"Professional Advice"
By: Analesse D'vrishay
Minn Dakara (a.k.a. Minn Starcrash)
Nemyos [NPC+]

Location: Analesse's Office, New Plouton
Date: Vadris 22, 5 ABY

***

Minn Dakara stepped into Analesse's office, past the ever-scowling Nemyos. While he was no longer snarling, he still looked up every time she approached the refrigeration unit to make sure she was not stealing his lunch. She tried to be friendly toward him, but it only made him more suspicious. It made her grin whenever she returned to her office.

"I finished that report," Minn said as Ms. D'vrishay looked up from her desk. "I managed to get the word count down this time, like you asked. But, it still contains all of the pertinent information from that last meeting." She held up the stack of flimsis for Lessa to see.

"Already?" Lessa refrained from expressing further surprise either vocally or by the slightest lift of her eyebrows. Instead, she motioned Minn to set the report down before her. "I hadn't expected you to be finished yet," she mentioned. "I didn't get a chance to prepare another task for you."

Minn smiled with just a hint of sheepishness. "I worked on it while I ate my lunch."

Analesse chuckled. "That's dedication for you. It's really not necessary, Ms. Dakara. Lunchtime is your own time, so feel free to enjoy it."

"I know, but I figured since I had the inspiration I might as well carry through. I'll try not to make a habit of working through my lunches. But, at least I did eat my lunch today."

"You really are new at this," Lessa commented. Sighing deeply, she leaned back in her chair and gestured Minn to take a seat of her own. "Listen," she confided as Minn settled into the chair, "you're going to have to learn that, in this business, it does pay to move fast - it's the only way to secure those juicy deals. But go too fast, and it's easy to make mistakes. More importantly," she added with a nearly wistful smile, "you get so absorbed in your work, it stops being fun - life stops being fun because you're letting everything pass you by while your head is buried in reports. I did that for a long time...but I'm finally learning to slow down just enough to enjoy my success. You'll learn the same, I hope."

"I'll remember that," Minn said with a nod. "If you don't mind me asking, did it stop being fun?"

"Truthfully?" Analesse smiled. "For a time, though I didn't realize it until I met my current partner. It was then I knew I'd been missing everything." Mildly startled by her own candidness, then, Analesse cleared her throat awkwardly and resumed her stiff, upright sitting posture. "At any rate," she continued more guardedly, "you need to live your life, Ms. Dakara. Don't get bogged down by work. You're too young for that."

"I'll just eat my lunch at lunch from now on," Minn said. "Unless I'm up against a deadline. Your partner, I thought I saw him coming in last night. He looks familiar. He's kind of famous isn't he? I know I've seen him somewhere before."

"Probably," Lessa allowed. "He's a performer. You may have seen him performing at the White Noise."

"I've never been there. Though, I've been by there a few times. I think there was a poster. That's probably it. So, that report, if you have any other changes on it, let me know. I made the corrections you suggested on the first draft, but I'm not certain if I cut too much out to bring down the size."

"Relax," Analesse urged. "I'll finish it off. You can leave early if you want...attend a show at the White Noise, even." She smiled reassuringly. "It's no trouble at all."

"Are you sure," Minn said. "I don't feel overworked at all. In fact, I really like it here. Nemyos still is very suspicious of me, but it's still a great working environment."

"He's suspicious of anyone better looking than himself," she dismissed playfully. "Don't mind him. But if it does become a problem, let me know. I would hate for you to leave so soon."

"Oh, it's no problem at all," Minn said, her grin cheerful. "I've made it my mission to make him like me. It may be impossible, but it definitely makes things interesting."

Analesse shrugged. "Well, if it's a source of amusement for you.... At any rate, I should probably start going through this report. I'll need it for a very important meeting in two days."

"Oh, if you want me to compile note cards for the meeting, I can do that," Minn said. "Will you need any presentation? I should be able to get some holographics set up for it as well."

"I'll consider it," Analesse told her noncommittally. "For now, take a break. You've earned it."

"I think I may have to sneak out," Minn said. "Nemyos is likely to get quite jealous of me leaving early."

"I'll take care of him. You just enjoy yourself."

Minn grinned. "I will," she said. "I'll go see my first show at the White Noise."

"If you enjoy Merrick's music," she suggested, "I could perhaps introduce you to him sometime."

"That would be very nice," Minn said. "I'll let you know what I think of his music after tomorrow."

Analesse smiled and watched Minn briefly as she departed before shifting focus to the report. So far, Minn was working out splendidly. If she continued to be as diligent, Analesse very well may have found her very first apprentice.

---

"No Turning Back"
by: Sgt. Johan Eddis
various NPC's of Team 3212

Location: New Pluton and Authority
Date: Vadris 22, 5ABY

****

"Did they take the bait?"

The team had melted back into the shadows, leaving the Jedi safehouse behind and retreating to the safety of the Authority, one again hidden in the remains on a long forgotten industrial sector. The hump back had taken a bit longer than it usually would have. Silas was sure that someone had been following them, and Johan didn't doubt the trained sniper's sense.

They had made a series of random detours, at one point taking their route underground through the twisting corridors of an old sewer system. It was there that Silas believed they lost their tail, though whether by skill or if the pursuer just gave up, Silas wasn't sure.

Nevertheless, Johan had Thorgim take off when they made it to the Authority, just to be sure.

Corporal Logan stood in one of the Authority's cramped hallways, his back wound still troubling him, though he was up and moving again. He was the one who voiced they question when he saw Johan striding down the corridor, unbuckling his web vest.

"I think so," Johan said. "They were suspicious, but I wouldn't have expected less."

Logan just nodded. There was a few seconds of silence before Johan spoke again.

"She was there."

"Who?"

"The one who injured you. This...Talara Sorenne."

"The young one?"

Johan sighed. "Does it matter?"

The corporal shrugged. "I suppose not. She's just not like the targets we've had before."

"Logan, she almost killed you." Johan's voice was chiding. "Don't forget what we've got here to do."

The uneasy silence returned, and Johan couldn't notice a moment of defensive anger on his sub-ordinate's face. "I haven't forgotten."

Johan nodded, satisfied. "I didn't think so for a second. We'll probably have to alter our plans. From the way the interior of that safehouse looked, there could be fifty or more of these Jedi. I want you to pull up the intelligence files and see if you can get me anything on a Jedi Master Koran Darr. He seems to be running this whole thing."

"I'll get on it."

****

Johan made his way up to cockpit, fumbling to open his pack of cigarras. To his dismay, only a single stick remained in the box. The sergeant cringed. This was his last good Corellian cigarra that he had managed to pack when they left the Imperial task force. He would have to find some replacements somewhere on this planet. He couldn't imagine how bad Outer Rim cigarras must be.

Upon reaching the cockpit, he set himself down in the co-pilot's seat, sticking the tip of the cigarra into his mouth and lighting the other end.

"Still on course for Kaidaga?"

Thorgim nodded. "Good weather, this thing is practically flying itself."

"Good to hear, I need some help anyway."

The pilot tapped a control, putting the ship on auto-pilot, and spun in his chair. "What can I help you with, Sergeant?"

"Your slicing skills," Johan told him. "What does the planet's holonet have on a man named Rylaa Lyssander?"

"Lets find out." The pilot moved over to one of the side console, activated the holonet transceiver. After a few second, Thorgim reported his findings. "Seems to be the CEO of a local weapons developer, Ares Macrotechnology. This guy important?"

"Something the Jedi Master said back at the safehouse. He called the guy a 'criminal mastermind'."

Tapping a button, Thorgim brought of a picture of a rather unattractive rotund man. "He sure doesn't look like a criminal mastermind."

Johan grinned. That much was true. The man had an almost...goofy demeanor. "Anything suspicious on the official channels?"

"No," the pilot said. "Of course, if he is a criminal mastermind, I doubt we'd find any."

"Well, we can obviously assume he is in league with the Jedi. Maybe providing them with weapons, transportation, it's possible he was even in on the Jau Mining Raid," Johan pondered out loud.

"If he is, we're not going to find it in any public database," Thorgim told him. "I could hack Ares's servers. See what I can find out."

"You think you'd find anything?"

"If I don't, then maybe it can point us in the next direction," Thorgim offered.

"Get on it then. And send a communication on this encryption code when we land in Kaidaga," Johan ordered, handing him the encryption cylinder.

The pilot took it. "That guy again, huh? Figured out what his game is yet?"

"No," the stormtrooper sergeant admitted. "And at this point it doesn't matter. He knows who we are, and he's got a clone of one of the Jedi. What does that tell you?"

"That he's got his claws in pretty deep here."

"Yep."

There was a silence.

"And," Johan said quietly. "He reminds me of someone, someone I met once."

"Who?"

The sergeant turned to leave. "Forget about it."

Johan stalked back down the halls to get in a quick workout before they had to be down in Kaidaga. He was sure that his mysterious ally would send Talira to meet him again, once they set down. Oddly, that brought up a feeling in Johan that he hadn't felt in a while. She was gorgeous. And her eyes, while cold, didn't look on him with the same contempt that her...."original" counterpart did. And beyond her attractiveness, Johan found her demeanor stimulating as well. She moved like he did, a weapon with a singular purpose.

The stormtrooper shook his head. His mind would have to be clear. She was a clone, grown in some factory Emperor knows where. And he was a soldier, with a mission. He could be....what....close to a decade older. It was impossible.

And yet, Johan's service record showed a list of success doing what was "impossible". This was different though. He had given away his heart along time ago to the Empire he served.

The sergeant sighed as he realized his cigarra had burned out. He took the tip of it and with a sigh, flipped it into the nearest waste disposal tube. What a shame.

****

Sweat dripped off the Sergeant's brow as his feet pounded the treadmill. Johan liked running. It helped him think, and gave him clarity in what was usually a stressful job.

The combead in his ear chirped. With a sigh, Johan stopped the treadmill, standing with his hands on his hips for a few seconds before answering the call. It was Silas.

"Sergeant, I've unpacked the items you wanted".

"I'll be right down".

***

He hadn't even bothered to change. This was too important, so Johan made his way to the weapon storage bay where Silas was waiting. The sniper was standing in front of a reinforced metal crate, the color of dull grey. A series of warning labels in Galactic Basic covered the crate.

"Everything in order, then?" Johan asked.

The sniper inserted an electronic key into the crate's port. There was a soft whirr and the latches released. Silas pulled it open.

If there was one thing the Galactic Empire was the best at, it was the production of weapons. When it came to power, the Empire initiated the largest arms buildup in galactic history, and had a thousand different ways of laying waste to it's enemies.

Sitting before the two soldiers was one of its most deadly weapons. A cylinder, only three feet long and only a foot wide. It's simple exterior didn't do it's immense power justice.

It was an anti-matter bomb. One such weapon was capable of laying waste to a large city. It's terrifying potential was only made more so by the portable nature of the bomb. The Authority carried six such weapons, but only one would be needed.

Johan had lied to the Jedi. The plan he had provided them with would have worked. It would have shut down the skyhook, but it was only a half measure. The Jau would have had it fixed in time. But after this bomb was attached and detonated, they would never recover.

"We're closing in on Kaidaga, Sergeant," Thorgim said over the comm. "I've sent the communication."

"Good."

---

"I've Got a Bad Feeling..."
By: Tara Darellia, pilot (NPC+)
Mysterious Passenger (NPC+)

Location: Sarcophagus, burial moon in the Sacorrian System
Date: Vadris 22, 5 ABY

***

Tara Darellia paced nervously at the edge of the small landing pad, a cold wind whipping her blonde hair around her face. "This has to be the stupidest thing I have ever agreed to..." she mumbled to herself. As far as she could see, the landscape was covered with burial markers and mausoleums. All humans have a deep-seated uneasiness about the dead, its part of their collective psyche. Tara was no different. She crossed her arms and hugged her leather flight jacket close around her, only partly due to the cold.

She tried to distract herself by studying a statue not far off. The tall warrior captured in stone wore a long coat and carried a S-curved sword. Tara knew from her frequent visits to Sacorria that this was a Nexi warrior. They were the planet's elite defenders. That is until the Empire destroyed them. Well, most of them. Tara's lips pouted as the name came to her mind uninvited. Omri Kedemoth. She met the Nexi warrior at a station in the Ralikane system three months ago. "Irritating and stubborn," she said out loud. "And handsome..." she thought. "Shut up," she muttered, rebuking herself.

"Tara Darellia."

Startled by the sound, Tara gasped audibly, nearly jumping out of her skin. Spinning around, she groped at the blaster holstered at her hip. "Blast it," she barked. "Do you really think this is the place to sneak up on someone?" Looking up, Tara froze, staring.

For a long moment, the hooded figure did not reply. The long dark cloak gave no clues to the nature of the being, and the hood shrouded the face in darkness. Tara thought this place was creepy, but something about this stranger gave her a very palpable shiver down her spine.

Then the tense silence was broken again by the cold, female voice. "I need passage to the Ralikane System."

"Well, uh....Not many going that way these days. Word is a new government is in control and they don't like strangers." Tara's bad feeling about this deal was getting stronger by the minute.

"I will double your payment," the voice answered, almost seductively. The figure took one step towards Tara. Raising one arm, the figure touched a control on her wrist band just under the cloak's sleeve. A small repulsor sled appeared from behind her carrying several small pieces of luggage.

Tara paused, trying to make out a glimpse of something under the cowl. She finally answered, "OK, follow me." Tara turned toward Tara's Freedom II waiting on the landing pad. It took all of her nerve to turn her back on the stranger, everything in her wanted to walk to the ship backward so she could keep her eyes on her passenger.

Once on board the small Phoenix Hawk-class ship, Tara pointed to the passenger quarters down the corridor and carefully watched the figure move silently through the cabin door before it slid shut behind her. With another shiver and a knot in her stomach, Tara moved to the cockpit to start the launch sequence. She could not remember a voyage she was more anxious to complete than this one.

***

Once inside the small cabin, the stranger lowered the cloak's hood, uncovering a pale female face framed by long black hair and square-cut bangs. The woman could have been beautiful, and was, if one could get past the sinister look in her bloodshot eyes. The woman removed the cloak and threw it over a chair, revealing a gray short sleeve shirt of a form fitting fabric and black pants to match. She moved lithely to the bunk, pulled a long bundle off of the repulsor-sled and removed a curious sword. Mumbling softly to herself, she began to rub an oiled bantha-hide rag along the S-curved blade.

---