RelFexive
Joak sniffed, a noisy snort that spoke of too much mucus. He had caught a cold anyway, and adding to it had only made it worse. He was surprised the noise had not drawn attention to him; he had been a few metres from the two of them when they had made their quiet plans, but they had been too intent on talking and thinking to notice him. Or smell him, for that matter.

The human cleared his throat loudly a few times before shifting under the filthy blanket to get a better view from his doorway. Those six commandos looked pretty spiffy in that armour of theirs. He hoped Ardal was well out of the way; the old geezer was in the thick of it, by the sound of the blasterfire. He had called in long enough to confirm he had seen the woman with her captors, who were on the move. Then the first interdict team had made it's entrance.

Judging by the assessments given in his briefing file, Card 2 would be able to handle that first team well enough. Card 3 was the skifter; with no data on the woman, she was a wild play of the highest order. She seemed to be doing well enough, though. Obviously a good bet. Them together against the new players... hard to say. The woman codenamed Card 1 was the trump card. She was the mission.

Joak did not need names. Or histories. Just the assessments of their competance. What he did not know he could not tell.

Reis had been sent on ahead to the rendezvous: the refueling station. It was time for Joak to situate himself where, hopefully, he would be in place to help or hinder as appropriate. So he pushed himself to his feet, the pain in his right leg making it harder than it might have been normally. His foot was really twisted, painfully so. The rough trousers and hooded top were itchy from more than the cheap material; he was not the only living thing resident in them. The blanket stank, but then, so did he.

He needed to clear his throat, so, unfortunately, a drink was in order. This was unfortunate because the drink in question was an alcoholic drink of the worse quality available on the whole damn planet. Tasting it was bad enough, but swishing it around his mouth risked the loss of teeth. He chanced it anyway, and spat the vile fluid out before returning the bottle to his plastic carrybag, an ancient relic of some long-bankrupt supermarket. Under the other bottles was the highly sensitive listening gear which he had not, in the end, actually needed. Fortunately, it was none too heavy.

Staggering across the street, mumbling to himself, Joak looked like just another homeless freak chewed up and spat out by a cruel galaxy. Or at least, that was the idea. No, Joak told himself, the disguise is perfect. I lived among the down-and-outs for two weeks to get the role down perfectly. The method is the only way to ensure total accuracy.

Trying not to look as smug as he felt, Joak shambled into place in the alley it seemed most likely the hand would try to exit through. Not being any kind of tactician, though, he just had to hope he had guessed right.

He settled down to wait.

JerinPuck
"Good work kid," Tack spoke softly into his commlink as he opened his bag again, "I'm in. Now see what you can do about that sniper."

Following Tack's direction, Allie wandered into a back alley behind the building she'd spotted the sniper on. It was an apartment building, run down, half vacant- like the hotel. The back of the building had nothing helpful. The sides, rusty fire escapes that went only to the top floor. She could use those in a pinch, but first...


"Got a delivery for room 207," Allie bluffed, standing slouched before what served as the building's front desk.

What served as the building's attendant surveyed Allie, who adjusted her goggles on her forehead and looked bored. "What company are you with?"

"Independent," Allie said with a bit of an edge to her voice. On Arelia, "independent" was the way of communicating that the business being done was private, not above board, and don't ask questions. She hoped that would cut it here. Mostly because she didn't want to use the fire escapes.

The attendant nodded slowly, pushed a log book at Allie and went back to ignoring her. After filling in the appropriate blanks, Allie disappeared into the stairwell.

She made her way to the top floor, where the stairs stopped. Frell. Must be a service ladder somewhere. Allie walked quickly through the hallways, and was in the process of forcing the door to a maintence closet when someone came around the corner and grabbed her shoulder. She spun around and found herself face to face with a very unanticipated security gaurd.

"Sam told me to keep an eye on you. What do you think you're doing?"

"Trying to get to the roof."

He was momentarily taken aback by her bluntness, but recovered quickly. "Why?"

"I think I'd like the view."

"It's night time."

"I have good vision. Actually, there's a sniper on your roof I'd rather not be there, but you're not going to believe that, either."

"Whatever, kid. You're leaving now." He pulled her roughly around the corner from where he had come, but stopped abruptly as a blaster bolt hit him square in the head. Wide-eyed, Allie rushed back behind the protection of the wall.

"Come out, girl," a voice from down the hall commanded. "I'm not going to shoot you. We've got questions to ask you."

Allie stared at the dead security gaurd.

"Come out!" The voice barked. "Don't make this difficult."

Eyes still fixed on the gaurd, Allie's mind started going a mile a minute. Smoke bomb? No, he's probably got themal sensors. Can't out shoot him. Are there more? I could run to the other stairwell... Sniper's still on the roof. Wait. The flashwhatever. Yellow band.

Allie fumbled the flashbang grenade out of her pocket, clicked the button into place, and lobbed it down the hallway. Even with her eyes squeezed shut and her ears well covered, she felt the blast. She charged around the corner blasting at her opponent as she went. He fell to the floor.

Allie stopped and stared. Two dead, now. She blinked, and realized that the blast inevitably attracted a lot of attention. Leaving the scorched black heap behind, she sprinted out on to the fire escape, setting off the alarm in the process.


Still surging with adrenaline, Allie found herself on the roof, crouched behind a warm generator. First all she could hear was her heart pounding, then her heart, and the whirring of the generator. Then commotion below. Shouts, scared and angry.

Allie took a deep breath. Sniper. She peeked over the top of the generator to see him with his rifle at the ready, and ducked back down. Using the generator as a heat mask, she tossed a smoke bomb- one of her own- at the sniper. He started shooting blindly in her direction; Allie pulled out the see-what-you-had-for-breakfast binoculars as she waited until when she knew the smoke would be the most dense, then peeked over the generator again and blasted at his body heat. The sniper went down. Stopped shooting. Is he faking? Allie continued to watch through the binoculars as the smoke dissapated. Gradually, his thermal reading got lower... and lower...



Allie threw up.

JolaEdana
"FRELL!" The shout of surprise rang down the hall.

Still acting on adreneline and fear, Jola lashed out again. She shoved Tack so hard he reeled back, his armor making a satisfying thud. Jola scrambled away from him, using the wall for support.

Cursing, Tack regained his balance. He snatched up his helmet and followed her.
"Jola!" He called raggedly.

Jola had not had time to take stock of her injuries before now, and she realized as she made her way down the hall that she wasn't in the best shape. Somewhere along the line, she'd gotten a black eye. Her body ached from being restrained so long. Her ribs were bruised at best, and breathing sent a sharp pain through her. Her breathing was jagged. It echoed in the corridor.

She couldn't outrun Tack. She couldn't outrun them.

Jola turned to face him. "Stay back," she demanded, hearing the tremor in her own voice.

"We don't have time for this," Tack began tiredly-

"You don't want to rescue me," she spat.

Tack paused, at a loss for words.

"You just want the credit, right?" Jola sneered, all the time backing away slowly.

Tack kept pace. "Credit for what? What are you talking about?"

Jola squared her jaw, her eyes narrowing. "I know you didn't kill anyone to get that suit," she rasped.

Tack's eyes widened for a moment. "What-? Look-" footsteps were pounding up the stairs somewhere nearby. "Jola-"

"I saw your ID's," Jola cried. "I know who you are. You might as well just stun me now and get it over with." Her voice sank, and she reached out to steady herself on the wall, feeling sick inside.

Understanding flooded Tack's face, and he let out a string of curses. Moving forward quickly, he grabbed Jola's arm and shoved her toward the nearest stairwell door. She hardly struggled, but she didn't hurry either. He guessed she didn't see much point.

"Move!" he commanded sharply. He didn't want to threaten her with his blaster, but if she didn't move they were both going to end up dead. He ducked into the stairwell, checking quickly to make sure it was clear. For a brief second, it was.

"You have no choice but to trust me right now," Tack said, hauling her up roughly. "Do as I say, and we'll get out of here."

Jola gathered herself and struggled to keep up. At this point, lying or not, he was her only hope.

Darth_Kuangduk
Tack watched from the entrance to the alley as his new partner in crime approached the lookout. She captured his attention for several heartbeats, during which Tack began walking casually down the street. But the lookout wasn't lazy, and his eyes were soon sweeping the street again for anything suspicious. Tack frowned inwardly and tried to look inconspicuous. He was headed for an alleyway that ran alongside the hotel, set on gaining entrance through one of the side doors. That, coupled with the fact that Tack still had his bag of stuff slung over his shoulder, would certainly look suspicious to the lookout.

The high pitched whine of blasterfire immediately drew Tack's attention. For a moment he feared the worst... but then he saw the lookout's unconscious body lying face down on the pavement, and he saw his chance. Everybody was paying attention to Allie now... nobody was watching Tack. He broke into a sprint and gained the shadows of the alley within seconds. It took seconds more for him to force the lock on the side door, and then he was in.

The door had obviously been an emergency exit, and a little used one at that. The perfect place to set up...

"Good work kid," Tack spoke softly into his commlink as he opened his bag again, "I'm in. Now see what you can do about that sniper."

*************************************************************

In a building across the street from the hotel, an Imperial Commando watched the street through a window. "He's in... and it looks like he's got help. A female subject took out the decoy lookout with a stun blast to the head. Two male subjects then threw him in a dumpster..."

"He's earlier than I expected," Another man in the room replied. "Do we have Edana yet?"

"Negative, but Lieutenant Drexel's team should have her secured momentarily."

"Then we're still a go. Maintain comm silence and prepare to execute." The clicking of a half dozen power packs being slapped home into blaster rifles answered the order.

*************************************************************

Kral stomped heavily down the hotel stairs, Jola's weight amplifying his footfalls twofold. It sounded, the bothan reflected, as if he were deliberately broadcasting his presence to any would be ambushers. Having reached the second floor of the hotel, Kral decided it was time to get a little more stealthy. "You get to walk," he grunted and set Jola down on her feet.

As he knelt to undo the restraints around her ankles, several things happened. Neyova rounded the corner and started down the stairway towards the first floor. As she did so, the shriek of blasterfire echoed up the stairwell. There was a flash of emerald and Neyova thudded heavily against the wall, a shout of pain wrenching itself from her throat even as she returned fire.

Heavy footsteps echoed down the stairwell from the floor above. Gaznik turned to face them, finger convulsively flexing on his blaster's trigger before he even saw who it was or where they were. Red darts of energy splashed across the walls and stairs, and were answered by several green energy blasts. Kral's blaster twitched between a panicking Gaznik and a violently cursing Neyova, his free hand clenched tightly around Jola's upper arm.

Thinking fast, Kral made up his mind. Whirling, he kicked in the door to the second floor proper. Briefly glancing into the hallway beyond, he decided it was safer than the stairwell. Without a word he shoved Jola through the door ahead of him. Before he could close the door behind him, Gaznik burst through, flattening himself against the wall next to the door.

Kral kicked the stairwell door closed, leveled his blaster, and fried the lock. "What-" Gaznik gaped. "What about Nova?"

"She got us into this mess," Kral grunted. "She deserves whatever she gets. Now move it!" If Jola struggled at all when Kral once again threw her over his shoulder, he didn't notice. Despite the burden of her weight he sprinted down the hallway, intent on making it to a fire escape, lift, another stairwell... anything to get him out of the building.

*************************************************************

Tack heard the sound of blaster fire as he got into position near the first floor stairwell. Cursing, he burst into the stairwell and looked up. The blasterfire had ceased, but he could see a black armored figure affixing something to the second floor doorway, and a female human sprawled on the stairs, just within view.

"Too slow Tack," He growled, "Too slow..."

Before he could do much more than that, the commando at the door backed up. A second later, the door exploded into the hallway with a thunderous roar. Tack recognized a breaching charge when he saw one, and watched as the commando followed up by launching himself through the still smoking opening into the corridor beyond. Taking a deep breath, Tack ran up the stairs taking them two at a time.

*************************************************************

They'd just made it to an intersection in the hallway when the stairwell door exploded inward with a thunderous roar. A figure clad in distinctive black armor rolled into view, blaster rifle ready. Kral and Gaznik fired at virtually the same instant as the commando, turning the hallway into a deadly crossfire. Kral didn't stick around to see the results of the exchange. Barreling into the intersection he chose a direction at random, and turned right. Putting everything he had into it the bothan ran like there was no tomorrow, blasterfire from the intersection ringing in his ears. There was a window at the end of the hallway... there would be a fire escape just beyond it...

Kral's hope for escape ceased to exist at the same moment as the window did. Another black armored figure swung in feet first, detached a cable from his belt, and rolled into a kneeling position in one fluid motion. Kral backpedaled in surprised, planted his foot firmly on the carpeted floor, and executed a perfect 180 degree turn to the sound of a snapping ankle. Pitching forward, he virtually threw Jola from his shoulders and onto the floor in front of him. “Take off!” He shouted at her before rolling onto his back to trade fire with the commando. The black armored figure ducked into a nearby doorway, returning fire. Dimly, Kral realized that the sound of blaster fire from the intersection had stopped. Either Gaznik was dead, or...

Jola rose to her feet only a few strides from the intersection. Before she could get very far, however, a commando rounded the corner. Blaster leveled at a target down the hallway, he reached out and grabbed the redhead around the waist, pinning her to his side with one arm. Sidestepping, he continued off down the corridor in another direction, forcing Jola along with him. Struggling against the commando's grip, the redhead managed to swing her hands - fingers interlaced - into the side of the Imperial's helmet. He staggered sideways, and his grip on her loosened. With a wrenching motion, Jola threw her weight and broke free. The commando shifted his weight as well, driving forward to pin her against the wall with one arm. Hands still clasped together, Jola drove her fists upward into the commando's chin, eliciting a sharp crack. The man's head snapped backwards, and his helmet popped off...

Tack, thus bereft of his headgear, glared hotly at Jola. "Do you mind?" He demanded, "I'm trying to rescue you here."

Elsewhere, six more commandos in full armor had sprinted across the street and gained entrance to the hotel...

JerinPuck
"Yeh, I can do it," Allie said. "You get what's-her-name and we'll meet at the place."

"Refueling station."

"Yeh, the place," Allie repeated, and walked out into the street that fronted the hotel.

Okay... lookin' for a guy not used to civvies, too clean, too close to the light, too interested in the hotel. She casually surveyed the streets' clientele; it didn't take her long to spot him. He didn't even have the decency to have a smoke as an excuse for loitering where he was. Still, though. Better make sure it's him.

"Hey, Mister. Mister!" Allie walked to within two meters of him, "Ya' got the local time?"

He looked her in the face briefly, then "Get lost, kid."

"Come on, I know ya' got a chronometer-"

"Beat it!" He wasn't even looking at Allie any longer.

"Fine, fine..." Allie walked away grumbling. It had to be him- the hesistation as he analyzed whether or not Allie was a threat, then remembering the role he had to play. It was only a split second, but a split second longer than it should have been. As soon as Allie was out of his peripheral vision and into the shadows, she turned on her heel, pulled her blaster out of its holster, and sent a stun bolt right to his head. A few people stirred, or turned their heads, but quickly lost intsrest in the situation.

Allie walked over to the scout and nudged his torso with her foot. Armor, like Tack had said. She leaned over and removed a mic- like the one she was wearing- from his neck and discarded it in the street, then relieved him of his blaster as well.

Now what? You can't just leave him here. He'll wake up and alert his team. Allie glanced around, found what she was looking for. "Hey. You two. Ten credits each for chucking this guy in a dumpster."

"Twenty each," a voice responded.

"Fifteen. And whatever's on this guy."

Some whispered conference, then "Deal."

**************

Allie pulled the lid of the dumpster down, then twisted the latch shut. Wiping her hands, she turned around "Right, so..." Allie pulled a pouch out of her pocket "twenty-five each, then." She flipped them each their cash, and walked away while they were still confused.

Darth_Kuangduk
"Fair enough," Tack said. He reached back into his back of proverbial and literal tricks, rummaged around for a few moments, then brought out a slim data chip. The chip was a special, military issue piece of equipment. It was given to special forces units who needed to listen in on the more clandestine transmissions of their adversaries. Having had no luck scanning for comm traffic, Tack had decided to take the next step - however unlikely it was that Sheelzo's people were using military grade comm masking equipment.

Almost at once the earpiece buzzed to life. Several conversations were going on at once, an organized chaos of logistical preparation.

"Speaking of breakfast," Allie said loud enough for Tack to hear through his earpiece, "Someone has armor, and he, she or it is on the hotel roof."

Unit two in position, ready to enter from above...

"There’s a sniper on one of the buildings across from the hotel,”

They've moved away from the window, but I've got them on thermals...

"And someone who might be with them on the ground."

Lookout reporting, streets look clear...

"Could be more..."

Unit one is in position, ready and waiting...

"Commandos?" Tack said, voice uncertain, as if he were asking the night for answers. Commandos didn't make any sense. They couldn't have traced him... couldn't have. But they were here... If they'd come for him, why were they hitting the thugs who had Jola? Why... unless it wasn't him they were after. Unless, somehow, for some reason, the Imperials had been at Aralia for her...

Then why lure him here? The simple answer was that they hadn't.

Pieces rapidly clicked together in Tack's mind, a picture taking shape from thousands of pieces that could all go together in different ways. The Imperials had gotten here ahead of the Broken Dream, that thanks to the ship's engine troubles. But they hadn't left alltogether. A special ops team must have been left behind, in case the ship showed up after all. Sheelzo's men, the Rodian blaming Tack for his turn of bad luck, had nabbed Jola as a way to get Tack. The commandos had found out and, not knowing or caring who Tack really was, had moved in to swipe the redhead from the clutches of what ammounted to gifted amateurs.

"Bloody hell." Tack growled, mostly to himself. He made a mental note to find out why there was such interest in Jola, then put aside those thoughts. He'd come here to rescue the pain in the rear. She'd been nabbed because of him, he owed her a rescue. "Ok kid," He addressed Allie with an edge of plassteel in his voice. "There's at least six of them. One is playing lookout, one is sniping and tracking movements through a thermal scope. At least one is on the roof, but there's probably two up there. I'm counting on two inside. That's six... but there might be more. Stay sharp. Here's the plan."

As Tack spoke, he rummaged through his sack again. Most of the nifty toys it contained he had already used, but there were still a few more left to play with. He handed Allie a throat mic and an earpiece like those he wore. He also produced two small metal orbs.

"See if you can distract the lookout long enough for me to get into the building. He'll be the one on street level, and he'll be dressed for the part in civillian clothes. He'll have light flexible body armor on underneath, though, so if you have to shoot then shoot for the head. I'm hoping it doesn't come to that. The sniper is busy looking through walls," he added, "So he's not a worry. Yet."

"Once I'm in the building, I'll comm you. When I do, get out of sight. Double back around and see if you can get to the rooftop where the sniper is." Tack tossed first one of the metal orbs to Allie, then the other. "These are explosives. The one with the yellow band is what we call a flashbang... it'll blind, deafen, and momentarily stun but not kill. The one with the red band is the real deal. Push the button and you've got five seconds to make sure it gets where it needs to be. Use them on the sniper when I give the call... I don't want you to have to try and take him out with a blaster pistol. Once he's down, it's your call what you do next."

In the second of silence it took for Tack to draw in a breath, he went over his own part of the plan. When inside the building he would have to make his way to a position where he could intercept the commandos. They would be moving soon, and he had no illusions that he could intercept them before they killed Jola's kidnappers and took her for themselves. The fight would have to be quick and dirty, with no time for mistakes. The two inside would have to die fast. He and Jola would have to move downstairs, maybe find a back exit, before the two on the roof made themselves a nuisance...

Tack exhaled and nodded to Allie. "We'll meet a few blocks from here, near that refueling station we passed on the way in. Think you can make it happen?" He made sure to give his companion a last chance to duck out. "If you can't, it's ok... I can handle this."

It would be harder than starting a fire on Hoth with a pair of twigs, Tack thought, but he might be able to do it without her. Either way he was going in. His earpiece crackled to life again, giving the order to go, to move in... Tack held his eyes on Allie, waiting for her response.

*************************************************************

Kral tensed as the lift doors opened. The arm he had around Jola's waist involuntaritly tightened it's hold on her, the hand that held his blaster swung the weapon up and to the ready. Neyova dodged to the opposite wall, knelt in a doorway and prepared to open fire. Gaznik fell back into a shooting stance and also leveled his weapon at the doors.

But as the doors opened, the revealed only a surprised looking old man, his weight leaning heavily on a sturdy white cane. Kral blew out a breath, eased his grip on Jola. The old man hobbled out of the lift, cane leaving the floor to wave threateningly in the mercenary's direction. "Hoodlums!" He shouted with a fiery passion. "This used to be a good neighborhood! You think you can just wave a weapon around at everybody who gets in your way? Eh? Well? Eh?" As if to emphasize his point, the old man waved his own weapon about - the end of the cane wove intricate patterns in the air before him.

Kral snorted in response, and turned to move the other direction. "We take the stairs," He ordered authoritatively. "That way they can't trap us in a lift. Neyova... you go first." He tossed a look over his shoulder at Gaznik. "You bring up the rear."

"But why-" Gaznik started to protest.

"Because I've got the girl, and because I say so." The bothan snarled viciously. "Now move!"

In single file, the trio of mercenaries headed down the stairs...

JerinPuck
"Mmm. Yours is better," Allie replied.

Tack didn't look up from the scanner in his hands. "What makes you say that? I never even said I had one."

"I'm a courier. Delivering packages doesn't include sneaking around. Smuggling, on the other hand... B'sides. You're the guy with the I-can-see-what-you-had-for-breakfast binoculars." Allie continued to scan the area without missing a beat.

"Fair enough," Tack said. Allie heard the rustling of the bag again as she walked to the end of the alleyway to scout some more.

Hotel roof.... someone. An armored someone. She could tell by the light of a security lamp gleaming off of it. Another person around a blind corner- Allie saw a thermal reading. Across the street looked clear at ground level. Someone with sniper rifle on a rooftop, though. Slightly disturbed, Allie made another sweep with the binoculars before retreating.

"Speaking of breakfast," Allie said, quickly returning to Tacks position, "someone had armor, and he, she, or it is on the hotel roof. There's a sniper on one of the buildings across from the hotel, and someone who might be with them on the ground. Um... around the south-west corner. Could be more, but that's all I saw."

JolaEdana
The red headed Doctor realized she should have trusted her gut. She had suspected Imperial ties from the beginning. Her insides churned. She let out a breath, and could feel her lips quiver. She pressed them into a firm line to keep the low moan building in her from escaping.

How did they know? And what do they want?

She looked up at her captors and saw all three looking at her. Jola knew her violet eyes were wide with fear.

She spoke in a low voice, tinged with tension but solid as steel: "What did you tell them?" Her eyes were fixed on the woman who had sold out her team.

The woman stared for a moment, then shook her head and drew herself up. "I don't ha-"

Jola forced herself to her feet, even though they were bound, her hands clenched into fists behind her. "WHAT," she inturrupted, "did you tell them??" Jola had to find out if the woman had sold out her- or Tack- or both. But how could she have known?

The man with the broken wrist backed up slightly in spite of himself.

The woman still didn't answer.

"Did they come to you? Who do they want?" She could hear the slight hysteria rising in her own voice. Jola managed a small step forward, the binders didn't make it impossible, just difficult. She knew she probably looked like a crazy woman, and at this point, she didn't care. She couldn't end up in Imperial hands.

"Answer me!" she demanded desperately. The trio of kidnappers were gathering the little gear they had and pulling out blasters, moving towards the door.

The man with the broken arm opened the door slightly, peeking out, muttering "Frel, oh frel..." over and over again.

They could hear footsteps, now. Running lightly.

The large bothan grabbed and lifted the short medic easily, slinging her across his shoulders.

"Leave her," spat the woman, moving out into the hallway.
"We might be able to use her," he replied cooly, quickly taking the lead.

Jola felt a deep despair settle on her like a transparasteel blanket, and she sagged in his grip. It didn't matter anymore. She was as good as dead.

The lift door at the end of the hall hissed open.

Darth_Kuangduk
"Definately a sharp cookie," Tack thought. He nodded in agreement with Allie's assessment. "Ok then," he said aloud, "Tonight it is. But if this is going to be a night op, there are a few things I'll be needing..."

One visit to the ship and about twenty minutes later, Tack and Allie stood within sight of the hotel where Jola was reportedly being held. Tack carried on his shoulder a generic looking duffle bag... it could have come from almost any navy or army in the known galaxy, and was big enough to hold all manner of equipment. Tack had been careful not to show Allie what was going into that sack back on the ship - he wasn't even sure he'd use most of it. But it paid to be prepared.

He surveyed the surrounding area slowly, eyes darting from rooftop to rooftop and alleyway to alleyway in search of anything suspicious, anything sloppy. He didn't see anything, but that could just mean whoever was in charge of ground operations was no amateur. If that was true, if Tack was dealing with a pro, then the entire operation would be a lot more difficult.

"Here," Tack said as he dropped the sack to the ground and rummaged around inside of it for a moment. "Use these." From the sack came a pair of sleek, compact macrobinoculars. They were the expensive kind, the ones that could see in the dark by either light gathering or thermal imaging. The kind that civillians weren't supposed to have, though that didn't stop a lot of people from having them anyway. "Scan the rooftops and alleys. Get out of sight if you see anybody, suspicious or otherwise."

From the sack Tack also produced a small headset. It fit neatly over one ear, almost invisible in the darkness. There was an accompanying mic, created of some flexible material which adhered via some sticky yet skin friendly substance to one's throat. Tack put it in his pocket for the time being and concentrated on the next item out of the sack. It was a small box, easily held within the palm of one's hand. A long, thin cord that ended in an electronic jack wound it's way from the front end of the box to Tack's other hand. He plugged the jack into an open port on his earpiece, and went about fiddling with the device in his hand.

"This device scans for active comm frequencies within a certain radius," Tack explained after several seconds of silence. "If they've got lookouts somewhere and they report in via commlink, I'll be able to hear them."

As he continued fiddling with his device, Tack watched Allie from the corner of his eye. She was bound to recognize this stuff for the expensive and advanced equipment that it was. Equipment that a smuggler like Tack would have had a hard time getting his hands on. He wondered what her reaction to it would be.

"Got any plans of attack in mind," He asked instead. Tack himself had a fair notion of how to rescue Jola, the first part of which involved listening in for any comm traffic that would give away her location. Vexingly, the note had said which hotel she was in... but not which room.

*************************************************************

Gazrik lay sprawled on a cot that had been set up along one wall, snoring gently. A small trickle of drool wound it's way from the corner of his mouth to the pillow. The room's bed had been claimed by Neyova, though the female mercenary wasn't currently in the hotel room.

Nearby, the bothan Kral had taken to leaning his chair back against the wall, and appeared to be dozing that way. In truth, it was a light sleep, enough to rest body and mind while still remaining attuned to his environment. When the room's only door opened, his head turned to the side and his eyelids opened to slits. Neyova walked in, closing the door behind her. She looked restless, frustrated, and a little apprehensive.

"What happened," Kral's deep voice startled Neyova visibly. She jerked in his direction. Kral shifted his weight and brought the chair back down only all four legs. "What happened," He said more forcefully, eyes opening fully.

"Locho's dead," Neyova said, deceptively calm. "Facedown in an alley. They knifed him... real professional like."

"I see," was Kral's only reply. "And who are 'they'?"

"They'll come for us next." Neyova ignored the bothan's question. "We've gotta move. Now." She moved as if to wake Graznik, but Kral was on his feet and in her way before she could get more than a few steps towards the cot.

"Did you sell out, Nova?" Kral asked dangerously. "Is that who 'they' are? Did you make a deal with somebody and get double crossed?"

"I..." Neyova hesitated. "No," She said forcefully, loudly enough that Graznik stirred and sat up in his cot.

"Wha?" The wounded mercenary asked sleepily, one hand rubbing at his eyes. "What's goin on?" Neyova and Kral both ignored him, each intent on the other.

"I didn't," Neyova repeated. "It must've been one of the crime syndicates. They must be wiping out Sheelzo, and that means all his assets... and that means us. We've gotta get out of here."

"They've let him squeek by with small stuff for a long time now," Kral grabbed Neyova's arm as she turned away from him, pulled her back to face him. "They could've stamped him out any time. They haven't. That or they couldn't and stopped trying. What'd you do?"

A small shadow broke the uniformity of the moonlight as it came through the window and pooled on the room's floor. Kral noticed it, turned to look. Neyova looked as well, caught sight of it and looked up towards the roof where the figure who was casting the shadow should have been. But by the time she looked up the cause of the shadow was gone. "They're already here," She said. "Great... just great..."

Standing now, Graznik moved to the edge of the window and glanced out. Seeing nothing, he looked back at his partners. "So, uh... what's goin on guys? We in trouble?"

"She sold us out," Kral said without looking at Graznik. "Only they're not holding up their end of the bargain, are they Nova?"

"No," Neyova said finally. "Now shut up and get moving, damnit. You want to live, you've gotta move. The Imps don't wait around for-"

At the mention of Imperials, a creaking noise drew everybody's attention to Jola. She sat upright in her chair, wide awake, and Kral got that familiar feeling at the back of his neck. "I've got a baaaad feeling about this," the Bothan muttered.

JerinPuck
Dear family,
Sorry this letter won't be longer, but one of the people who I just stole a ship with got nabbed by bounty hunters and we have to go get her back now. Oh, and that "legal job, warm, safe appartment" thing? Yeah.... it's gone. I won't be home in time for dinner, please feed the fish. Til next time.
Your daughter, and sibling (if any of them are left,)
Allie.

It took only a fraction of a second for Allie to discard the mentally composed letter as a bad idea. Besides, right now she had to focus; reflecting on irony wasn't going to help solve the situation.

Tonight or tomorrow?

"Tonight," Allie said. "Waiting just gives them more time to get ready. More time to get impatient. They'll probably put people out on watch duty once it gets late enough. If we get there before that, it'd be to our advantage."

Allie made a face. The whole thing was dirty. It was a rule, you don't gamble with anything you care about. Anyone on Ord Mantell with half a brain could tell you that. And you definitely didn't gamble with people. Yet they'd been forced in to it, 'cause someone wanted Tack. Wanted him dead, apparently. Why? Tack seemed like a decent guy. Allie couldn't imagine him doing anything that would warrant what was happening.

Darth_Kuangduk
Tack sat mulling over two things. The first thing on his mind was the analysis that Allie had just made. It was, he reflected, something he himself should have thought of to begin with. Either he was getting old, or the kid was just that much sharper than he was. Or both.

The second thing on Tack's mind - not that he had an easy time thinking over the clamoring racket the band was making - was the contents of the note. It stated, rather simply and plainly, that the people who had Jola were holed up in a run down hotel at the edge of town. They person who'd written the note explained that he didn't know what they planned on doing with the redhead, but that she was still alive. For how long was another question, though she'd apparently been holding her own. She had, the note said, given one of her abductors a broken wrist.

That was certainly Jola, Tack thought.

"Well?" Allie prompted expectantly.

"You're right," Tack said. "They want us to come to them." He waved the note about, "This tells us where she is. It's conveniently anonymous. I don't see that we've got much choice, though. If they're really after me, and I don't come to get her, they might decide she's not of any use and kill her..."

Tack sighed. The universe kept getting more and more annoying... just like the band. "Oddly enough, though," Tack commented after a moment’s thought, "The note doesn’t set up any sort of meeting. No time, no terms, just a location. Makes me wonder just what these guys are up to...”

*************************************************************

Somewhere in a bad part of town, a body dropped heavily to the floor of a trash filled alley. Two men stood over it, glancing about furtively as a third rummaged through the victim's pockets. After a moment, the third stood and held up a blood-spattered piece of flimsiplast. Quickly he unfolded it and read over it's contents.

"Is that it?" One of the other two figures inquired.

"Yup. This is it... they're trying to bait him into an ambush. Both of our targets should be there."

"Nothing like ambushing the ambush, eh?"

"I don't think we'll take that route," The leader of the small group interjected. "Where did this scum come from?"

The second figure paused, then remembered. "We trailed him from a hotel at the edge of the city. They might be holding her there."

"Tack will probably find out. He won't wait for the meeting, he'll hit them there - before the meeting, while they're unprepared. So will we... with any luck we'll get both of them."

"I'll let the rest of the team know."

"Just have them stake the place out for now... we'll move into position tonight, and then wait for Tack to show up."

*************************************************************

"The way I see it," Tack was telling Allie, "They've probably got the place stuffed with gunmen. The moment we show up they either try to nab us by force or they use Jola as a bargaining chip. Either way, we lose. So we've got to take them off guard, before they're ready. That means one of two options," the smuggler thought aloud, "Either we hit them now, tonight, and hope they're not read yet, or we sneak in on them early tomorrow morning and hope to catch them sleeping and unaware."

Tack gave Allie a steady look over the table. She was going to be in this with him, so he figured he'd better give her an opportunity to give input. "What do you think?"

Besides, the smuggler thought, she'd already proven she was a sharp thinker...

JerinPuck
"Um... No."

"No?"

"Not really, no. Obviously they want you, right? They've already grabbed her, expecting you'll try to rescue her, which means they don't want to make an effort to take you when you might have the advantage. But they don't want to spend a lot of time just sittin' around waiting for you to come to them, either. They're gonna want to make it real easy for you to walk into whatever trap they've got set up, so first, they are coming to you. Trying to make arrangements, cut a deal, whatever. The real question is, do they really want Jwhatever, or just you? If they want both of you, they're gonna bluff a lot more... It's sort of a weird version of a playing strategy in some card games." Allie paused for a moment. She hadn't said that much at once in a long time. "Either that, or this is not about her at all. The music here is awful," she added.

"...Yeah," was all Tack said in response as he gave Allie an odd look. He picked the flimsiplast up off the grimy tabletop, unfolded it and began to read.

Tack muttered something under his breath, and Allie wondered idly if the band was visiting from Arelia. The quality seemed about right.

"Well?" Allie asked, when she noticed that Tack had finished reading.

Darth_Kuangduk
"I shoulda known," Tack muttered as Allie opened her coat to reveal a holstered blaster. "Well kid," He said, "It doesn't have to be fancy so long as it works. And it saves us a trip back to the ship..." Briefly, Tack contemplated all of the equipment he had stashed in a smuggling hold. They were remnants of a darker time in his life, but they still might come in handy, no matter how distasteful it was for him. He weighed the options mentally, and decided that it would be best to leave well enough alone for the moment.

"So where do we start?" Allie inquired. Tack glanced around the bar again before answering, just in case.

"There's a rather shady establishment a little way from here. A cantina called The Barrel. I think I can get some more information from somebody I met there earlier today." Sliding off of his stool, Tack motioned for Allie to follow. She tossed the last bite of sandwhich into her mouth and headed after him, weaving her way through the tables and patrons like an expert. Tack was a little less adept, and bumped into a few people... all of them serving girls.

Eventually, though, the duo made it out onto the street. Lightposts cast bright, warm puddles of light across the streets. Pedestrians trudged through those circles of light, clinging to the safety of visibility as if monsters lurked in the shadows. In some shadows, they did. Dark figures lurked in shadowed alleyways and near broken streetlights, places where the light didn't venture.

For his part Tack kept to the decently lit sidewalks, eyes always watching for possible threats. As he got deeper into the area of town where The Barrel resided, more and more of the streetlights became broken. Slowly, Tack became aware of somebody following him. He glanced over his shoulder, saw a tan skinned Twi'Lek in the crowd, turned his attention forward again. "So," Tack said conversationally, "I think we're being followed."

"Ah," Allie commented, "So that's why we're walking in circles."

"We're not walking in circles," Tack argued, "I was just..." he paused, not wanting to admit that he hadn't exactly remembered how to get to The Barrel. Unfortunately, he couldn't think of any better reason for it than the one Allie had just provided. "Yeah," He said, sparing a moment to glare in her direction. "That's why we're walking in circles."

"Ok," She said pleasantly. Tack couldn't tell if she was any other hidden meaning behind the word. Knowing women, there probably was one... even if he didn't pick up on it. "So," Allie prompted after a few seconds of silence. "We're being followed?"

"Ah... yeah." Tack glanced at the reflection on the windshield of a speeder parked alongside the road. The Twi'Lek was still back there, weaving his way through the pedestrians that still had things to do, even during the dangerous hours of the night. "Let's find out for sure." Picking a side street that still had a decent ammount of pedestrian traffic on it, Tack made a course change. It would take him away from The Barrel... but getting lost again was worth the price of losing a shadow.

A few minutes later, Tack turned his head to the side. It was just enough for him to see the Twi'Lek out of the corner of his eye, but it would look to anybody else as if he was focussed on something he saw off to the side. "Yeah, he's still back there." Tack confirmed. He was about to say more when he caught sight of The Barrel's worn out neon sign... straight ahead down the street. "Oh for Sith's sake," Tack muttered under his breath. Well, if there was a good place to lose a tail, it was in a crowded cantina.

"There it is," Tack told Allie with a nod towards the establishment in question. "It's not exactly the nicest place in town, so keep your hand near your blaster. And stick close to me... the barflies shouldn't bother you too much if you're tagging along behind somebody else."

The inside of The Barrel was as bad as the last time Tack had been in it. Smoke floated across the entire place like a foul smelling fog, bad music blared from the stage, and a general sense of unclenliness permeated everything... including the patrons. An improvement from last time, however, was the fact that there were no possible corpses sprawled across the floor.

As he had before, Tack wove his way through the patrons towards an unoccupied booth. He kept glancing over his shoulder at Allie, but she didn't seem to need any watching. The two seated themselves in an empty booth, and once again Tack took note of any and all anomolous pools of liquid before starting to scan the crowd for either the Twi'Lek follower or Kaimen. For a moment, neither seemed present in the establishment... until the Twi'Lek came walking in through the front doors. He looked around for a moment, spotted Tack and Allie, and headed their way.

"I'd get my blaster ready," Tack said softly to Allie. "Just in case..."

The 'just in case' proved not to be necessary. The Twi'Lek just approached the table, pulled a piece of folded flimsiplast from his pants pocket, and deposited it on the table between Tack and Allie. Then he turned and walked away. Perplexed, Tack looked down at the folded flimsiplast, then up at Allie. "Was it just me," He asked, "Or was that kind of... unexpected?"


JerinPuck
While taking another drink, Allie surreptitiously pulled her jacket to the side just enough to reveal a shoulder holster, then let the jacket fall back into place.

"Nothin' fancy," she explained, "but it works. And I know how to shoot it," she added, with a slight smirk. Her father- crazy man- had insisted that all his kids learn how to use a blaster at a rather young age. Allie had never liked the things, and still didn't, but kept one out of necessity. (Not that it had always helped.)

Darth_Kuangduk
Tack smiled slightly. The coin toss was a nice touch. It reminded Tack of how he made some of his own decisions, though he did it without the aide of a physical coin. In the line of work he'd been in before becoming a smuggler, making snap decisions had been essential to one's survival. Heck, even being a smuggler required it.

"Great," Tack said. "I'd love to say let's get started right here and now, but we need to make a few preparations first." The smuggler glanced around the bar, watching to see if anybody was watching back. He'd been making a lot of inquiries... word was bound to get around of just how inquisitive he was and what he was being inquisitive about. Thus far, however, nobody seemed to be taking too much of an interest in him. A few patrons were taking an interest in Allie, but that was nothing out of the ordinary. Every bar had it's flies, so to speak.

When his gaze finally landed back on Allie, Tack found her giving him a somewhat expectant look. Tack looked back at her, raising both eyebrows. She chewed on her food for a few seconds, then swallowed. "Preparations," She prompted.

"Eh? Oh." Tack blinked and shook his head. "Right. You need a blaster. Can't have you getting into this mess without a weapon. You know how to shoot one, don't you?" Suddenly, Tack remembered one of his own barfly moments. He'd been a little inebreated and a lot annoying, setting his sights on one scantily clad woman in particular. She'd finally gotten tired and pulled a holdout blaster on him... which, considering the outfit she'd been wearing, had been quite a surprise. Tack still wondered where she'd kept it hidden...

The incident had tought him one valuable lesson. Never underestimate the firepower of a woman, even when she looks harmless. Allie looked relatively harmless... but Tack didn't put it past her to have a holdout blaster of her own hidden somewhere. If she did, he was about to look somewhat foolish. Not that that was unusual, of course.

JerinPuck
"Um..." Allie said. It was clear that in her eagerness to get off Arelia, she had forgotten to ask some important questions. So she traveled across the galaxy with hot cargo. With one- maybe two- people who were more valuable as corpses than as living beings to someone. With the Empire on their tail. With some dead plants and some good beer. What the frell?

No one had Allie's number. She and the universe were- or at least, had been- mutually apathetic about each other. Maybe she could walk away now without any of her companion's trouble rubbing off on her.

But maybe not. T-whatever didn't seem to think so, and it wasn't exactly something Allie wanted to test.

Leave, stay, hide, fight.... too many decisions. "Hang on a sec," Allie said, and dug into her hip pocket. She pulled out a small, gold-colored disc with an engraving of a planet on one side and a building on the other. Balancing it on her thumb and forefinger, she flipped it once and examined the result. So, I'm a smuggler now...

Now it was hide in the ship, or go with him. That decision was easier. "Yeh. I'll go with you," she answered. Allie was already in over her head, so why not dive deeper? Besides, Allie liked what's-her-name.

Darth_Kuangduk
"They," Tack replied, "Are apparently bounty hunters. I've got something of a price on my head, see..." Tack took a second to look around the cantina. He didn't think he'd spoken very loudly, but you never could be sure. "And I think they nabbed Jola to get to me. Either that or Red's got a bounty on her own head, which wouldn't really surprise me."

Finding that he was lapsing into a dry voiced tirade about Jola, Tack made a concious effort to focus on the task at hand. "Anyway, I've been thinking. If they grabbed Jola they might want to grab you, too. If that's the case you've got two choices... you can lock yourself in the ship until I get the redhead back and we leave, or you can help me go after her." Tack spared a few seconds to look over Allie. He didn't want to get her mixed up in too much trouble, but as he'd said it was entirely possible that she was on somebody's target list as well. "What'll it be?"

JerinPuck
After a brief good-bye, the red-headed medic (to no one's surprise) left the Broken Dream and quickly vanished into the crowded space port. Allie took stock of what money she had and decided that, while she had more than enough credits at the moment, she did not want to spend them. However, her personal candy stock was zero. This meant she needed to find an alternate source of income.

Not a problem.

Allie arranged to meet Tack back at the ship later that night, and set off on her own.

She spent the next several hours barhopping for low-stakes card games. Allie picked up 12 credits here, 3 there, 7 back at that one place... by the end of her rounds she had made a decent amount of money without attracting attention to herself. Since that had been Allie's goal, she decided to reward herself with a drink and a sandwhich. (To her disappointment she had failed to find any establishment that sold candy in bar form.)

Vaguely remembering- and blatantly ignoring- the smuggler's warnings about Tantor's night clientele, Allie returned to a nicer place she played at earlier that night. While she was sitting in a booth enjoying her supper, Tack slid in the seat across from her.

"They've got Jola," he said quietly.

For Allie, there were two problems with that sentence, and they were on either side of the word "got." She swallowed the bite of sandwhich she'd been chewing, washed it down, and wiped her mouth with her hand.

"What?"

Tack repeated what he had said, and Allie looked at him blankly. What was a Jola? Who were they?

Tack was incredulous. "You know? Short? Red hair? Annoying?"

"Yeh," Allie said, "who are they?"

Darth_Kuangduk
Kral nodded. "Oh, he'll know." he told Jola. The Bothan looked down at the strip of cloth that he still grasped in his hand. Briefly, he contemplated putting back on his captive. But it really wouldn't serve much purpose now, anyway. He dropped the blindfold on the floor and went back to his chair. "I hope you two got to know each other real well during that trip," He told Jola as he sat. His purple eyes bored into her, measuring her response. There was a flicker of something, a response to what he'd said. But it was too brief to be evaluated. Kral hoped it was something that bode well for him and his cohorts.

*************************************************************

Tack sat at a table, glass of alcohol in hand. He'd taken up residence at a much cleaner cantina to think about the situation with Jola. Or, as he was now fond of calling it, the Red Paradox. One the one hand, he told himself as he sipped his drink, he'd gotten her into this mess... in a roundabout sort of way. Though, really, he didn't know why the hell the Imps were after him. And she'd come with him willingly, even helped him get his ship out of impound on Arellia. That was another reason Tack was feeling obligated to do something... the woman had helped him get his ship back.

Of course, the other side of the problem was that Red had been one big pain in the arse the entire trip to Tantor. She certainly didn't like him, that much was obvious. Except... except for that one time, in the cocpit. She'd been kinda nice, then. It had only made Tack suspicious at the time, but what if...?

"Aw, frell it," Tack put his glass down. He knew what he had to do... if not because it was partially his fault (and he still wasn't convinced of that), then because he knew what happened to people when the Imps got their claws on them. They never came out the same, if they ever came out at all. And while he wouldn't particularly mind a change in Jola's personality, he didn't want it to be that kind of a change.

"Time to atone," The smuggler muttered as he rose from his chair. Mentally, he ran down a checklist of things to do. First, start asking around. Jola wasn't the sort who got overlooked easily... if anybody had been around to see her get nabbed, they'd remember it. And with any luck, they'd feel like talking about it. If they didn't, Tack had ways of persuading them. Second... well, he'd get to that after he was done with number one.

Unfortunately, it was getting on towards nightfall. Not that Cartogen closed down when the lights went out. On the contrary, the nightlife was quite lively... and quite deadly, more often than not. What worried Tack was the fact that if somebody had nabbed Jola because of an Imperial bounty they'd be after him as well, and if they were going to try something nighttime would be the perfect time for them to try it.

Then again, you didn't live life without risks.

*************************************************************

"That's not a risk I'm willing to take, Nova." Kral spoke to his female compatriot outside the hotel, in the light of the setting sun. They'd left Jola alone with Gazrik, who's wrist had indeed been broken. Neither of them were worried about their captive... she'd proven she could handle herself against Gazrik, even while bound. And now she could see when he was coming.

"Risks are what this game is all about, Kral," Neyova countered. "You don't take risks, you don't get the big creds."

"And you don't stay alive very long, either." the Bothan looked stonily back at his associate. "I'm a professional, Nova. When I sign a contract I stick with it. You don't gain a reputation by switching sides. Or should I say, you don't get the right kind of reputation."

"Sheelzo's nothing anymore," Neyova pressed. "He'll probably be dead in a month or so. We take his credits, we take their credits, nobody remembers or even cares."

"I'd care," Kral snarled. "There's a thing called professionalism... I signed on to do this job at an agreed upon price. So I'm going to do this job, for the employer who hired me, for the agreed upon price. End of discussion." Kral turned and took no more than two steps away before turning back towards Neyova. "And if you try anything, Nova, anything to cross me... I'll burry you."

"Mmk," Was all Neyova said in response. "Your paycheck, right?" She fished a thin deathstick from one of her vest pockects and lit it. "I'll be inside soon. Locho's gonna make contact with Tack sometime tomorrow," She took a drag from her deathstick and blew the smoke back out. "Then we'll set up a meet, do the job, get our money, and never have to deal with each other again."

Kral nodded and left Neyova to her smoking. Inside the hotel room, he found Jola still where he'd last seen her. Gazrik was sitting in a chair on the other side of the room, cradling his bandaged wrist and glaring evily in the redhead's direction. "Get out of my chair," The Bothan growled. Gazrik jumped slightly, but quickly vacated the chair. He moved cautiously to a chair closer to Jola.

"What's got you so bent, man?" He asked. "I'm the one who got my wrist broke, you've got nothin' to complain-"

"Shut up," Was all Kral had to say. "Your wrist wouldn't be broken if you hadn't been messing with the woman. Amateurs," He muttered the last under his breath. His purple eyes wound their way from Gazrik to Jola, and stayed on the redhead for a moment. Once again, there was the feeling at the back of his neck. "You want something to eat?" He inquired. The prisoner hadn't eaten since they'd nabbed her... which meant she'd missed about two meals.

"Now you're gonna feed," Gazrik started. Kral glared at him. "Shutting up," The other thug finished meekly, and suited action to words.

From outside the hotel room, Neyova's muffled voice yelled "You're a wimp, Gaz!"

Gazrik fumed silently at the comment, but said nothing.

"So," Kral addressed Jola again, "How about that food?"

JolaEdana
By the maw. They weren't after her, they were after Tack. It honestly hadn't occurred to her before that he might be a rogue Imperial. Or maybe this was about something else.

Jola felt her stomach lurch as she made eye contact with the Bothan. She feinted confusion, squinting at the sudden light to give herself a few more seconds to think. If she wasn't useful, they might let her go.Yeah, right. Then again, they also might shoot her and be done with her. Or do a hundred other things.

She was fairly certain Tack would never come for her. But they didn't need to know that. And maybe, by making herself useful....

Jola swallowed hard, not having to try hard to seem scared by her captor's threat. "If he knew where I was," she conceded. She glanced to one side for a moment before flickering her gaze back to the bothan's face. "We did..." she hesitated. "...get to know each other on the trip."

There. Let him take that how he would.

Darth_Kuangduk
Kral once again regarded Jola silently. But though he said nothing, the wheels were turning within his mind. The redhead was claiming not to know Tack. That could just be self preservation... but what if it wasn't? It wasn't possible that they'd nabbed the wrong woman. It was hard to miss a five foot tall ball of fire, even in the streets of Cartogen. And Kral had followed her himself.

Another gear ticked around with Kral's mind. She said she'd just hitched a ride from Tack. For the moment, Kral was going to assume that was the truth. If this woman had no connection to Tack, then Tack likely didn't care about her, the entire plan was about to go down the 'fresher. Bait was no good if the fish didn't want to bite at it.

"Is that so," Kral said slowly. "Well then, keep this in mind. If you have no value to Tack, you have no value to my employer," Kral didn't mention Sheelzo by name, even if Gazrik already had, "and therefore you have no value to me. Or to Gazrik. So I'm going to ask you this just once, and hope you give me the right answer."

On a whim, the Bothan stepped forward into Jola's reach. Reaching out with one furred hand, he pulled the blindfold from her face and looked into her squinted eyes. "Will he come for you?" he asked.