Star Wars Shades of a Whisper

IC: Withershade
Uscru Entertainment District, Coruscant

Vellen did not stop the young woman from stepping out of the auditorium. This was a clear indicator that nothing critical was left to be shared. The meeting was practically over. All they’d be doing now was to waste precious time. In this, he agreed with the man in the ‘cloak’ and the mandalorian.

Withershade rose from his seat and regarded both the man from CorSec and his companion from the Chancellor’s ‘Intelligence branch’.

“Looks like we’re done here.” He declared casually. “I’ll need to collect a few items first, but do send me our meeting coordinates and our departure time. I’ll be there.”

He gave a nod to the two officials, then glanced about him, eyeing his fellow mercenaries.

“I believe we’re all ready to get this done and enjoy our much deserved…vacation pay.”

Of course, no one could see the chilling smile under his hood.

“If you’ll excuse me.”

With that, Withershade marched himself outside the auditorium as well. The red-head female stood at the door, enjoying what looked like a death stick. Withershade slowed his pace as he neared, his eyes regarding her. For a moment, it looked as if he would say something, but he only nodded in acknowledgement, then proceeded out and vanished from sight.

*****

It didn’t take him long to reach the room he had rented not too far away. There, he donned his ‘work-gear’ and made a few other arrangements. The room he occupied was already paid for and would remain so for several more days. Without anyone noticing, he exited the premises through a back exit and slipped into a vehicle he’d acquired for the occasion. Now to wait for Vellen’s call.

But in the meantime….

[There are six of us.]

[How many blanks]

[Three]

[That many?]

[Affirmative]

[Can it be done?]

[Unknown]

[Proceed as planned]

[Acknowledged]


Tag:Ktala, others

 

Randar Vellen, Un-named building,
Uscru Entertainment District - Coruscant


Cel watched the proceedings from her perch at the outer doorway, deeply inhaling the smoke from her stick as she did. Even at this distance,she could still see pretty well. As Randar Vellen looked over the group, he looked away for a moment, as if distracted by something. But whatever it was, didnt last long, as another voice chimed in. This time it was Withershade.

"Looks like we're done here." He declared casually. "I'll need to collect a few items first, but do send me our meeting coordinates and our departure time. I'll be there." Vellen's face managed to stay neutral, but the man's eyes shined briefly in displeasure. He looked down to address the others, as he made a gesture. The lights came on brighter now, as the blond haired man moved quickly forward.

"Indeed."

Vallen steps to the front. "Mr. Farouk will show those who are inquiring on any 'specialty items' that might be available for their specific needs. The rest of you have one hour to eat, sleep or whatever it is you wish to do before you depart. Those who are not at the appointed place and time, will have forfeited his or her claim to the reward. You will be contacted using the same comm channel you were notified on to inform you of the job. Now, if you excuse me, I have some last minute details to attend to." With a gesture and a quick nod, Vellen steps back and dissapears into the doorway at the southern wall. Mr. Farouk turns quickly, and walks towards a now visible small set of steps, to walk down into the main area where everyone is sitting. He only pauses for a moment, and then turns to head for another doorway, far over towards the west wall. He says nothing, but it seems to imply that any who wish to obtain anything from him, should follow quickly.




To all those who do NOT follow Mr. Farouk:

In about twenty minutes you devices will beep, with the exact coordinates to a shipping dock, not to far away in another part of Uscru District. It is a moderate sized hanger, which houses a what looks like a mining ship. There are several other empty berths here as well, if anyone wishes to leave their ship there. The place is buzzing about with many beings, of various races, doing last minutes adjustments to the ship, while others are loading what look like supplies on board. Security is also very tight, but it is not noticable until you step inside. You will be met by someone, who after a breif scan, will show you onboard the ship, to its main common area.

If the outside of the ships looks like an tired old minning ship, the inside does not. Inside is sleek and very modern.


---


For those who DO follow Mr. Farouk:

You comm devices will also buzz, with the information of coordinates to the shiping dock you are to meet at while you walk with Mr. Farouk. The doorway leads down a long, well lit hallway which seems to go under the building. It leads out into a wide, open area. Vehicles are moving about and there are several small speeders also in the area. Mr. Farouk moves ahead, to another room, where he opens the doors. He waits for any who might follow him to join him, before going through the doors. There is a room, which the back half is devided with a small durashield half wall. There are three people sitting back here. Mr. Farouk turns to look at whoever has followed him.

"Tell the people here what equipment you require, or would like to have. If it is available, they can get it for you. If not, it might have to be forwarded to the main supply area. They can do the request to have it ready in the hour. Other than that, I will see you in an hour." Mr. Farouk points to another door. "That door will take you directly back out to the main sublevel street. Good luck."

With that, he turns and leaves.


----

OOC:
If you wanted something simple, you can type what your characacter is requesting. Anything else, you can shoot me a pm. In either case, the next post will be at the meeting hanger, and getting you to your objective.

(Sorry..having computer issues still) *SIGH*



TAG: s65horsey, DarkLordoftheFins, Pyrophoric, greyjedi125, King Grimlock and Rebecca_Daniels

 

IC: Withershade
Uscru Entertainment District, Coruscant

The waiting seemed like forever, but he was patient. The hunt demanded patience and knowing exactly when to strike without hesitation. These were old lessons he’d learned long ago.

No one approached his vehicle for the time he was stationary. It was said that some creatures could sense danger from a distance. Perhaps this was true, and this situation was no different. After twenty ticks of the chromo, the ‘call’ finally came. It was Vellen.

Withershade was more than ready to move out, as he had donned his full gear. He had completed his weapons and equipment checks and had prepared his mind to do whatever was necessary to accomplish the mission before him. Nothing and no one would keep him from succeeding.

With practiced accuracy, he set the coordinates provided for the rendezvous. He was not surprised that the launch point was, in fact, not too far. They’d be heading out from nearby a shipping dock. The black speeder the contractor piloted, arrived in record time, and Withershade saw the hangar as he descended. He spied several disguised security droids scanning him as he arrived. This was, after all, an event one attended by ‘invitation’ only. As he touched down, an attendant dressed in a worker’s suit approached him. Pertinent information was exchanged and he was able to proceeded towards the hangar. At the entrance, there was the expected security check. It did not take overlong for clearance to be granted. This was an acceptable indicator.

Once inside, he saw their ‘ride’. A mining ship, not to mention all the additional security associated for such an important Op. At this point, he was directed to a designated parking area, where a more ‘officious’ attendant awaited him. A more detailed security scan of his person was required, which he did not mind. This sort of overture was something he was completely used to. Why would anyone here trust him? They knew nothing about him, and he didn’t know anything about them, except that they could bleed; not unlike himself. But none of these beings were going on a ride to the Dead Zone's bottomless pit.

As expected of him, Withershade was still hooded, but now he wore his optic enhancer goggles and breather mask. At the moment, there was no visible skin exposed, for even his hands were gloved. His gear was sealed and treated against harmful contaminants and environmental hazards.

The humanoid who attended him walked him towards the mining ship, which looked old and battered as they approached. Withershade looked at the vehicle dubiously, but held his comment for the moment. Once he entered the ship, his questions seemed to be answered. This was a state of the art ship. Not bad at all.

After being shown the main area, the masked contractor gave the attendant a salute then took a seat. It seemed he was the first one to arrive. So be it.

The first thing he did was to search all accessible databases for the mining vehicle's make, model, and engineering specs. There were certain details he would need to know before this trip. On the other hand, he sent Randar Vellen and inquiry.

[Sender: Withershade, To: Randar Vellen; Topic: Inquiry001-MS. Currently aboard the mining ship. Requesting piloting manual and instructions. Is the ship on auto-setting or operated by a pilot?]

The other matter was to pull what information he could on the rest of the team. Any bit of information he could find to help their chances of success, if even marginally, would be worth something. He made an independent search first. Then made a second request.

[To: RV; Is there a dossier on the team? Will need to know general strengths and skills in the field. Need something interesting to read while waiting.]

The specs on the stock model of the mining ship were already coming through. He had no doubt this craft was modified, the question was how much more? But at least he’d have some idea of what it was capable of…and if any of them could pilot it. Just in case.

Tag:Ktala,Pyrophoric,s65horsey,DarkLordoftheFins,Rebecca_Daniels,King Grimlock

 

IC: Cel

The attendees seemed restless, and it looked like the bureaucrats were just about finished up. Call in twenty minutes, only one hour until the mission began. Got it.

But first... there was serious business Cel needed to take care of. She knew exactly where she had to go.

—

“Filcher!” Cel yelled, raising her glass and waving it around in the air, “Another Itchy Ithorian!”

The bartender was filling a glass with fizzy blue liquid from one of the taps. He looked over and furrowed his brow. “Don't you have work to be doing, Cel? Some juicy government contract?”

“Geez, Filcher, who- hic- shoved a hydrospanner up your maintenance hatch?” She shot him a glare from across the scuffed metal bar, wobbling on her barstool as she took a drag from a deathstick.

He wagged his finger at her. “The only reason I don't kick you out, girl- and I mean the only reason- is 'cause I known ya since you was as tall as my knee.”

“Been feedin' me drinks since I was as tall as ya knee, too, Filch,” she said, laughing as she leaned back on the stool. “But that's only because- hic- I know how tah get ya the best spi-”

“CEL!” the bartender stomped toward her, eyes wide. “Not so loud!”

He turned to scan the dimly-lit bar to see if anyone had heard, breathing in sharply, but the only other patrons were an obese human man with a scraggly beard passed out face-first in his nerf nachos and a pair of Toydarians squabbling in one of the booths, their wings fluttering madly as they screeched at each other in Huttese. The bartender sighed as he turned back to Cel. She was holding her computerized goggles in front of her face and peering into their blue glow with the bewildered squint of someone whose vision was a bit wobbly. The shipping docks, huh....

“But actually...” he said, much more quietly, “I was, ah, wondering if you could- you know- maybe nose out a new dealer for me... my guy's on vacation on Commenor or someth-”

“Gotcha covered, Filch!” Cel chirped, hopping off the barstool. “But not right now. Gotta go to work.”

“By tomorrow then? I- I don't wanna wait 'til the hand tremors start up, like last month...”

“Eh, sure, tuhmmaruh- hic- why not!” Cel yelled back, waving as she stumbled toward the door.

—

So this was a mining ship. It sure didn't seem like much. Those fuel lines looked like they'd been through a decade-long blizzard, and who was oiling the hydraulics on that loading ramp? She didn't have much of a mechanic's intuition; she'd only done a little work on a swoop once, a while back, but Cel knew a beat-up craft when she saw one. Hell, that cantina on the north side of Esplanade B that some Iktotchi had built out of the hull of an old Calipsan 1200A looked like it was in better shape for prospecting than this piece of junk.

Cel was in a dark corner near the doorway of one of the hangar entrances. Looking around furtively from under her coat, she quickly pulled out two pills from a pocket, popped them, and dry-swallowed. Sure, the underground stuff wasn't as good as the real sobering drugs the upworlders could get doctors to prescribe like candy. But who the hell could afford that kind of stuff? She'd just have to deal with the side effects.

As she stepped out of the shadows, brushed herself off, and strolled confidently toward the ramp, she felt herself instantly sobering up. Also, her vision took on a greenish-blue tint at an alarmingly rapid pace. Well, this was a new one.

She walked up onto the ramp, where two teal thugs, who looked kind of like the ones from the auditorium, were waiting for her. They met her sheepish grin with suspicious glares from under their helmets.

“Dilated pupils,” one said to the other. “Ma'am, we're going to need to administer a blood test."

“Sure, pal.” She pulled back the left sleeve on her coat and stuck her forearm out. “Ain't nothin' runnin' through my veins but looove for the Republic.” She smirked.

One of the guards pulled a small cylinder off his hip and pressed it against the skin on the inside of her elbow. A blue square hologram expanded up from the end of it, and information began to dance across it. The other guard leaned in to examine it.

“Cella Petrichor... twenty-three years old... no warrants... eight misdemeanors, one felony... blood alcohol content: point one-two percent... two active narcotics... fifteen trace narcotics.”

“Oops,” she said, “guess I was... mistaken.”

The guard removed the cylinder and shook his head, his lip curled in disgust. “Can't believe the sewer scum they're letting on this ship.” Then two guards parted to let Cel pass. She'd learned long ago that as long as you were useful to those in power, they'd overlook your minor indiscretions.

“Trust me... this bucket of bolts is nothing special.”

Then she stepped through the entrance, and realized immediately how wrong she had been. This sucker was tricked out. Gleaming paneling, some seriously powerful datatape banks, and a navicomputer array that was- well, okay, she'd never seen a navicomputer before (at least, that's what she thought it was), but it looked fancy and expensive. That was enough to make her eyes glaze over.

After wandering around the room in a daze for a minute or so, she came to her senses, found a jump seat, plunked her butt down in it, and kicked her feet up on a nearby dejarik table.

Across the hold, a greenish-blue Withershade was already seated. He'd been the first one on the ship. He was engrossed in his datapad, typing away at the screen like a Mon Gazzan rock strangler with dancing digit disease. It seemed people always had their nose in a computer on Coruscant, for one reason or another. She shook her head. Wasn't much difference between a person and cyborg these days.

Then she pulled her goggles down over her eyes, and starting giggling as she scrolled through funny tooka pictures on the HoloNet.

Tag: Ktala, everyone else