First Reply A Hard Truth

[Deson Sanei]

[Malastare][City of Pixelito]
[Equipment: AT-NB5 Blaster Pistol, Overcoat]
[Tags: Open]
​

“I can’t do it. You know I can’t.”

“No, I don’t know that. You picked an awful time to develop a conscience.”

Deson was not happy. He hadn’t been happy four months ago when he touched down on Malastare, he hadn’t been happy when he met the Dug in charge of customs, a duplicitous creature by the name of Pagun, and he definitely wasn’t happy when he was told that a shipment that had been payed for was suddenly stuck on the docks, it’s clearance having been denied at the last minute before takeoff. This sour mood was evident, though the Dug seemed to be no more pleasant than the human he was conversing with.

“If you haven’t noticed Karrus-“ the Dug used the cover name Deson had been provided by the SIA before he arrived "-your shipments contain blasters, thermal detonators, anti-tank mines-"

"So what? This is the seventh shipment, you weren't bothered by the previous six so why is this suddenly an issue?"

"The ISSUE is that your clever smuggling route has crates full of weapons heading directly into Sith space. So either you are supplying the people who might just use those weapons against my homeworld-"

"Don't be ridiculous, Pagun-"

"OR your little operation will be discovered and the Sith will come and burn my homeworld to ash. I have a family, KIDS Karrus, who the Sith would slaughter with a smile. Don't pretend this isn't an issue."

Deson brought a hand up to cover his mouth, turning away from the Dug for a moment as he considered what he heard. They had met in this quiet little back alley on numerous occasions as it provided an excellent spot for covert payoffs, vary generous payoffs so that arms could be smuggled into Sith space to arm rebels on worlds newly conquered by the Sith Empire. The unfortunate reality is that the Galatic Alliance was not exactly inspiring confidence as of late in its battle with the Sith. The war was going to be a long one and the threat of the Dark Empire, even in its weakened state, meant that the SIA had been given a blank check and freedom to do what was necessary to align neutral governments and cause havoc behind enemy lines. While not the largest operation, every blaster in a rebel's hands might just give a family time to flee deeper into the core as the Sith advance.

"It's over Karrus. I have to go to the Dug Council about this. The Doge might be able to smooth things over with the Sith before they come for us."

The Dug turned to walk away and Deson considered how much would be undone if the Malastare operation fell apart. Councilers had been paid off, government positions had been taken by agents who would do whatever the SIA whispered into their ear. All of this is undone because one Dug decided what was best for countless beings all over the galaxy.

"I suggest you leave the system, Karrus. The Doge will-"

The Dug failed to finish his statement before a blaster bolt struck him directly in the back. The wound was a mortal one, but the Dug had not died. Instead, he collapsed to the ground as his limbs failed and his body began to die. He was able to roll onto his back to see his killer, the very same man who had paid him so well to look the other way, standing over him with a raised blaster. Pagun tried to speak, to BEG for his life for the sake of his family, but no words came out. Just desperate gasps for air as his lungs failed.

A second blaster bolt made sure the Dug didn't suffer.

This was the work of SIA Counter-Intelligence. Undermine the enemy, influence planetary governments, fiance, and even lead criminal organizations.

Sometimes it wasn't that complicated. Sometimes you just have to murder a being in cold blood.

What was Pagun and his family worth when the lives of billions were at stake?

Not enough.

Now, all Deson had to do was make a hasty exit before anyone found him with the former cheif customs officer. The network that had been built on Malastare couldn't be jepordised by something so simple as a muder investigation.

 

[Trayze Tesar]

CURRENT MISSION - Dug Your Own Grave
Immediate Goals -
1: Bust the smugglers!

BLUFOR - No Backup This Time

OPFOR - Deson Sanei

TARGETING ACTION(S) - Deson Sanei || Open Frequency

---

"Kark" came the exhale from the nearby repulsorcraft, engine off, sitting cold. Malastare had been one of the many worlds that was found in the increasingly small gap between Galactic Alliance and the Empire - the speaker in question? Trayze Tesar, Lieutenant Inspector, and currently on the investigation of arms smuggling down the confluence of hyperspace lanes to the newly subjugated Sith Space. With the fiasco on Susefvi and the effective end of the Rimward Trade Coalition, he had a vested interest in ensuring such debacles weren't repeated.

Which lead him here, near this alleyway.

This guy was good, damn good, having already sent six major shipments to clandestine terrorist cells within the Empire - and as he watched the man kill the Dug in cold blood, he flew his fingers over a concealed communicator. Eyes on a dead body, delayed alarm.

A cornered rat would always fight, and Trayze intended to give this murderer enough rope to hang himself - so he waited, patiently, the tendrils of the Force shadowing his moves, with the long arm of Sith Justice just behind him.

 

[Deson Sanei]

[Malastare][City of Pixelito]
[Equipment: AT-NB5 Blaster Pistol, Overcoat]
[Tags: Trayze Tesar ]
​

Pagun, you damn fool.

Was Deson bothered by the murder?

No.

But he was bothered by the headache that had just been created for him to deal with. There had been hope for further shipments to leave Malastare but now things just became impossible. The murder of the chief customs officer would shake things up and a full investigation would have to follow. That meant every shipment was going to be triple-checked, which was three times more than they currently were. Could more bribes be paid? Sure, but all it takes is one fool who actually has some backbone to bring the whole thing down.

No, this phase of the operation was over. The last shipment would leave the docks and Deson would have to shutter the smuggling network. At least SIA affiliates had managed to worm their way into government positions so this whole thing wasn't a total loss.

Reaching into his coat, Deson removed a communicator and began to adjust its frequency. It was late, and most of the city was asleep or occupied in various nighttime activities. Deserted streets and shuttered buildings turned to groups of Dug, Gran, and Humans all enjoying their night. Malastare had always been a major fuel extraction and exporter and the vast majority of the population worked long days extracting, refining, and shipping the stuff off-world. Naturally, they wanted to blow their hard-earned credits at some of the dingiest, dirtiest, and borderline illegal establishments possible.

All that is to say one more man in an overcoat that seemed to be in a hurry wasn't going to draw attention.

"Baric, come in."

"They still haven't cleared us. Docking clamps are still in place."

"There's no clearance coming. How many men do you have with you?"

There was a long pause, the man on the other end other communicator took a moment to process what was being asked but it seemed he understood all too well what was about to happen.

"Enough. Are we being shut down?"

"Business is bad. We'll find more profit elsewhere."

The coded talk was all a game. Indeed their business was being shut down, at least for the time being. Baric had been a long-time associate of the SIA and had been in and out of Sith space more times than anyone could count. Trust wasn't exactly a luxury Deson had, but Baric came as close as any to earning it.

"Understood. What about the hired help?"

"Their employment is terminated once the ship is in orbit. They will find Malastare agreeable."

In essence, the hired guns that were going to have to forcibly free the ship were being left behind, if they survived. All they knew was that they were hired for a smuggling job by some human named Karrus, outside of that they could be burned. They just got unlucky, but such was the way of things.

"When do we move?"

"I'll signal you. I have one more loose end to wrap up, then we are leaving."

Deson deactivated his communicator and picked up his speed, only momentarily glancing over his shoulder. He saw nothing and no one out of the ordinary, but that's what bothered him. Perhaps it was just nerves, but something about this whole night just didn't feel right, even before he gunned down the Dug. But there were contingencies in place, all that mattered was that the ship left the docks and made it to orbit.

​

Deson walked for another ten minutes before reaching a seemingly innocuous set of dwellings, most of them still up for rent. The SIA agent entered the third unit he passed, ensuring the door was sealed tightly behind him before initiating a standard torch-and-burn operation. He didn't have much, a few outfits in the small closet, a spare blaster tucked under a pillow, and a few containers of food that were left empty. All of these could have been left without much trouble, but the issue was the private terminal Deson had set up and contained various encrypted data packets that had to be scrubbed. First of course was a single, text-based message that was to be transmitted off the world and back to headquarters.

----BUSINESS BAD----SHUTTERING OPERATIONS----KEYS TO KINGDOM SECURE----

With the cryptic message sent, Deson quickly pulled a small electronic device from his coat and plugged it into the terminal. The moment the device clicked into place, the noise from within the terminal suddenly grew loud, sparks flew from the device before the noise finally ceased. The internals of the device had been scrambled, and all data and tech were effectively rendered little more than junk. With this most important step accomplished, Deson went about performing the next task. The day he arrived, flash-charges had been placed in key points within the rented unit. Once ignited, flame would consume just about every bit of material within the room, rendering any physical evidence little more than ash.

Charges in place. Data wiped.

Now for that damn shipment.

Deson made for the door.

​

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