Caught in the Middle

Quietly moving through the otherwise busy concourse, Ilana noted those she passed in uniform as her eyes seemed fixed to the datapad in her hand. It's soft glow and small writing kept her enthralled by the news that she had recently gotten. The resistance was on the move again and now that she had to try and gain as much information as she could. Having been here now for over three months, the spy had gained many contacts and assets that kept her abreast of what was now about to explode in the streets of Coronet. The Empire had been trying to keep a tight grip on the independent people of Corellia, but their ill conceived attempt at trying to pacify these engineers and explorers had gone too far already.

Shaking her head, she turned off the datapad, knowing everything she needed to now, and continued heading to the meeting place for one of her assets. He had heard something definitive and she had to get to him before it was too late.

Moving through the security station, the lithe brunette took the few things she had in her pockets from the tray and continued moving, stuffing the ident card, cred stick and loose change into her pockets once again. Voices echoed from unseen speakers, intercom calls for various employees, and none of their names meant anything to her. Imperial officers, small groups of Stormtroopers and technicians came and went, passing the unknown spy in their midst as everyone had their own goal in mind.

Soon, hazel eyes caught sight of the narrow passageway that she knew the informant should be in and moved to turn into it, but stopped. Four white armored troopers surrounded him, his nervous twitching as he handed over his ident card, then glanced at her prompted her to stop and keep moving.

"There," he yelled.

Pushing on, Ilana slipped into a maintenance room and closed the door quietly.

Oh boy.

Beside the starboard engine, the tech shouted up to Garren: "Try it now!"

He gave a thumb up and then powered up the Z-95 Headhunter. The engines turned over with an effort, making the younger man frown down at the tech.

"Okay, power down then! Hang on..." he replied with a shrug.

Horn did so with a sigh. The Z-95 was old when he inherited it, sure, but he didn't think it would still be so much trouble to repair! Garren hopped out of the cockpit and descended the orange ladder quickly, booted feet hitting the permacrete.

"Sure I can't sell her to you?" he joked.

The tech rolled his eyes and kept fiddling. "This should do it..."

"That's what you said last time. Think I could get any credit toward an A- or X-Wing with this?"

"Better off donating to a museum, Horn," came the sarcastic reply.

Garren chuckled, oblivious to the excitement that was going on beyond the hangar bay.

"Remind me again who's idea it was to stick me down here? It's disgusting."

"Cut the chatter, Sparky. What part of Radio Silence did you not understand?"

"What part of mememermahme. Stupid mission control."

She continued the slow crawl through the drainage pipe that she had been painstakingly navigating for the last hour. At least, that's what the chrono on her wrist said after she wiped the grime away to reveal the illuminated face. Lies. It felt like she had been down here for hours. Days. Years. A slow shuffle was all that she could manage in the tight confines. There was not even enough room to carry her package in hand; forcing her to drag it on a line behind her.

Which of course meant it caught on every twist, turn, and chunk of debris.

And she had to force herself to think of it as just debris, because the truth was too horrifying to think about. These drains ran directly underneath the hangar bay and it's connected facilities. Who knows what all gets dumped down here. Probably grease, oil, fuel, refresher waste- nope. Nope. Can't think about it. Just keep crawling. You'll get there eventually. Just be happy you don't have to smell this junk.

Every so often a grate would appear overhead, shedding light through the crisscrossing beams. With each passing one she would take a moment to look up and see what little could be seen. The view changed gradually until the maze of tunnels finally brought her the promised sight; the shadowy underbelly of a starship. From the looks of things it was an old piece of a junk with a couple of humans climbing about on it, fixin' things. It was the perfect cover for popping the grate out of place. Just a few micro explosives at the sides, like this, scrooch back down the tunnel like so, and presto!

"Sparky is in position."

"Sparky is in position."

The ball was beginning to roll. A quick adjustment of the fake mustache and a review in the mirror to make sure it was in place was all it took to arm himself for stepping free of the speeder. The suit and cap was uncomfortable. It made him feel weighed down and restricted. The Resistance maintained that it was a necessary step for him to be undercover as a valet driver for this operation to take place, and it had taken everything he had to maintain the charade. Acting sophisticated and well mannered did not come natural to this boy from the pits of Coruscant. Some of the Imperial officers he chauffeured about had even inquired about his accent, some even placing it as Coruscanti.

Thankfully most believed him when he told them he was from the surface.

Stepping free of the speeder he began to move across the hangar bay when something caught is eye; security was clustering up together and discussing something urgent if their sharp hand movements meant anything. Then they dispersed, but moved with a purpose. Something was up.

"Rook to Command. Something is afoot. Security is alert. I recommend caution. I'm investigating."

Doing her best to control her breathing, everything seemed only amplified in this otherwise dark room, full of droid recharging stations, chemical lockers and a supply cabinet. Being lean already, she knew if it came to it, she could hide behind one of the cabinets, but would have to crawl over too many things left out by the janitors or someone else that didn't care. Listening to the door and the muffled activity outside, she soon heard footsteps, then they faded. More and those did the same, though the longer she waited the more likely they would pass her by, hoping that their informant recently caught would have pointed them in the right direction. She was going to have words with that two-faced bastard if she ever saw him again.

Keeping her heartbeat as steady as she could, Maggie stepped to the backside of the door, allowing the shallow wall to give her enough room to surprise anyone that stepped in, and she hoped it wasn't someone that worked here.

"... Station troopers at the intersections," a nearby voice commanded. "We'll find them sooner or later."

Radio traffic continued as she waited, the busy hangar concourse possibly giving her enough cover to escape and blend into the crowd, but she also didn't know if the contact she had come to meet would also be watching with the nearby supervising trooper. Sooner or later she would have to move though.

"You want anything?"

The tech's head popped out of the engine compartment. "You payin'? Sure, I will."

Garren grinned and gave a nod. "Caf okay?"

He got an affirmative hand signal. Horn nodded and gave the ship a puzzled, pensive look, then turned toward the door. There was a caf tap just around the corner that was decent, at least. Two cafs, some kind of snack, and maybe the tech would finally figure out the misfiring engine issue.

He slapped the panel to open the door, not even looking in the direction he was headed, too busy thinking about what to get to eat...

Above the skies of Coronet City...

The Lambda-class shuttlecraft slowly began to flatten it's descent vector, veering slightly away from the cleared approach lane. The inertial change was miniscule, but it became apparent a moment later to anyone looking through the cockpit's screen that the craft was no longer approaching the hangar, but had assumed a holding pattern above.

Lady Vissica rose from her haunches, padding to the front of the craft on four feet. The Selonian regrouped just behind the pilot and copilot, craning her long neck for a vantage as she sat once again.

"What is it?"

"Pardon the delay, my Lady, Lieutenant Wulld clipped in a coreward accent, "but Coronet harbor master has issued a level one alert. Suspected insurgent activity in the area."

Wulld stole a glance back at the musteloid Imperial Knight. "Shall I divert to another star port?"

"No, Lieutenant," Vissica clipped coolly in her own coreward basic, "take me down as instructed."

Three meters snout-to-tail, Vissica's lithe form undulated in a stretch, taut muscles flexing and relaxing in waves as she shook the torpor of space flight away. Wulld tried not to notice, returning to his controls.

"As you wish, my Lady." he toggled the comms with the harbor master, "Coronet Harbor Control, this is KT-652. Override No Fly authorization Aurek Cresh Six Eight."

A few seconds later, a tinny reply squawked through the audio comm.

"Override Transmission authenticated. Return to your priority vector. We are re-routing escort now."

The shuttle continued on its way, trailed along the final distance by a pair of TIE fighters. The escorts veered off at the last 500 meters, giving the shuttle plenty of space to decelerate and draw its low-swept wings up alongside its massive dorsal aileron.

With a pop the grate was blown free, falling down into the pipe. Shoving it aside Shawkyrr wasted no time popping her head up above the fresh hole. One of the two humans was leaving, and the other was looking the other way, which was a shame because from where she was kneeling he looked pretty cute. Well, his ass was fantastic, but with those ears he should have a shite face. No times for any of that, she told herself as she scrambled quietly from the hole while the human was distracted. The starfighter was put between herself and the hanger door as she made her way to the far wall.

Durocrete, just like in the simulations. She even tapped it a few times to make sure it was solid. The package that was lugged through a billion miles of sewage opened and a complex mess of wires surrounding a central box. It was carefully placed on the wall.

"Rook to Command. Something is afoot. Security is alert. I recommend caution. I'm investigating."

"Negative Rook. Nest is at security level one. There's a Lambda approaching from the East. Op is scuttled. Maintain cover and exfiltrate ASAP.

Chrono exfiltrate.

Boomer exfiltrate.

Sparky exfiltrate."

"Oh come on! I'm right here. The bom- the 'package is on the truck'"

Delert!

"Negative."

Pulling his finger free from his ear he crossed the street that ran in front of the starport, weaving through the ever coming flow of drop offs and pick ups, private and public transportation. His eyes were set on the door, and the force was his guide. No amount of honking or voices in his ear was going to deter him from this path.

He recalled the map vividly, the plan laid out on the table. Once through the door he made his way to a non-descript door set in the wall. There was no control panel, no door handle. It was an emergency exit and one that would be quite difficult to open if one could not manipulate the force to press against the push bar on the other side, popping it open. An alarm sounded, naturally.

A security corridor stretched out beyond. From side rooms people erupted looking confused as the fire alarm spooked them into action. "Fire! There's a fire!" He called out, inciting a frenzy as people grabbed personal belongings and rushed past him to escape the imaginary disaster. It was perhaps not his best plan. While it cleared out the adjacent areas, the press of bodies slowed him movement down the corridor. A solid fifteen minutes of being paralyzed in the middle of a frightened herd.

And at the end, the cherry on top, was a stormtrooper coming to see what was happening. In a moment the emotionless black lenses of his helmet were inches from his face, and a blaster rifle even closer. His words that followed were carefully measured and an attempt was made to cover up his telltale Coruscanti accent with the way the local spoke.

"This is a restricted area. State your business."

"There was- is a fire. I'm evacuating everyone."

"Turn around. Hands on your head."

"I don't think we have time for that. You know, because of all the fire..."

"On. Your. Head."

A shove to the ribs from the blaster barrel proved to be the last motion the soldier ever made as Kyle's hand came up with a silver cylinder between it's fingers. With the mythical SNAP-HISS the violet beam sprung to life, slicing through the rifle barrel and piercing the trooper in the stomach. The Trooper gurgled his surprise and tried to grab at the blade that had pierced him, but only managed to sever several fingers before the blade was wrenched upward into his chest. A push was all it took to send the body tumbling backwards. His black cap and coat joined the lifeless heap of plastoid on the floor.

"So much for that."

Outside, the concourse was now busy with Imperial puppets trying to control the situation in a large, very busy starport. She knew that task was going to take them a while, so closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Letting it out slowly, she moved around to the handle and opened the door slowly, noting the still busy foot traffic which was perfect.

Until an Imperial soldier was killed farther down. Panic ensued which was a situation that she could manipulate. Stepping out, she let the door close on it's own and scanned as she moved, keeping with a large group of five Wookiees. Moving along with them, hazel eyes caught her contact being escorted toward the main entrance by two more Stormtroopers. Grinning to herself, she knew that his cooperation with their investigation was only worth so much, they still saw him as a traitor to the Empire. Enjoy the prison colony, she mused and kept moving along with her large, hairy cover.

Nearing an intersection, she noticed four more Imperial soldiers in white armor directing everyone toward the hangars. Though hers wasn't in this direction, she would have to continue to improvise as things progressed.

Oh stang...

Garren stopped cold and appraised the chaos outside the hangar. Further down, someone was being escorted away by Stormtroopers. Blue eyes widened, scanning the crowd. He watched a set of other soldiers moving civilians in his general direction.

Go back inside. Don't get involved. There'll be a lock down. Just go work on the ship.

Just the same, he was frozen. Watching.