Don't Shoot the Messenger [Valcor]

[Meira]

The struts extended, letting out steam as the ship settled its weight onto the platform. The characteristic groan of tons of metal coming to rest was short lived and held no indications for alarm. The control panel lacked any other indications as she checked through the cool down process for the engines. Each step, each check came clearly into her mind and she confirmed them as they came up. Pressure stabilized to the planet's atmosphere; engine cooling sequence begun; heat exhausts venting normally; hydraulics on all struts normal; air content normalized; weight distribution normal; airlock seals disengaged; doors open; panel shut down. All good.

Whiskey sat back into her chair and breathed. She felt tired and the corner of her mouth twitched upward at that thought. She rarely remembered feeling tired. She rarely remembered feeling anything. But she liked this sensation; there was a certain satisfaction in the fatigue of work. While this might have been common knowledge to most any being in the galaxy, it was a new concept for Whiskey. But it was one of the new things that she liked. It had been a long flight between Ryloth and Kuat, with many detours in between, but she'd done her job well and was satisfied.

"Good work, Jemma."

Whiskey turned her head, bringing the Twi'lek captain into view. He was a slight man, but had the face of a leader, and the gruff voice to match. What he lacked in physical power, he made up for in cunning and a quick draw. His men respected him. That was no easy feat, considering the lot that flew on his ship. She gave a slight nod of her head in response to his words, then stood from the pilot chair. She'd been flying with Vek for only a handful of runs now, but she'd grown comfortable with him. He didn't ask question, and she liked that. She flew the ship, that was all. She didn't have to help with the work, or even interact with the crew in any significant way. Her wages were less, but she did less work and had no expenses to worry about. It was a good arrangement.

"We'll be a while unloading and dealing. You're free for at least six hours. Just take your comm if you leave the ship." Whiskey's eyes met Vek's. He chuckled. "Right, how stupid of me to think you'd want to leave the ship."

He moved away and Whiskey watched him until he turned the corner. She stretched, reaching her arms up high overhead and then bending at the waist to touch her palms to the floor. It was true that she hadn't left the ship since the start of their last job, even though it took them to many ports of call. She was not interested in sight seeing, and the vendors near the docks had nothing she wanted to buy. She didn't need anything. She had more clothes than she thought necessary, her pistol, her knife, three meals, and a bunk. What more could she possibly need? She would need to leave the ship eventually. She could feel the changes that living in such confined space had made on her body. She was still strong -she hadn't slacked on exercise routines- but there was only some much one could do in tight quarters. Next time they landed on a more open planet, she'd go for a good run.

But for now, Whiskey moved to the small cabin that she called her own. This ship made room for the pilot's quarters near the cockpit, a convenient measure and one that Whiskey was glad for. The only times she had to interact with anyone was to retrieve her meals or during the usual jostle for the use of the ships refresher units. Other than that, the crew left her alone and Vek usually only spoke to her about flight plans and course changes. It was a good set up.

Her quarters consisted of a bunk, built into the wall, a small closet, and an even smaller desk. She had a trunk as well, which she kept in the bottom of the closet. There was room enough to turn around, but not much else. She was fine with this. Whiskey had only ever known utilitarian life and so had never been accustomed to any luxuries. Removing her shoes, Whiskey reclined on her bunk, eager to get a few hours of sleep while Vek and his crew did their business.

---

Vek's business was spice. He was a high level courier between suppliers on Ryloth and many worlds in the Inner Rim and the Core. In the black market, he was known for delivering high quality product and his reliability to deliver. This had earned him the business of many of the upper echelon of crime bosses and even a few politicians and the like. Discretion was also one of his top qualities. He maintained clean books and manifests, allowing him a wide range of operations and a fairly low profile.

Currently, Vek had been cycling through some new crew members, as some of his older ones phased out or even branched off on their own. Some captains might not like the idea of a former subordinate taking up a ship and crew of their own, but Vek had a mind that this only increased his own prowess. He was even beginning to fancy himself as some sort of smuggling admiral; leader of a whole fleet of spice runners. All those men looking to him for leadership... that was something to smile about.

And he did smile. This shipment would be a good stack of credits to his name, all said and done. So the good captain of The Messenger was in high spirits as his men began to unload the crates from the ship's hold. He ambled over to the dock master, who was coming to do his rounds, with a whistle on his green lips.

[Valcor]

Out of all the things Beau disliked in this galaxy, the insufferable waiting that preceded the climax to all his hard work had to be near the top of the list.  Every operation followed a specific pattern for the young Officer.  

First there was the gathering of information once the case was assigned.  Low ranking men had to be interrogated, files had to be reviewed, and evidence scoured; but even this held some small amount of enjoyment to Officer Moss.  Something about the combing of the details in a quiet space, seeing into a whole other world through bits and pieces to form a whole picture just soothed the Agent of the Republic.  Next was actually putting boots on the ground.  The suspect had to be found one, and two Beau had a personal desire to see his opponents, in person, some time before actually bringing them down.  It gave him a face to put to the work, an image in his head to match to all the atrocities he had so meticulously reviewed about.  

After that came the formation of a plan.  The men Special Enforcement Officer's were tasked to take down were no ordinary criminals, they were business people, often well respected members of their communities, and thus could not be handled the ordinary way.  They were careful, meticulous in their own right, and dangerously intelligent.  Whether they be slavers, smugglers, crime lords, or bean counters, every one of them did not stay at the top simply by luck, and because of this, Beau had to be smarter.  Beau had to be even more careful, even more meticulous to take down the top echelon.  And he was.  He always made sure of it.  Every detail of the final encounter between he and his opposition was planned out to the finest detail.  The place, the time, the situation, were always in Beau's favor, but with Vek, it was different.

Beau had spent months tracking down the smuggler.  From the outer rim, to Coruscant itself, Vek ferried enough narcotics to down a pack of Bull Rancors and then some, carving out quite a reputation for himself in the process.  However, despite this, Vek was anything but reckless, and thus quite the challenge for Republic law enforcement to pin down to anything.  Despite nearly two dozen run-ins with all manor of charges and accusations, Vek had yet to accumulate even a parking violation to his name.  Through a combination of manipulating laws to his advantage and clever ploys to divert attention, the Twi'lek had duped every other would-be captor at every turn, which is why Beau had even heard of the noodle head.  

As it turns out, Republic law enforcement is a rather prideful organization, and did not take kindly to being so easily brushed aside.  In their frustration, the higher ups finally passed the case up to the Special Enforcement Bureau, in the hopes of cleaning this stain off of their record for good.  With this in mind, Beau had turned an otherwise straight forward case, into a matter of honor for his brothers on the force.  It likely did not help the Vek was also a Twi'lek, but Beau would never admit that.  With this personal nature to the case now nagging at Beau, a few things were ignored to advance the time it would take to bring Vek down.  Normally Beau liked to outnumber his opponent with local law enforcement when the time came to strike, but for this, Officer Moss settled with simply isolating Vek and taking him down himself.  Perhaps it was his desire put the dog down with his own two hands, but more likely it was so Beau could get away with... bending the rules a bit.

With only the local dock guard aware of Beau's presence and intent, Officer Moss was finally at the beginning of the end for Vek.  Beau had been sitting in silence, peering over a small crate for what seemed like hours waiting for his target.  His knees burned, his ill-fitting shin guards dug into his thighs as he sat back on his feet; but demanding most of his attention, however, were his nerves, aching for action.  Adrenaline, humanities' natural combat stimulant pumped hard in his veins, tingling his fingers beneath the black second skin of his gloves.  His body suit soon grew hot with sweat and blood flow as his heart rate began to rise.  Finally, there he was.  Behind the faceless visor that was his helm, Officer Moss' eyes narrowed onto his target like a predator stalking his prey.  Vek.

Beau had not seen the man in months, but he could never forget the face of a he whom so brazenly disregarded the law.  Even the way the man walked began to irk the Officer.  That calm swagger with each step as he approached Beau's man, as if the criminal had not a care in the world.  Officer Moss clenched his jaw aching to push the alien scum's face into the dirt, but still, he waited.  It was not time.  Behind his crate, Beau sat and watched, waiting for the credits of a bribe to be exchanged.  Seconds ticked by in silence for the Officer, as sweat dripped down his brow, before his eyes widened in excitement.  There it was, that flash of credits swapping hands.

In a blur of blue and yellow armor, Beau had vaulted the crate and crossed nearly half the distance between himself and his target before the green alien's hand could even return to his side.  Brandishing his stun blaster in one hand, and his badge in the other, Officer Moss made himself known to the dirt bag, barking "Special Enforcement Officer! Hands where I can see 'em boy!" 

[Meira]

"Nigel! How are ya, you old wamp rat!" Vek clapped the dock master on the shoulder as he approached. Nigel responded with his typical grunt and quick nod of the head. He was a man of few words, Nigel, and Vek appreciated that.

"What are ya haulin'?" Nigel asked, his datapad already pulling up the manifest The Messenger had transmitted before landing. This was, of course, the smoke screen that was used to hide the true product.

"Oh, the usual." Vek replied, gesturing with his chin toward the crates his men were loading onto a transport. Those men would ride with the declared cargo to where it would be sold. Vek liked the handle the spice himself. "Some Whiskey from Corellia, silk from Camaas." Nigel nodded and shut off the data pad, tucking it into a pocket. The transport pulled away, leaving Vek and the dock master alone.

"Anything else to declare?"

"Not today." Vek said, his hand moving smoothly from his pocket to shake Nigel's. The gesture concealed the credit transaction that would ensure Vek's ability to unload the crates hidden away in the smuggling compartments.

Nigel turned to leave and Vek was about to turn as well when there was a sudden rush of movement from the shadows of the hangar. The man that came running forward was a blur, but his voice was clear as he called out who he was and why he was here. Vek, though not as fast as this agent, was fast enough to seize Nigel's wrist and wrench him back closer. Putting the dock master into a head lock, Vek held the man as a human shield, producing a blaster pistol of his own.

"Stay back!" he barked at the officer, pressing the pistol into Nigel's temple.
"You lying, cheating, ratch!" he hissed into Nigel's ear. "I'll skin you alive for this." He backed away from the officer, taking quick glances over his shoulder and around the hangar. Where were the rest? Surely this officer hadn't come alone... Vek allowed a chuckle to escape him. "Dumb move coming alone... boy." he spat.

In a quick motion, Vek pushed Nigel toward the officer and fired several shots in their direction to cover his dash toward the hangar doors. Outside the hangar, he quickly made his way into a crowd, searching for a speeder. Just ahead, a man was stepping out of one. Vek shoved him aside and jumped in, Accelerating quickly to make his get away. All the while he cursed and spat. His spice was still on the ship. It would take time to organize his men and make a plan.

---

She had just started to drift off when the sounds of shouting brought her quickly back to consciousness. Whiskey whirled, her feet coming quickly to the floor as her hand reached for her blaster. She waited, sitting on her bunk and listening. Blaster fire brought her to her feet. Whiskey moved quickly down the corridor toward the cargo hold in time to find only two strangers standing in the hangar. When she saw the uniform that one of those strangers wore, she knew that this must have been some kind of bust.

Whiskey ducked behind a crate, but her foot slipped on a hydrospanner that had been carelessly dropped on the floor. The tool went skidding across the cargo hold and then tumbled down the ramp toward the officer and the other man. Whiskey silently cursed, knowing that she had lost her cover. She couldn't be arrested. They would find nothing on her, but that wasn't what she was worried about. If she was booked into a system, Green Meadows would find her. If she was ever going to go back, it couldn't be like that. It would have to be on her own terms. For all she knew, they were prepared to kill every last one of their now rogue agents. No, she couldn't fight.

Whiskey held her hands up, showing them and her blaster over the crate. "I'm coming out!" she called, and set the blaster on top of the crate. Now with empty hands, Whiskey stood and took several steps away from the crate. "I'm unarmed. I will cooperate." she said.

[Valcor]

Officer Moss was no slouch, and the moment a hostage entered the equation, the Special Enforcement Officer skidded to a halt.  His weapon remained raised as Beau searched for a shot on the crime lord.  With his target now revealing himself to be armed, the Officer let a smirk spread across his concealed face.  Now he could use deadly force.  

Time was not on Beau's side however, as just when the Officer lined up a shot on the crime lord, the Dock Master was pushed his way, breaking the small line of sight Beau had set up.  With a low grunt, Beau turned one shoulder downwards and, rather roughly, shoved the corrupt worker out of his way.

Just as he did however, the blaster bolts began to fly the pair's way before either could duck for cover.  With lightening quick reflexes, Beau returned the favor, unleashing a quick barrage of his own in return.  Unfortunately Vek was a step ahead of him and had already darted well clear of effective pistol range and rounded the corner of the hangar.  Beau cursed rather loudly before setting off once more after his target, not giving the Dock Security officer a second look.  His heart pounded in his ears, his adrenaline pumped hard in his veins, and only the stomping of his boots echoed through the air as Beau shot off out of the hanger.  Again though, Vek was but a step ahead of the officer as the green xeno used civilians to his advantage.  Darting through the crowded city streets, Vek was but a green headed blur among an array of vibrantly colored blurs.  Beau leveled his blaster at the crowd in fury, his trigger finger clenching tightly to his blaster, begging to release a last vengeful shot after the escapee, but Beau's inner officer held fast.  

After a moment of aiming after Vek, Beau lowered his weapon and unleashed out a roar of rage, letting a nearby crate feel his frustrations release.  Just as the wooden box crumbled under the might of a republic boot, the discarded dock worker approached behind the Special Enforcement Officer and spoke.  "His craft is still docked sir." The man grumbled out, gripping his smoking charred shoulder where one of Vek's shots had apparently struck him.  Beau heaved a few breaths, still glaring out at the crowd Vek was escaping into before giving a response.  Quickly turning to the injured dock worker, Beau barked, "Can you fight? Then take me there."  The Officer took a quick nod as sufficient enough a response to count the man as an extra gun for the inevitable fight with Vek's men.

As quickly as Beau could shove the corrupt man towards the landing pad, the pair set off.  Only the pounding of their boots echoed through the now quieted dock as the men approached.  When Officer Moss closed in on his secondary target, he could tell the criminals were on their toes.  The first to come into view already brandished his assault weapon, removing any doubt in the Officer's mind that Vek's and his own blaster shots might have gone unnoticed.  Only one thing remained to be done before the inevitable firefight erupted, and Beau planned on getting it done as soon as possible.  Barking once more in his most official tone he could muster between pants, Beau addressed the scum, "Special Enforcement Bureau! Lay down your weapons!"

Just as Beau expected, a flurry of blaster shots littered the crates he and his ally hunkered behind.  Once again, Beau internally authorized himself to use lethal force, and gave Nigel a quick nod to let him know the same.  Once the first barrage subsided, the two men of the law popped up from their cover, blasters brandished and returned fire.  The instant Beau had eyes on the workers, any internal fears he might have had about fighting them vanished.  Clearly these men were no experts, for they stood rather brazenly out in the open, weapons held down by their hips.  'Scum...' Beau said internally to himself as he opened up upon them.  Out of the two of them, Beau's shots carried a significantly more lethal edge than Nigel's, not that the Officer expected a corrupt dock security worker to be much of a shot, especially with that wound on his shoulder.  

Each blue blast that left Beau's pistol landed squarely on target, in either a leg, chest, or arm depending on angle.  The battle lasted for only a few minutes, with blaster shots masking the pained screams and groans of those impacted.  Once the last criminal hit the floor, the pair of Republic men rose from their cover and moved about the wreckage.  This was certainly not the way Beau had planned for this operation to go down in the slightest, and would certainly gain him a stern reprimand from his superiors, but at least he had a cargo hold worth of spice to give as recompense.  Turning to Nigel, Beau spoke once more, "Call this in, and check the wounded."  In response, the still stoic dock worker furrowed his brow before giving an accepting nod.

Together the pair moved towards the ship, weapons lowered but fingers still babying their triggers.  Beau only gave the men he stepped over a quick glance to ensure those who still groaned or cried made no moves for their weapons, and for those who were close enough to make such an attempt, the Officer gave the respective armament a swift kick to the side.  Once at the boarding ramp to the craft, Beau holstered his piece and turned to his ally, his tone and body language less aggressive than when he first came upon the corrupt man.  "See to that wound, it might just keep you out of prison." Beau grumbled behind his featureless blue visor as he gestured towards Nigel's shoulder with his head.  "What about Vek?" Nigel rumbled back, his gruff slightly pained tone mirroring Beau's own.  "I'll worry about that." The Special Enforcement Officer sighed, reaching up and rubbing his visor in visible frustration and worry before the clinking of something inside the craft sent both men's hand's to their weapons.

Someone was still active inside the ship, and neither Beau nor Nigel seemed to have any intention of treating them different from the other criminals laying behind them.  It was only when the submitting words echoed out and a weapon followed that either of them held back the stream of blaster fire that was shortly coming.  

"On the ground scum bag." Beau seethed through gritted teeth as he cautiously entered the hangar towards the girl before him.  "Hands on your head." He ordered once within a stride or two of the final criminal.  As she obliged, Beau closed the gap in a quick burst of speed, holstering his weapon and reaching for his cuffs simultaneously before pinning the newest addition to Vek's chain gang with his knee.  Despite being female, and significantly more slender than the burly scum that lay outside the craft, Beau treated to with the same rough handling he would any other outlaw.  His armored knee pressed hard into her back, her oppressor holding back none of his weight as his hands cranked her own back behind her.  Soon the silence that filled the hold was broken with the subtle clicking of cuffs around wrists as the Officer tightened the restraints to painfully constricting levels.  It was only once both wrists were no longer a concern, that Beau removed his weight from the scum and hoisted her to her feet by the cuffs, letting the metal dig into skin in an intentionally painful fashion.

"C'mon scum bag, down the ramp." Beau barked the instant the only standing criminal was on her feet, roughly pushing her towards the exit ramp with one hand on her shoulder.  As Beau passed Nigel, he halted and turned to his ally, "Call in one more than previously stated, and get a female cell ready." His voice was once again stern and ordering, not wanting this new would-be convict to see any sympathy in him.  Once that same confirming nod responded from Nigel, Beau turned his head back forward and marched the girl off the craft.  In the midst of the injured, Beau tightened his grip on the girl's shoulder and drove her rather roughly onto the ground beside one particularly scorched crate, "Sit." Beau ordered before finally letting himself relax as she obliged.  

Finally, he could breathe easy, and calm himself.  Sitting back on the same crate, Officer Moss heaved a sigh and folded his arms over his chest.  Now all that needed to be done was wait for the rank and file police to show up and book these dirt bags, and his work would be done with them.  Beau's mind was not as at peace as he was hoping however, for the fact that the particularly intelligent dirt bag had evaded the law once again nagged at his mind.  Clenching his eyes and jaw shut behind his visor, Beau began formulating his next move, largely sealing out the world around him as he did so.  Inside his head, plans formed and were discarded by the second as Beau tried to come up with what to do next.  At least he had silence for the moment.

[Meira]

She followed the orders the approaching officer gave, sinking to her knees and and then lying prone on the hangar floor. She placed her hands behind her head, and was rewarded with the weight and sharp pain of the officer's armored knee on her back. Her arms were jerked and skin pinched as he placed the cuffs on her wrists, but Whiskey hardly flinched. Even when the chip was functioning, Green Meadows had ensured that their operatives were no strangers to pain. She had a high tolerance, and she doubted this officer of the law would breach it. Even the rough jerk to her feet was no real issue. The angle of her arms as she was lifted might have been painful to some, but her joints had been reinforced and made more flexible. If she wanted to, Whiskey could rotate her shoulders all way over her head, popping the joints out and back into the sockets without any difficulty. But that would be a memorable sight, and she didn't want to give away anything she didn't have to.

Showing he had a wide vocabulary for insulting detainees, the officer led her away from the ship. He barked and pushed and Whiskey noted the tone. She'd heard a few captains in her travels by now. Some, like Vek, held power casually, as if it were only natural for them to wield it. Others held onto it fearfully, worried that another might steal it. These types of people were easy to predict. This officer seemed to be of a different sort. He didn't hold his power so much as throw it. Whiskey had met a captain like him once. He was a man with something to prove, and it made him volatile, more unpredictable. She hadn't liked that man, and she didn't like this officer either.

Looking up at him as he settled his weight onto the crate nearby, Whiskey saw that his mind was working. There was a furrow to his brow that she decided was possibly disappointment, though she often confused that expression with deep thought. In this case, however, she predicted it might be a combination. This man was not a typical officer. Busts like this were probably his specialty. Losing Vek was probably very disappointing, and now he likely had to come up with a new plan. At that moment, something occurred to her. Cooperation with law enforcement often allowed an otherwise guilty party immunity from charges, or at least leniency. She knew where Vek was going. She could help this man, and possibly buy her freedom back.

"His buyer is an old friend." she said, then looked up at the man. "He'll help hide Vek until he can get his ship and the spice back."

[Valcor]

Beau's mind was a chaotic place now, with only his external appearance even resembling a state of calm.  Every tactic the Officer had learned through either the academy or the field ran through his mind, searching for any that might just help with this kind of scenario, 'First set up checks for leaving craft, require I.D.'s... damn that will take too long... Okayokayokay lock down an area of the... no no NO! He's already long gone-' Then his thought process was interrupted.  By the voice of a would-be convict no less.

Slowly opening his eyes and craning his head to look down at the rather thin girl sitting just beside him, Beau let his already deepened brow furrow even deeper.  Without a word, the Officer of the Law sank down into a rather menacing crouch, ensuring he was still just a few inches higher over the outlaw.  His gaze burned into the girl's for a few silent moments before Beau deigned her with a response, "And just why are you telling me this, 'girl'?" The last word was nearly spat as if the blue clad enforcer barely considered the being before him worthy of such a lofty title.  "No more love for snot-skinned xeno boss?  Perhaps you should just utilize your right to remain silent..."

Beau was no stranger to criminals turning on one another when the hard time they were about to serve became more and more real, and was in fact, often rather pleased to indulge them when in a pleased mood. However, Beau was in no state to play nice.  His body tensed over and over beneath his armor, aching to grind that damn slug's face into the dirt but lacking the release of actually having the filth present.  His face arced and scrunched with concern and frustration behind his visor, but most prominently of all to one observing from the outside, was indeed his hands.  They clenched into fists over and over as if on a timed clock, rhythmic and predictable even when their owner was distracted in conversation.  No, in his current mood, Beau was certainly the last officer on the planet willing to negotiate with a criminal, not after he already let one prance off to freedom from between his fingers.

Beau was just about to release another short burst of his seemingly infinite frustrations when the criminal once again spoke, cutting off the Officer's undoubtedly seething response.

[Meira]

She'd gotten his attention. Whiskey's eyes never left the man, and seldom even bothered to blink as he turned his head toward her and then sank down to her level. His posturing was still very obviously aggressive, but Whiskey had never feared anyone. Her face was as featureless as his visor as they both stared at each other for a few loaded moments. When he spoke, the implied scorn and insult was practically lost on her.

His words carried an implication that any effort to persuade him were in vain, So Whiskey turned away from him with the slightest of shrugs. In her periphery, however, she could see that he remained tensed. This man was on the edge of exploding. However she proceeded, she would have to be careful. Rage rarely allowed for rationality. She'd utilized this fact in the past by encouraging anger to drive targets toward stupid decisions and actions. However, in her current position, she was more likely to become the target of his rage than not. That would force her to act, and her actions would be memorable to any witnesses. If she wanted to escape this situation without drawing the attention of Green Meadows, she would have to play it safe.

She would get no sympathy from this man, that much was certain. Even her status as a woman gave her no status with him. His word choice in regard to Vek did tell her that he was likely heavily biased against non-humans. So, at least she had being human going for her. No plays of weakness then... and she could not taunt him. That would only give him an excuse to vent his rage against her. Straight facts, perhaps? Maybe even some of the truth? It was a dangerous play, but Whiskey wasn't exactly raised to play things safe.

"No." she said, turning her eyes back toward the officer. "I have no loyalties to Vek. You've been following him, watching him. So you know his men. You know that he compartmentalizes his work. There are the ones that go on his deals, and there are some that don't. Have you ever seen my face, officer? Have I ever been associated with his smuggling activities? No, I haven't, because all I do is fly the ship and I've only been doing that for a few months now. Whatever charges you give me, will be minor compared to what you're really after. I will likely be able to have them reduced in court as well. I'm not the one you want."

She paused for a moment to allow her words to sink in. She knew he cared little to nothing at all about what would happen to her. But she also knew that a man as determined as he would drive himself mad in the pursuit of his target. She knew that drive, though for her it didn't include all of the emotional baggage.

"I might not have been at his deals, but I have ears. I heard all kinds of things on that ship and I don't care at all what Vek or his men think of me. I can tell you what I know, or not. That's your choice." She continued to stare at him, her face a blank void.

Unlike him, she was entirely relaxed. She knew that, regardless of what he chose to do, there were very few situations she could not get herself out of. This was not one of those situations. She would prefer not to have to kill the man, but she knew that she could. He would put up a good fight, she had no doubt. But even the training of elite officers like him paled in comparison to her own training. She could kill him and escape all of this, but it would not be as clean as she would like. For now, cooperation with him was the preferable course of action. But if he proved too difficult, she would kill him with no remorse.

[Valcor]

    Beau rolled his jaw left to right. Left to right. Left to right.  Even with his face hidden, his body language practically screamed his internal struggle.  His arms tensed and relaxed over and over, his hands clenched and unclenched.  Nothing about Officer Moss conveyed calmness or collection in the slightest.  This Beau was a far flung being from the practical and meticulous man that had done all of that planning previous to this mission.  His mind now whirled over all the options as to what to do with this girl.  Perhaps she was truthful.  Perhaps she was nothing more than a pilot for Vek.  But was he willing to take that chance and let a would be criminal go free again?  Maybe...

    After a few tense silent moments, a long exhale hissed out of the blank visor, "Get up." Beau ordered as he himself stood to his feet, this time allowing his charge to handle herself rather than yanking and shoving her around as he had previous.  As she obliged, beau turned away from her and lifted one hand to the comm link on his helm, contacting Nigel who was currently occupied checking the bodies of the dead or wounded.  

    "Security Officer." Beau grumbled inside his helm, quickly earning a response from the addressed.  

    "Yeah?!" Yelled back across the open courtyard instead of using his comms.  

    To this Beau twitched ever so slightly in frustration, but kept his boiling anger cooled for the moment, "I'm taking the pilot into Sector Ranger custody.  Finish up here."  Once again letting his disappointment color his tone.  With his back still to the prisoner, Beau extended his arm back towards her, motioning for her to walk in front of him towards the street.  

    "Aye!" Nigel barked back in confirmation before moving to another body slumped over a crate.

    Now, once again, all of the Officer's attention was on the assassin, and that brought Beau's attitude crashing back into frustration.  Drawing his blaster lazily, Beau grumbled more orders, "Right on Starlight Avenue, left at the docking station.  Don't veer, don't think about runnin', and don't speak unless I address you.  Am I clear?"  Beau adjusted the grip on his blaster over and over, as if itching to level it at her, yet he stayed his hand, his internal Officer demanding just cause to take aim.  Above all else, he was an man of the law.  

    Her response came quick and direct, no pandering, no fear.  This girl was beginning to put Beau on edge.  She was too calm seeing a Sector Ranger.  She was too calm being under arrest.  It irked Beau and he couldn't seem to figure her out.  'All will be revealed once I get her record...' Beau said to himself, soothing his confusion significantly.  Soon, the pair were off, marching through the now crowded streets of Kuat.  The walk was just as silent as Beau had ordered it to be, with neither of the companions deeming the situation worthy of conversation.  Only the sounds of a bustling city broke the silence that would have surrounded the two... Until Beau's Sector Ranger Comm beeped.

    Beau's eyes flew wide, and his blood ran cold.  He had almost forgotten... His report to command.  Behind his charge, Beau bowed his head in shame before clicking the small disk shaped object on his hip and lifting it out in front of him.  In a flash of blue light, there was the visage of an aging, and heavily decorated, officer with a not-to-pleased expression carved into his features.  

    ~Officer Moss.  I trust all the reports I'm getting from Kuat aren't your doing!~ The grisly man barked as loudly as his gravely voice could, causing the comm link to buzz in Beau's hand.  A few passers by gave the Sector ranger and his hologram a curious look, but most just made space, not wanting to intrude.  For the first time since the Assassin had been in Beau's presence, his tone was submissive, almost ashamed.  

    "Sir!" Beau addressed, snapping a quick salute to the hologram while still marching forward, holstering his weapon as he did so.  "With all due respect, there were-" Beau tried to justify before he was interrupted by that same gravely irate voice.  

    ~I don't need excuses Officer!  Failure leaves no room for such trash!  You attempted an arrest on a DRUG LORD with nothing more than a corrupt DOCK WORKER?! You are a Sector Ranger by god!  You better fix this or I'll have your blasted BADGE!~ The grilling was likely to continue were it not for Beau's intrusion once again.

     "Sir, with respect.  I have another lead, he hasn't gotten away yet."  The hologram remained silent for the moment, clearly appeased ever so slightly by this remark, before buzzing with dialogue once again.


    ~You better have Officer... Or we will be having a chat. Personally."~ And with that, before Beau could even respond, the blue hologram was gone, leaving Beau staring at a blank disk.  After a moment, Beau returned the small object to its pouch on his hip.  Despite Beau's hands now being free, he did not draw his blaster again.  They were already closing in on his ship, and he did not feel the need to threaten this girl further.  He needed her now.  And they both knew it. 

[Meira]

She'd said what she could. What would follow was up to him. Whiskey's honey colored eyes never wavered, never blinked as she watched the featureless visor in front of her. The silence between them was electric, and the only thing that broke it was white noise of the city and the movement of his garments as he flexed and relaxed the muscles of his arms over and over. Whiskey knew that in this moment, her best play was the let the man weigh his options in his own mind. Any further pushing or suggestion from her was likely to send him over the edge in anger. She had to wait him out.

Luckily, it didn't take him too long to come to a decision. Even more luckily, he seemed to see the reason in her offer to cooperate. He seemed to relax slightly, breathing out heavily. His order was curt, but it wasn't accompanied by any shoving or unnecessary roughness. That was a step in the right direction. Her hands, cuffed behind her back, were no hindrance at all as the woman stood fluidly and moved with the officer. He had the gall, or perhaps the lapse of judgement, to turn his back on her. She could take him out. She even felt something like an itch at the back of her mind to do it. But Whiskey remained compliant and silent. There was no need, she told herself. Not yet, at least.

After he finished barking his orders at the dock officer, Whiskey moved at his command, walking around him and then moving along in front. There it was, he was back on his guard. She moved with his orders, walking out into the street in the direction he'd indicated and only vocalizing a quick "Yes sir" to confirm she understood his commands. Again, here was an option. She could run. Even with her arms restrained behind her back, Whiskey was fairly certain she could lose herself in a crowd if needed. But... no. This was an obsessive man. She got the feeling he'd not give up on finding her. He would dig. Her covers were good, but if someone really wanted to find out at least some of the truth, she knew they might get deep enough to expose her. It would have to be very deep, but that was one risk she couldn't take. Patience.

The silence of their trek was interrupted by the distinct sound of a communicator being pinged. Whiskey slowed, but did not stop, having guessed correctly that the comm was the officer's. She did not turn at first, but waited instead, listening. The first thing she caught was a name to put to the faceless visor. Officer Moss. Secondly, she noted the distinct tone of disapproval coming from the man's superior. His response carried with it a markedly different tone from Moss that was not missed by Whiskey.

She did not comment on the exchange. If she'd learned anything about this Officer Moss in her short time observing him, it was that he took himself very seriously. Any comment now would most certainly ruin any sense of cooperation he might have developed toward her, small as that sense might be. No, she continued her march toward the hangar slowing only as they entered in order to receive more direction from the man. It was a delicate thing she was building with him. If she broke it now, she'd have to kill him. She imagined that would be very disappointing to his superiors.