Toxicity: Obas, A Prelude to Alarm

[Estelle Russard]

Not many of the missions Estelle had the honor of being a part of for the Rebel Alliance started out with as much tension as this trip to Obas had. In fact, she was not able to recollect a one. Even the nerves of her first few rookie assignments did not equal the stressballs rolling about her innards like the loose ends of spiked metal maces. And, the anxiety was not caused by the task set before her, but rather by the dynamic between the parties with whom she'd been sent to accomplish it.

Aurelias and Grace had achieved a tenuous truce since their departure from Dantooine, but it had no body fooled. The undercurrent was palpable, and Estelle was certain the strained civility would not last.

Not with Kazaar doing his darndest to provoke things, thats for sure.

Assistant Director Van Derveld was to be commended for her sheer command of will in not biting to Kazaar's relentless remarks and unveiled sneers. If you asked her, Russard felt her partner trod the precipice of insubordination on more than one occassion, and it was probably up to her to pull him into line since she had been given the designation of Senior Operative by Dasquian Belargic at the mission briefing. But that was a hat that had yet to sit well with the young rebel. Russard was more than comfortable in yanking her partner into line with a sharp rebuke or, more effectively, a jab in the ribs with a well-placed elbow. But to pull rank...well, that was another thing, and something she needed to build up her courage for. So far, it was something she had not been able to do.

And the stress spike-balls continued to roll.

"Obas should be coming up on the grid any moment" Estelle announced to no one in particular as their ship traversed the vast black of space.

Their mission was simple: Find out what the heck was going on at the Rebel Base there.

Alliance headquarters had received a priority transmission from the Base requesting help, and then...nothing. Not a peep. The Base Administrator, Ravenna Huber, was uncontactable, all that was out there was dead space. Extremely worrisome, given the importance of the site.

Obas, located in the Expansion Region, was valuable in that it was a central access point for relaying and co-ordinating information throughout the rebel network. The silence could just be a result of atmospheric interference, something not uncommon given the volcanic landscape and isolation of the planet. However, the urgent transmission seemed to preclude something as innocuous as the weather.

Estelle watched the screen, unconsciously biting on the end of her thumbnail. "Shall we try reaching Huber again?" she asked, knowing that it would be a longshot. Huber had not tried to contact them, that nothing had changed in the Admin's status was obvious. "We might just get lucky" she said, not really believing it.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

"C'mon Kid." Kazaar smirked from 'is seat next t'Estelle. "I taught ya better'n that. Ya know damn well Huber ain't there. Wherever th'frack she is...we ain't gonna be able t'find 'er."

"Which means she'll probably find us." Estelle finished, earnin' a nod from 'er partner. They'd both read Huber's file and knew she was a pretty smart cookie, who knew if she sent a distress call, it'd get answered. 'Course if th'Empire was involved, it'd mean they'd be expectin' Rebel involvement. And neither agent was sure 'bout that.

Kazaar forced 'imself outta his chair and headed towards th'back o'the ship. He was headed f'one of th'airlocks. Not t'blow 'imself into space (Kazaar was pretty sure Gracey'd be happy if he did), but t'light up a cigar. Part o'the deal th'Kid'd worked out between he and Gracey. Th'ship remained non-smoking, but th'airlock wasn't. So Kazaar got t'enjoy his fine tobacco, while Gracey enjoyed a nice, clean ship. Though he had t'admit, the thought of the Number Two person in Bossman's organization crinklin' her nose at th'smell o'tobacco was a good thought. Just like ashin' on Gracey's boots were. Which he'd all ready done. Twice.

Th'airlock opened and Kazaar slid down 'gainst th'wall. A moment later he was puffin' away on one o'his dark cigars. What th'frack was goin' on Obas. And why did Kazaar have that prickly feelin' in the back o'his neck things weren't gonna be great? "Kazaar! Director Van-Derveld!" Th'Kid's voice called from th'comm. "Get up here!"

Somethin' was up. Ignorin' th'non-smoking rule, he ran from th'airlock to th'cockpit and stared out into space. Star Destroyers. Three of 'em hovered like teeth over Obas.

Th'Empire was here.

"Guess we know why we haven't heard from Huber..."

[Aurelias Kazaar]

"Unidentified ship, please state your reasons for being here or be fired upon." Th'comm suddenly crackled up as th'lead Star Destroyer hailed 'em. Frackin' Imperials, always trying t'show how great they were. Kazaar was halfway tempted t'tell 'em they could kiss th'Imperial insignia tattooed on his right buttcheek, but thought better.

"Lemme talk t'em." He grabbed th'comm away from Gracey, took a puff from 'is cigar, and spoke. "Well how'z it goin' there pahdner." Th'Rebel spy's accent changed from his guttural tones t'a quicker drawl (like somethin' outta some space western, th'Kid noticed). "My name's Rex Austin, son of Carter Austin, the head of MandalMotors. We just came in frum The Wheel and was lookin' to tear the place up a bit. Wee-yoo!" Kazaar shut off th'comm and winked.

He could hear th'confusion in th'Imp's voice. "Tear the place up...?You do realize Obas isn't exactly known for its entertainment."

"Well of course son, why do ya think I wan' to go there." Kazaar/Austin chuckled. "I'm scouting out the place to set up my own droid shop down. That an' I got two fine ladies to spend som' time with." Another laugh. "Just don' tell their daddies. They think they're onna university trip." The two shared a laugh, th'Imp's more nervous than th'gamblin' businessman. Feh. sucker.

"Very well...enjoy your stay. You may want to check out The Floundering Kitehawk. I hear their whiskey is excellent."

"Well shoot, son, you jus' made a friend. Hope to see ya there!" Th'connection cut off an' Kazaar started pilotin' th'freighter towards th'planet below.

Th'former bounty hunter gave a look towards Gracey'n th'Kid. "Think we oughta start out there. Oughta get some info on th'raid. Figure out how th'frack the Empire got here."

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Van-Derveld held back a biting remark. She honestly couldn't care less that Kazaar had taken it upon himself to spat out a cover story to get them a clearance for landing. It was an occurrence that happened plenty of times in the past with her partner, Belargic, and other field Agents.

It was just that it was him that snatched the comm away that Grace wanted to ripped his hand off and shove it down his throat. However, she made a promise to herself and would keep her detestation of Kazaar in check and focus on the mission.

"With the increased Imperial presence, I'll have to be extra cautious." With the bounty on her head, her face had been plastered from one corner of the galaxy to the next. All she needed was some minor touch ups and she'd be fine. "Excuse me," she said, bumping into Kazaar so he'd move out of her way since he was blocking her leave with his legs.

Entering her quarters, Grace pulled out a suitcase from underneath her bunk and opened it. Various shapes and colors of wigs folded out on a three tier ladder. She chose a blonde, medium length, layered one where the hair curled inward to hugged at her collarbone. With the idiotic accent that Kazaar pulled out, she topped it off with suede Outer Rim styled hat so she'd fit the part. The rest of her attire worked well for a University student on holiday. Black slacks that covered all but the very tips of her hiking boots (And the hold out blaster strapped to her ankle), and the steel grey jacket that was double lined in fur (which had plenty of hidden pockets for her equipment), that was worn over a white loose fitting blouse.

Tidying her mess, Grace made a detour to the airlock and opened up the small 4X4 access panel that was used to jettison smaller objects when the larger space was unnecessary.

Unbeknownest to Kazaar, Van-Derveld had palmed his cigar box. The idiot probably had more, but it gave her some simple satisfaction of deploying the almost full box of them into space with a delightful sigh.

[Estelle Russard]

The screen display noted the airlock release, a momentary blinking light that ceased almost as quickly as it began. Estelle saw the indicator, but gave it little regard. Instead, she turned to her partner and warned him in her most serious voice, "Dont go too over the top on this one, Aurelias"

"Wha? You think the accent was too much?" he queried.

"Thats not what I meant, and you know it" she chided, not returning his lazy grin. "I mean with AD Van-Derveld. I have enough to worry about without you pushing as many buttons as you can, making things..." she searched for the right word..

"Tense..?" Kazaar offered, his eyes laughing.

"Yes, tense" she agreed. "We need to be...um...professional"

Kazaar quirked an eyebrow.

"Professional and...polite" Estelle continued. "And have our wits...stop laughing! Im being serious!" Russard stopped just short of stomping her foot. Damn him.

Grace returned to the cockpit and Estelle fell into a sullen scowl at her smirking partner. She wondered if she'd be sent to the brig if she shot him. Perhaps they'd commend her instead, give her one of those darn medals he pretends he loaths. That would show him.


"The disguise is good" she smiled to Grace. "We're coming up on the docking bay now" Estelle announced. "Kazaar you will take the lead getting us to the Kitehawk, seeming you've established yourself as the sugar daddy of the group. Once there, we will fan out, pick up any intel we can and move forward from that point"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar's response was a lazy salute which earned a glare from both Th'Ked and Gracey. Feh, both of 'em needed t'learn t'lighten up. 'Course, th'Kid was probably all in knots 'cause Gracey was 'round and Gracey had 'er panties all inna wad 'cause...well she was Gracey. She frackin' always had 'er panties inna wad.

He rose from 'is seat, then slipped a hand into his jacket pocket and pulled outta small bantha leather case. It'd actually been a gift from Delly back when they were together, something he'd never really bothered getting rid of (and why th'frack should he? It was a cigar case and a real nice one too). 'Sides, it had his initials 'AK' embroidered on it. Kinda a nice gesture and he'd started carrying it 'round after their last encounter. Sure it brought up some bad memories at times, but he still carried 'round th'lighter Ash'd given him so he figured it might be time t'start carrying th'cigar case. Since, ya know, he was acknowledging Delly existed again. Even if they weren't talkin'.

Kazaar stuck his next t'last cigar in his mouth, changed from his T-shirt to a long-sleeved shirt with a dark jacket over it. Figured it'd give 'im a good 'nough look of a businessman with creds t'space. He also slipped on a pair o'sturdy boots and reached for his stash o'space cigars. Which weren't there. What th'frack? He was pretty damn sure he'd brought an extra box. In fact, he knew he'd brought an extra box. He was 'bout t'storm up to th'cockpit and give Gracey hell (since it had t'be her who did that crap) when Estelle's words came back:

"Don't go too over the top on this one, Aurelias."

Son of a bitch. Well, he'd never promised 'er he wouldn't do that, but he had his own ways o'gettin' back at Gracey for it. Kazaar shook 'is head then grabbed a bottle o'red dye. He'd never been t'Obas but ya never knew who actually knew who he was.

A moment later he was back up in th'cockpit. "Here, Kid. Might wanna use it just in case. " Few minutes later, th'trio strolled outta th'ship and into Obas' heavy gravity.

Their journey t'the bar was short'n sweet and Kazaar nodded at the bar's Gran bouncer (damn those guys were everywhere). "Hey sohn, can you make sure my gals get a good enough time? The blonde is a real firecracker." He clapped his hands together. "Shoot man you'd really like her." Kazaar tossed 20 creds to th'Gran and walked away.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Grace had a wide eyed look of wonder as she surveyed Obas during their trek over. This was the sort of planet that would make a studious bookworm's mouth gap open in awe at the perilous volcanos in the distance, or how each step down the street caused her to readjust her footing until they could acclimate to the change in gravity. Grace wouldn't have any trouble normally. Her training at the Imperial Academy on Corulag and especially Carida, and later with the Rebellion, had included adjustment techniques used for balance and fighting for low and high gravity worlds.

"Oh ain't he a spitfire," she said and whacked the Gran with her purse playfully with an obnoxious laugh. "But I won't be needin' any chaperoning, hun. Have fun with his money tho!"

She threw him a wave over her shoulder and pretended to absently look around the bar as if not knowing what to do. Grace was looking for the right kind of group that would be more attracted to her derriere as she asked some well placed questions.

"Hmm," she tapped at her chin as she spotted a group of Humans playing a game of pool on the upper deck.

Grace casually made her way up the stairs and approached shyly. One of the Humans noticed her and signaled to his friends to turn around. She approached and rocked back and forth on her heels, once, and gave them her best naive smile. "Hi guys. This looks like fun."

Two of them melted with her rosy voice, the other two leered towards one another, knowing that they scored tonight.

[Estelle Russard]

Estelle, with her newly minted red hair and a pair of dark sunglasses on, trailed in behind her companions. The Gran looked at her, and she waved her hand dismissively. "Keep the money, sugar. I'm sure I can find myself a lil place to sit and stay out of trouble." She added a splendid smile, which that, along with the sequined halter top she was wearing, made the Gran dubious that she, or anyone around her, would be staying out of trouble.

Russard noted that Grace had gone upstairs and Kazaar had drifted off to someplace unseen deeper within the bar. For her part, she took up a seat at the barcounter itself, placing herself at a vantage point to watch the door. She would be the first line of defence should any Stormies roll in for some on-duty cruising or some off-duty carousing. "I'll have a Kuat Rain, straight-up" she said as she squiggled herself onto a stool, "with one of those pepper-stuffed olive thingies on a lil stick." Another flirtatious smile and Estelle spun on her seat to look out over the clientele. Another bar, another collection of lost faces to look over. She could read almost every lifestory in the slouching patrons as they nursed their drinks. She'd like to blame it on the Empire, but hopelessness was not just a condition rendered by the Imperials. Lifting her drink, she decided that it certainly wasn't in spite of it either. Hope was not a commodity abunant on the planet Obas.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar's wanderin' took him deep into th'club. Turns out it had a pretty big dance floor, but th'genius DJ was playing some frackin' loud music which made his ears ring. He wanted t'smack th'guy and make 'im play something that people could actually dance to, but th'wigglin' of one of th'female Cathar made 'im decide not to. Wasn't every day ya saw a Cathar get as frisky as a Cizerack. 'Course when he saw th'Caamasi next t'er trying t'do the same thing, Kazaar just shook his head and headed towards th'back bar. Some people just didn't need t'dance.

"Shot anna brew." Kazaar/Austin kept his unknown accent for th'female bartender behind the counter. "Best stuff ya got, m'dear." He gave a cocky smile and stretched th'muscles he hadn't loosened 'nough since he'd exited th'ship.

"Someone has credits to burn." The girl smiled as he poured him a glass of beer, then slid a smaller glass of whiskey towards him. "What's the celebration?"

He drained th'shot pretty quickly and motioned for another. Wasn't too often he drank while onna mission, despite Kazaar's love for booze, but he had t'play th'role of a hotshot executive so he got t'cheat a bit. "Just came in frum the Wheel and wuz lookin' for sum fun, sweetie. Thought Obas would be a nice place to relax and raise sum hell. Drum up some business. Wasn't expecting an Imperial prescence, I thought Obas wuz neutral?"

The girl's smile was nervous but inna good way. "Well it is. But five days ago the Empire showed up and started establishing a base here." She threw a look towards the door, as if she were 'fraid a buncha stormies could blow in an' arrest her for talkin' outta place. Frackin' Empire. "I really shouldn't be saying this, but I think they thought the Rebels were hear." A really nervous smile. "I've never seen one in my life."

"Sweetie, ya got nuthin' to worry from me." Kazaar gave a smile and took another swig. "I just wanna party and maybe set up a business for my own. Now, first Imperials you see come in 'ere, you get me and I'll buy 'em a drink." Another smile. "Gotta get on their good side right?"

[Grace Van-Derveld]

If Grace had wanted to, she could have taken the humans through the ringer and walked away with a good 500 credits between the four of them. To keep up the facade, she whiffed the cue ball several times and barely clipped the edge of it, causing the shaggy brown haired human to chuckle, who she had learned his name was Reagan.

"Sweetie! You're not holding the stick right. Here." He came around and nestle in behind Grace, reaching around back to hold the pool stick from behind and helped to line up the shot. "Line it up like this."

Grace held up a strict face of concentration, with her tongue poking out and one eye closed, and with some guidance by Reagen, she managed a clean break.

"You make this look so easy," she slapped him on the shoulder. He managed a rather handsome smile while his hand found a comfortable place against her waist.

"Lots of practice," he grinned. "So, Sabia what brings you around these parts? That accent sounds more from around Rinn."

"Ya got me," Grace said, turning around and resting either hand on the pool table so that she and Reagan could be face to face. "Decided to take a small holiday from school and get a glimpse of other places. I'm not traveled well."

Reagan's friends chuckled at that.

"So Austin wanted to scout out some locations for his business. He found me and my friend and decided to take us on a short trip here. Cept he's a bit concerned with what happened here. Something about Rebels?" Grace gave her best appalled look with just a tremble in her voice, but not too over the top.

"Yeah, there were," came the answer from one of his friends chalking up his cue stick. "But you don't have to worry about that anymore."

"Don't mind him. Kral likes to gloat," said Reagan. "Ain't that right?"

Grace turned around with a curious expression, and to get a better look at Kral, but she didn't have to guess that this guy was an Imperial in civilian clothes. "Wait, gloat?" a glimmer of understanding sparkled in her eyes. "Are you an Imperial?"

Two fingers to his bushy black brows, he saluted. "Guilty as charged, Miss. We hate having to set up shop here since Obas is neutral, but the local government allowed the Empire a presence here to ensure that all of the insurgents are found."

Grace didn't look convinced. "Is it safe here? I just came for fun and sightseeing, that's all. I don't want to end up in some firefight cuz I was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Sure it is. Now that we're here." Kral lined up a shot and went back to his game. He was rather skinny fellow. She'd probably peg him as a fighter pilot or a technical officer. Probably the former with his attitude.

"Mind if I ask a favor Kral?"

He sunk the yellow ball and looked up over his pool stick. "Well, depends on the favor."

Grace forced a blush, "Well, Austin, that's the guy who's looking to start a business here. See, he was kind enough to fly me around and be nice to return the favor. And well," she clicked her tongue nervously, "Well, maybe you could talk to him about how feasible that is now? I know he'd be cautious now with the talk of terrorists and all that. He'd want to make sure his investment is safe y'know."

Kral's lower lip puffed out and he shrugged. "I don't have any authority in that kinda stuff, but I can answer his questions to the best of my ability and of course, point him to others that can fill in the gaps. I can only talk about what I'm cleared for in regards to public relations."

"Oh I know," Grace said with glee and clapped her hands. "Thank you! Here!" she quickly untangled herself from Reagan's arms and grabbed Kral's hand. "I"ll take you to him and buy you a drink!"

As Kral was whisked away by 'Sabia', he glanced over his shoulder and gave his friends a dren eating grin.

"I hate Imperials," Reagan admitted with a sigh and went back to chalking up his cue. "Women just love a military man ..."

[Estelle Russard]

Estelle spied Grace coming down the stairs with a man in tow who'd donned a blissful smile on his lips. Inwardly she laughed, the man was going to be one disappointed fellow by the end of the evening. Russard was not a betting gal, but she'd lay good credits that what he had in mind for the evening would fall far short of the night's actual outcome. Van-Derveld maneuvered between the tables, casting a casual glance that brushed lightly over Russard, a sly smile tugging at her lips.

"Oh its so busy in this place" Russard announced to no body in particular, yet three male heads (two patrons and the barkeep) turned their attention to the sound of her voice. "Its like you've been overrun by an army" she giggled. Two snorts and an sneer from her audience. Interesting...not everyone is pleased the Empire has visible presence in Obas. Estelle spun on the stool toward the barman, exposing a teasing amount of thigh, "I bet you must be so happy with all this business, lil backwater place like this" she gushed.

The barman dried the glass in his hand with unnecessary force and answered noncomittally, "Credits all add up the same, I spose"

"Yes, but it hasn't always been like this has it?" she asked with wide eyes, as if tackling some great cosmic theory far beyond her feminine intellectual capacity. "I'd always heard Obas was a lil getaway place for folks lookin for a change of pace. Not much here, is there? Why all the soldier guys all a sudden? I swear.." she added like a dimwit, "those Imperial guys had their ships parked up all over the stars out there when we came in." She leaned forward a ways, blinking big brown eyes and sipping her drink.

"Who cares?" chimed in the man beside her, "The Empire does as it pleases."

"Quiet" the barman warned him brusquely. Estelle picked up on the definite distrust that was palpable amongst her present company. "You want another drink lady, or we done here?" he said, the warning in his tone letting Russard know she was not on a popular subject.

"Im not quite ready for another yet" she said with a big smile, "But thats bound to change anytime now, sweetie."

She turned back toward the direction Grace and Kazaar were located,drink to her lips.

For now, it was enough to know that there were some in this bar who were not enamoured of the Empire. That information may eventually be quite useful.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

"Shoot son," Kazaar was in full 'Austin' mode, doin' his best t'impress th'guys 'round 'im, without going overboard. If ya went overboard, there was always th'chance someone was gonna check out ya story. And if it didn't mesh up, well..."You gotta be able to show who's boss in the board room. Take for instance, this one negotitation mah daddy had with Arakyd Industries. The numbnuts wanted us to go down 20 percent on our arrangement. So what we did instead was go to five, then Daddy told them about certain 'photos' he'd gotten on the chief negotitator and a vornskr. Well that ended the negotiations right there and we got the contract." Funny thing was, everything Kazaar was sayin' was true. 'Course it hadn't been him who'd gotten th'photos. That'd been Ash's doin'. But that was besides th'point.

"Hey sweetie." He turned t'Gracey knowin' it just had t'grate 'er. "What do you have there?"

"A real-life Imperial." Kazaar had t'admit, Gracey was doin' a good job at playin' an airhead, wide-eyed university student.

"Kral." Th'two shook hands.

"Rex Austin. So what can I do for you Mister Kral."

"I was just about to ask you the same thing. Sabia here says you wanted to know more about the planet."

"Jist your set up here really." Kazaar/Austin handed Kral a drink of hard liquor. Best way t'loosen a guy's lips. "I'm thinking of setting up a small factory here. Was gonna talk to the local leaders, but since you guys are here..."

"I see. Well, I would talk to General Raythgar, he's the one in charge of the operation." Kral gulped down his glass and took another. "Problem is, he won't be here until tomorrow."

That was actually pretty interestin'. Most commanders like t'be on th'ground as quickly as possible. Stakin' their claim t'the planet and all. "There a reason?"

"Something about Rebels still being spread out across the city." Th'alcohol had loosened Kral's lips even more. "Not too bad, but groundpounders aren't doing their job. Palpatine's bones, they ought just let us bomb the poodoo outta them. That'd solve the problem pretty well."

Kazaar threw a glance towards th'Kid and Gracey. So there were still Rebel forces out there somewhere. Not a lot by th'sound o'it, but 'nough t'keep th'Empire 'round. Well, hurtin' 'em wasn't that bad.

Krall looked at his watch. "Frell, I hafta get back to the base." He gave a leering smile towards 'Sabia'. "Wanna come back wit' me girl? I know a nice place where we can enjoy the night sky..."

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Grace looked astonished. "Is that even allowed?"

Krall stood up with a cheeky grin and clasped her hand in assurance. "Yeah, we can get passes so it's all legit."

Legit for your tralks to enter you mean ...but that thought was kept to herself. She remained impressed, but not overly swooning at his advances. Innocent Sabia might not use all of her braincells, but she was going to play hard to get. The longer it took for his hands to wander instead of trying to impress her with a tour of the base, the more information Grace would be able to scout for her team. And this wasn't the first time she had used her womanly assets to sneak onto an Imperial Base, though the last time was far more uncomfortable in the corset and garters ...

"Well, long as you'll think it'll be OK, I don't see why not," she smiled and bit her lip teasingly, but had to make sure it was all right with her chaperon. "Course that's up to Cowboy here."

[Aurelias Kazaar]

'Austin' shrugged. "I don't at all son. Gives me time t'scope out the entire area. I've got to go back to my ship and get a few things. Krall, go show Sabia a good time." He lifted his glass in salute. "Besides.." He bent down and suddenly hoisted th'Kid over 'is shoulder. "I wanna have some fun of my own!"

Th'two Rebels were outta th'club a moment later and Kazaar set 'er down. "Frack kid, ya got some muscle on ya." He whispered as th'two started walkin' away, still doin' th'drunk couple thing. They'd gone 'bout halfway towards th'landing area, when Kazaar slipped into an alley. "'Nough playin'. We gotta figure where those Rebs are. See anythin' interesting in th'bar?"

[Estelle Russard]

Russard fell forward against her partner, keeping in the character of a drunkard, and backed him up against the building wall. Kazaar frowned at her and did his best to shore her upright against him. Her head lolled and she smiled dreamily, "hello, Austin..."

"Will ya knock it off, kid" Kazaar growled.

Estelle lolled her head to the otherside like a flopping ragdoll and looked up at her partner through the strands of her hair, smiling at him goofily. It threw Kazaar for a minute, and he wondered just what she'd drunk at the bar while waiting for them. "Kid..?" He was pretty sure she was faking. Pretty sure. Her goofy grin was still in place, but her eyes suddenly focused and pinned him in their severity, "Dont you ever lump me over your shoulder like that again, Aurelias" she said, "And Im big boned - it runs in my family"

She straightened herself up, yet remained close so they could fall back into character incase someone passed by.

"I only know that there are sympathizers against the Empire in the bar. I dont think it would take much to gain their confidence. I have a feeling they know something. Where did Grace go?"

[Grace Van-Derveld]

On the outskirts of town, roughly about 20 kilometers south of The Floundering Kitehawk, a temporary Imperial base had been established about one week ago. They hadn't determined if anything should remain permanent. That decision was being postponed for another two weeks to allow them more time to root out the Rebels that still survived. They were still valiantly searching the town and the nearby mountains for any terrorists.

Alcohol had loosened Krall's lips so nicely for Grace to pry out that information ... If he only knew one of those terrorists were sitting right next to him in the Repulsor Scout. Krall had long since wrapped an arm around her shoulders, massaging her arm tenderly during their chit chat. One of her hands had found a place on his leg.

"Next hill and we're at the first checkpoint," he said almost too enthusiastically, but as promised, there it was.

A mobile base caught her attention first with a squadron of Stormtroopers in formation around it. Two landspeeders were practicing maneuvers off in the distance between e-web repeaters ...

"Hey, Saaarge!" Grace's wide eyed idiot stare became friendly. She turned excitedly towards the Stormtrooper, leaning into Krall's arm.

"Hey, yourself," he said and gave 'Sabia' a wistful look. "This is Sabia. We met back at the Hawk. Figure I bring her along since I needed to get back."

"I bet," he replied, the helmet hiding his leering gaze. "'Cept new orders. No civilians past the first checkpoint."

"Ah krasst! You're kidding me!" He cupped his mouth, biting back just how disappointed he was at the damnable regulations keeping him from getting laid.

Grace pouted on cue. Figures ... "You mean I can't see the base now?"

"Sorry, Miss. We're under strict orders for reasons I'm not at liberty to discuss."

Krall shrugged and his hand fell to the door. "Well, that's all right. I know another nice little place off the track near here that's got a breathtaking view of the moon. Ya game?"

No ... "Sure!" she said and cuddled up next to Krall as he backed the scout up.

"Mind calling ahead to base and let'em know I'm delayed. Making sure that the area is secured and all that?" It wasn't a far fetched story at all. Sergeant Krall Anslin was one of the officers in charge of the checkpoints.

"No problem." The Trooper gave him a friendly salute. "Have fun sir."

Grace waved goodbye and looked off into the distance with a scowl, her mind going through all of the best possible ways to be rid of this Imperial mutt convincingly ...

[Aurelias Kazaar]

20 minutes after Estelle and Kazaar leave the bar:

F'Kazaar and Estelle it wasn't as easy. Sure th'Kid could flaunt some tail'n get th'Imps t'show 'em where t'go, but not in their current dress. Both Rebels wore dark, formfitting jumpsuits and dark hooded cloaks which made 'em look more like wraiths than human in th'dark corridors o'Obas' capital city. They each wore utility belts taken from Imperial storm commandos an' had th'IDs t'prove it, just in case someone dumbass Imperial stopped and asked 'em any questions and Kazaar also had a dark backpack on his shoulders. 'Course if any Rebels hit 'em before th'Imps did, that'd make it a helluva lot tougher. Kazaar smirked...'course that's why they made codes.

Th'Kid activated her light amplification goggles, scanning th'streets f'any signs o'movement. No guards...no patrols. Th'street was pretty empty, which meant either everyone was payin' attention to th'curfew th'Imps put out, or they were waitin' for th'right time t'start raisin' hell. Kazaar figured it was probably one'n th'same and that depended on who ya talked to.

Estelle nudded him a moment later and pointed. There was th'barman from earlier, scuttlin' down th'road like he was trying not t'be seen. "It's a little late for a bar run, don't you think so, Cowboy?"

She could see 'im smirk. "Never too late f'alcohol Kid. Ya oughta know that b'now." The two followed 'im atta distance, trying t'figure out if the barman was just makin' a beer run or doin' something a bit more...illegal. Th'barman scurried 'round a corner and seconds later a light flashed on forra moment b'fore quickly turning back off. Frackin' amateurs. Almost like they're frackin' trying t'get caught. 'Course, given th'current climate with all th'rumors o'traitors'n such, both Estelle and Kazaar figured that was a possibility.

They shared o'look and crept forward. Worth takin' a peek t'see what th'frack was goin' on inside th'house, the barman'd gone into. Even if it was empty, 'least gave 'em a lay of th'land bit more. Estelle rounded th'corner first, with Kazaar movin' silently behind her, his armored hand on one of Th'Twins. He was startin' t'get a cold pit in his stomach, the kind he always listened to. Something was up...he just didn't know what.

"Gimme a boost will ya." Estelle whispered (not botherin' t'realize she'd jut used words Kazaar woulda used) when they stopped next t'one of th'side walls of the house. Kazaar locked his arms t'gether and th'Kid put one foot, then th'other, and peeked inside th'darkened window. Was a pretty normal house, couple chairs, a couch, fireplace (which was currently unlit). If th'barman'd come in here, it was pretty obvious he'd either gone t'bed or somewhere else in th'house. She hopped offa Kazaar's looped hands. "No one inside."

It was then they felt blaster rifles press into their backs and were violently shoved 'gainst th'wall. "What have here." A familiar but muffled voice spoke into th'Kid's ear. "Tolaf, get them inside."

They were hustled inside th'basement where their blasters were taken from 'em. It was then..."Wait a second...I know these blasters." That voice was familiar.

Kazaar smirked as their 'captor' walked in front of 'em. It was Crix.

"Release them Tolaf. These two are friends." He clasped both Kazaar and Estelle by th'shoulders and hugged 'em. "It's Atkinson this time." He whispered in both ears.

"So...Rex." Crix/Atkinson stayed with th'fake name Kazaar'd given back at th'bar. "Monica." He went ahead an' named Estelle. "What brings you two here?"

"Doin' th'same you're doing, Atkinson." Kazaar answered. "Lookin' for Huber."

Crix shook 'is head. "She isn't here. The base got hit pretty hard when the Imperials showed up." He almost sighed. "We didn't see her get out..."

[Estelle Russard]

"Do you have any idea what precipitated the Imperial strike, Atkinson?" Estelle asked forthrightly.

Crix looked from Estelle to Kazaar and gave a kick of his head and an accompanying smirk.

"I'know" Aurelias agreed, "She's all bus'ness allth'time nowdays"

Crix's grin broadened, feigning to be impressed, "I can see that"

"Always wants t'wear the cap'ns hat when we play dressup" Kazaar added sadly.

"Pity" commisserated Crix with a sympathetic shake of his head.

"Oh, shutup you two. Cant you for once act like adults and be serious" Russard folded her arms obstinately.

"Nope"
"Nope"

Great. They were both grinning now. Where was Grace when she needed her? Actually, where was Grace? They should have heard something by now.

"Well, while you two clowns finish giggling.." this brought a coughing schoolboy chuckle from the pair of them, "...Im going to contact Girlscout"

"Girlscout?!" Crix's smirk vanished. "She's here too?" He suddenly straightened up and resumed a soldier alertness.

Kazaar rolled his eyes. Looks like Gracey'd had this one's nads in vice at some point, too. Poor bugger.

Crix glared at Aurelias, "Why didn't you say so?"

Kazaar shrugged, innocent-eyed.

"Oh for Pete's sake..Kazaar, we need to know our next move." Estelle wandered away from the two intellectual giants and sent a silent alert to Grace via the agent's sunglasses, which should have been inside her furlined jacket as part of standard spy communications. Where ever they were, the frames would warm to the touch, signaling the owner to activate the display feild within their lenses. Grace could put them on and peruse the readout co-ordinates of their current location that Estelle was putting into them, without fear of discovery. Should someone else be wearing them, without activating the field, they would only give of an odd sensation of heat and then disappate.

Russard set off the activation. Hopefully, Grace would have the glasses on her person..usually on top of her head, or, as she was wearing that awful suede hat, hooked on her blouse instead.

Behind her Crix/Atkinson and Aurelias had fallen into a hushed exchange of information.