As always the streets of Coruscant’s Government sector were packed full of species from all across the galaxy. With their heads down, the Corscanti citizens and its visitors hustled to and fro in all directions attempting to avoid interactions. No one seemed to take the time to take in their surroundings.

Sitting stoic on a bench was TuQ’uan Varick, hat pulled low, eyes sharp, surveying the non-descript building across the square. The Kel Dor had been here unmoving for nearly five hours now, waiting, watching, and preparing. As a guard walked past a door off to the left of the main entrance to the building TuQ’uan made his move. Standing up the mercenary's back made a loud cracking sound and his legs were a little stiff, but that would fix itself quickly. Flowing from group to group, the infiltrator used the crowds as cover to move as quickly as he dared in order to not draw unwanted attention.

Saddling up to the door the mercenary only had a brief window of time to get inside before the next pass by the guard. Jacking his datapad in TuQ’uan got to work typing furiously, sparing only brief glances to make sure he was undisturbed. *Click*, he was in. Opening the door only as much as necessary to squeeze through, the mercenary slipped in.

Moving from door to door, TuQ’uan tried each one, looking for one that had been left unlocked if possible, however he was not opposed to picking the lock or outright breaking a door down in he had to.

Just over a month ago TuQ’uan had bribed the security guard at a terminal manufacturing plant to let him take a self guided tour around their facility. He had taken this opportunity to plant a data recorder into a terminal set to be delivered to the Coruscanti branch of the Vaslin Shipping Company. His employer believed the company was moving stolen goods on behalf of various government officials and was not only looking for proof but an opportunity as well, and as long as credits were involved so was TuQ’uan.

The Kel Dor reached the end of the Vaslin Shipping Company's hallway and had yet to find an open door, it was time to try a different approach. Reaching into one of his many jacket pockets, TuQ’uan removed a small screwdriver and began taking the lock apart. After a moment of fiddling with it a few sparks flew from the mechanism followed by a small puff of smoke. Sighing the mercenary put the screwdriver away and began prying the door open.

Once TuQ’uan finally managed to get the door open he headed straight for the terminal on the desk and began the next step in his search. It was good new-bad news for the mercenary. On one hand the terminal he had modified was here and in use, bad news was that it was in Mitram Vaslin’s office which also happened to be the most secure and commonly patrolled room in the building.

It took very little time for the Kel Dor to reach the top floor of the building where the executive offices were located, he was in a rush now, and the longer he stayed in the building the more likely he'd be caught. Pausing in the doorway to the stairwell he took a moment to listen for footsteps. Once he was satisfied TuQ’uan made his way to the large double doors to the office. This was a pretty sophisticated lock, he may need help with this one.

A guard could be heard shuffling around the corner. TuQ’uan removed a vibrodagger from its hiding spot in his jacket and moved towards the sound. As the guard rounded the corner the Kel Dor struck, planting the dagger firmly in the chest of the guard and using his other hand to make sure the guards mouth was covered. Now that that mess was done TuQ’uan dragged the body over to the door and placed the cooling hand on the fingerprint scanner. The lock lit up green and the door slid open.

TuQ’uan retrieved his screwdriver again as he walked over to the target terminal. Removing the side panel of the terminal the Kel Dor reached his large hand inside, and with only a little fiddling he was able to retrieve the data recorder. As he got the terminal back together the mercenary's eye was drawn to a safe on the wall. *Well I do need a cover story for the break-in,* TuQ’uan mused.

Two minutes of working with the safe and TuQ’uan had the safe open and was placing the credits in his pocket. It was then that the he could hear the sirens of the Coruscanti Security Force fast approaching. Moving quickly the mercenary descended a few flights of stairs and waited. Above the footsteps of four Security agents could be heard running down the stairs from the roof to the floor TuQ’uan had just left. When he was sure they had all left the stairwell TuQ’uan made his way up to the roof where the Security Force agents had come from.

Emerging onto the roof TuQ’uan saw something that would have made his smile if it were physically possible, the airspeeder was parked a few feet away and still running, he wouldn't even need to hotwire it. Hoping in, the mercenary found a Coruscanti Security Force badge on the seat, pocketing the badge he took to the skies of Coruscant.

His smooth getaway didn't last long though, more Security Force speeders joined him in the sky attempting to flank on either side. The time for fancy flying had come. TuQ’uan dropped the air speeder into a near straight drop towards the ground, pulling up way later than he had intended, both hands held the controls in a grip that would cut off circulation. The Kel Dor risked a look back to see where his pursuers were. The maneuver had caught them off guard but they were still on his tail, only further away now.

The speeder jerked violently to the left, TuQ’uan had taken his eyes of the traffic on from of him and in turn had bumped into another airspeeder. He quickly regained control of the speeder but the bump had done some damage to the engine which now had smoke beginning to waft out. One of the two pursuing Security Force speeders had stopped to inspect the collision.

The chasm to the lower levels had appeared ahead of TuQ’uan, he got an idea. As he got closer the Kel Dor saw a wall of Security Force air speeders forming, the sirens on all were wailing away. TuQ’uan committed himself to the plan. Increasing to full speed the mercenary aimed directly at the centre of the wall, at the last possible moment TuQ’uan dove beneath the airspeeders. Pulling back on the controls TuQ’uan tried to bring the airspeeder perpendicular to the ground again, he was skimming the streets of Coruscant and approaching the chasm fast. The mercenary was unsuccessful in pulling off his ambitious maneuver, and bounced the bottom of the smoking airspeeder off the ground, destroying the repulsors. After the second impact with the street the airspeeder skated across the ground at full speed towards the chasm, the engines still working away.

With a crash the airspeeder burst through the safety wall at the edge of the shaft and over the edge. The airspeeder was quickly covering the distance to the other side of the chasm as it dropped. Throwing the door of the speeder open TuQ’uan readied himself and jumped for the edge. With a lack of grace the Kel Dor landed and rolled a few times before a pile of foul smelling garbage brought him to a stop, he lay there a moment before being able to bring himself back to his feet. Hobbling away from the incident as quickly as he could, the mercenary needed to find a place to lay low for a bit.

TuQ’uan reached into his pocket to ensure the data recorder was still safe, it was luckily there and in one piece, right beside it was the badge. The feeling of a smile crept over him, this was a story he'd be telling for years to come.

You'd never believe me if I told you that I have friends who were hired by the Inquisitorius, but it's true and I can prove it.

---

The Landsdown Docks were an ever-increasing hub of activity on Aliso. Their importance as the primary civilian spaceport meant it attracted people by the shipload. Settlers of the city itself intermingled with visiting crews keeping their stay on Aliso secluded to the docks. Stuffed haphazardly between the various docking bays were shops and stalls of various kinds desperately attempting to sell or advertise their diverse range of products. Larger establishments felt less pressure to do so, relying instead on the customers packing their premises to showcase their worth.

The most popular of these establishments was the Landsdown Café. Easily one of the largest storefronts in the entire dock area, being the largest wasn’t saying much. The establishment was tucked in between two large bays that could comfortably house small-scale freighters or gunships. To make up for a lack of width, the café was long and narrow, with only a single row mismatched durasteel tables to either side of a main walkway. The tables were accompanied by padded, worn-in chairs, four to a table, tucked neatly under the flat tops. The row of tables ended a few feet away from a long bar area, outfitted with a swath of products that could yield beverages of numerous kinds from across the galaxy, including those with alcohol. Where the bar ended was a small space that an average-sized humanoid could fit through, leading to the kitchen area hidden behind a simple swinging door secured by some rickety hinges. The aroma of various meals and other delectable treats wafted into the cafe with every opening of the door, spurning the appetites of the patrons within.

Near the quaint entrance of the Landsdown Café, a spry Pantoran dressed in simple smuggler’s attire attended two other patrons, pouring a large metallic pot of caf into their mismatched mugs of cheap porcelain. With his back to the entrance, a wide set human man with a sizable gut took his cup eagerly, using his free hand to direct the plumes of steam emanating from the beverage toward his face. To the right of the human man was an exotically beautiful Zeltron woman dressed in elegant though functional attire. She sat with her legs up on the table and leaning back on the rear legs of her chair, fingering her mug of caf at the edge of the table nearest her. Though she was beautiful, she had dangerous eyes that were both sultry and cold at the same time.

“I can’t believe I’ve found you two here,” Laren exclaimed as he sat in a chair against the wall. “After all of these years, you’re both alive and, imagine that, on Aliso.”

The large human man whose name was Gron shrugged lazily. “We heard there was business out this way. Who in their right mind can no’ ignore that.” Gron’s accent in Basic was odd due to his upbringing in the streets of Ord Mantell.

“In truth, we weren’t expecting to find you here.” Merilay, the Zeltron woman, met Laren’s eyes with a firm glance. “Especially among all these Sith types.”

Laren shrugged. “They pay well.”

Gron snorted. “We all know that’s a bag of krayt spit. You were never so simple.”

“And what in the nine hells it that supposed to mean?”

“Money was never your game, Blue. Don’t deny that.”

Laren looked away from Merilay, turning his focus to Gron. He couldn’t help but to feel the heat of his face which he knew was a slightly darker shade of blue. Blue had been his nickname among this lot, back in the day. It had been some time since he heard Merilay utter those words.

Ignoring their comments, Laren continued. “But truly, what brings you out this way?”

Gron set his red-dyed porcelain cup down and looked to Merilay expectantly. Gron had the age and experience among the duo, but she had always been the final say in matters of their work as mercenaries. Merilay returned the look for a moment, sharing a wordless exchange with the bulky man. After a moment she nodded and returned her sharp sapphire stare to Laren, her voice soft and barely audible over the buzz of the café.

“This doesn’t leave this room.”

Laren sat forward, his interest peaked at her sudden seriousness. “I’m listening.”

Merilay sighed. “Originally we thought we were here for a protection contract. Standard fare plus bonuses, room and board while escorting the rare private transport in and out of the system. Nothing out of place.”

Gron snorted. “Boy were we karkin’ surprised, eh?”

Merilay nodded hesitantly. “You could say that.”

“So what in the hells happened?”

“If you let me finish, Blue, I’ll tell you,” Merilay responded, directing a finger and her scolding tone toward the unsuspecting Aedile. Laren raised his hands in mock surrender before returning his focus to listening.

“Everything changed. Honestly, you probably won’t even think it’s true.”

“Listen, you both agreed to tell me what’s what in that little exchange you had a minute ago with your eyeholes. Now tell me what’s going on.”

Merilay sighed. “As I said, you’d never believe me if I told you that I was hired by the Inquisitorius, but it’s true and I can prove it.”

Laren’s golden eyes widened as he sat back in shock. His hand almost darted to his blaster, but instead he maintained his composure and kept his hands folded neatly on his lap. He looked between Gron and Merilay, hoping to see some semblance of dishonesty, some sign among the two that they were trying to lie to Laren. The seconds passed into a full minute, but he finally accepted that they were not trying to lie to him. Just like they had managed during his escape from Mandalore all of those years ago, they were telling the cold, hard truth.

“How the hells do you know it was the Inquisitorius?” Laren finally managed in a low whisper.

Gron leaned forward. “Some of those folk aren’t exactly subtle. Nay for this one, too. He had the armor and everything.”

Merilay nodded her agreement, continuing, “It’s true, Laren. The man wasn’t messing around. I would know him anywhere if I saw him.”

“What does he look like?” Laren demanded, his voice still a whisper, but forceful all the same.

“I couldn’t forget him if I tried. Human man, handsome face from the mask up. But those eyes,” Merilay breathed. “Green as those fields to the north of the city, and an Inner Rim accent that makes you melt.”

*Arden*, Laren thought with a start, ignoring Merilay’s transparent attraction to the curious Inquisitor. Laren had always known the man was highly regarded among the Inquisitors, but he had supposed his loyalty was to Clan first. What could the man be playing at by working for them now?

“So what’s the job?”

“A lot of creds job this is.” Gron had a knack for providing comments that didn’t help the conversation progress. But for all of his unique or annoying quirks, he was a stellar pilot and a dangerous marksman that could match some of the best shot-for-shot. Laren had once seen Gron pick up a blaster rifle he had never used before and hit a target at over half a kilometre.

“This is where it gets interesting,” Merilay said, sitting forward in her chair and leaning forward on the table. “For now, we’re just running cargo out of that asteroid of yours – what’s it called?”

“The Circle.”

“Right, the Circle,” she said with a snap of her fingers. “Anyway, we’re running cargo out of there for this contact about once an Alisian week. Standard fare, right? But we’re also on retainer for this.” She patted a pocket on her snug jacket. Laren could barely make out the outline of a rectangular device he was sure was a datapad. “We’ve been given a list of targets here on Aliso that, if things go south, we’re supposed to take out. People, infrastructure, you name it. Even gives an order of precedence.”

“You were right to tell me about this, Meri,” Laren managed after a moment, sitting back against the wall once more. “And if I hadn’t known who you spoke of, you’re right, I wouldn’t have believed you.”

“Laren – Laren, there’s more.” Merilay looked down at her hands, fumbling with her fingers in her lap. She seemed too scared to continue.

“You’re on the list, my boy,” Gron grunted before Merilay could summon her courage. “You’re one of them targets.”

He froze, golden eyes locked with Gron’s beady brown. This time his hand did dart for the blaster at his hip, but he did nothing more than rest it on the grip of the weapon. The two across from him made no move for their own hidden arms. The guilt they felt was obvious in their expressions, due to their past history together.

“What honor is there among our kind?” He looked between Merilay and Gron. “We sell ourselves and our blasters for some creds, killing and looting along the way. I mean, I appreciate you letting me know, though, so don’t feel so bad. I’m a bit flattered, actually.”

“You’re *flattered*?”

Laren laughed. “Absolutely! I’ve been among these Sith for over a bloody year. If I’m on some hit list of theirs, it must mean I’m doing something right. Who knew a little time acting half obedient could do such wonders?”

“Listen, Blue. You’ve always been a bit self-absorbed in your work, but this is insane. I guarantee we aren’t the only mercs who have been offered this contract.”

“But you were wise enough to accept the terms, which is good. He would have killed you otherwise. And you were also kind enough to warn me of his plans. Once again, Meri, you made the right call by telling me. Now if I could pass along my own tidbit of information?”

Merilay and Gron both nodded.

“Get the hell off Aliso. Get on your ship and set your course for the furthest system you can think of and do not look back.”

“But we accepted the contract, we can’t just –“

“Meri, I can’t say much, but just know that your instincts are right. This is no normal proposal, and this is no normal situation. Did you notice anything off since you’ve been in the city? Something just at the corner of your eye that you can’t quite shake.”

“Aye, me certainly did,” Gron said, sounding much more lucid than before despite his odd speech.

“The people. They seem hesitant. Some of them even seem more scared than usual.”

“It’s because they can feel it, Meri. War is coming. The Sith are seldom seen outside of the Pinnacle anymore, and for good reason. Battle lines are being drawn as we speak, and you’ve just been roped into a conflict that will span the entirety of the stars themselves. Please… run while you still can.”

“Listen, Blue, we don’t run or abandon jobs.” Meri eyed Laren fiercely, but he ignored it.

“This isn’t Mandalore, Meri!” Laren said, more exasperated than before. “This is Aliso, home of an entire clan of half-mad Sith bent on galactic domination – and this is just one clan. Unlike me, you’re not in too deep to simply make yourself scarce. Just this once, Meri, you have to trust someone other than yourself. Get out while you still can, and don’t look back.”

Merilay and Gron took Laren’s advice. Soon after their hushed conversation, they left the Landsdown Café and headed for their ship. Laren followed them the whole way, acting as an unofficial escort of sorts, scanning the crowd for any signs that they were being followed or targeted. Once they reached their ship, one of the older type Corellian freighters Laren so despised, he bid his old friends farewell. Watching their ship arc gracefully into the cloudy Alisian sky, Laren turned and strode away from the landing pad, his head filled with thoughts of Arden Karn di Plagia, and betrayal.