Spies, Liars and Love

[Dasquian Belargic]

In an anonymous city on Courkrus, two equally anonymous figures made their way towards a small spaceport.

“Another day, another planet saved thanks to our valiant efforts.”

“Must you always be so blithe about everything?”

“Well, one of us has to be... you've got that brooding down to a fine art, so the duty falls to me.”

Grace Van-Derveld sighed and shook her head. For being the so-called Director of an entire department of the Rebel Alliance, Dasquian Belargic seemed to view life from a surprisingly whimsical point of view, one that his longtime – and long-suffering – partner in crime could neither understand nor share. They had traveled to the Auril Sector with the relatively simple intention of securing some contacts within a local pirate faction, but the whole affair had escalated, as it often seemed to do around the pair, into something much greater than that. With all their loose-ends tied up, and the job for the day done, they were now planning to head back to headquarters for some well-earned rest. That was the plan, at least...

As they walked through the busy area surrounding the spaceport, Dasquian became vaguely aware that they were being watched. Whoever was doing the watching either wanted them to know they were under surveillance, or was simply too much of an amateur to realize that they were doing a very bad job of tailing the duo. “I think you've picked up some admirers,” he said, nodding casually towards a pair of notably shifty looking men following a short distance behind.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Grace took a moments pause to adjust the scarf that was around her neck and glanced at the two men. She turned and smiled sweetly like a lover would and brushed back some of her partner's hair in adoration. "Are you sure they aren't admiring you?"

Dasquian flashed one of his infamous smirks. "Well, no one can resist my shapely derrière."

She sighed. There were few times when he wasn't silly. Her partner had been like that since the day they first met. It was an admirable trait, one in which Grace secretly envied. For her, it was difficult to imagine being so care free with oneself since it required the person to be open and secure with their own feelings. That was something she just could not bring herself to do.

"Well," she entwined her arm around his and the two of them began to stroll down the street, "How about we introduce ourselves proper like with other parts of your anatomy. Say, a fist or foot?"

[Dasquian Belargic]

“Such a pacifist!”

As they passed by a rather large shop window, Dasquian casually glanced to the side – not looking at the merchandise displayed within, but rather at the image reflected in the glass of the two men following them. From their edgy movements and suspicious eyes, he would have guessed that they were not professionals of any kind. In fact, if he had been pressed to pin down their occupation Belargic would have said that they were just your average joes. This made their interest in the pair of Rebels all the more unusual however – unless they actually were hoping to get a closer look at Grace.

“I repeat, this information just in...” The sound of an important news bulletin caught Dasquian's attention. He turned to where the sound was coming from, to see a large holoscreen suspended above the center of the plaza they were crossing.

“We have received survelliance footage of armed and dangerous terrorists, sighted on Courkrus. The Galactic Empire will offer substantial reward to anyone who can apprehend the following individuals...”

As the image flashed onto the screen, Dasquian turned to Grace with a smile, as if to say 'this is going to be interesting'.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Grace's narrowing gaze betrayed a bit of mirth at the image, despite the seriousness of the situation. "They could of at least found a better picture. I look horrid."

She glanced her partner up and down with a bemused smirk. "You they got right. We should just give these poor souls the slip. They're probably just concerned citizens. The safe house isn't too far is it?"

The Agent hadn't been on Courkrus before, but Dasquian had. He was more familiar with the layout of safe houses and Rebel Sympathizers, having first contact with many of their allies.

[Dasquian Belargic]

“I'm not sure that it would be accurate to call any house on this planet safe anymore,” Dasquian countered, as he noted more than one pair of eyes finding their way towards the pair of undercover agents. With as much composure and repose as he could muster, Belargic curved an ushering arm around his partners waist, his voice nothing but a whisper.

“I think, perhaps, we have outstayed our welcome.”

Though his words had been near silent and surely heard by no one but Grace, it seemed they served as a trigger for the chaos that was to follow. A shout went up, an accusing finger pointed towards the pair. Another finger followed, as a ripple of sudden awareness and anger swept through the spaceport. The words 'substantial reward' had inspired in them all a sudden compelling urge to serve justice. It would only be a matter of moments before blaster-fire filled the air.

“Bugger.”

[Grace Van-Derveld]

She frowned, growing despondent in the realization that the two of them may end up hurting innocent citizens. If not for the Empire's propaganda, it wouldn't have come to this. They were the worse scum, calculating acceptable losses if they decided to fight back or knowing that they would wish to avoid a confrontation, hoping they were surrender.

"Bloody bastards," she said, her words laced in ice and thick with disgust.

The pair increased their stride and rounded the corner quickly, hoping to gain some distance between them and the steadily increasing mob behind them.

"Are there not several alleys up ahead?" Grace asked as her eyes darted around for the first signs of an overt aggressive move.

It came from behind.

"GET THEM!!!"

Blaster fire erupted all around them, forcing them to take cover. Grace dove behind a patio table, being showered by the burnt fabric that was torn from the umbrella overhead. The chairs deflected many of the blaster bolts but they weren't going to hold forever.

She kicked the table over and removed the scarf around her neck, ripping out the concealed blaster from underneath. The Rebel had to be careful and fired several wide warning shots to try and scare off some of them. Some scattered, a few ran off not wanting to get killed, the majority were still pressing forward and continued to open fire.

After the next wave stopped, she poked her head out and saw that Dasquian were all right. Her eyes snapped front and center, frantically trying to find a way to by them an opening so they could run away.

Her eyes widened at opportunity and leveled her blaster at the canopy hanging over the front of the group. It took three shots to make it come loose and fall to the ground, harmlessly covering the gun toting citizens.

[Dasquian Belargic]

Angered cries were muffled as the canopy collapsed on top of the civilians, rendering them trapped by unharmed – save for a bruise here and there. By then, Dasquian had drawn a side-arm of his own but had yet to fire; he hoped that would remain the case. In the panic, he broke away at Grace's side and they darted down a winding alley. He had no idea where it lead, but soon found out – as they were confronted with what could only be the back of a restaurant. There was a dumpster full of slops and left-overs, a fish-head poking out here and there.

Wrinkling his nose, Belargic smirked. “Nice!”

The back-door opened and a porter, bringing out more garbage, looked at the pair with a mixture of confusion and anger.

Dasquian could hear voices and footsteps approaching.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

"Oh for the love of ... " Grace grabbed Dasquian by the arm and jerked him forward, pushing past the porter. They entered the kitchen and it smelled of a mom and pop greasy diner. A waitress almost dropped her tray in shock in seeing the two Rebel spies running through. Several of the cooks had stopped cutting vegetables and meats in mid-chop. None of them looked angry. Perhaps they hadn't heard the news yet. There wasn't a holovid present.

"They went inside!" The porter had seen the news apparently.

The Agent rolled her eyes and stopped running, grabbed a pot, and threw it out the door, beaning a citizen squarely in the face.

[Dasquian Belargic]

Dasquian side-stepped as a pot went soaring by, hardly surprised to see Grace's choice of weapon – put any common kitchen appliance in her hand and she was lethal! Bent backwards over one of the kitchen counters, he spied a pan lid and twisted it into his fingertips just in time to repel something that had been thrown at his head, the lid a makeshift shield. A wampa-sized man with a huge beard came barreling towards Dasquian, knocking plates and dishes flying everywhere. The Rebel's eyes moved here and there, quickly searching for some way to disable the man without resorting to dunking his head in a vat of soup. Eyes falling at last on the lid still held in his hand, Dasquian turned the disk on its side and threw it like a frisbee – right into the big oafs neck. The man clutched at his chest and coughed, doubling over, his massive body a vexing obstruction for the others giving pursuit.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

And as the citizens tripped and fell on top of one another, Grace and Dasquian made quickly their escape out of the kitchen. They ducked into the hallway, widening the gap between them and the angry mob. Grace figured they had only a minute or two to disappear before the local authorities came. She had overheard that one waitress calling in their location ...

Maintenance, supply rooms and offices were the only exits to be found. There was no direct route back outside. They were trapped.

"Frell it." Grace kicked down the door to one of the offices, not bothering to check if it was unlock. Luck was with them. No one was inside. It was a small room cluttered with papers and books amidst several datapads. The owner even had their own private refresher.

None of that really matter to her, except for the viewscreen behind the desk. She slammed her hand against the side panel and it began to open slowly. "Ladies first," Grace said as she motioned for Dasquian to leave with a wry smile.

[Dasquian Belargic]

“Oh, but...”

Dasquian cast a longing glance at the refresher. When he caught Grace's response, he grinned. She gave the viewscreen edge an extra hard push and it swung open into the street. Dasquian lifted one foot out of the building, though hesitated with the second as he saw two men charging towards him. Caught off guard, he ducked behind the durable transpari-steel of the viewscreen to avoid a blaster shot. The point which stood in between him and the energy bolt was now scorched black.

Now with both feet out in the open, he found his attackers at close hand. One darted around towards him, but Dasquian side-stepped under the window before he could land a punch. The other came at him from behind. Dasquian caught his fist and, twisting, hurled him into the open window pane. His body crashed against the transparent surface, sending the window swinging back towards his accomplice, knocking him off his feet – effectively dispatching both men.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

In the chaos, a third attacker had come into the room and was barreling straight for Grace. There was little room to maneuver since her partner was in trouble. She was pinned between the rumble to her left, a wall to her right, and a file cabinet behind her.

Big burly hands came at her, ready to pound her into the floor. But Grace was quick enough to duck away as his fists slammed into the cabinet. She winced when she noticed the dent.

Grabbing the nearest thing that could be used as a weapon, she grabbed the desk light and cracked it against the back of his head. He smacked against the wall and slouched to the ground unconscious, just as another body flipped onto the desk, causing it to collapsed under his dead weight.

She looked at her partner with thin lips as the window came to a halt behind him. "Had to be flashy, didn't you."

[Dasquian Belargic]

“Flashy?” Both eyebrows lifted and Dasquian glanced pointedly towards the lamp in Grace's hand.

“I learned from the best.”

Out of the window, they were back on the move again. It appeared that the the Rebels attempts to shake off their pursuers had been mostly successful, as the street seemed fairly quiet. There was no time to relax, however. They needed to get to the 'port and their ship as soon as possible. Although they weren't having any trouble dispatching the hot-headed locals, it was only a matter of time before a more intellectually sound plan to catch them was formulated.

Dasquian paused a moment, trying to get his bearings. He looked to the right and saw, in the distance, a shuttle banking up into the air. That was their destination. As they set off, he began to mutter.

“Where are the bazaars when you need them? What I'd give for a half-decent market, with some clothing stall to steal disguise from... Honestly, everywhere else we go, you can't take a step without walking into some peddler trying to palm off their 'priceless Corellian silk headscarves'.”

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Grace's partner was speaking out loud her very own thoughts. The needed a simple disguise to slip into the spaceport to not arouse suspicions. As the Rebel looked around to gain her bearings, she recalled that there was a small market a street over. Yet her attention was diverted elsewhere ...

Without a word, Grace slowed down and approached two Niktos with a friendly smile. "Greetings. May I have a word with you about a proposition?"

The two of them exchanged an odd look between them, wondering what this human could possibly be talking about.

She nodded towards their speeder bike and rolled her datachit in her hand. Then their eyes lit up. Niktos were notorious for being shady characters and would do almost anything for an easy credit.

... Dasquian was not aware that he was running, or talking, by himself when Grace pulled up alongside him. She got his attention by revving up the engine. "Get on."

[Dasquian Belargic]

“Oh!”

Dasquian slid onto the speeder behind Grace and with a rev of the engine they were off. From the back seat, he gave directions, finding that his time serving as a field scout served him well in quickly mapping out the city streets. With the bike to carry them, they made up lost ground in no time. As they neared a residential area, Dasquian nudged Grace.

“Time for a detour,” he said, eyes lighting up. The street they turned into was narrow and lined with two-story buildings, between whose windows their stretch long washing lines, full of freshly cleaned clothes.

“What do you think? If you keep the bike steady enough, I'll be able to stand on the back and grab something!”

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Grace's eyes narrowed at the clothes lines passing over them and grumbled under her breath. "And you say I'm flashy."

But she had to concede that her partner was right. They still needed a quick change of clothes to enter the space port after they dumped the speeder. It would be far too hot to hold onto after the clothing thievery they were embarking on.

"All right. Hang on." She pulled back on the handles slowly and eased the speeder upwards, cutting back on the engines. A fall from two stories and going 120 km/h would not be pretty. "Try to not fall. The paperwork's a nightmare."

All jesting aside, Grace hoped that Dasquian's agility was on game today. There was just much that could go wrong with this that it wasn't funny.

[Dasquian Belargic]

Grace had a good handle on the bike and it drifted upwards easily, albeit cautiously. As she manoeuvred the speeder, Dasquian began the delicate process of getting to his feet. Balanced on his toes, with his hands on Grace's shoulders, he steadied himself for a moment before letting go.

They passed by open windows and through one such opening Dasquian saw a family sitting down for a meal together. They had not noticed the man rising outside of their kitchen window nor had they heard, above the noise of their tele-screen, the whirr of the speeder engines. Dasquian tensed, at last tearing his eyes away from them as a piece of fabric began to cover his vision.

Looking up, he saw that they were right under one of the clothes lines. There wasn't any time to pick any choose, so he plucked the closest things within reach – a couple of desert-style robes – and gave Grace a tap on the shoulder.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Lowering the speeder down to a safer distance above the ground, Grace took a seconds pause to look behind her. Dasquian was holding up the robes like newly reeled in fishes.

She snorted a chuckle but it was drowned out by the hover engines. Her partner quickly changed as Grace scouted out a nice quiet area behind the control tower to park the speeder. There she quickly dressed and the two of them started their way inside the spaceport.

"I really hope this works. If we're made here, we'll have a lot more to worry about then unarmed citizens."

[Dasquian Belargic]

What they were experiencing, in that moment, was the calm before the storm.


Shaking off a crowd off civilians wasn't difficult, but it was a quiet town – the local security forces would be mobilized and on their trail soon, if they hadn't been dispatched already. Dasquian wasn't eager to underestimate whoever was following them and so made sure that their pace was fairly brisk as they approached the spaceport.


Security was mercifully lax. They had docked inside a multi-ship hangar and managed to slip inside without drawing too much attention. Dasquian hung back a few feet behind Grace, on the off chance that 'port security were keeping an eye out for an unfamiliar couple. Once they neared their ship, Dasquian picked up the pace, glancing back over his shoulder as he brought the boarding ramp down.


“Get her prepped and ready to go as fast as you can...” he muttered, looking back towards Grace.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Without a word, Grace darted inside and ran down the corridor to the cockpit. As soon as the door opened to gain access, she had hopped into the pilot's chair and started the pre-flight calculations.

"We should be ready to go in a minute," she said, yelling down the corridor. "I don't see any sign of security, and if they let us go, their might be an Imperial welcome around orbit."