Equilibrium: A Star Wars Story

[Effervescent]

Entering the refresher was more astonishing than the state of her room. Ravara surveyed the litter that was scattered about haphazardly. Slovenly lifestyles were born from one of two issues: laziness or depression. Her eyes slowly trailed over the mess until she was met with Prexis once again. Either source of his messy nature would not bode well for the mission. This required focus and care, and doubt began to fill her mind with slight unease. Had this been a mission on her own she would not have to worry so much.


"I've used a blaster rifle," she said. "Though I do not have one personally. I brought a pair of vibroblades, however. The Echani are known for their martial skills in close combat. I intend to look that part as I cannot really avoid being noticed as one."


She sat herself over near the game of dejarik and eyed over the placements. Even a game had gone unfinished and discarded, intended to be continued at a later date. There was a definite trend with Prexis that could not be denied. Ravara rested back in her seat as she crossed her arms over her chest.


"Why did you never finish this game?"

 

[Red Thunder]

"Reasons. Just don't mess with it."


Prexis threw back the shot and dropped the glass into the sink. It clinked against others like it within the metal bin. She would ask about that. Didn't help that she was sitting in the kid's usual spot. Absently the smuggler wondered how Jinn was doing, and whether the guy had even survived the Gambit as he had.


Probably not.


Turning back to her, he raised an eyebrow and smiled wryly as he leaned against the countertop.


"I'd bet you never had time for dejarik anyway. Between studying your 'Force', waving glowy sticks around, and sitting on your butts talking all day, you Jedi must be pretty unfamiliar with the entire concept of 'free time'."

 

[Effervescent]

There was something Ravara felt within Prexis that warned her not to pry. She looked back down at the unfinished game and felt a growing sense of unease within her. She struggled to discern the nature of the feeling and its origins. On one hand, it could be exhuding from Prexis through her connection with the Force. But on the other hand it could just be her and her own disposition.


Brushing away her feelings, she adapted to a more lighthearted air about her as she huffed a small laugh. "You would be surprised. It's not always work for the Jedi, you know. We have free time just like any other person. Granted, more often than not we spend a lot of that time in meditation."


She shrugged somewhat as she rose from the seat. "I've played dejarik before. And sabacc a few times. I'll admit it is not my forte. Gambling isn't allowed within the Jedi, so it was purely recreation. I suppose that may take a bit of the fun out of it?" Ravara wandered over to the sink and peered at the dirty contents piled within. She wanted to clean the entire ship at this point. But that was not her role or her place.


"The temple actually has a large garden with several pools. My favored pastime is swimming, actually. What would yours be?"

 

[Red Thunder]

"Oh, I enjoy answering boring questions designed to create cohesion among teammates that would otherwise have never met. It's right up there with searing out my eyeballs."


His lips pursed in contemplation as he considered Ravara. Jedi, Echani. Presumably she had more skill than those he had listed so disdainfully. Suddenly he turned to go, pausing only to look back at her over his shoulder and beckon her on with an inclination of his head. Purposeful and slow steps carried him through the hallways until they reached the small cargo bay. About the room were a few items of the workout variety: weights, a punching bag, the like. Stacked in one corner were several cushioned floor mats, designed for combat training. Prexis made a beeline for them and began tossing them onto the floor.


"I'd much rather find out if you can hold your own, weaponless and, more importantly, space-voodoo-less." Having arranged them satisfactorily, the smuggler tossed off his long coat, stepped onto the mats, and raised his fists. Now uncovered up to the shoulders, it was plainly evident that both of his arms were completely artificial, the matte black of his metallic hands running uniformly across artificial biceps and forearms to where they met scarred and indeed somewhat blackened skin. He grinned, raising an eyebrow in self assurance. "I promise not to damage your complexion. It's one of the few things going for you."

 

[Effervescent]

Ravara clasped her hands behind her back and elected to move back into her more quiet state. Conversation wasn't much of a forte for the Jedi Knight, but she also never took the time to really work on it. Her thoughts lingered on the pools at the Temple as she followed Prexis through his ship. She had a lot of fun in her youth playing in the waters during her free time. As of late with the rising tension of possible war once again, everything has felt so stiff and serious. The Jedi were constantly working towards keeping the peace now more than ever.


She wanted to sigh as soon as they entered the cargo bay, but she refrained. Keep your fleeting emotions in check, she reminded herself. Her head turned upward somewhat as she approached the equipment, her eyes trailing over the punching bag hanging from the ceiling.


Stepping onto the mats, she shrugged off her jacket and tossed it to the side. Ravara was far less impressive than her counterpart before her. Her figure was lean, her biological arms lanky and hidden under long sleeves. She had no bulk to her despite her fitness, and it showed as she tried to push up her sleeves to her elbows only to have the cuffs fall back down to her forearms.


"Do you still have doubts we can do this mission?" she asked as she readied her stance.

 

[Red Thunder]

"Not at all." Prexis smirked as he watched her approach and throw off her outer layer. Just as he guessed: she had the build of a scholar. That was fine if you wanted to think all day, but to fight? "I just want to know how much I'm gonna have to watch your ass. Well, professionally speaking, anyway."


But despite his assessment, Ravara fell into a well balanced pose, indicating quite distinctly her confidence. Well that was certainly good to know; in spite of he air of self-confidence he put forward, Prexis had little to no pugilistic skill. For him, it was all about the front he put on. The silly tricks and nonsense. The diversion of attention.


He threw a fist, aimed for her head. It wasn't a terribly sportsmanlike thing to do, but given their differences in height, the smuggler could hardly be expected to double over to attack such a short thing. It was a straight forward, easily executed move, and difficult to screw up. But a practiced eye might see the flaws: stance just too wide; his posture just too stiff; his fist rotating to the horizontal, which twisted his artificial forearm bones and robbed him of the solid impact a vertical fist would otherwise have; most importantly, his eyes focused on his target and not the weapons of his opponent. But Prexis smiled as he attacked, exuding confidence even if he didn't really feel it. It was after all a Jedi that he'd just challenged, and this session might end quite poorly for him indeed.

 

[Effervescent]

There was always one thing people assumed about Jedi: that they could just stop using the Force as they pleased. Many believed it was completely visual feats of nature, but few really understood the depth of the Force. It was in everything, and it was ever present. Ravara could never really let go of that aspect as it was a part of who she was. Despite using no offensive moves with the Force, there was no way the Jedi could negate the connection to fully be without the advantage.


She justified it in her mind as Prexis threw the first punch. His cybernetic arm wizzed through the air. It was difficult not to sense it coming, though at his speed she could only move her head away enough to where the metal barely skimmed past her hair. Ducking under the swing, she focused her attacks towards his chest. Her right arm swiftly moved to hit right in the soft hollow of his torso just under the sternum, and immediately followed with a left hook towards his lower ribcage.


There was a calmness that filled her despite the thrill of a fight. Ravara was never one to want to indulge in brawling, but when she had to fight she enjoyed it merely for the connection she felt with the Force. It was mostly why she accepted additional training in Echani martial arts. Their style works well with Force sensitivity, arguably intentionally connected. It remained difficult, however, for Ravara to hold herself back. Most of her attention was dually locked as she focused between Prexis's moves and containing her natural instincts. The calmness would be fleeting should she fail to take him down quickly.

 

[Red Thunder]

Sithing hell, she moves like the wind!


The brief mental observation may have continued were it not interrupted by not one but two swift and hard blows to the middle. The first expelled the remaining air in his lungs; the second caused his abdominal muscles to clench in protest. Prexis had been in fights before; one hardly got involved in the galaxy's underworld without getting into fisticuffs from time to time. But he'd never gone toe to toe with a Jedi before. Scholars they most certainly were, but it seemed they made much use of that downtime to refine their combat skills in addition to their negotiating abilities. He doubled over, wheezing. That, or- Of course. His hands cradled his ribs, clearly in pain, but he smiled.


"Well hell. You pack some power for being so little. Good. You've got something of a wildcard that isn't readily apparent."


Suddenly he swiftly straightened, swinging upwards at her chin with one fist in the other. His arms then above her head, the smuggler drove his elbow down, intending to catch her on the top of her head.

 

[Effervescent]

Her instincts screamed for release as Prexis advanced once again. There were plenty of options Ravara could choose from to counter his attacks, yet none of them were at all natural to her. It was perhaps the downfall of the Jedi; her greatest weakness at least for infiltration. Already she found herself compromised by the conflict within her and this was merely just a test.


Ravara's head was knocked backwards by the blow to her chin, her stance faltering as she stumbled back and away from the next blow only happenstancialy. Now with the space between them, it was in her court to advance and attack. She exhaled a huff of air from her nose audibly as irritation rose, but she had to act quickly before he could ready his own defenses.


He had come down with his elbow meant for her head, his body now in a downward motion. There was only a fraction of a second left now, and her stumble caused her to lose much needed time for a proper advance without using the Force for an attack. Ravara rolled to his side, flanking him, and in that motion swiping with her leg around to his shins. Hopefully that wasn't metal as well.

 

[Red Thunder]

They weren't. Her leg made contact, and helped by his own intended downward momentum, Prexis collapsed backwards. He hit the deck and grunted in pain. Yes, this was a mistake. From where he lay on the ground, he held up a hand in submission.


"Stop! You're, uh," the smuggler having a coughing laugh. "You're quite a bit more than I anticipated. Good. Your demure looks will lull anyone into a false sense of arrogance." He pushed himself up onto an elbow, grimacing. Yep, that fall hurt quite a bit. Perhaps he ought to take exercise seriously again. A hand waved vaguely in her direction. "Go back to your pondering. I'm regretting asking you to do this."

 

[Effervescent]

Rising from her stance, she looked down on Prexis with a thoughtful gaze. It had become second nature to keep her expression within neutrality, but Ravara had always felt it gave off a vibe of apathy when there wasn't a need to be so neutral. Her brows pushed together as she revealed her concern, and extended a hand to help Prexis back to his feet.


"Why did you not fight back?" she asked. Something about his defeat didn't feel right. Here was a man with all this equipment in his ship, and yet he barely put up a fight against her. Sparring didn't have to result in injury, but it didn't mean he had to hold back. Prexis didn't seem to underestimate her now, but even then he shouldn't give up so easily, should he?


"Echani are known for their martial arts," she continued. "And while this makes them a force to be reckoned with in close quarters, their disadvantage is closing the gap. Anything ranged to compensate would be appreciated as I do not plan to take my lightsaber with me."

 

[Red Thunder]

Prexis leaned up and grasped the proffered forearm. And grinned.


"Even with a closed gap, you shouldn't drop your guard."


Throwing himself back as he held Ravara's arm in his strong grip, the smuggler yanked her backwards, using his feet to hoist her over the top of him. Releasing her arm, he rolled to his side and pushed himself up to standing. He smiled down at her smugly.


"They might fight fair in the controlled environment of your Temple, Jedi, but they won't out in the galaxy.


"And neither should we." Turning, Prexis walked over to an open crate. The small box was half full of bottles of water, and he slid one across the floor to her. "Jedi might have some kind of morality they feel the altruistic need to stick to, but it'll get us both killed. Don't forget it."

 

[Effervescent]

She had let her guard down, and it was an important lesson. Her former master had always stressed the importance of being mindful of more than just her surroundings. Ravara had even noted Prexis was being too easy to defeat and give in. The signs were there, and yet there she was flying over top of him by the momentum of his move. She felt the metallic fingers curl tightly around her forearm accompanied by the faint vibrations of the inner kinetics powered by his quick movements. In the seconds before she hit the mats, she contemplated her next move. Prolong the fight to prove herself, or let it go?


There was nothing to prove, however. She rolled to her feet expertly, as he spoke to her, her body barely touching the mat as she pushed away the stray strands of silver hair from her eyes. He looked proud of himself, as if the little move validated him in some manner. He spoke of the Jedi as if he knew how they worked and how they handled sparring. She let it go. It was not for him to know the truth. Her eyes wandered over his face before he turned away to a crate.


The bottled water rolled across the floor, and she stooped down to pick it up. "You are a wise man," she said as she chose to pander instead of correct. The fight was over, and that was her goal. Even if she had to claim defeat, it was the path best chosen. Ravara wanted him confident, not bitter towards her. He had shown far too much resentment for even being paired with a Jedi to begin with. "If there is nothing more you need of me, I shall retire to my quarters to meditate."

 

[Red Thunder]

You are a wise man. A diversion? False praise? It certainly didn't sound genuine. If he hadn't been told otherwise, Prexis might think the Jedi were capable of duplicity. He frowned at the thought. Was Ravara trying to pull one over on him, trying to lure him into a sense of complacency? For...some reason. He had no idea what. Regardless of why, he didn't like it.


Nor did he like this persistence of hers to be alone in her bunk. We're he in her position, the smuggler would want to be finding out everything the ship could do, what his teammate was capable of, anything but sit and...meditate.


Sithing Jedi.


He shrugged at her comment.


"I don't care. If you wanna twiddle your thumbs, be my guest. I'll be busy researching what I can of our location and contact. Ya know: working."


With a small snort, Prexis turned on his heel and strode out the door, making a beeline for the cockpit and ignoring anything else his companion might say.

 

[Effervescent]

She lofted a brow at his reaction, but contributed nothing more. He was entitled to his own opinions, and she didn't particularly care to baby the man and console him in his own logic. And so Ravara quietly walked back to her cluttered room and sat upon the bed. For a moment she did nothing but sit in silence, the hum of the ship's engines acting as white noise to further slip her into momentary meditation.


Her connection with the Force was imperative. It would guide her through every decision and action. After the moment passed, she opened her eyes once more. Leaning down to the end of her bed, she brought her satchel up into her lap and produced her datapad. Through her secured network, she accessed the holonet and began remedial research before delving into splicing. Public logs of political affairs on various planets displayed upon her screen as she roved through articles and protest video files. There seemed to be a trend as some files showcased propaganda displayed months before a system would desire to break away from the Republic.


Backing out of public files, Ravara then requested files on Agent Dag'il. Her status alone allowed her access to some level of information, but it was always enough. Dag'il had been working under cover in the narcotics division of the SIS for nearly a decade on Nar Shaddaa. He was efficient as a mole, able to divert attention with ease to maintain his status in the ring. How he got tied up in political affairs was purely happenstance, by the looks of it. Their upcoming cargo was likely the crates of stolen medicine from Balmorra.


Ravara's lips thinned as her emotions flared and subsided. Stealing medicine meant people in need would go unaided. Her fingers swiped across the screen to research whether or not Balmorra was still part of the Republic. Hopefully they will be returning their supplies.


Her research continued for the remainder of the flight unless interrupted.

 

[Red Thunder]

Damn Jedi. So stoic, so reserved. Always acting like they knew better, never ... real. Was that what bothered him? Prexis had never really been able to put his finger on what it was. Something was just so off about them. It felt wrong somehow, the things they did.


Whatever.


The bridge was atmospheric: the quiet rumble of the engines; the odd, comforting mixture of old electronics, well worn leather seats, and stale alcohol; the ambient glimmer of starlight filtering into the cabin through hyperspace. It was peaceful, relaxing. It let him focus.


He needed to know what they were getting into. Public access files were all well and good; in all likelihood, the Jedi had perused those, if she'd found time between her 'meditations'. But what kind of reputation did their contact have in underground circles? Prexis himself had never heard of Dag'il, though that wasn't good or bad. It was a big Galaxy after all. But a few minutes delving into the corners of the HoloNet through various backdoor programs and access points revealed little of major note, beyond being tied to their mission. Someone, a rodian by the sound of his name, had made a few accusations toward Dag'il on a private board of being connected to he governing body of Nar Shaddaa, but that was off little concern. Conspiracy theories were always bandied about, and every gang lord spread rumors about every other gang lord, just to keep things interesting.


If research into the man himself hasn't revealed much, perhaps looking into their place of rendezvous would. He called up the coordinates that the Chancellor had provided, seeking for any indication of reputation. The dock itself was attached to a club/warehouse combination: an abandoned Sorosub building, recently given the name Getty's Gals. Ah. This place. Should be interesting, being back there. But apart from the general riff raff they were likely to encounter, it looked harmless enough. Prexis kicked back and grabbed a bottle of booze. It was gonna be a long trip.


******


The proximity klaxon went off: they drew near to Nar Shaddaa. Finally; it was like a heavenly bell to him. For all his talk of work and research, Prexis had done little productive. He'd mostly drained beer bottles of their contents and played dejarik against the computer. Even the HoloNet had little in the way of entertainment. So he was getting antsy. Flipping on the intercom, the smuggler grumbled into the microphone.


"Hey Whitey! We're in Nal Hutta space. Gonna be making landing soon."

 

[Effervescent]

She had felt it before his voice infiltrated her meditation.  It was a rare feeling in the Force for Ravara to sense something coming to the point where she couldn't fully interpret what exactly she was sensing.  It could have been the system, or the planet, or Dag'il, or that Prexis had moved to the intercom.  Her eyes eased open as he spoke and adjusted to the soft white lighting within her quarters.  It was time for another mental checklist.



Her fingers unclasped her bag, and for the first time since her mission on Corellia she felt anxiety well within her.  It was the last time she had to work without her lightsaber, and it was an arduous life lesson.  The weapon was quite easily a crutch in so many situations as it was extremely versatile.  It was the start of her learning how to think outside of the box, and while fully capable, she admittedly still held reluctance to break away.  Ravara tucked the weapon back into the bag beneath her robes and slipped on a pair of gloves.
The various vibroblades both visible and hidden were of no comfort.  She always felt the use of them combined with martial skills were far too violent and aggressive.  But it was the nature of the path she chose as a Jedi Knight.  Her partner’s hesitations were admittedly founded.  Could she maintain the necessary façade?



Docking on Nar Shaddaa went smoothly.  It was a smaller port in a shadier district where most of the docking logs were likely forged.  The small amount of people within the port were either loading or unloading crates and equipment or they were in the middle of transactions both quiet and rowdy.  It seemed a great place to pick up an illegal haul.  No one cared that someone was openly trying to barter a price for a crate of spice or that a worker droid was pushing a bin of Federation droid parts to a docking bay.  Ravara’s attention was more towards finding Dag’il, her eyes scanning the clusters of people in the dank open spaces.



“Do you see him?” she quietly asked Prexis.  Their contact was nowhere in sight.  Before she could speculate further, her datapad beeped signaling an incoming message.  She read it over in a brief pause before relaying the message to Prexis.



“This isn't signed.  But whoever sent this said we should meet them in the Asper Lounge.”  She huffed an exasperated sigh though her nose.  Ravara had top level security in place on her device and yet whoever this was had the abilities to splice through it and possibly determine who she was.  Not even five minutes on Nar Shaddaa and they were teetering on the matter of if this was Agent Dag’il or if this was some unknown looking to exploit them, or worse.



“Tell me you know where this lounge is located.”

 

[Red Thunder]

At first he breathed a sigh of relief. Prexis had felt certain that their contact would have been meeting them at Getty's, the warehouse the dock was attached to. But the easy feeling he'd gotten in his gut was replaced with trepidation. He knew where the location in question was, certainly, but the cyborg had never paid it much mind, let alone been inside. And that worried him. Did Dag'il pick such a location because neither of them would know it, thereby giving him the advantage? Or was this a happy accident on Dag'il's part? Prexis didn't know which frightened him more: the former because it belied possible malice, or the latter because it showed incompetence. Hell, who was to say this even was Dag'il sending the message? Maybe their contact was lying dead in an alley somewhere. Regardless, the smuggler felt extremely uneasy. 


"I do," he answered. From the crescent metal bands the framed the outside of his eyes, black lenses popped out with a tck, covering his artificial eyes. "Unfortunately."


His vision shifted, the bright lights of the neon signs dimming and the dull shadows of alleyways and dark corners springing to visibility as the lenses went to work filtering and enhancing the incoming light. The weight of his trusty blaster lay reassuringly against his chest in his chest holster, and he pulled his long coat more tightly around him. He felt like a cornered womp rat. 


"This way."


It was a straightforward path to the Asper Lounge, and after five turnings and ten minutes the pair found themselves standing before an entrance of subtle but exotic construction, the partially open doors the shiny black of Mandalorian iron. It was merely one entrance of a thousand in the multitude of skyscrapers that made up the seedy skyline of Nar Shaddaa, but the ones to the immediate left and right were sealed shut, their steel doors welded together tightly. Before the actual entrance stood a Yezzum. A race of already impressive size, being the same height as a Wookie but about twice as broad, this particular specimen was even larger than that, at perhaps 8'6". His coat of black fur was groomed meticulously, and the enormous hands folded in front on him displayed readily long wicked claws. Prexis, himself not a short man by any accounts, stared at the giant unhappily from where they stood across the street. 


"Sithing fantastic. That message didn't include any passcode to get by the behemoth, did it?"

 

[Effervescent]

The limitations were already testing Ravara's patience.  This would be an easy task were she not under cover.  Her head shook somewhat in response as she studied their surroundings.  Something was off, though she couldn't quite place it.  It was enough for her to feel it best to back out, and she looked over her shoulder in the direction they came in a thought.


"We can try our luck in cargo," she said with a shrug of her shoulder.  "It might go smoother than trying to go in there.  But I have a feeling if we go in there it won't be good."


"Hey."


An unfamiliar voice cut in as a male twi'lek approached the pair.  His orange lekku was draped over his shoulders just around the dull colored scarf tucked within a leather jacket.  He smirked at the two revealing his set of sharp teeth, his eyes covered by thick and sporty shades.  In his hand he held out a disc.


"Check out my new album," he said.  "Just dropped.  Best lyrics you ever heard."  The twi'lek practically shoved the disc into Prexis's chest.  "A hundred twenty credits a pop, though.  It's reasonable.  You're going to love it.  Remember the name Stagitus when I make it big."

 

[Red Thunder]

The smuggler's hand began moving to his concealed weapon before the thing was shoved into his grasp. Shaking his head, he cradled the proffered disc. Exchanging info this way was neither the most surreptitious nor the least; it was just damn awkward. His mouth adopted a suitable sneer as he examined their messenger. 


"Please," he drilled condescendingly. No delivery boy was worth 120 credits. "Who'd pay that kind of money to hear an up and coming, self produced wanna-be babble on about how many credits he had or how much he loves banging his best ho? I don't really care how much the world loves wanna-best; that's too much."


Narrowing his eyes behind his own glasses, Prexis examined the disc as he considered their options. It was very much just like every other data disc out there: thin, circular, and highly reflective on the underside. They could always make a break for it, just leaving the sod speachless in the crowd. Ravara would never go for that, though. It was besides a very unwise move: if the messenger were as unconnected as Prexis thought he was, he could just as easily turn and whisper the information into the ears of something less than friendly. Paying him straight what he wanted was a bad idea also: the Twi'lek had likely aimed high for his tip, and a purchase like this without a bargain would raise eyebrows.


Nodding slowly, Prexis glanced at his companion before answering their waylayer. 


"A hundred. That's it. The twenty extra I'm going to have to use for audio therapy afterwards." His eyes twitched to the club's entrance before looking back. If this wasn't their ticket, they'd have to get inside. Somehow. Sithing hell, this disc better be what they need. "Last offer."

 

[Effervescent]

How strange to request so much for so little.  Ravara turned her body away from the Asper Lounge as the twi'lek jumped at the offer.  She glanced over at Prexis in thought as an exchange was made.  One hundred credits for a simple small disc.  The budding artist walked away without much of an argument in the matter and left the two with a thanks and nothing more.


"I think that can fit in a kiosk," Ravara noted quietly.  Her silver eyes watched as the twi'lek rounded a dirty corner and walked out of view behind a tower.  There was no disturbance felt within the Force.  At least for now.


she gently plucked the disc away from Prexis's grasp and walked down the wide sidewalk to the nearest kiosk.  This particular district wasn't heavily populated.  The few around were either loitering or meandering to their next destination, likely to get drunk.  Ravara stuck the disc into the chit slot.  It snapped into place, and the screen immediately prompted for a PIN.

1 - 2 - 0

​

The screen went blank, and then was replaced with one word:

G U N D A R K

​

"I think we have our password," she said to Prexis as she removed the disc.  "Let's go."


She took point out of habit.  It was natural for her, and it had always been a part of her shortcomings as a Jedi.  It wasn't that she thought him incapable.  It was more that it did not even cross her mind.  It was only when they approached the imposing yezzum that it occurred to her.  The bouncer barely regarded Ravara as he looked between the two.  Prexis, in almost every manner, looked more intimidating.  While her cover was solid and expanded upon her lineage, she was still a rather small and lean woman, and vibroblades never really carried the same vibe as a trusty pistol.


"Gundark," Ravara stated confidently.  The yezzum held his gaze on Prexis as if she didn't exist, eyeing him over suspiciously before stepping aside.


"Through the main floor," the bouncer said in his native tongue, "down the hall in the corner, up the stairs.  He'll be the third right."


She looked over at Prexis before entering the darkened hall.  Muffled synth and catchy beats filtered into the black, and just as the yezzum closed the entrance, the door before them hissed open.  The Asper Lounge was full of a deep blue glow, it's metallic walls warped purposefully to create an illusion as the lights splayed upon it making the main floor look like it was a nebula.  Scantily clad dancers worked their routines upon stages surrounded by holographic starlight.  The establishment was rather upscale despite its exterior.


Following the directions, the two would find themselves before the third door on the right.  Inside sat Agent Dag'il lounging upon a couch watching huttball. "Come on in," he said to the duo as he sat up.  "Can I get you anything?  Care to watch the game with me?  It just started."

 

[Red Thunder]

As Dag'il made his offer, Prexis suddenly remembered why he had never been inside the Asper Lounge before. Thugs and gang members of innumerable races now stood between them and their exit; if this talk went badly, the two of them were going to have one hell of a time trying to get back out. The Asper Lounge had a nasty reputation among smugglers and deal makers for its winding and often confusing turns and hallways into back rooms of various purposes, and there was no such thing as an easy way out. Doing his best to shove the worry into the back of his mind, Prexis laughed nonchalantly. 


"It did?" he remarked as he rounded the couch to sit beside the informant. "The Black Rancors must be having a bad season then, to already be a point behind!"


He threw his arm across the back of the sofa casually, glancing at Ravara as he did. A nod of his head toward the door would hopefully be enough to suggest that she watch it closely while the two men discussed the Chancellor's plan. An ancient looking protocal droid approached the smuggler, offering to take his drink order, but he declined. As it turned to Ravara to do the same, Prexis kicked out his feet and eyed the vidscreen critically. 


"In fact, these Rancors are doing so poorly, I'll bet you the use of my cargo bay they never score a single point all match."


@Effervescent

 

[Effervescent]

The door hissed to a close behind them after they filed into the private room.  Ravara turned her head somewhat towards their only exit as it sealed, her silver eyes flicking back towards Prexis as he plopped down on the sofa and nodded towards the door.  Dag'il grabbed a couple of bottles of chilled Bonadan and held one out to Ravara.  She politely declined with a shake of her head and he shrugged in return before offering up the bottle to Prexis.  The agent plopped down onto the other end of the couch, taking a swig of his own beverage before pulling out a device.  Its lights flickered as he set it on the coffee table.


"Alright," he said as his tone shifted.  Dag'il straightened in his seat and drank more deeply from his bottle before setting that on the glass table as well.  "The goods were stolen.  All the supplies.  The boss is pissed, but only because some of his men got injured that he wanted for another job.  They don't care enough about those supplies to go looking for it."


Ravara's brow furrowed at the news, her lips pulling with her contemplation as she realized their predicament had an incredible setback.  The whole operation hinged on this supply drop on Correlia that was now rendered inoperable.  She looked between the two as she pushed back her concern, hopeful that Prexis was devising a plan as well to figure out what they could do to compensate for the loss.


"Do you know who took the supplies?" she asked Dag'il.


"They call themselves the Children of Rust," he said.  "Basically orphans who run rampant around these parts.  Don't be fooled by their age or anything.  They've killed plenty just for scraps of food.  I've been ordered not to interfere with them even after all this.  I'm afraid you guys are on your own if you want those supplies."


@Red Thunder

 

[Red Thunder]

Prexis' brow furrowed. Dag'il had just dropped all pretext; he probably wanted to avoid trouble for himself, knowing full well that though they might not make it out alive, his two visitors could easily end the spy's life in retribution. And the smuggler wasn't sure it wouldn't be warranted: if the Chancellor himself had arranged this deal, it presumably carried great importance. Possibly many lives were at stake. And more importantly, Prexis' pay off. 


"And of course it's not your problem at all," he sneered, the attempt at pleasantries when they'd first arrived gone in his frustration. "So don't expect your help, right? Leave it to the old man's thugs. Sithing hell.


"Fine." He stood up, fists balled, and turned toward the door. "Where are these 'Children of Rust'? The plan as I understand it won't work without those supplies, so I guess we'll have to go get them back." Eyebrow raised, he glanced at Ravara. "Unless you have some insight."


He weighed heavily on the word, assuming his companion would get his meaning. 

 

[Effervescent]

Ravara felt her concern well within her like water filling a glass and found herself hoping Prexis could come up with a plan. Children as an obstacle was unexpected to top off their current road block.  But he was just as frustrated, though more outwardly apparent, and she knew she needed to calm her concerns quickly.  Gathering the Force around her, she allowed it to flow, and with it, remove the metaphorical glass container that nearly overflowed with her anxiety.  What remained was a calm exterior that merely observed until Prexis spat his words in her direction with heavily laden emphasis.  Dag'il rested back on the sofa, upholstery creaking as the agent knocked back a swig from his bottle.


The agent brazenly held up a rude gesture to Ravara as she eyed him, perhaps knowing what she was doing in her observation.  Being read by a Jedi likely did not feel welcome, but in situations such as this it was necessary.  She did not feel anything sinister with Dag'il, and based on his unwillingness to aid them further suggested he was more or less just lazy and less patriotic.  She cast her eyes back to Prexis.


"We need the supplies," she said to him in a low tone.  "Or just any supplies that will do the job."  She turned her attention over to Dag'il.  "Do you know where the shipment was intended to go?"


"Corellia," he stated simply.  "Look, I've got my orders and you've got yours.  You have a complaint?  File it with Intelligence.  I'll lose my job if I go against my superiors, and the only way to override that is to get my cartel bosses to want to go after them.  No one wants to deal with the Children of Rust.  Not even you two, apparently."