right there. I like ya how ya are."

The Imperial's voice was full of fear, "W-why'd you let her live?"

Kazaar didn't give him an answer, as he shut the door behind him. He figured...it wasn't the Imperial's business.

He stopped about a foot away from the captain, glaring down at him. The carpet was soft beneath his boots, in the darkness Kazaar couldn't tell if it was blood red like the carpet in the hallway. There was a wooden chair off to his left and Rebel motioned to Imperial to sit in it.

A pair of binders, metal with a chain between the two rings, lay on the floor. They were quickly placed on Lehman's fleshy arms.

"Now," Kazaar replaced his blasters in his holsters, then removed one of his vibroblades.

"You and I are going to have...a talk."

******************************************

Twenty minutes later, Kazaar was perched on the ledge outside of the room occupied by Lehman's body, his face still damp from the Imperial's blood.

He hadn't gotten much from the Imperial during their 'chat', only the name of a certain Imperial General named Kaake, who apparently commanded the Imperials on Felucia.

Something about the conversation seemed odd to Kazaar, he thought as he began to climb (very carefully) down the Hotel Terrakin's facade...it wasn't like some conversations he'd had where the victim simply accepted his death and talked willingly.

No...this conversation was different...like Lehman wasn't sure why he was actually dying. Something felt 'wrong' to Kazaar, like someone was hiding a bit piece of a puzzle.

But Kazaar couldn't put his mind on it...not yet.

His booted feet touched the perma-crete of the street and the Rebel spy marvelled at the comfortableness of the boots.

Whoever that moustached Imperial he'd killed earlier had been...he had a good taste in shoes.

Kazaar cursed silently as he noticed the glow starting to come from the sky. He'd been so focused on his'hands-on' approach to his mission, he'd forgotten the time. While Kazaar didn't know much about Felucia (outside of the humidity), he did have a feeling the locals wouldn't appreciate seeing someone covered in blood sauntering down their streets like nothing was wrong.

He'd have to return to The Flying Dutchman and hide until dark before he could continue with his search for that Imperial shipment.

A cold pit began to fill in his stomach as he walked down the, now getting lighter, streets of Kway Teow. Something still bothered him about the shipment.

He just couldn't figure out what.

[Morgan Evanar]

“Dunno yet. I need to do some research. If you can get someone else on the box’s point of origin and what’s in it, that would help. I have as script scavenging the Imperial holonet for that but I’d like if we had someone else on it too. I’m going to go dig through maps and historical archives. Something will turn up.” He assured Estelle.

“I’ll be in the archives if you need anything.”

[Estelle Russard]

Estelle drew a thumb up, tapping it absently against her teeth in contemplation. "I'll see what I can do" she said, but didn't really have any idea how to accomplish it.

As Morgan moved to the door, she followed behind him, glad of his continued involvement. Atleast he knew what he was doing.

She supposed she had better talk to Dasquian and update him, though she had precious little to tell. As she debated within herself the wisdom of holding off informing the Director until she had more concrete details, Morgan stepped into the hallway outside her rooms, departing with a promise to keep her updated.

Returning to the living room, Estelle wondered where Aurelias Kazaar was now. And if he was still ok. The worry that he wasn't - that he'd already slipped into a trap helped decide her.

Dressing quickly, she left to go to Dasquian's office, hoping to find him still there.

[Dasquian Belargic]

When Estelle arrived, Dasquian was in the process of talking with a pair of Wookiees. A secretary poked her head in on the meeting, informing him that an Intel agent was awaiting his attention. He smiled apologetically, as he found himself so often doing, to his guests and vowed that they would continue their discussion later. With the pair escorted out, Estelle was allowed in.

“Agent Russard... is there something I can help you with?”

[Estelle Russard]

She felt a little nervous standing there now under Dasquian's calm appraisal.

"Um, well, yes, Im hoping you can. Help, that is."

Perhaps she had gotten ahead of herself a little. Perhaps she should have waited until she and Morgan could come up with more details. Although, it was a little late for her to be thinking that now with Director Belargic waiting for her to explain herself.

"Its regarding the mission to Felucia" she began, "We have reason to believe--Morgan Evanar and I--that the shipment is not going to Felucia at all. Well, it was more Morgan who discovered the fact, I just got him to have a look over the information." Here she hoped it would be overlooked that she had taken it upon herself to snoop around in this regard, and hurried on. "But it seems pretty clear that Agent Kazaar is on the wrong planet completely and may possibly be walking into a trap"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Felucia- The Imperial Compound

The sun was high over Kway Teow.

General Heray Kaake rose from his refresher and plodded out into his bedroom. It was a grandiose room, the largest in the compound (which had formerly been a Separatist stronghold during the Clone Wars) with housing dark purple curtains with white trim, a security console, a mahogony desk with an equally impressive chair, and large bed bed . The bed was currently empty its occupants having scattered to their various domiciles as the sun rose over the jungle planet.

Kaake was still tired from the night's activities and frustrated by the events which had occured the weeks before.

It had been rather sudden, the grey-haired general recalled as he settled his girth onto the mahogany chair, when he'd gotten the message from Imperial Command. He would be receiving a message from Spindrift notifying him, his planet would be receiving a shipment meant for the Unknown Regions. This was a farce to draw out Rebels, who would undoubtedly send an individual(s) to investigate it. He was to mention the shipment to some of his younger officers (Kaake decided he'd mention it to those who were more...lacking in their abilities) and wait for the Rebels to make their move.

The real shipment would then proceed to Yaga Minor for processing and transport to the Unknown Regions.

Then, three days ago, he heard about a space transport accident on Spindrift. Kaake had a feeling it wasn't an accident. He'd made preparations then, mentioning the shipment to Captain Lehman and told him to make sure the dock officers knew the shipment was coming (of course, he'd forgotten to mention it wasn't actually coming but Kaake had never liked Lehman).

And so he went about his business, looking at star charts, appropriations, having the girls from 'The Twirling Lekku' visit him...everything was splendid. Until he was awoken very early this morning by a very frightened ensign.

"Sir! Lehman's dead!"

Kaake had *grarummphed* and rose from his slumber, "What you said?" his voice was full of sleep.

"Captain Lehman!" the wide-eyed ensign replied, his eyes staring at Kaake's bedmates, "He's dead! His body was found in the Hotel Terrakin...in one of the upper suites! His guard too!"

Kaake *grarummphed* again, then shooed his companions home, telling them, "I'll send for you later...we're still not done."

He rose from his bed, then asked the ensign to fill him in on what he'd seen.

"Lehman's body...it's been...I don't exactly know how to explain it. Tortured almost isn't the right word for it," fear was in the ensign's eyes, "D-do you think it's the Rebels?"

"Of course it's the Rebels!" Kaake's jowls shook with anger and his nostrils flared, "Who else do you think it is? The Gungans?"

Then his face relaxed and he said calmly, "Do not worry, Ensign. The Rebel (or Rebels) will soon be in our hands. Here is what I want you to do..."

That was over six hours ago...now Kaake sat at his desk, focussing on the day's work. A part of him expected a Rebel attack now...but if Lehman was killed at night, then perhaps the attack would come then.

Kaake wasn't concerned about at all. He'd made his preparations. Now it was time for the Rebellion to move.
************************************************** **

Felucia- The Imperial Compound- Night

The humidity from the day still hadn't left the air, as Kazaar exited The Flying Dutchman. If anything...it had decided to stick around, continuing to make the jungle planet even more inhospitable than before. The Rebel had only walked five minutes when his armor was soaked and his face red with perspiration.

He hated this weather...even more than the ice cold of Hoth. On Hoth, at least you could escape the cold by cuddling up with someone. This weather...it made Kazaar want to go home and frack the mission.

Kazaar'd made his journey to the Imperial Compound at a leisurely pace, stopping off briefly at 'The Twirling Lekku' for a drink, then wandered down the empty streets of Kway Teow for an hour or so. He was just a man having a late night walk...even in the oppressive heat, he was sure that type of activity was normal.

The Imperial Compound was an impressive sight, even if it contained the same 'cookie-cutter' upgrades most compounds received when 'Imperialized'. A large wall of permacrete and durasteel surrounded the compounds high angles and flat roofs. Single sentries of stormtroopers, each placed at equal lengths, patrolled the wall, looking for any movement from the jungle below. The jungle itself had been cut away from the wall, a vast plain giving the sentries plenty view, save for the long shadows from two arches over the compound and the buildings of Kway Teow behind it.

It was in these shadows, the former bounty hunter hid, scanning the perimeter with his brown eyes. His face was masked again and he wore a body armor beneath his pullover shirt.

A single stormtrooper stood before the large gate. Like everything else, it was emblazoned with an Imperial logo, this one red and ominous.

"This is Alpha Five. Nothing to report. Can come in now? It's hot as hell," the trooper whined, setting his blaster rifle in his holster.

"Negatory Alpha Five. And if you complain again you will do a double shift."

The stormtrooper cursed, removing his helmet so he could wipe the sweat from his eyes.

It was then Kazaar came upon him, a vibroblade in hand struck quickly, and the trooper fell to the ground writhing in pain...his breath in gasps. The dying Imperial was pulled into the shadows, where his life's blood ran out.

Kazaar smirked as he climbed over the wall, avoiding the stormtrooper sentry off to his left. He leaped off the wall and into the courtyard.

He'd studied the plans before heading here, using data compiled from both Gorgja and Rebel slicers. Kaake's room was on the top part of the compound, a room with plenty of windows and space.

Two stormtroopers guarded the roof, both sounding as bored as Alpha Five. Kazaar killed them quickly, the first by his vibroblade, the second by hurling him from the roof (making sure the man had no chance to use the comlink inside his helmet.

As Kazaar silently opened one of the large windows which led into Kaake's dark bedroom, a cold pit filled his stomach and the hair on the back of his head began to rise (even through his mask).

Something didn't feel right...

Kazaar slid one of his thermal detonators up his jacket sleeve, feeling it stop right above his wrist. Pulling his blasters, he stepped into the room.

Lights suddenly exploded and the Rebel Spy was soon face to face with General Heray Kaake...

...And twenty Imperial Commandos, their black helmets and blasters shining in the light.

"Well..." Kaake looked rather pleased with himself, "What have we here?"

[Dasquian Belargic]

Aurelias in trouble? It was just like any other day, Dasquian thought, as he shook his head. He frowned, frustrated that they might have fallen for an Imperial rouse. “Has anyone tried to contract Agent Kazaar?”

[Estelle Russard]

"Not at this point" she answered. "Advising you was the first step. Morgan Evanar is currently in the archives trying to gain further knowledge on the shipments real destination - Yaga Minor"