Ask Nar Shaddaa Model Imperial Citizens

[Merian Sere]

Continued from The Wayward Navigator.


Sector 37, Nar Shaddaa
2100


If she let herself believe it, Merian could swear she was ISB again, like the last time she’d been here.

Nar Shaddaa had an atmosphere that was unlike anywhere else. You knew it by the smell, by the ruckus, by the neons in Huttese. By the aliens from the galaxy over, each more exotic than the last, and somehow each managing to look like they had bad intentions.

It wasn’t a surprise that Commander Baize had to bow out of the mission on account of some military emergency. As much as the man tried to stay close to the action, the reality of his desk transfer never let him forget his officer duties. And besides, though she wouldn’t say it to the commander’s face, Merian had questioned the IAF’s involvement in a mission like this one from the start. The same could be said for her, she realized, but it wasn’t the same. For almost a decade she’d done this. With the blaster at her hip and her lightsaber tucked away, all inconspicuous in civilian clothes, it really was like before, barely a few years, when the Knights didn’t exist even in thought. When she was still the ISB’s secret weapon. All that was missing was Maros by her side.

Maros. Even thinking of him had Merian clenching her jaw. But he’d made his choice. And doubled down on it.

As she waited for her contact, all the knight had to do was review what they knew about the case, which was depressingly little. A gang, the Blue Novas. A bar, the Swamp. A ridiculous name, Frankie. And Talisha Rayn, the greatest astronavigator the Empire had seen in decades, who’d somehow gambled her way into their clutches. How some people could have everything and throw it all away.

If you’re already dead, I’m dragging your corpse back to Raxus for trial, she thought.

She’d been told her contact was an expert. At least they gave her that.

@Zay

 

[Cipher 7]

Seven’s half-lidded baby blues roiled with irritation as he cruised toward the rendezvous point. He was in the middle of an undercover operation and now he was pulled into some crap about an astronavigator with gambling issues. He took a drag off his cigarra. He blew the smoke out his speeder's rolled down window and let it go. There was nothing he could do about it. He was a tool. They chose when and how he cut. End of story.

That didn't change how was at stake for him, and he didn't like going into anything with a disadvantage.

Seven took a left, then cut down an alley, watching his rearview for a few seconds between each turn. He was clear. The Cipher took a rounded a final corner and found himself at the meeting point. He pulled into a parking spot on deck 57 of a parking garage. The entire floor was empty, he got out of his speeder, locked it, and stepped over to the lift in the northeast corner. He pressed the two call buttons in a specific pattern, the lights changed from white to red and he knew he had the right spot. The door chimed, hissed open, and he stepped in.

A few floors later the lift door opened to reveal the rendezvous point, a hidden imperial safehouse.

Seven was dressed in a black tunic and black trousers, both were covered by a long dark brown utilitarian coat. His cigarra hung from his lips. Under the coat he had two imperial issued blasters in a shoulder harness. He looked like every other degenerate on this living hell of a planet.

“I’m Jay, it’s nice to meet you, let’s get this over with,” he said, taking a drag off his cigarette.”You driving or me?” he asked from the open elevator making a point to not step inside. He was running against the clock and didn't have anytime to waste on drawn out introductions.

@Volene

 

[Merian Sere]

Jay’s arrival pulled Merian out of her reverie. She read his intent and stood quickly, stepping inside the lift before it could close on her. Good. Someone like-minded.

“Hello, Jay. I’ll do it.”

In truth, she could have used the break after also opting to fly here from Raxus over Jon. But she knew the destination, and while Jay almost certainly did, too, she didn’t want to ask. Not here. A pointless precaution, perhaps, the safehouse had to be safe, but Merian had seen bugs in stranger places. Even in a closed turbolift, you never knew who was listening.

If Jay had made a good first impression, the lift ride down was enough to ruin it. Merian held her breath for most of it. Smoking was bad in itself; smoking in a confined space with someone else was outright heinous.

Oh well. They were about to meddle with thugs, and Jay had the attitude down.

He led them to his speeder and took place behind her, and without a word exchanged they were on their way. Only in the middle of a speeder lane, when the wind and the roar of traffic threatened to muffle her words into nothing, did Merian call out to him over her shoulder.

“I assume you’re up to speed?”

@Zay

 

[Cipher 7]

To Seven’s surprise the Imp was ready to go. He stepped aside as she entered and the door hissed closed. He didn’t stop smoking. He knew it was rude, but so was jeopardizing his cover on a mission he’d spent months preparing for. They didn’t speak on the way down. He could tell she hated the fact he didn’t stop smoking in the confined space and that brought a small smile to his lips.

The only sounds that could be heard in the lift was the stereotypical filler music found in every awkward moment in existence and the methodic chime that sounded as they passed each floor on the way down. Was he being petty? Yes. Would he eventually get over it, maybe. He often found pettiness to be his greatest weakness. It just felt good to be annoying as shit to someone who didn’t deserve it. Of course there was more to it than that.

Nar Shadda was the antithesis of Imperial order. Nothing was crisp or clean here. It was grit and grime. It was smoke and lights. It was deception and misdirection. To be a “part” you had to be all of it. He smoked to get rid of their lack of smell. Not to be angsty or annoying, but it was a bonus knowing it was both.

As the door opened and they stepped back into the hangar Seven put out his vice then picked the butt up and threw it away. His partner, who still hadn’t introduced herself, strode over to a speeder bike and he stopped a few feet short and blinked. The expression on his face would read: Are you kidding me?

Seven glanced forlornly over to his speeder, and shook his head. She wanted to drive and he’d given her the option. Fighting over it would only continue to erode what little trust they had for one another. So, he sucked it up and slid on behind grabbing her waist for support.

To his comfort she was a competent driver. Most in her position go nuts and start trying to prove they’re the best pilots in the sector, but she kept it even. Drove like a normal person, and not someone who was used to driving, but she drove like a local.

Seven could feel himself starting to relax. It seemed the Empire had provided him with a competent partner. Then she turned around and screamed something in his face.

Rather than yell back over the roar of traffic, he slipped two earpieces out of his pocket and held one out in front of her.

Once she’d put the com on he’d say, “I’ve been given the basics. Some prodigy of an Astronavigator developed a gambling problem, got in over their heads with a local gang, and now we need to get them back, sound about right?”

After she responded he’d ask a follow up question, “So, you're gonna tell me what to call you or should I guess?”

@Volene

 

[Merian Sere]

“That’s most of it,” she confirmed.

“I’d be curious to see what you come up with.” But it was only a second, too soon for Jay to guess anything, before she added, “I’m Merian. Imperial Knight.”

It was almost reluctantly that she’d added that last part, like she could have kept it quiet and he’d thought her ISB. But if push came to shove, Jay needed to know the extent of her abilities.

The drive wouldn’t be much longer. Jay’s bike was powerful and the distance to the bar shrunk and shrunk. Merian transitioned to a slower lane, then again, then she was in local traffic. Almost there.

“I won’t risk circling around to scout it,” she stated as they approached. “I doubt they’re expecting us. Straight entry and whatever is in there we’ll deal with. That good with you?”

@Zay

 

[Cipher 7]

“I can promise you don’t want any part of my imagination,” he said with a scoff, when she finally answered he replied, “It’s a pleasure.”

He’d let her determine his tone. Seven wasn’t in the mood to play mind games, he knew there was a lot of mistrust between the IAF and IK’s but Seven didn’t play by the same rules. As a Cipher he was used to being seen as a threat no matter who he was working with. His time with Merian would be no different. Besides this could be a prime opportunity to observe a Knight in action.

Merian slowed transitioning lanes and slowed the pace. She laid out the game plan and Seven’s eyebrow cocked appraisingly, “Interesting, this a caution to the wind situation?” He didn’t like the idea of walking in the front without clear communication on their objective. There would also be cameras, so if they walked in and started blasting there’d be hell to pay pretty quickly.

As she came to a stop, Seven let go of her and slid off the bike. He stretched his neck to the left and right, before rolling his shoulders. He wasn’t carrying his normal imperial loadout. He was carrying the weapons of a gunslinger. On his hip was his RSFK, and hidden beneath his duster in a shoulder holster was his Python.

The thrill of the hunt was starting to settle in and with it’s arrival any irritation he’d been going through melted away like a wave on the beach. His lazy lidded baby blues landed on the flashing holo projection of serpent rearing back and baring it’s fangs before it dissolved into the name of the seedy establishment: The Swamp.

“Ladies first,” he said, holding the door for Merian.

@Volene

 

[Merian Sere]

“Caution? We’re just walking into a bar, Jay,” Merian said, all innocent. “What’s the worst that could happen?” There was something about the candid way she said it that made it hard, even for Seven, to tell whether she was genuinely naive or only acting like someone who was.

Either way, she followed him to the door and went inside.

Sketchy didn’t begin to cover it. Even by Nar Shaddaa standards, the Swamp was uninviting, dirty, spiritless. The music was terrible, pre-recorded and not nearly loud enough. Three patrons played cards in a corner. Another one sat at the bar, and that was the extent of it. Four people, at peak hours. Five with the Weequay bartender. That was who Merian went to.

With Seven in tow, she beelined for the bar, shooting nervous glances all around before her eyes stopped on the Weequay. Few people as there were in the Swamp, all of them eyed the new arrivals curiously. Merian like shrunk from their attention.

“Hello, uh, I’ll have a... Surly Sarlacc, please.”

That only made it worse. Merian could swear the stares intensified if it was even possible. The sabacc game in the corner was like put on pause. Visibly the Swamp didn’t get many legitimate customers. Then she dropped the act—or the first part of it.

“We’re here to see Frankie,” she admitted. “I heard he helps out people in our... situation.”

@Zay