Quo sat in the diner watching as the clientèle went about their business ordering their meals and drinks. There was a constant buzz about the place as the conversations of the patrons merged into a background mush of noise. Their humdrum existence was not in the slightest bit interesting to the Sith as he observed the movements of the serving droids, and of the owner who was preparing the food behind the serving hatch.
There were three WA-7s in the cantina, all identical to each other, even the vocal units installed were identical. He had tried to discern any difference between them in the hours that he had observed them, and at a cursory glance none would have been apparent to the casual watcher, however he had noticed several idiosyncrasies in their behaviours, probably internal glitches in their core programming that had crept into the systems over the years of use that differentiated the three into distinctly individual units to the trained eye. The owner of the establishment obviously had not taken the time and expense to eradicate these vagueries, and he himself seemed to be able to distinguish between the three seemingly identical units.
“Table twenty four, Ne-ne,” he called from the galley kitchen to one of the waitress units, “and there are two spiced caffs to go for the two gentlemen at the counter”
The WA-7 addressed as ‘Ne-ne’ wheeled its way over to the serving hatch and took the orders across to their respective customers, the ‘face’ of the unit displaying the happy smile that was designed to put sentient life forms at ease. Her voice was bright and sing-song in its nature conveying a simple pleasure into the conversation that it engaged in with the clientèle. The programmers had decided that a high pitched, female register voice would make interaction more pleasurable to living beings, and this one had a slight giggle added to its speech patterns, either intentionally or through a programming fault which made its individuality more recognisable to the Sith taking it all in.
The unit behind the counter serving the patrons seated on the tall bar seats was different. Sure, it had the same sing-song female voice, although without the giggliness, but this one had a strange habit of wiping its hand over its cranial unit in a mimicry of the habit of some of the locals that frequented the eatery. This again was a distinguisher that Quo had picked up on early in his observations.
The third had a tic, the vocal processor unit had a habit of looping for a fraction of a second, resetting the word that it was attempting to say, giving it the appearance of having a slight stammer. At first the Zabrak had found it irritating, although now he just saw it as an error that should be fixed. It did, he would admit to himself, make it easy to spot the droid from its counterparts.
Atra and Evant hadn’t been able to discern from their interrogations which particular droid the information had been deposited in, he would have to discover that for himself. He tried to put himself in the position of a Jedi who was cornered and tried to deduce by logic which of the droids was the most likely target to search, however, even with his keen intellect he couldn’t decide which one it would be. Every time that he though he had a definitive answer his brain threw up a new scenario which countermanded his decision.
It would take longer to determine which one of the droids contained the information. He was gathering information every time the droids passed his spot, he watched them for signs of tampering. Fresh scratches, screw heads with no paint on them, panel alignment. He was sure that the owner did all his own servicing when required, there was a toolbox on the floor of the kitchen with droid maintenance tools sat within the open drawers, he had spied it as he entered. Even with the do it yourself approach to repair there should be a build up of food remnants and airborne particulants over the surface of the fixings through working near to hot food, and grime built up to form a protective film over the bodies of the droids. Any fresh tampering would be relatively easy to spot he thought, how wrong he had been. For over an hour he had tried to gain an incite to guide him, but the droids weren’t still long enough for him to thoroughly scrutinise them.
Sweeping around he sent a piece of cutlery off the edge of the table in front of him, making it look like an accident. The ‘giggly’ droid wheeled over to retrieve it giving the Sith a chance to sweep his eyes more thoroughly over the body panels of it as it extended an arm to pick up the errant utensil. Searching intently he could not establish any portion of it that was not covered in the thin film of grease and grime, there certainly were no marks of disturbance in the recent past at any rate. One down, two to go.
Standing from his table he made his way across the floor of the diner towards the lavatories, that would bring him closer to the ‘stammerer’. He followed it as it carried across another order from the kitchen although he tried not to look like he was following it. His gaze roved across the body of the droid, every surface coming under fierce scrutiny. Every fastening and panel was ingrained on his mind, although he couldn’t find any sign of interference. That left only the droid tending the counter to check.
Making his way back from the cubicles of the lavatories he made his way over to one of the unoccupied stools at the counter. At least with this one he didn’t have to travel around the place to try and get a good look at it, this one was restrained by the confines of the counter area. Ordering a spiced caff he sat watching as the droid perambulated the confines of the counter space. At first he didn’t notice it, but after a few minutes of scrutiny he noticed it. It was small, but from the gleam from the scratch it was recent, the newly scuffed surface flashing silver as the roof mounted lighting caught it as the droid moved.
Down near the midriff of the droids body, partially hidden away by the arm the panel had recently been removed. The layer of grease and grime showing signs of disturbance and several of the fixings had new working marks on their surface. At least now he had his target. Finishing his beverage he rose and made his way from the diner. He would communicate his findings to the Voice and return just before closing under the cover of his Force induced cloak of invisibility.
Several hours later he entered the diner again, following through the door left open by one of the final customers of the day. Taking up his place in the corner of the seating area he knew he could wait for the diner to close in this position without being disturbed, he only had to wait another 5 minutes until the final clients were ushered from the premises leaving him alone with just the droids and the owner for company. He bided his time watching as the receipts for the day were calculated and tallied, the profits being stored into the safe, the cafeteria made ready for the following day, before the owner made his way to the doorway. A cursory glance around as he brought out the remote for the droids, keying the button to deactivate them for the night and he was away, locking the door behind him.
Quo approached the dormant droid behind the counter under cover of darkness, his senses guiding him through the murkiness. Light was entering through the windows, however the polarisation prevented much of it entering, making the diner appear to be complete darkness from the outside. There was no reason for him to keep up his invisibility in the darkness, but still moved warily. He had no idea what sort of security the establishment had to watch over it, so was not going to take any chances. If there was surveillance all it would discern would be a dark shadow. The cowl of his hood would prevent them seeing his face.
His leather clad hands ran over the body of the droid quickly locating the panel that had been removed. Whoever had replaced it had left it sitting proud of the surrounding panels, making the task of locating it in the dark a lot easier than if he himself had done it. Taking out an extraction tool from his belt he felt with his hand for the recesses of the locating pins before loosening them, letting them fall into the open palm of his other hand. Within seconds he had removed the panel and looked into the black opening behind it. In this light he could not make anything out so reached in and searched with his hand, slowly and methodically he searched the recess, working around the perimeter of the space. There were a myriad of wires and servos that activated the droids movements, but he felt nothing initially. Turning his hand over in the space he moved it upwards to the top of the recess. There he found what he was seeking, attached quickly to the inner framework of the droid.
Removing the item he replaced the panel ensuring that the fit was flush this time before running his hand across the surface, smearing the grease and grime in a thin layer across the surface. He would look at it later. Moving from behind the counter he made his way through the kitchen towards the rear exit. No point in attracting attention by going through the front. After all there may be security personnel patrolling at this time at night. A glance at the door showed that it was a simple lever lock, no obstacle to the Sith. Manipulating the workings through subtle machinations of the Force he opened the lock. Stepping into the night he reversed the process to lock it again behind him. The cafeteria owner hadn’t done anything wrong, there was no need in his mind to punish him by making his place vulnerable to robbery.
Quo moved in the shadows, checking that he wasn’t being followed as he went. Within twenty minutes he was back in his accommodations, sitting before his portable computer. The item that was deposited within the droid turned out to be a data car. Quo had connected it to his computer and downloaded the files to memory. There was no information that at some point wouldn’t prove valuable to him. There were several encrypted files on the stick that he was currently attempting to decrypt using the laptop software. Looking up from the screen showing it’s progress he decided that it was opportune to inform Arta and Evant of his discovery, ommiting the copying of the data of course.
“Quo to Evant, Antwort, I repeat, Antwort.”
He had used the agreed password to tell them that he had found what they had been seeking. He waited for a response, whether to return to base or to continue the mission with an amended objective. There were surely discussions going on in the office of the Voice to determine the best course of action on which to proceed. It was some thirty five minutes later when the reply was forthcoming.
“Anwesig.”
A simple one word code that had the Sith packing his meagre possessions required for the mission together. It was a matter of moments before Quo was making his way back across the city, towards the Inquisitorious Citadel and his debrief. A sense of pride flowed through him, he had done the job quickly and quietly, no fuss or mess to clear up, and he himself was unscathed. Things could not have gone better he thought to himself, nobody knew he had been there, apart from to drink spiced caff, and nobody was any the wiser to his real intentions, just as any good Inquisitorius agent should do.
Sweeping into Evants office with no announcement he deposited the card on the Voice’s desk, a curt nod passed as a greeting. Quo waited patiently as the Seer closed his hand over the prize. The Grand Master would be pleased. Placing the card into a biometrically locked drawer he would present his findings to Pravuus later after he had read it himself. The solid wooden doors to his office were slammed shut keeping the rank and file partitioned away from this secret world, of which many were simply oblivious, just the way they should be. Evant felt the touch of the Dark Side caress his mind, velvet darkness stroking gently on the core of his being. Today was a good day.