Two-Fer-One

[A®heim]

The sun was just beginning to set on one of the thousands of grungy floating cities on Metellos. These blocky grey megaplexes were home to some of the “richer” residents of the back alley planet—a life of luxury for those looking to escape the seas of sewage and choking industrial atmosphere that clung to the surface. Everything is relative.

Interestingly enough, many of the planet’s starports were also on these cities, likely because the thick smog below made it too treacherous to attempt to land on the surface. Here, many of the more desperate spacers set down, perhaps in hopes of resupplying at a bargain, or maybe to “acquire goods” of less than legal qualities. Shady deals were as common as candorian plague around here, but how shaded something may be does not necessarily speak for its intentions.

A decrepit, bearded man clothed in dirty rags sat against the vivid green hull of a Star Wind-class transport, his figure almost indistinguishable from the scrap metal around him. The ship, however, was an uncharacteristically prim vessel for the place. For one, it had paint. This alone set it leagues away from the other questionably-spaceworthy craft that, much like the bum, almost couldn’t be picked out of the debris. Where its owner had gone was unknown, but whoever it was, they should hope to return quickly as the ship was beginning to draw more than a few enticed glances.

The ragged man hunched forward slightly and rubbed his patchwork-gloved hands together. He wore a torn, synthleather cap that shadowed his face and as he leaned, a deep murmur came from beneath it. “She best get here soon, I don’t like the looks some of these lowlifes are wearing.”

One of the scrap pieces beside him shifted slightly and replied, its voice even and slightly tinny. I assure you she will return shortly. Once the transaction is made, we can escape this falsified notion of civilization and return to our falsified notion of civilization. A dull red glow barely illuminated the head of the bird-like droid as it turned to the scrap heap on the other side of the man. Holding up alright, 24? I assure you, the outside world isn’t all like this.

“Yeah, some of it’s breathable.” The man muttered with a short series of coughs.

[Kami]

Another fantastic day in sunny Metellos. Why, the light nearly pierced the roiling smogstorm for whole minutes there around high noon. Striding back through the shadowy backstreets toward the spaceport, the blue-clad woman snorted - and immediately broke into a fit of coughing.

Sure the blocky grey megaplexes had air purifiers running 24/6, but everything was relative. And- "I don't have karking metal boxes for lungs," she muttered as she began to recover. Of all the run-down starports in all the cities of the galaxy, her contact had had to pick this one. This job had been a comedy of errors right from the get-go; first she'd landed in the wrong city - she'd own that one, embarrassing as it was. Then once she actually found Stratablock 11 she had scarce gone halfway to the contact point before she was dodging security forces every time she turned around twice. What in the galaxy had she done to deserve this?!?

She made the decision to press on and make the contact before the streets became completely impassable, managed to avoid another checkpoint through means more luck than skill and slipped into the designated booth with her mouth half-open to demand an explanation... only to find the Togruta with a thin disrupter-impact hole drilled through her forehead. Perfect.

Swearing softly as she banged her side on a Holo Emitter, Kami came back to the present. She supposed it didn't matter exactly how she'd gotten back to the starport, though by the way her side was aching beneath the kolto patch she would be feeling that blaster crease for some time. She was tired of this world, her incessant effervescence definitely on the low burner. She just wanted to get to her ship, get offworld and- she rounded the corner.

There she was, the Take Two and... huh. Walking directly up to the older man sitting against her side, the woman once known as Kamwynn kept one *very* paranoid eye out for threats in hiding. Despite this she completely misses the two 'piles of scrap metal' and smiles not unkindly. "Sorry friend, I'm afraid I can't let you sit there any longer; she's going to be lifting off soon, and I have no desire to harm you when she does."

Before getting too close, she ensures her hand is hovering inconspicuously close to her blaster. She wants to make sure he's okay; she's not completely reckless though. "Thanks for taking care of my ship though - here, have a few credits to get something hot and clearing into you. ."

[A®heim]

The man kept his head low as the pilot approached, his eyes remaining shadowed by his cap. He did his best to hide a smirk as she warned him of the imminent takeoff and thanked him for keeping an eye on her ship. In response, he raised his mitten-enveloped hand in a 'one-moment' gesture, and slowly pushed himself up onto his feet with a groan.

"Thanks for the warning, ma'am, she's really a beautiful ship." He chuckled and continued in a barely audible murmur, his hands on his hips as he looked over the craft again. "Considered working on a variant to complement our own Solarspans..."

He cleared his throat and glanced down at the credit chip she had tossed him. "Bless you for the offer, but you'll probably find a bit more use for this than I will." He offered it back to her but withheld it at the last moment. "Though there is something you could do to help me; would your name happen to be Kamwynn Kriscien?" Before she could react, he raised his hands in a passifying gesture. "No need for alarm, we're not here to harm you in any way. We simply have a package to deliver."

He turned back towards the ship again. "Though it may be best if we conduct our business out of the prying eyes of those less savory.

[Kami]

The closer she got, the more Kami was getting a kind of 'off' feeling about this. The old man didn't seem quite as decrepit as he had at first, and seemed entirely too pleased with himself; there was no trace of the semi-subservient fear she'd learned to know and loathe. Also, "Considered working on a variant to complement our own Solarspans..." didn't exactly scream of poverty. And then final clincher, just as she was on the point of turning away and beating a quick retreat.

"...would your name happen to be Kamwynn Kriscien?"

With unusual speed her hand darted in and brought up her blaster pistol, covering him with marked intensity - and perhaps a little fear? "Who are you? And why are there security forces crawling all over this smoggy rock, looking for me?" Her eyes dart back and forth, half-expecting to see those familiar uniforms emerging from the spaceport concourse. What she doesn't expect is to see an oddly feline droid extract itself from the scrap pile it was nesting in, and dart out a narrow tube in her direction.

Still less did she then expect what it said;

"I have you covered, Mistress Kamwynn - but as the master said, we do not wish to harm you in any way. Lower your weapon, and I will not shoot."

Kami glared at the droid, then back at the old man, considering her chances... and reluctantly decided she didn't like them. She lowered her blaster, though not reholstering it as yet. "...alright. Let's go inside, and you can tell me what you want me to know." Tapping a code into the ship's security panel, she moved her body to obscure the numbers as best she could. When the hatch opened, she led the way inside; heading for the lounge, and tapping the internal remote once everyone was safely aboard.

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

Hope you don’t mind the party crashing….I’m the ride. Or rather….Sam is. I heard about this and just HAD to cameo. Feel free to ignore me….or not. ^_^

---

She hadn’t liked the ride in….and she doubted she’d like the ride out any better. To keep a low profile, Familiar had spared no expense in getting the rustiest (looking) bucket of bolts around. Of course….ugly was only skin deep. No, that wasn’t right….well, it was but…the point here is that this particular bucket of bolts could likely fly circles around every single…ship (see: jalopy)…that was….sitting (see: corroding)….around it.

All across the dash, little lights blinked and twinkled as the ship sat idly, its pilot reclining slightly back in her seat as she kept a sharp eye on her fellow agent. Puffing a bit of air, the wayward strand of blond that had dared try to sneak into her eye was shooed away while she unconsciously snapped and unsnapped the top strap of her pistol holster. With her face damn near everywhere (well, everywhere there was a ‘most wanted’ list, anyway) for conspiracy and treason (not to mention the far ‘less important’ crime of “desertion”) Sam wasn’t supposed to even think about setting foot outside on this planet because she’d be one good look away from some bum getting the hefty bounty on her head.

Of course, she could take care of herself…more or less…but those were the rules. Besides, it wasn’t all bad, she actually got company on this trip besides the soon-to-be-adopted familiar. Sean was a character all on his own, but add his own familiar (Ayer), Phae and a walking chemistry lab that liked to cook. Ah, good times. It certainly hadn’t been a boring journey, at any rate. Still, waiting had never been her strong point, and they were doing a lot of waiting right now. It was a testament to her training that the Corellian could sit as still as she had been for so long without even getting up to patrol the remarkably short length of the ship. Sighing, the woman shifted around in her seat and craned her neck a bit to watch some of the ship’s readouts.

”Y’know, Ayer…I dunno about you, but, I’ll be happy to get away from this place.”

Pausing a moment, she squinted at one of the readings she saw before dismissing it from her mind. She was incredibly swift thinking when it came to ship’s stats and readouts, it came from a life around the things…and trained in them…hell, she practically lived and breathed them. Of course….that didn’t mean she was the best at fixing them, but…that’s what her brother was for! Oh, and the people at Familiar, too. In all honesty, though, Samantha was quite happy not letting a ship get to the point where she couldn’t fix it if she could possibly help it.

”I’ve got a hot date with a speeder and some clean air I’d like to get to back on Kuat before I have to haunt the facility again. ….Speaking of haunting…I’m beginning to think that place is haunted by more than just the normal Ghosts…Oh! There she is! Finally…”

The last word was breathed, almost with relief, as their prospective agent appeared on the scene. Watching quietly, Sam almost had to chuckle at the reaction the woman had to…well, whatever Sean had said to her. ’I bet that it was her name…bet you anything.’ Smirking a bit, she glanced side-long at the AER settled near by.

”You know, Ayer, I think Sean’s pretty good at this old vagabond thing….maybe a little too good. The beard could use some work, though.”

Depressing a button on the dash near by, she leaned forward a bit before speaking again.

”Mind yourself in there, Mu’haro, and keep those dirty hands of yours to yourself or the Chiss will be pissed.”

….What?! There was no harm in harassing the man a little bit in good fun! Just as long as nothing in there went sour, she could sit back and…who knows…maybe she’d see about sending Sev a message. It’d been a while…

[A®heim]

"Whoa whoa, careful now." The man uttered with a short chuckle, his voice oddly calm considering there was a gun trained on him. This drew exactly no attention whatsoever from the various passerbys surrounding them--figured, no doubt this sort of thing was as common as the sunrise. He glanced shortly at the murky brown sky. Okay, maybe not the best of examples.

What did get a few people's attention was the four-legged, metal-coated coated creature that burst out of the scrap metal next to him and rather politely asked the young lady to lower her firearm. This was also likely the cause for the man's calmness of tone; it's hard to be perturbed when you're being escorted by a steel battle hound, though in this case perhaps "Iron Chef" would be more fitting. Still, it was quite terrifying (especially with that wicked needle-like appendage), and more importantly, it was on his side. For the next few minutes, at least.

"No need for that "master" business, 24, I'm just your humble escort."

Correction, I'm the escort. A hawk-sized, grey-plated bird picked its way carefully out of the debris it had been blending in with and perched on an old piece of twisted rebar. You, are the tragically required correspondence. It tilted its head up towards Kami. Apologies, Ms. Kriscien, it would please me to perform proper introductions, but he is correct in his concerns of privacy. I we may. The bird-droid gestured with one wing towards the ship.

_____________________________________________


Considering the appearance of the ship they were sitting in, the ride here was astoundingly smooth. Perhaps it had been the Familiar becoming recalibrated as of late to the rougher trips (a light way of putting it, at times) of drop pods and military transports, but whatever the case, it could be most easily explained away as another PF miracle.

Regardless, this insertion was unusual in the number of agents and Familiars taking part in it. Unusual that is if one didn’t know the circumstances: GAI reports potential candidate, Familiar is assigned, candidate vanishes suddenly off radar, candidate is tracked, candidate is found, route is calculated, destination is established, pilot is informed, Familiar is prepared, pilot is prepared, Metallos is unpreparable for, sneakiness won’t work on such a high population center, security measures are needed, another agent is pulled, agent has core world security clearance, but agent needs pilot, pilot doesn’t have Familiar, but agent does, both are added to the op, 00 accompanies as well to oversee drop, usual dropship too obvious, find transport, upgrade transport, make transport look the opposite, load up, fly to Metallos, keep the pilot with the ship, send the agent in disguise, the to-be-assigned Familiar, and 00 because he will stand out a little less and knows the protocols best, agent’s Familiar stays behind as well supposedly to entertain the pilot or something. Simple, really.

Alright, Ayer really liked Sam—she knew her way around everything from engines to the Outer Rim—but he still couldn’t help but wish he were out there keeping an eye on his partner. Sure they had all been in much more dangerous situations than this one, but they had always pulled through in the end. Together. Except the worst one, oddly enough...

You and I both. These windows are tinted, right? He let out a synthesized sigh. Not to sound cynical or misanthropic, but this planet’s occupants seem as distasteful as its atmosphere. What’s left of it, at least…

His visor HUD scanned the scene outside the cockpit window even as he listened to Sam’s lament. More than the usual ghosts, huh? Well that only rules out one of the four-thousand or so strange events that occur within that facility. Not even one of the stranger ones, even. He spotted their contact a moment before Sam called her out. His photoreceptors locked immediately on her, tracking her movements as her personnel file scrolled past her figure. He dismissed it quickly—he had browsed it already several more times on the way here; medic, mercenary, marauder, mobster, mug-

He disabled the alliteration generator and refocused his processors. Another of the Wizard’s outlaws-with-a-heart-of-gold; they seem to be his favorite. I just hope Sean doesn’t do anything- …like that. He went silent for a minute, following the suddenly heated correspondence pointedly from his literal bird’s eye view.

It looks like they calmed her down. That, or he’s about to be bludgeoned and disappeared. The beard looks good, though. He should consider keeping it. All the same, wish I could see her expression when he drops the vagabond disguise and reveals that all along he was actually…a vagabond! Keeping his eyes on the Starwind-class’ hatch, his beak tightened into a slight smirk when he heard what Sam had told Sean over the communicator. Oh yeah. That’ll go well.

_____________________________________________


The seemingly old man nodded to his not-so-gracious host as she led him to the ship’s small but comfortable lounge area. Showing a sudden spryness not quite in line with his apparent age and stature, he flopped back on one of the cushioned seats and pulled off the leather cap. Phew. I tell ya, this stuff gets really hot, epecially out there in that kinda weather. Least I guess its weather… Does it count if it isn’t natural? With one hand he pushed back his short, black hair, smearing the make-up that had made his face look dark and weathered. With the other he tore off the beard, flexing his jaw and rubbing it experimentally. Sorry for all the undercover secret agent hoo-rah, but I gotta work in mysterious ways for my mysterious employers. You’ll learn more about them in a minute. In the meantime, introductions really aren’t complete without a drink. He looked up at her hopefully.

The bird droid, who had followed silently, glided in and settled on a table near the center of the room. Adjusting his wings in a dignified manner befitting a gentleman adjusting his tie, he addressed Kami again. Yes, introductions. This is agent Sean Mu’haro…

That’s me.

…C-A-T-S 24, and I am A-E-R 00, but you may call me Hephaestus-

We just call ‘im Phae. Sean piped in again.

Phae gave him a pointed, sidelong stare and continued. However, the more pressing matter is who you are. Kamwynn Kriscien, born to a family Toprawan government officials and present at the Regional Parliament bombing. Afterwards, pursued a career interest in medical aid, attending several tutoring programs and internships at the District Compounds clinical facilities. Fleeing the planet, you later established yourself as a freelance mercenary for hire, continuing to hone both your medical and combat skills in the face of constant danger, most notably the Battle of Mon Calamari where you miraculously survived a crash landing while attempting to aid injured civilian assets. He paused his tirade, and bowed his head to her, his tone become low and solemn. My condolences to your friends on board…

Sean’s eye twitched in a small grimace. It was hard losing comrades in the line of battle. Even harder getting used to knowing it will happen. He remained reverently silent and allowed Phae to finish.

The bird let out a short, synthesized noise, like a throat being cleared, and continued. We’ve been keeping tabs on you for quite some time since then and through it all, the hardships, the bloodshed, you have exhibited remarkable spirit and resolve—a paragon of character. It is for this reason that we wish to offer you a chance to help make a difference.

Sean leaned forward with a proud smile and pushed a small, white card toward her across the table. On the front of it, an insignia was printed in black ink—a stylized feather with a gear pattern at its base Project Familiar.

Phae nodded to Sean and motioned for 24 to step forward. We pride ourselves in not only representing the most advanced robotics technology the galaxy has ever seen, but for maintaining a position as the unseen guardian angels of an, unfortunately, rapidly-dissolving peace. Our resources we use not to wage war or subjugate planets, but to seek out those who may one day find the pen thrust into their hands to write their own page of history. From there, we do our best to ensure they make it that far.

And make sure your hand-writing is nice. Sean chimed in again, eliciting a questioning stare from Phae. It’s like a…metaphor. You know, sloppy hand writing is evil, and good handwriting is…no? Nevermind. Go on.

Phae’s photoreceptors blinked once and he turned back to Kami. As part of our efforts to accomplish this, we present you with the opportunity to utilize a Familiar such as myself, of which there are very few. After careful consideration, we decided that the youngest of our brethren, 24, would be best suited as your partner. Obviously, there is a lot more to this, but before I say anything else I need you to tell me if this is something you would be willing to undertake.

Sean leaned back again with a slight smirk. Careful, there are like 90 catches. He chuckled at Phae’s evident exasperation. But not all of ‘em are so bad.