To Catch a Whale (Sporky, Natavi, Jerek, Karl?)

[Kuhblam]

(OOC: Think of the Star of Manaan's interior like the Titanic but high-tech; add in pools and the like where you see fit.)

What a monument to excess. Typical of Republic pansies and their aesthetics.

In truth and antiquity, Ferrus Bes'Beviin hated the standardized architecture of the ship; more specifically, his own room. Marble white-washed walls, decorated with worthless decorative paintings and expensive wood-carved furniture gave a somewhat wasteful atmosphere to the room he had bought for such the occasion. He had temperately purchased the cheapest suite possible which, in reality, was still rather expensive and too lavish for his tastes. Ferrus was a warrior who had learned to live on the bare essentials required to sustain life; credits to him were nothing other than numerous miniature trophies with which to send to his relatives back on Mandalore; otherwise, they were a necessary evil to maintain his equipment and ship. Ferrus was a bounty hunter not because he enjoyed it but rather because he was good at what he did. It was his talent, his niche in the galaxy.

Opening up a large weathered, standard military-issue duffel bag, Ferrus tossed it casually on the room's resident queen bed. Pulling out his classic T-Visor helmet, Ferrus' mind went over the mission for a fifth time as he readied his weapons with a less than enthusiastic zeal. It had been simple enough to board the Star of Manaan after leaving Ord Mantell. The luxury cruiser was owned by a less than cordial businessman who had been more than happy to take a fat wad of credits and insert Ferrus and his partner secretly aboard the ship almost two days time before even any of the Star's wealthy booked passengers had most likely started traveling to begin boarding. Although Ferrus liked the fact that he had won over the owner and the security team rather easily in the times before the present, he had to admit that for it's size he would not have chosen the Star as an ambush point.

The ship's entire security team had been bought out rather easily; credits coupled with threats of intimidation were a technique that Ferrus had come to love. There would most likely be no problems from the ship's crew or it's passengers; Ferrus had taken all the necessary precautions to ensure the maximum probability for success on this mission. With his partner, the hunter-killer droid TS-13x, posing as his personal protocol droid, no one would suspect anything until they publicly revealed their presence a mere two hours after the Admiral's arrival. No, the main problem would be from what Ferrus had surmised would be a veteran security detail, possibly a Jedi, and of course what would be the frail Admiral Bishop Pallieon's personal ship, the Centurion-class Vulture.

Ferrus was hardly worried about the Vulture; he could outrun it rather easily and was an excellent pilot. It was the possibility of a Jedi Knight that would further complicate and possibly scrub an already complex mission that had taken months to plan. It wasn't that Ferrus was nervous; on the contrary, he was rather calm and somewhat reserved at the moment. He had taken on Jedi before but their passive ability to be unpredictable was something that Ferrus heavily disdained. They were renowned for their combat skills, sometimes more so than their diplomatic skills, and Ferrus had experienced the raw power they could generate first hand. He wasn't sure if the Admiral would be bringing such an ally, but if he did, then maybe he deserved a better intelligence brand than Ferrus had previously gauged him at.

Turning to a mirror a foot taller than his own figure, he admired himself as he finished the appearance by putting on a black blazer over-top his white dress shirt and navy blue tie to match his pants. Brushing a bit of dust off his shoulders, Ferrus cracked a slight smile before looking back at all of his equipment laid on the queen bed. His armor was laid neatly alongside all of his equipment. Grabbing one of his Corvlic 44 Heavy Blaster Pistols and sliding a power cell into it, Ferrus slid the matte black weapon into an underarm holster inside his jacket, buttoning it closed. His chest itched from the body suit he was wearing underneath the outfit; in truth, it wasn't very comfortable but would suit his needs while he confirmed that it wasn't a doppel-ganger trying to draw out would-be assailants. Ferrus and TS knew that the Republic knew that Bishop had a price on his head; Ferrus also assumed Republic Intelligence would see that this would be a prime encounter for such an ambush.

He turned one last time to look over his gear and check for TS-13x, who was supposed to be acting as his protocol droid and personal attendant. Opening a closet and grabbing one of several stacked high quality Kash Silk blankets, he unfurled it over the top of his gear as an amateur rudimentary concealment tactic. Save Ferrus, the lavish room was empty besides it's expensive furniture and his gear. Raising an eyebrow and pulling back his right sleeve a little bit to check an expensive digital watch, his foot tapped the ground in short rhythmic patterns. Deciding he couldn't wait any longer, Ferrus opened the door and looked outside before slipping through and letting it lock behind him with a click. Pushing the keypad and marking it's signature for "Do Not Disturb", Ferrus made a final parting act by scribbling "Have gone to main entrance for visial confirmation" and shoved it underneath the door before walking away.

Hopefully I'll find him on the way. Time to go wait near the main lobby entrance at the hangar area and get a visual on this guy. His shuttle should be arriving soon.

[Sporky]

Restraint.

He hated restraint. If it were up to him, he'd have placed fuel barrels all around the shuttle bay. Just a simple ember and the entire bay'd be up in flames. If that failed, he'd simply chase the fleshie down and bash his face in. Surely a frail old man wouldn't require too many punches.

But no. Now he was stuck following around a slagging Mandalorian bounty hunter, posing as a protocol droid. His patience was wearing thin, but, much as he hated restraint, he understood the neccessity of it. So he'd play the part. Act prim and proper. Until he no longer needed to. Then..then things would burn.

[Karl the Unfettered]

On this ship, there would be a raid. Sources were ninety percent certain; bounty hunters were going to try and kidnap Admiral Bishop Pallieon, and hold him for ransom. Chances of shipboard security being compromised were likewise high, and there wasn't time to allocate resources for counter-bribery. Identification of the hunters had not been completed in time, leaving the agent on-site in charge of doing that himself.

Selection of the agent in question had been something of an almost-last minute decision, as well. The location was a major luxury cruise liner; civilians were certain to be around, and casualties highly likely. And if it wasn't handled carefully, it would be all over the holonet; two-bit creeps had overcome two security teams and outrun one of the best ships the Navy had to offer, and made off with one of the highest-ranking officers currently in service.

A fiasco in the making, if ever there was one.

Word had gotten around; certain people had whispered to certain other people, favors were called in, and in the end the strange old man known as the Shadow Ninja was called up from Corellia. Where he had been babysitting his granddaughter.

"You owe me back pay," he had growled at his handler, upon receiving the assignment.

"Back pay my eye, Jenkins," the handler replied; it was their code, disguised as macho banter. Mission accepted, en route now.

Now, here he was, with a badge identifying him as Reznor Clefarion, a captain in the CorSec Smuggling Interdiction Division; as such he was authorized to carry arms aboard ship, and avoid the tedious security protocols the civilians had to endure. Not that the badge would have been necessary; one look at his robotic eye and harsh face was enough to quell even the most dedicated security guard.

"Time is short," Reznor barked, badge in hand, "you don't want me to have your ass suspended because you held up a high-priority Republic investigation, do you?!" He had an advantage of at least five inches and almost thirty years on the guard before him; no contest, really. In the end they waved him through, him and his coat and his bulky bag of tricks.

Once out of sight he breathed a sigh of relief, thankful once again for not having to go through metal detectors. He made his way past the welcome brigade and made straight for his stateroom; his connections could have gotten him a high-class suite, but he knew his quarry would not have such indulgences at his discretion and so ordered one of the cheapest rooms available. Still a towering monument to wealth and excess, of course; he shuddered to think what the real snobs dealt with, if this was what they called steerage.

He felt he was early, so he dropped his stuff to the floor and stretched out on the bed, falling asleep fast; exactly an hour lately he snapped awake, totally refreshed, and set about preparing his kit. He already had a full brace of flashbang, concussion, and shock grenades inside his coat, which itself was lined with anti-laser electromesh and anti-ballistic weave; there was little to do but check his pistol, a well-worn tranquilizer gun, over again for perhaps the twenty thousandth time since he had first handled the weapon.

It was a custom job, a clip-fed pneumatic gun that fired hollowed-out slugs full of sedatives, painkillers, paralytics, and various other incapacitating chemicals at sub-sonic (ie silenced) speeds; it was extremely fast-acting, provided one struck the proper vessels in the neck or chest. From injection to full unconsciousness could be less than a second, or as much as five seconds; it was always a risk, of course. As a backup he had a 20,000-volt stun gun, and all manner of painful close-quarters takedowns.

But, he felt it was time to go. Before that he had to let his handlers know he was going active. The ship was equipped with secure transmission relays, but with security possibly compromised it was likely communications had been hacked as well. So he used his own equipment, an ultra-high frequency holonet transmitter calibrated to a very small number of signals that were inaccessible to everyone else; hell, they couldn't even begin reaching that high into the range. "Faraday here," he muttered, "location achieved, undetected by interested parties. Beginning the operation."

He killed the transmission, then crushed the transmitter to prevent anyone else accessing the frequencies; the devices would self-destruct anyway, given the power outputs required. He slipped his gun into the holster beneath his shoulder, slipped out the door and headed for the hangars; Pallieon was scheduled to dock there, and he wasn't sure the man knew of the operative's presence (good if he didn't know; that meant less chance of a leak). A tall man in black would normally be conspicuous as hell, but the Shadow Ninja had a way of deflecting attention from even the most alert of people. At least until it was too late.

[angelnatavi]

Ano'Sken Neilo, AKA Blink or the Painted Lady, had disembarked from her personal shuttle craft. It had been loaned to her from her friend Lorie, a human who traveled with her onboard her ship the Valkyrie Rose. The Star of Manaan's bays wern't big enough for her particular baby, so she had to take alternative means to board the luxury liner.

She personally had little affection for those oppulant enough to be able to even aford such ritzy surroundings, though it was definatly a beatiful place to visit. Her appearance was designed, thanks to her friend, as a somewhat regal but definatly affordable clothing outfit for one of her stature and position as a somewhat new Jedi.

She had argued with Lorie that while it was a luxury liner, heavily expensive clothing was the norm. She had bet Lorie that this was not the case, and it was much to her disapointment that she had lost, and Lorie had won, thus earning Ano a rather shiny and sparkly dress.

Her slender frame was dressed in a backless knee length hunter green toned dress, picked out to go with her overall skin coloration as a Togruta, though Lorie had tried and failed to persuade her to not paint on her symbols. So here she was, walking somewhat awkwardly in high heeled ankle strap shoes. The shoes themselves were also green, though a darker shade of them, and they wrapped themselves up around her calves.

She wore a slight ribbon choker around her throat, one more thing to add to her 'attractiveness quotiant' as Lorie had stated. Her left headtail was tied back over her shoulder to the longer lekku, leaving the right one draped forward beside her chest, also wrapped in dark green ribbon.

The only thing Ano knew about it was she felt trussed up like a turkey, though she tried to handle it well. She knew some of the gentlemen walking past were startled to see a Togruta here as a passenger and not a waitress or an entertainer.

Some of them, she knew, noticed that she was not quite right, for the kept her eyes closed at all times, though she did turn her head towards each person as they were walking past, as if she was watching them. Though she smiled at each person as they walked past, she knew it creeped them out completly to think of a blind person staring at them.

With a shake of her head, she started off slowly, making a show of being blind and trailing a hand along the wall itself, feeling all the textures of the carved wood, the wrought iron inlay in the wood itself, as well as the holographics emitters hidden within the facade of the walls.

After a few minutes of walking like this, she noticed one particular person who was a little different than the rest. Each of the more important person status wise had their own body guards. Generally, their body guards were big muscular men wearing their suits very uncomfertably, as if they had been ordered to wear them. Ano knew that you could tell the body guards by the sunglasses or their 'military-esk' poises, though there were some that were more subtle.

Even though she was blinded at a young age by Shan, the boy who as a man had given her the Rose as a friendship makeup gift, she could still see due to the force. Every living thing gave off their own aura of the force, and the stronger the user in the force, or whatever luck they seemed to think followed them, the stronger the aura.

Now, while she could see them and their reflections off of other things, certain things blocked the aura from sight. Normal clothing did not, armor did much to block it but weaponry designed for heavy use and for heavy wear and tear, blocked most of it. Thus, she saw some of these men and even a few women in dresses with pistol shaped voids of aura on and around their person.

Even in a spacious though crowded dining room as the one she was walking into, the force aura that filled the room reflected off of all of the surfaces, allowed Ano to percieve them. Everything from the windows, to the multiple balconies and hidden nooks within for couples to dine in relative secrecy.

This person she passed in the magnificant hallway had a rather unusual void to his aura. One of the shapes resembled a hide away pistol that most of the body guards, it was the aura overall that she noticed. His head, neck and hands were clear, though the rest of him was dimmed somewhat. She simply smiled at him, nodded her head and then walked on, not really knowing what the man known as Ferrus was here for.

Quickly enough, she made her way to one of the windows in the dining room of the massive liner, and stood there for a few moments watching the ships that hovered around the liner like a flock of bees taking care of the queen. The stars themselves beyond were like bright beacons to her, sending out waves of their light and heat to any nearby, welcoming them close.

While the stars themselves were brilliant, the nebulae behind them was even more awe inspiring. The clouds themselves were massive in scale, easy enough to hide a thousand systems within and still have enough room for thousands more. While the auras of the majority of people in the room were of different colorations, their combined aura blended together to her to create a white-ish coloration that reflected the approximate colors of the surroundings to her senses. This allowed her to see in full coloration, just as she could were she to have her eye sight back. This allowed her to see the brilliance and vividity of the massive billows of clouds and the solar winds of the infant stars that blew them about like bubbles in a bath. She saw the greens, and the blues, and the purples that she was fond of, as well as several darker colors where the bright clouds were thin and allowed the vacume to show through.

Though, she expected that while she saw no lights and no shadows, the colorations and variations she saw were a little more vivid than the normal light dependant eyes of every one else.

As she took a deep breath to steady her nerves, she heard one of the patronesses loudly gabbing about how she was gifted with a naturally large chest, and how it won her her current husband. Without turning towards the loud human woman, she focused her attention upon her, saw some unusual voids within the woman's chest, saw them as cosmetic implants, and snorted.

So not only is the woman lying, she is a bad lier.

The woman's voice interupted her amused thoughts, the loud somewhat screaching sounds irritating her. She ignored the woman for a few moments, before sighing and turning to face the arrogant woman, who was trying to get Ano's attention.

"Excuse me, but why are you standing around? I ordered my drink two minutes ago, and you still havn't brought it to me. Now why are you still standing here, go and fetch my drink!"

If Ano had her eyes open, she would have just blinked at the woman before responding, but as it was, she simply tilted her head then took two steps forward slowly, before leaning over to bring herself near the woman's ears.

"I am not your waitress lady. You shouldn't be so demanding of others, for they take care of you. Your arrogance will be your downfall."

Knowing full well that her words would be ignored for the most part, she straightened herself, smoothed out her dress as casually as she could, then walked off leaving the woman sputtering in outrage at the sheer audacity of Ano's words. As she tried to raise the courage to return a volley of insults to the young Jedi, Ano simply paused turned her head to the side and waving her fingers in a "toodaloo" gesture, spoke three words, before continueing back to the hangor to wait for the man she was escorting to arive.

"Those are fake."

[Jerek]

Bishop sat somewhat slumped over in the passenger seat of the small freighter in which he was forced to fly on. The Republic knew there was a price on his head, so they had placed him on a normal freighter instead of allowing him to arrive at the Star of Manaan on his personal ship, the Vulture. They had also made him change his appearance slightly. Instead of his short black hair, he currently had medium length auburn colored hair. Bishop had refused to dye his hair, so he was just wearing a wig.

The other changes were to his face. His face was swathed in makeup and false parts to make him look completely different. Bishop hated wearing this disguise, but that was the price he had to pay to get the Republic to approve of his plan to capture those who were after him, or at least the ones sent to get him. Either way they would be able to find out who had set the price on his head.

The disguise was only on him for now, to allow his safe passage onto the luxury cruiser. If he went on as himself, he'd probably be captured there and then without being able to execute his plans to capture the ones after him. Bishop knew about a few of the pieces in place on the cruiser already. The ones who placed the price on his head would most likely send one or two bounty hunters, so they'd be able to blend in better then a whole team.

The Republic's pieces, however, were a Jedi and a Republic secret agent. bishop was not permitted to know the secret agent's identity, so he wouldn't be able to know who he was on the Star of Manaan. The Jedi, however, Bishop knew. This was necessary. She would act as his escort on the ship. She didn't know of his change of appearance yet, though. The secret agent might.

Another possibility Bishop was informed of was that the security team on the cruiser was more than likely bribed already. If so, then Bishop would have to make due with the pieces he had. The pilot on the freighter reached over and shook Bishop awake. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and nodded to the pilot. bishop walked towards the exit ramp as the freighter touched down in the hangar bay of the Star of Manaan.

He would be posing as an aristocrat for now. With a hiss the exit ramp on the freighter opened up. Bishop stepped down the ramp, carrying his suitcase, which held his dress clothes, other essentials, and power packs for his pistol, which was buried beneath his spare clothing to avoid being found. Bishop made his way through the throng of people. He casually looked around to try and spot the Jedi. Once in the lobby, he spotted her. She had probably sensed his presence through the Force, which is why telling her of the disguise was pointless.

(Sorry for the lame post.)

[Kuhblam]

(OOC: Things just got a bit more interesting. Time for a fun game of political intrigue and espionage!)

His dress shoes taking him through the whitened hallways with quick, consecutive thuds, his pace quickened somewhat as he began nearing the end of the hallway and reached an elevator's classic double doors. To admit, Ferrus was somewhat comfortable in a suit; however, what might compromise him would be his continued scratching; a fibermesh body suit was not exactly what someone normally wore underneath formal clothing for such an occasion. Tugging at his white dress shirt collar with a slight hint of annoyance, Ferrus pressed a glowing green holobutton as he placed his hands behind his back and waited for the elevator to glide down, a characteristic yet somewhat elegant hum accompanying it's journey down to his deck. Yawning, he stepped into the marble white compartment as a Bith bellman made a crooked smile and made room for Ferrus' large persona.

"What deck do you desire to travel to, Mr. Solusar?"

It was the name that the ship's captain had given to all compromised crew members involved in Ferrus' elaborate plan. All bribed members knew that they were not to interfere and maybe possibly aid in the Admiral's kidnapping; however, to prevent any further risk of compromising of the mission, only a few knew his face and faked name by default. This Bith, whom Ferrus had met earlier, was an integral part of the plan. After securing the Admiral and traveling down to his ship in secret, any Republic security members thinking about the auxiliary hangar would be hard-pressed to reach it with an unfortunately working elevator. The thought of such noble veterans slamming their heads as two bounty hunters ran off with their prize was enough to send a crooked smile latching itself to Ferrus' face.

"Hmm... 12-E, if you will, kind sir."

An utterly false jovial tone served to remind the Bith as he cracked up slightly with Ferrus having no doubt that the large-headed alien was reminiscing in the wad of credits that had appeared in his pocket somehow. Although Ferrus disliked such casual disregard for trying to maintain normal behavior, he calmly reminded himself that almost all security cameras on the ship had been disabled prior to his arrival; he need not worry about being caught due to surveillance tapes and a keen eye.

A keen eye.

The Republic had most likely sent some sort of undercover intelligence agent to whom the Admiral did not know his identity in order to keep an eye on the going-ons of the ship; of that, Ferrus was sure. Only a fool would have let the Admiral on such a ship without at least that minimal type of protection. The name of the game, however, was Cat and Mouse; Ferrus idealized the thought with humor on whether this agent could compromise the phantom menace before they captured and made off with their frail, never-the-less intelligent quarry. Another curious question spinning through Ferrus' brain was the caliber of this agent; whether he was a regular Joe or the top of the line remained to be seen. If he was Ferrus' caliber, then this coincidence might prove to make for an interesting encounter.

Casual elevator music filled Ferrus' head as the compartment slowed to a complete and utter halt.

"And here we are, Mr. Solusar."

Nodding in respect and tossing a credit chit to the Bith bellman, Ferrus stepped out in something of an ornate ballroom filled with cocktail bars and lavish furnishings; around him, the presidents of wealthy interstellar companies and political servicemen swelled about, their arms locked with paid escorts who served to make these esteemed gentlemen even shorter. As the sliding door of the elevator closed with a hiss, Ferrus brushed some dirt off of himself as he moved to make his way across the room towards a large entrance opening up into a hallway that would take him through to the hangar, the only part of the ship besides it's auxiliary counterpart that might actually be on a realistic ship.

His eyes making contact somewhat with random, bulky bodyguards and the like, he shook his head with slight smiles of respect as a few women in ornate dresses looking to make some credits accosted him in the usual seductive manner. As much as he liked Twi'Leks, Ferrus had a rather complex mission to complete; he also didn't have time for women in general. His eyes locked briefly with those of a Togruta whom he could tell was blind; Ferrus was sure it was just a coincidence, but no normal blind person would look directly at someone. Making a mental note to keep watch of this strange person, he finally made his way through the ballroom before reaching the large hallway entrance, which was massive and reminiscent of the entrance to some Coruscanti opera-houses. Clear aquariums full of exotic fish from all over the galaxy adorned either side of this massive hallway, and bellman lugged dozens of suitcases as new passengers exited from the polished gunmetal grey hangar that served to dock their transports. Moving off to the side, Ferrus kept a low profile as he leaned against one of the clear ocean walls, his eyes squinting slightly as he scanned row after row of passengers.

He's not here.

Bishop should have arrived over fifteen minutes ago; regardless of what ship he took to board, a very reliable informant had assured Ferrus that he would dock at this time. According to the data TS had just recently sent him, almost all the transports that had docked in this time-frame had just left or were preparing to leave. It didn't make sense; Ferrus would have seen such a person due to the massive security escort that was lacking with 99% of the other cruise passengers. The Vulture had already been confirmed by the ship's captain for him; Bishop was here and Ferrus was sure of it.

Unless he's in a disguise... which means we've been compromised.

It all made sense now. Granted, Ferrus would of like a little more information in order to make such a hypothesis which was acting something along the lines of a grand assumption, but he didn't have time. It meant that the agent who was most likely on-board knew of Ferrus' and TS' presence, which meant that they had probably taken into account all the counter-measures Ferrus had taken in ensuring the success of the mission.

Clever. I wonder if Intelligence or Bishop came up with this plan. They've made a major error in disguising Bishop and letting me know they know of my presence. Then again, it could just be standard procedure to dress him up like a clown and make him feel uncomfortable as he swims in a pool.

His mind spinning, he pulled himself away from the main hallway entrance leading from the hangar and exited back into the large ballroom, where he pushed through spacious throngs of passengers to reach an auxiliary maintenance hallway. Ferrus needed to contact TS-13x ASAP. If they were going to continue this mission, they needed to remain on the hunch that the Republic knew the pair was here. Of course, it had always been obvious there had been a price on Pallieon's head. Grabbing his com-link and bringing it up to his mouth, he raised TS's private channel and attempted to contact him.

"TS, if you would, I need you to do some translation for me with this wonderful Twi'Lek I met."

Of course, it was entirely false. Moreover, it was a code that meant something was amiss and that the likely-hood of Bishop's presence being a counter-trap to ensnare had increased ten-fold. Still Ferrus hoped that it was standard procedure to dress Bishop up like a cross-dresser. Putting away his com-link as he waited for a response, Ferrus exited casually from the hallway and back into the ballroom, where he approached the bar as the blind Togruta woman he had seen earlier accosted a woman with some witty feminine comebacks. Cracking himself up a bit at the frailty of Republic women, he ordered himself up a heavy drink as he awaited TS's response.

[Sporky]

The droid which had been in standby mode in the bounty hunter's chamber came to life when its comm signal was activated. Dull orange optics, apertures of calculating light, blinked on. In a fraction of a second, the assassin droid brain that had been installed in the bodyguard droid shell ran interpreted the code given by his companion, loathe as the droid was to think of the bounty hunter that way.

"Of course sir. If you would be so kind as to inform her that I shall be a few moments?" The reply came in a voice that was not the droid's standard. It had installed a simple porgram into itself before embarking on this mission, one that had changed its normal tones to that of a stereotypical protocol droid.

It made its way to its 'master', its heavy durasteel feet clanking noisily against the cruiser's floors.

[Karl the Unfettered]

There was the Admiral's shuttle, and there was the Admiral himself, in disguise just as they had relayed to him. Good, Konstantin thought, slipping away through the crowd, that'll put the enemy through a loop. Passing through the throngs of people unnoticed, he kept his trained awareness honed and alert, for any discrepancies. Bodyguards in ill-fitting black tie tuxedos milled about, awkwardly grouped about their charges; all they had going for them was muscle and obedience, the spy dismissed them out of hand. He moved on to the patrons, the wealthy elite whom the muscle were guarding, and dismissed most of them as well; in a fight he doubted any of them would be any good at all. They were helpless sheep, and it was his job to ensure they survived. No doubt they would scorn him and call him unnecessary, a drain on their tax dollars, but he didn't give a hoot what they thought.

Shrugging ruefully, he made to move on, when one of the overdressed men caught his eye. Instantly he faded back, sliding through the crowd without disturbing it (that was a surefire way of discerning a tail in a crowd; they left rippled in the people around them, unless they were trained to avoid doing so as Konstantin was), he kept his eye on this fellow. Several things stood out to the veteran agent: he was pale, as if his skin didn't see the light very often; his hair and goatee were distinctly military; his tux fit very badly, and he scratched at it almost constantly. You don't belong here, whoever you are, Konstantin thought as he moved closer to the disguised hunter.

As he followed the hunter, the agent studied his face and other features, running them through the countless faces he himself had seen and studied through the years. One came to the top: Ferrus Bes'Beviin, a notorious bounty hunter from a Mando clan whose name meant "Iron Lance" in their native language. Ferrus was known as a loner, but Konstantin knew he had to have help for this operation; one didn't kidnap for ransom an admiral of the Republic on one's own, after all. Maybe one saved said admiral from being kidnapped and ransomed by one's self, but that was a different story. Thinking quickly, Konstantin sped up, bumping into the disguised hunter 'accidentally' as he passed by. "Sorry, fella," he muttered in a harried sort of voice as he moved on; such random encounters were so common as to be bothersome in crowded places like this, idiots always in a hurry like that. What Ferrus wouldn't know was that he now carried a near-microscopic listening device that connected with Konstantin's PDA, allowing the agent to monitor everything he said, and what others said in turn within a small range.

The agent moved on, ducking back into the passages leading to the cheaper staterooms; as he did so he overheard Ferrus' message to TS, and soon after the droid's heavy clanking footfalls were heard. Konstantin activated an anti-scanner device to keep TS from detecting him, and ducked out of sight down a service hallway as the droid lumbered by, allowing him to examine the machine for that brief time. Protocol droid, my eye, he thought, waiting for the metallic thuds to fade away before moving on. Once back in his room he pulled out his PDA, bringing up the intel for this mission: ship's schematics, detailed floor plans, emergency escape routes and landing pod locations, but more importantly the passenger manifests. Ferrus wasn't the only one with contacts, after all.

Nearly all of the passengers had some sort of photo ID next to their basic information; the exceptions were Konstantin himself, aka Captain Reznor Clefarion (due to him being a last-minute booking and somewhat of a surprise as well) and some Mister Solusar, noted as being accompanied by a protocol droid. "I have you now," the agent muttered to himself, putting the device away and heading for Solusar's cabin. Once inside he ignored the furnishings, being nearly identical to his own rooms of course, and focused on the content of the room itself. And what content it was; crudely hidden beneath a silk towel or some such thing was a full suit of Mandalorian armor, along with all manner of weapons and destructive devices. Konstantin knew he could have Bes'Beviin arrested instantly based on this alone; Mandalorian tech was highly illegal contraband in all Republic-controlled sectors, and carrying an armory around without official righteousness was frowned on as well, to say the least.

For the moment, however, the veteran spy did nothing to disturb the array before him, save to plant a couple more bugs in unlikely crevices of the armor (while making sure that whatever monitoring tech in the helmet was ineffective in recording him). That taken care of, he replaced the silken blanket, or towel, or whatever it was, back as it had been before, planted another bug in the room itself, then walked out innocuously. His plan was to return to the ballroom, where he could monitor events directly; the Jedi was there, and Ferrus was likely to linger there as well in order to watch for the Admiral.

A short walk later and Konstantin was back in the vast room. None of the staff or passengers had noted him at any point during the trek, and the ship's security had likewise been foiled. Mingling with the other passengers and declining the advances of whatever females came up to him, he made his way to the bar and ordered something light, sitting down a few stools away from Ferrus and TS with his right side facing the duo; while he wore supple black gloves that matched his long overcoat, and the coat itself was specially tailored not to give away whatever surprises it concealed, even to electronic scrutiny, Konstantin didn't want his adversary even the slightest chance of marking down anything about the agent that would stand out.

As he was now, he was but another passenger, vaguely official and much too old to be a threat; perhaps a long-retired officer of some planetary militia or police force or other, but still no one to be worried about. He wasn't even armed.

[angelnatavi]

Since Ano didn't rely on sight or other such easily fooled senses, she knew which of the new arivals was her escort almost imediatly. Still, she made a show of slipping through the crowd of people embarking onto the near royal class vessel, bumping into different people, using them as stepping stones to enforce the concept of her blindedness. Finally, after stepping on numerous people's toes and bumping into countless more, their cloying perfumes clashing horribly with one another, she made it to Bishop.

With an excited exclimation of joy, she linked her arm with his, nudging his hips with hers while she smiled widely, practically clinging to his arm. To others this might be in poor taste, or very heavily frowned upon by others in the order, but at the moment the best way to be unnoticed would be a slightly restrained measure of brute force 'notice me'. She also knew that while she did not like acting this way, it was fun to sense some of the other's reactions to a somewhat attractive Togruta clinging to the arm of a handsom man, even though said man was an Admiral in disguise.

Still, she calmed down after she had greeted the person of interest of whom she was escorting, though still acted somewhat of a twit for looks and cover purposes. That, and it was fun to let one's hair down, so to speak, and kick up one's heels. So she had a slightly tipsy stagger to her walk, a smile plastered upon her face even as she tugged him towards the dining room.

[Kuhblam]

(OOC: Sorry if it's a confusing post, writing at a hotel with limited time.)

Pausing to take another sip from his drink, Ferrus maintained the notion that he was now most likely being watched, and if not, being looked for to a heavy extent. Next to him, TS also sat at the bar, although this was odd for any droid.

The glasses' watered down contents entering his mouth and cooling down the Mandalorian's scratchy throat, Ferrus was just about to stand up when a man running behind him slammed into Ferrus in a hurry, nearly taking the muscular bounty hunter into the bar as he apologized and ran off just as swiftly as he had come.

Idiot.

----

Waiting for awhile due to being uncharacteristically sloth-like, Ferrus continued to drink as he finished off his glass, not taking notice to the rude man who had bumped into him sometime about twenty minutes ago. Quietly, he turned to his "protocol" droid.

"TS, I'll be back. Do me a favor and don't get yourself pressed into service with a restraining bolt."

Standing up, Ferrus scratched at his scalp as he stood up, brushed himself off, and proceeded to weave his way through the numerous occupants of ball room. His dress shoes clattering against the marble floor in a rhythmic pattern, Ferrus was about to continue onwards when he caught sight of the Togruta woman standing up at random away from her seat and taking the arm of a random passenger in a sleazy manner who seemed uneasy but still some-what confident in such confined quarters. Normally, he wouldn't have shown out, but Ferrus knew for a fact that there was no one on-board with dark, scruffy red hair. No one. He had gone over the passenger dossiers for months, studied each of their features; if anything, he could identify them with complete ease. Ferrus had a great memory, and to him it was common knowledge that humans were only a minority on the ship although the most numerous of each species and even more so that all of them were dark haired with the exception of a few bright blonds.

It all makes sense. Hello, Bishop. Too bad you didn't make your wig choice a little more carefully.

Casually flashing his data-pad and likening to it like he was fumbling with the controls like any normal, sheltered ambitious new businessman, Ferrus snapped a quick picture with a concealed camera and sent the encrypted profile picture to TS-13x without another word so the droid would know who to look for when Ferrus sprung the trap. He also sent a coded transmission stating that he'd go live with the bribed security team in fifteen minutes. Ferrus wasn't about to assume that the man who had bumped into him was an agent planting bugs in his collar, but it never hurt to be silent instead of talking it up over com-links. Codes made from signal words were hard to de-crypt, but they could be broken.

Making his way back to the elevator, Ferrus put his data-pad and looked back one more time casually towards the masses. Almost about to continue, Ferrus turned around to find a non-aware waiter smash into him, spilling drinks all over Ferrus' clean dark black tuxedo and making Ferrus send an angry grin and a clenched hand onto the man's front collar, lifting the thin-framed teenager upwards as he brushed away the liquid from the upper portion of his shoulders and torso.

"Watch yourself, boy."

Setting him back down without another word, Ferrus entered the already on-deck elevator, meeting and greeting the same Bith bellman with nothing but an annoyed nod. Behind him, the doors closed as the nervous worker knelt down to pick up his tray and clean up the mess he had created.

"You know where to go."

The Bith stopped smiling almost automatically; like most of the other essential crew members, he knew what was going on and what was about to happen. Punching in Ferrus' room's deck number, the lift plummeted downwards as the Mando rolled his neck in both directions and waited.

----

Opening the room with his key-card, Ferrus entered the marble-white, futuristic lodging that had been his temporary residence for the past few days.

To his eyes, everything Ferrus saw was exactly the same. No tampering with any of the exterior cabinets or other furnishings. However, upon approaching the amateur cover he had laid atop his equipment, Ferrus suspected something was amiss. There were a few extra ruffles and one of the corners was folded slightly inwards instead of drooping over the bed's comforter like before.

I could have sworn this was laid out perfectly.

Of course, at this point it didn't matter. If he was correct, Bishop was most likely the man he had spotted before heading to the elevator. If a Republic Intelligence agent had indeed entered here and done a good job of cleaning and planting, Ferrus had already been un-covered. The name Solusar was no longer viable, but in fifteen minutes he would brandishing two blaster pistols alongside TS-13x's own weaponry at the head of a rather competent ship security team.

Stripping off his suit and shoulder holster, Ferrus wiped off his face with a rough towel before beginning to suit up, placing black with red-trim beskar panels and strapping them onto his inner fiber-mesh body-glove.

In ten minutes, Ferrus was already at the door, everything set and geared. His jet-pack, although useless until he reach the ballroom, was prepped for use, and a Beskad was sheathed on his back, able for use at a moments notice. Decidedly, he would not need so much gear, but there was no telling how much under-cover security Bishop had brought. The Jedi would make short work of his hired goons; of course, they were solely for the purpose of making distractions. Ferrus would deal with the Togruta woman soon enough, be she the Jedi or not.

Exiting the room without causal regard for being sighted, Ferrus turned his head to the right as he stepped into view fully, eying a bewildered, brown-leather skinned Ithorian walking down the hall who stopped in his track almost automatically at the sight of the black-armored monstrosity. Of course, running didn't take him very far, and in the few seconds it took Ferrus to arm and fire a fiber-cord dart around his hands, the alien was already on the floor being dragged back into the Mandalorian's room, squirming as Ferrus used the resources at hand and covered his mouth with thermal detonator tape.

"Wrong time to go for a walk, di'kut."

Leaving the lavish room and letting the sliding door close with a satisfying hiss, Ferrus smashed the keypad with his armored fist in it's entirety before heading the opposite way of the main elevator and taking an unknown ship maintenance hallway which would take him to a unlit "closed for renovation" deck over-looking the ballroom and lobby. Entering the small auxiliary lift, Ferrus turned back towards the sliding doors as they closed and brought his armored persona back upwards for an explosive confrontation. A short smile arrayed his face behind the black-red Mando helm covering Ferrus' features. Granted, he was about to send the entire ship into chaos and anarchy, but the excess of weapons he was carrying was mostly only to instill fear and cause people to flee faster. In ten minutes maximum, he, TS, and Bishop would be aboard the Mand'alor Incarnate heading for Ziost.

Bantha fodders' about to hit the fan.

[Jerek]

(OOC: I'm terribly sorry for vanishing as I did. My explanation is here: swrponline2.proboards.com/index.cgi?action=display&board=introductions&thread=11993
If you'll forgive me, I'll read and get caught up then whip up a post. One, or all of you, please get back to me.)

[Jerek]

As he was walking across the massive entrance hall, Bishop was suddenly clung to by an attractive Togruta female. He instantly recognized her as his Jedi escort. She was adorned in lovely green dress clothes. The shades of her dress and shoes matched her skin perfectly. She was a sight to be seen. Bishop smiled at her. She began dragging him toward the dining hall.

"Actually, I have to get to my room. No time to eat."

Upon saying this, Bishop redirected their path to the massive flight of stairs leading to the upper suites. After about two minutes of climbing the decorative staircase, the pair reached Bishop's room. He led her inside, where he let go of her arm and tossed his suitcase onto the bed. He proceeded to rip the wig from his head and scratch his scalp. His hair was wet from sweat, which was caused from the auburn wig that was now laying next to his suitcase.

"No doubt they know I'm in disguise. There'd be little to no point in continuing this charade," Bishop said as he wiped the makeup from his face. He threw the makeup-covered rag onto the bed as well. The next step would be to suit up for a potential fight. Bishop stripped himself of his jacket and dress shirt. He then slipped his protective vest on. Afterwards, he slipped his shirt and jacket back on.

Bishop's pistol remained in his underarm holster as he linked arms with his Jedi escort and proceeded to exit the room and walk back down the flight of stairs into the dining hall. Bishop sat down at a table hidden in a nook and leaned in toward his escort.

"More than likely they're on my trail already. Listen carefully. I want you to go to the bar and try to find the Republic agent they've sent to protect me. When you did, tell him 'The Prowler's claws are out'.

That code was given to Bishop to use if something went awry. When the Jedi had gone, Bishop got up casually and began walking toward the elevator. When he had reached it, he looked around him, making sure there was no one around. He then ducked into a service tunnel, which led to various ship controls. Once he had reached where he intended, Bishop searched for what he needed. When he found the control for the air conditioning in various hallways, he tapped into it and set a switch on it, which when activated would create steam throughout the halls, just in case he was separated form his protection and was being chased.

His next step was to rig the lighting systems to go off and make complete darkness when/if he needed it. After that he found the controls for the doors to some crucial doors. In case they were locked, he would be able to get through them and into different tunnels, etc. All these controls were hooked up to a control watch on Bishop's right wrist. It looked just like a normal watch, though. He had personally requested this for this mission. Good thing he was so high up in rank, otherwise this special equipment would've been denied to him, since he's not a Republic agent.

When the necessary adjustments were made, Bishop exited the tunnel and made his way back to his previous table, hopefully unnoticed. He had not received training in sneaking and blending like the Republic agent that was sent to protect him. The switches he used, though, were undetectable thanks to the Republic's brilliant scientists.