Ask Greased Palms

[Nick Shaw]

Nick hated politics and this assignment reeked of it. He had experience in going undercover, which is what they would be doing today. They had warrants to get at any information that pointed at corruption but if they kicked down the door, there likely wouldn't be any salvageable information by the time they made it in the door way, so they would sneak in.

Kattada was a beautiful world, a perfect place for a vacation if Nick had ever thought of taking on. They had been set up with a backstory and a large suite of rooms at a seaside resort to serve as their base of operations for the mission. They had been invited to a party later at the nearby York estate. It would be the perfect opportunity to slip in and see what they could get their hands on.

He tossed the file of intel he was provided down onto the dresser and looked into the mirror. He rubbed a hand over a scruffy beard and let out a quiet groan. The gruff look served him well on missions in the Coruscant underworld, but he would need to clean up if they wanted to blend in with the rich and wealthy party-goers this evening. It was already going to be hard enough with his metallic right hand.

Nick didn't know the woman who was his partner for this assignment. He had complained about that. Undercover work was tricky, it only became more so when two people who didn't know how the other operated had to work together. York was a big fish, he was sure they wouldn't send anyone too bad.

@Kestrel

 

[Bast Emblai]

Most would have assumed the woman on the shuttle was asleep. After all, her breathing was deep and slow, and her eyes were closed. Of course Bast was not sleeping- she never slept on the job in any sense of the phrase. The ride had been 10 hours, but the Ranger was not even remotely tired. Rather than recline and float into peaceful oblivion, she sat straight, running over the plan in her head, doing the best to ignore the small child kicking the back of her seat. Her own personal ship was in the shop, and the Rangers did not chauffeur their employees, so public transport was a necessary evil.

The last case she had been on was on Nar Shaddaa. No sooner had the lieutenant arrived back at her rented apartment on Coruscant than she was called off on a political job. All things considered, it would likely be a good deal more pleasant than traipsing around in the muck of the smuggler’s moon. Thump. An enthusiastic kick. She tried to recall the details of the new case. Investigating corruption in politics was like shooting gizka in a bucket, but that did not make it any easier. Due to her own background as a detective, Bast would be paired with Lt. Nick Shaw for an undercover sting. The goal was to get a closer look at Senator York’s dealings. As in most places, political dynasties were closely intertwined with high society, and the two would therefore be infiltrating a party. Thump. She was beginning to worry the cheap duraplast of the seat would begin to crack. At least the kid had persistence.

——

Several hours later, Bast arrived at the hotel. Her room was small but neat, and she quickly set about making herself look decent- or at least like she had not just spent the day travelling in a sweaty, cramped compartment drifting through space. By the time she stepped out into the lobby, she was in a cream gown suitably elegant for the occasion. An open back revealed her spinal prosthesis, making the woman feel oddly vulnerable, but she had not had much time to shop. The selection of dressed that could effectively disguise a blaster pistol under them was quite slim. Locating a table with two chairs, she seated herself, waiting for her partner. They needed to work some things out before wining and dining.

@Raydo

 

[Nick Shaw]

He ran a cybernetic hand over the freshly trimmed beard before finally pulling a navy colored blazer over a white shirt. He made his way downstairs, stopping at the hotel bar and getting two drinks before moving to the table where they were meeting. A woman, matching the description he had been given was already seated.

He sat down at the table and slid the second drink to her. Drinking, or at least the appearance of drinking, made it easier to blend in. That's what Nick told himself at least, in truth, he just liked to. "Ms. Emblai, I'm guessing?" he said, taking a sip from his drink. He purposely didn't use her rank. He doubted anyone here would be spying on them but you could never be too careful.

"Uneventful trip?" he asked, studying her expressions, trying to get a read on her.

@Kestrel

 

[Bast Emblai]

Not a moment after she had seated herself did a man appear, nicely dressed, two drinks in hand. He looked around her age, though she no doubt appeared older than her 32 years. The stress of the profession wore on her, and already a few silver hairs stools out against the brown ones. It would be, if her information was correct, Nick Shaw. Smiling cordially Bast took the drink and lifted it to her lips in a polite suggestion of drinking it. She did not take drinks from strangers nor did she drink on the job, but his offer was kind and she had no reason to offend him.

“That is correct, although you can call me Bast. After all, no friend I would attend a gala with would call me by my last name. I assume you are Mr. Nick Shaw?” The name itself seemed a bit rough, common. He did not seem to be of a noble family or secret creed. Just a good, hardworking man. She could do with that.

Whether his question about her trip was more one of habit and manners or genuine curiosity was unclear, but she answered truthfully nonetheless. “I find myself enjoying public transportation less the more I use it. But yes, no pirates, bombs, or mortal threats. What about yours? Where are you from?” Her hazel eyes studied him intently. He had a kind enough face and his tone was sincere. They would get along well. Now she simply needed to actually get to know the man.

@Raydo

 

[Nick Shaw]

He let out a small chuckle. "I suppose so. Well, in any case, its a pleasure," he said, taking another drink.

"I understand the sentiment. I finally had enough of it and got a ship of my own. It isn't much, but its better than having some random person sleeping on your shoulder as you travel." he replied as he shifted in his seat.

"Coruscant, born and raised," he answered as he finished off his drink. "Thats usually where I am stationed at. A lot of my assignments are much less...refined than this one though." he continued. "And what about you?" he asked.

After they finished their conversation, he moved to stand. "I suppose we should get on with it," he said waiting for her to join him. "I have a speeder waiting outside, and we can finishing chatting about the details for tonight on the,way" he said.

Once outside, the hotel staff brought out the speeder that been arranged for them. It was sleek design, metallic silver reflecting the late afternoon sunlight. If they combined both of their salaries, it would likely take them several years to earn enough for the speeder but Nick had done some arguing that they needed to keep up appearances. "Never hurt to have fun while you work." he said as they climbed in the speeder.

"So, any questions about the coverstory?" he asked. They were posing as owners of a supposed up-and-coming robotics company. Though most of the people there were also into other illicit businesses.

@Kestrel

 

[Bast Emblai]

“Corellia. Born and raised“ A corner of Bast’s mouth twitched up as she parroted the phrase. “I did not leave the planet until I was twenty-five.” She chuckled slightly. Living on the streets had thickened her skin as much as her mother’s callous attentions had. The woman held a deep love for the planet, but not because it was her birthplace. She had made it her home through the blood and sweat working for CorSec. She owed her family her nothing and never returned for them. “Left home and joined up. I was a naive little thing. It only took a few years for me to get blown up. CorSec gave me an honorable discharge. I had no reason to stay aimlessly anchored, so The Rangers became my new home.”

Bast wondered when she would next see Corellia. There was no sense of loss or longing- just emptiness. It felt unnatural, but she could summon no affection for the ball of rock and Durasteel she has walked for a quarter century. The lieutenant’s eyes grew distant, but she stood up and placed herself at Lt. Shaw’s elbow. The cover began as soon as she left the hotel.

It took a moment for Bast to take the speeder in. She hoped Nick was a good driver. There was no way she could afford to pay for repairs. The memory of renting a speeder with Corran and chasing a lady across a city with a baby in the backseat passed briefly through her consciousness. “No indeed. This is... quite something.“

A few moments of contented silence passed as quickly as the flashing lights visible through the windshield. The woman had been reviewing the plan once more. As if resuming a recently stopped conversation, she spoke up. “I don’t believe so. I’m Marissa Lyle of Droidio Inc. Heavy drinker by night and tech genius by day. I trust you know your role well.”

The speeder pulled up to a marble curb. They had arrived.

@Raydo

 

[Nick Shaw]

He raised an eyebrow. "Corellia, huh?" he said with a smirk. "I guess no one can be perfect." he teased. He had spent some time on Corellia when he was a rookie but primarily worked on Coruscant. He listened as she explained her origins. Her story was not a unique one, it was a rough world out there for cops.

He nodded. "Jason Lyle, Businessman, and under the table arms dealer," he said. "Once we are inside, we will mingle a bit and hopefully get an audience with Mr. York, I hear he is quite the fan of cigars," he said, patting his jacket pocket with several of them. "Once upstairs hopefully one of us can break away long enough to do some snooping around," he said as the mansion came into sight.

It would several lifetimes of both of their combined salaries to afford the sprawling home. "Here we go," he said as they continued down the driveway until a valet came and opened Bast's door. Nick stepped out, buttoning his jacket and handing the keys to the kid. He gave him a hard expression, conveying the threat that it would be in his best interest if the valet made sure nothing happened to the speeder.

They both walked inside. Giant pillars lined the room, an ornate staircase led upstairs. They were pointed to the backyard where food and drinks had been laid out. There were people milling about but more people were arriving every minute. A waiter came by and offered them both glasses of champagne from a tray he was carrying. Nick took the glass and they made their way into the crowd.

@Kestrel

 

[Bast Emblai]

“Cigars?” Bast chuckled, eyes studying his breast pocket, the faint smell of spiced tobacco wafting towards her. “Those might be coaxxium for the price they‘re at. Where did you get them?” The rangers didn’t pay nearly enough for expensive smoking to become a hobby. Unfortunately, before he could respond to the quip, a young valet appeared. He barely looked old enough to have a speeder license, and for a moment the woman considered asking for one before realizing it would break cover. Still- she hated to entrust the nice vehicle to someone so apt to scrape it going around a sharp corner. Giving the youngster a stern look, Bast smiled at her partner and stepped out, carefully minding the gap lest she plummet fifty stories in a streak of cream glory before elegantly shattering her skull. Heights did not frighten her, but being undercover was never easy.

Ms. Marissa Lyle strode into the great hall with a confident ease, her heels clipping out a steady rhythm on the dappled floor. Several heads turned, but for the right reasons. The CEO of Drodia Inc. naturally had a commanding presence, which was currently matched by the graceful strength of her husband, Jason. Bast briefly looked down at her hand, as if examining a chipped nail. She had forgotten the ring. Kriff. Perhaps they were just going through a hard time in the marriage. Marissa shifted slightly away from her companion and furrowed angular brows on mock frustration.

“What a lovely place. Er- no thank you-“ She waved away a drink. Why was everyone attempting to offer her drinks today? Drinking was such a silly social custom. Really, if anything was to be served in the amiable presence of friends or colleagues, it should be tea or something with protein, not a bitter liquid that ruined relationships and lives. “How do you propose we get this audience? Are you quite sure cigars will be enough?”

@Raydo