Ask X Marks the Spot

[Nakoa Singh]

Nakoa had yet to work with this Sarella character, but she was on the Apex list as a bounty hunter, so he'd figured it was only a matter of time. It was Maro Dolphe they were after, an Incom engineer who'd run off with secret plants and parts. Incom wanted them back alive, and the plans destroyed. That part was easy. Finding them was... proving difficult. At this moment, mostly difficult for the smuggler Nakoa had lifted by his collar and was repeatedly shaking to gently encourage some answers.

"What was their destination?" he asked calmly, a veneer broken by the aforementioned shaking. For some frustrating reason, he was finding it difficult to get any impressions from this man's thoughts or feelings. It was all engine specs and Sabacc games. His impatience wasn't entirely unjustified, however. The longer it took to find their target, the colder the trail would go. They might disappear entirely.

Naturally, that was unacceptable.

@Altaris

 

[Sarella]

Sarella was growing rapidly impatient with the smuggler. For just a few weeks now, the Fallanassi had been working with Apex in a variety of different missions - having been recruited by Arla on Nar Shaddaa. It allowed her a steady stream of income, and fitted her lifestyle far more than any commitment to the Sith or Jedi Orders. She belonged to neither of them, in truth. Sarella was beholden only to her own goals and ambitions, loyal only to her own tribe. As any of her people were.

Of course, she couldn’t help the curiosity that had been sparked by Nakoa - commanding her interest far more than the standard Apex contractor. Like herself, he practiced and perceived the Force in ways that strayed from the conventional beliefs, not unlike Arla who’d connected them both. There lingered that inch for knowledge - to understand the cultures and philosophies that differed from her own - that kept the Fallanassi closely observing her companion.


For the present moment, however, Sarella kept her eyes narrowed on the problematic and quiet smuggler. She was adorned in traditional Fallanassi attire - with colorful sashes and tunic pulled over a simple armorweave underlay. Golden bands adorned her wrist, while colorful beads were tied to her biceps, waist and decorated her silver-gold braids. Tucked at her waist was a single Kyuzo Petar, while the other was being casually twirled between her fingers.

“You really are only making this difficult for yourself, you know.” Sarella said with a hum, tilting her head a bit at the man. “Just a whisper of a destination, and you leave here unscathed. Apex is even willing to throw in a few hundred credit tip.” They decidedly weren’t. But he didn’t really need to know that, did he?

To his credit - and Sarella’s irritation - the man didn’t budge. He merely tilted his head away, eyes squinting towards a shut as Nakoa continued to throttle him. The Fallanassi tapped her foot a bit, drawing in a breath before steadying her grip on the Petar. Through every ripple and wave across the Current, Sarella couldn’t feel any distinct emotion rolling off of him. He was an enigma in that way, resistant in ways that Sarella couldn’t fathom to be anything but trained.

“Or we can force the answers out of you. And I promise - a loss in reputation will be the least of your concerns.” She activated the energized cord of her weapon, pointing the razor tip towards his chin. “Entirely your choice.”

 

[Nakoa Singh]

Nakoa stared at the smuggler who'd thus far been decidedly and defiantly silent. The Wrean relaxed the grip around the man's collar, allowing him to breathe but still holding him well over the metal catwalk of this particular Fondor cityway. There was a long pause of no speaking where the smuggler mostly just tried to catch his breath.

"Fine then," Nakoa stated before promptly, and very casually, tossing the man off the edge into the great ecumenopolis below. At last, the smuggler said something, although it was mostly incomprehensible screaming for his life as he fell. Nakoa reached into the coat-cloak thing he wore to retrieve and light and cigarra. He tapped his foot exactly four times as the screaming faded into the distance.

Singh rose his left hand and the screaming started to get closer again, reaching peak volume as the smuggler shot into view again in front of him, floating upside-down in the air. Liquid dripped across his shirt from his pants. Nakoa exhaled a cloud of fragrant, spiced smoke. "Whenever you're ready. Take your time."

After a lot of getting his shit together that involved no small degree of crying, the smuggler babbled out, "H-h-he's going to Ord Mantell!" before glancing down with an audible gulp. He was getting a distinct impression he hadn't been paid enough for this. Who the hell had this guy pissed off!?

Amber-gold eyes stared at the smuggler, letting the silence stretch well beyond what was comfortable. "S-so-?" Nakoa pulled his hand inward so the smuggler slapped back on the walkway like a hooked fish on a boat, exhaled through his nose, and gestured shortly at the man with his cigarra-wielding hand.

"Pay him."

@Altaris

 

[Sarella]

Sarella watched the entire exchange without a change in expression. The Fallanassi clipped the weapon back to her belt - humming to herself as the smuggler plummeted several stories over the buildings edge. For just a moment, she wondered if Nakoa had actually grown tired enough to let the man drop and splatter across the duracrete below.

As it seemed, he had not.

The Fallanassi frowned a bit - preemptive taking a step away from the man who’d pissed himself on the way down. It wasn’t until Nakoa pulled him back onto solid ground and released him that Sarella glanced up at the Wrean - blinking a few times before fixing her gaze back into the Smuggler.

She bent forward ever-so-slightly, drawing in a sharp breath through her nostrils. Her slender fingers reached forth, drawing upon the White Current that flowed all around her. It was the sea of energy that connected all life in the Galaxy, and it was all-too-easy to project her own influence onto the mind of the man standing before her. He wouldn’t know what was happening, but Nakoa would almost certainly get an impression.

“You are satisfied with your payment.” She said smoothly. The man said nothing, even as his eyes slightly glazed over.

Her gaze promptly flicked back to Nakoa. She didn’t get paid enough to pay some random dude and she was mostly sure that the Wrean wasn’t being literal anyway. Oh well if he was.

“We can take your ship?” She said with a nod. Ord Mantell seemed to be their next destination.

 

[Nakoa Singh]

While Sarella impelled the smuggler's thoughts with a trick of the force, Singh tossed a gold-colored credit ingot his way. Cognitive illusions reliably persisted when linked with materiality and he thought it best not to burn bridges that might be walked again in the future. He turned and walked away with tacit disinterest, leaving the smuggler to collect his pay and nod with listless acquiescence. "We will," Nakoa answered, and off they went.

The Wrean only stopped along the way to get a fried lizard on a stick, sparse breading shimmering with grease and wrapped in cheap brown paper, from a street stall, plus a second for Sarella if she wanted one. He chewed on meat and bone in silence until they got to the hangar. The ship was unquestionably ordinary, but not so ordinary as to draw attention in of itself.

An AMS-8500 light freighter called Ice-Cream Koan sat in place, blending in with every other common freighter around the galaxy. It was an Apex ship with some internal adjustments. The Koan wasn't meant to look like an Apex ship.

"The Hutts may know where he is." Last Nakoa checked they had some influence on Ord Mantell. Meanwhile, he and several droids prepared for departure.

@Altaris

 

[Sarella]

Sarella pursed her lips together, but otherwise said nothing when Nakoa opted to actually pay the smuggler for his troubles. Perhaps there was something to gain from a working relationship with the man.. But the Fallanassi doubted the prospect immensely. Somehow, being thrown from a multi-story building wasn’t conducive to continued contact. All the same, it wasn’t her credits that were being donated to appease the sorry bastard.

“Wonderful,” She said simply, turning on a heel to follow Nakoa. As they walked, the Fallanassi glanced up at the star-littered skies above them, just barely visible through the light pollution of Fondor’s shipyards. “I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to know we’re looking for him,” She mused.

Sarella happily accepted the fried reptile from Nakoa, opting to couple her snack with a chilled tea from a nearby vendor. The beverage was heavy with mint, citrus and herbal flavors - balanced by the smallest pinch of sugar. It was similar to teas brewed on her own homeworld and was a refreshing method of washing down the street food. Naturally, Nakoa was offered the same.

The Fallanassi whistled as they approached the freighter, picking out the Ice Cream Koan from the rest. It wasn’t particularly unique from anything else in the hangar, but it’s superb condition spoke to care from its owner. It was certainly in better quality than the cheap, somewhat outdated vessel the Fallanassi had been given by Trelain for official purposes, which had been taken with her after leaving her little stint with the Order.

“I imagine they will, assuming there is sufficient credits behind the inquiry.” Nothing came for free - least of all with the Hutts. If they wanted information, they’d pay for it. Though perhaps not entirely unreasonable considering the price tag wrapped around their targets neck.

Sarella found a seat within the ship, pulling the satchel on her shoulder to rest more comfortably in her lap. Among the multiple belongings and reagents within, the Fallanassi pulled a small instrument from one of the pouches. The ocarina was ceramic in design, glazed in shades of sunset orange and floral patterns. Her fingers ran across its surface, brushing the air holes lightly.

“How did you come to work with Apex?”

 

[Nakoa Singh]

Being a connoisseur of canned herbal teas, Nakoa wordlessly took Sarella up on her offer. Probably different from the Fallanassi, many of the lizard's crunchy bones were eaten along with the rest of it, leaving just a gnawed-on skull atop a kebab stick to be tossed in the nearest bin along with the empty can.

"They might be a buyer of what the engineer stole," he clarified. Nakoa would rather the Hutts didn't know the engineer existed. Apex didn't have enough weight yet to pressure the Cartel into a deal if they really wanted those plans. That and he just didn't want to pay Hutt prices. Fuck that.

The Wrean settled into the pilot's chair, fingers flicking over clearly-modified controls to start the engine and get them moving. A few RN-18s in their folded-down standby mode idled around the interior of the ship for security purposes.

"I've known Arla for years. Galactica was our work." Relatively known information within the organization. What else this woman knew about Arla wasn't known to him, so he didn't elaborate much on their personal history. Ice-Cream Koan lifted from the hangar and thrust toward space while the navicomputer calculated the jump to Ord Mantell.

"Apex fills an empty niche in the galaxy. Competent, organized hunters and security for hire. It's engaging work."

@Altaris

 

[Sarella]

“That would certainly make things more complicated. And irritating.” She said with a small huff. Sarella knew that Nakoa probably wasn’t wrong - and that really only made things more difficult in the long run. It was possible that the Hutts had purchased the knowledge and sent their target on his way, with enough credits to vanish and live peacefully. Worse, it was possible they were protecting him as part of some deal. Both were possibilities that Sarella didn’t enjoy.

Discarding the kebab stick before boarding, Sarella leaned back her seat - listening quietly as Nakoa elaborated on his history with Apex and Arla. “Sounds about right,” She said with a nod. It wasn’t really surprising that Arla had recruited the Wrean directly, considering that was precisely how Sarella herself had joined. Things were becoming larger in scale and less hands on, but most of the early contractors had been scouted directly by the Nightsister.

“It’s an impressive station,” She said. Of course, she didn’t elaborate that the space-borne headquarters wasn’t really her scene. The Fallanassi has been raised amongst the wilds and natural landscape of Lucrazec - and it left her little accustomed to the sterile environment of a space station. It might’ve been the headquarters of their organization, but she spent little time there.

“It is. Largely fits what I was doing before - albeit on my own.” Her gaze briefly flicked up and down the Wrean, pondering the next question within her mind. After a moment, the Fallanassi opted to lift the ocarina - her breath flowing into the ceramic instrument to fill the cabin with its melody. “Where were you trained with the Force?” She asked during a brief pause in her playing

 

[Nakoa Singh]

A few switches were flicked and a button or two depressed to transfer power to the hyperdrive. The light freighter approached the upper atmosphere and beyond, practically on autopilot at this point. Now it was just the waiting part.

"Wrea," the Wrean answered. "Many places. Not done yet." Singh's head tilted slightly in the woman's direction as she played her instrument, the sound echoing off the cold steel around them, although he made no comment. Nor did it seem like he was going to elaborate on his answer. Before long he slowly pushed forward a lever to send the Ice-Cream Koan streaking through the stars at lightspeed toward their next destination.

A two-toned humming joined the ocarina for just a moment or two as the craft shot forward, followed by quiet again and Nakoa rising from their seat and heading into the lounge area. His cloak-jacket-thing was tossed onto a wall hook and he stretched, grumbling something about 'metal' and planting himself firmly on the lounge couch with the energy of an aggrieved housecat.

@Altaris

 

[Sarella]

Sarella tilted her head towards Nakoa - listening curiously as the Wrean vaguely explained his origins with the Force. His background certainly alluded to more unorthodox traditions, but the Fallanassi wasn’t going to dig too much into anything that the man didn’t readily reveal on his own. It didn’t appear like the man was going to elaborate on his answer, so there it would rest.

She watched as Nakoa rose up from his seat - but made no attempt to follow the Wrean. Instead, his exit from the cockpit was heralded by the intense flute playing, until he finally rounded the corner and collapsed into relaxation in his own space.

To the surprise of no one, Sarella continued to play her ocarina for quite a while into their journey. It was one of the many ways in which the Fallanassi relieved the stresses of her line of work, connecting with her traditions and culture no matter where in the Galaxy she traveled. It was those familiar notes and melodies that transported her back to Lucrazec, and made the distance of thousands of stars feel insignificant.

It wasn’t until hours later - as the ship approached the end of their voyage, that Sarella wandered to reunite with the Wrean. She spotted the man with his eyes closed on that same couch - unclear whether he was sleeping or not. She blinked a few times, resisting the urge to poke him enough to find out.

Instead, she just started talking loudly. If he was sleeping, he’d probably wake up. "SOOOOOO..."

“Any plan for once we arrive in Woldport? He could be anywhere - and aside from the Hutts, trying to pick up a lead from anyone is going to be difficult.”

 

[Nakoa Singh]

Nakoa hadn't been asleep, even if it looked like it. Despite that, he looked rather well-rested when his eyes languidly opened at the sound of Sarella's voice. His breathing didn't change, nor did he seem surprised by her presence, giving away his state of wakefulness. He reached down to his belt, grabbing two things from a pouch before lazily sitting up against the couch's arm.

The first thing was a de-barked licorice root he planted between his teeth to chew on. Singh held up the second thing; a tracking fob. "Can't work for major corps without chain code," he stated with dry amusement. They just needed to get close enough that it could pick up Maro Dolphe. "Handle it standard. If he spooks, we'll notice."

He seemed confident about it without really elaborating. Nakoa swung his legs off the couch, stood with a relaxed stretch, and meandered to the cockpit for landing procedures and the like.

@Altaris

 

[Sarella]

“Sounds simple enough,” Sarella said with a simple shrug of her shoulders - not seeming to have much of an opinion one way or the other. Fallanassi had their own method for tracking sentient creatures through the Current, even if the woman didn’t voice the suggestion. With a tracking fob, there was little need to use complex rituals to locate the runaway.

“Ever been?” She asked, watching as Nakoa began to guide their ship down towards the surface of Ord Mantell. The woman made no real effort to assist the Wrean within the cockpit - crossing her arms over her chest just to the left of the pilot’s chair, waiting for an answer. The Fallanassi had no real love for the urban monstrosity that Worlport was, and it was evident by the grimace that tugged at the corners of her lips.

Minutes passed before they were completely landed and deboarded - strolling down the ramp of their shared ship. The air was filled with the sent of smog and street food, the sound of idle chatter and speeders zipping by filling the surroundings with a cacophony of sound. A simple glance at the tracking fob revealed their target was semi-close.

“Care to bet our ‘friend’ is enjoying his freedom?” She pointed a finger towards one of the many clubs that dotted the downtown of the city - music bumping through its walls and echoing outside.

 

[Nakoa Singh]

"Many times," he answered. Ord Mantell was a crime planet where crime things happened and information was exchanged. It was a natural place to be. It wasn't his favorite place by a long shot, but he was familiar. His feelings on the city itself didn't show on his face more than vague discontent.

An eyebrow raised at Sarella when she pointed out the club. "Trying for a dance along the way?" he asked dryly, the small smirk that went with his commentary showing it was a joke. He shrugged, checked the fob again, and walked right toward it. Getting in was as easy as a charming smile and a few credits passed to the bouncer.

The club's name- The Glitter Pickle- was apt, in hindsight. Male dancers on poles and in cages were spread around liberally and damn near everyone was doing their best to pickle their own livers. Nakoa checked the fob yet again. Yeah, he was closer now. Dolphe had escaped and the first stop was a gay club, of all things? Nakoa supposed he couldn't blame him.

"Look upstairs?" Nakoa suggested to Sarella right before striding off toward the bar, weaving and shouldering through crowds of people.

@Altaris

 

[Sarella]

“Don’t make an offer you aren’t willing to follow up on,” Sarella said with a smirk. The Fallanassi could already tell that Nakoa wasn’t entirely serious, but neither did she hate the idea of relaxing and going for a dance while they were actually on Ord Mantell. The planet wasn’t much to her taste, but nightclubs were largely the same at every corner of the Galaxy.

The music was almost overwhelming as they stepped through the threshold of the club - neon lights flashing across the establishment, highlighting the crowds and the scantily-clad dancers that moved around the open floor. Sarella allowed her gaze to linger for a moment or two, and couldn’t help but smirk that this was.. Literally the first place that their target had opted to visit.

Her lips pursed together as Nakoa suggested checking upwards - towards the private booths and rooms that loomed above the club floor. She arched a brow, watching as Nakoa happily made his way towards the bar. “Try not drink on the job,” She said before making her way up the stairs.

As Nakoa approached the bar, he would find himself struggling to locate an empty seat - all manner of species squeezing in around the counter. Nevertheless, the Twi’lek bartender would spot the Wrean nevertheless as he got closer - flashing a smile at once. “Anything I can get you, handsome?” He asked, still in the process of mixing beverages for other patrons.

Meanwhile, Sarella was making little progress on the lounge above. The space was filled with booths and tables tucked into alcoves, private dances being performed for paying customers. While multiple doors led into private rooms, Sarella had about zero intention of glancing inside to catch somebody with their pants down. Literally.

Instead, Sarella kept her gaze moving between the booths and seating area - hoping to catch a glimpse of anyone that resembled their target.

 

[Nakoa Singh]

Nakoa amusedly raised an eyebrow at her. "Wasn't an offer. It was a question." Translation issue, maybe? The Wrean shrugged it off and moved along.

He waved vaguely at Sarella's suggestion not to drink and thought of what drink he was going to order. Then there was the bartender, doing that thing bartenders did in this sort of place and sort of vaguely flirting with patrons. Nakoa wasn't charmed in the least. Maybe it was just his mood at the moment, but the Wrean let far too much of his own irritation bleed through into his interaction with the Twi'lek.

The conclusion was him getting absolutely nothing from the bartender except a poorly made drink and a lot of grumbling, having apparently insulted them somewhere along the way. Whoops.

Nakoa shrugged again and went off with his substandard drink, looking around the room in hopes their target was maybe getting a lapdance in public. You know, like an idiot. No such luck so far, however.

Upstairs, however, Sarella's wandering got her close to the private rooms. The fob beeped more insistently.

@Altaris