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Chapter 3
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Wedge blinked against the bright sunlight as he walked out of the spaceport on Ralltiir. He put his hand on the small of Inyri's back, keeping her close to him.
The "couple" had made it through customs with little difficulty, and he had to admit that he found their disguises mildly amusing. He now had gray hair, about thirty extra kilos packed on, and better clothes than he'd ever owned – or wanted to own – in his life. It was all befitting the character he'd taken on, a wealthy businessman from Commenor off on a "business trip" with his much younger secretary.
As usual with these missions, his face had been of greatest concern. Temporary cheek implants, gray lenses to disguise his eye color, and a lot of makeup had taken care of that. The disguise wouldn't have gotten him onto Coruscant during the days of Imperial control, but it was good enough for this assignment.
He glanced at Inyri, remembering the expression on her face when she'd seen what she was expected to wear. A low-cut, strapless top that showed off her stomach – she'd made some crack about being glad she worked out regularly – and a skirt that just barely covered her rear end. Added to that were boots that nearly reached her thighs and about fifty bracelets on each arm.
Her hair had been dyed red and run through with streaks of blonde, and Wedge was fairly certain that there was more makeup on her face than on his. Hers was just of the multi-colored variety. The sunshades she was wearing hid her eyes and helped make her unrecognizable.
The look on the customs officer's face when Wedge had told him that they were there on business had been priceless. The man had stared at Wedge for a long moment, looked Inyri up and down, looked at Wedge, looked back at Inyri, and then said simply, "Yes, of course." Inyri had scowled the entire time, and Wedge had fought to hold back his laughter.
Now, though, they were out looking for their ride to the hotel that would be their base of operations. He sighed as he looked at the endless line of speeders. All of the ones near them were drivers looking for fares. They'd been told that there would be a chartered vehicle waiting for them. He moved his hand to Inyri's elbow and did his best to skirt the crowd.
As they walked, he heard a voice calling his name. Well, not his name, but his cover name. "Mr. Aaltak! Over here, sir."
Inyri tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to the speeder three up from them. "Over there."
He waved to the man and quickened his pace but stopped when she jerked him back. "Slow down! I can barely walk in this thing."
He glanced over at her and almost laughed as she struggled to keep her skirt where it was supposed to be. "I'm gonna end up getting arrested for indecent exposure," she muttered under her breath, stumbling a little, unused to wearing such high heels.
Wedge thought about making a joke but decided he'd probably end up getting hit for his effort, so he kept his mouth shut. As it turned out, it was the driver, presumably their contact though Wedge wasn't quite sure, who put himself in the line of fire. "Did the lady have a bit to drink on the trip, sir?" the man asked.
Inyri jerked her head in his direction and Wedge tightened his grip on her elbow. "Play along," he murmured. If this was their contact, it actually made sense for him to say that. Inyri's cover, Tiera Kalar, was supposed to be accustomed to dressing in that manner; she would not have had trouble walking. To the driver he replied, "I admit, we both took rather liberal advantage of the free drinks."
The man nodded and held out his arm to Inyri. "Might I help you into the speeder, ma'am?"
She shook her head stubbornly. "I can manage by myself," she replied haughtily, stepping into the vehicle and looking grateful for the chance to sit down.
"As you wish," he replied and turned to Wedge. "Sir, I am Garv Landis, and I have been engaged to attend to your needs on this trip. If anything is not to your liking, tell me right away and it will be taken care of."
Wedge shook his hand. "I'm sure everything will be quite satisfactory," he answered, sliding in through the open door.
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Hobbie looked around the hotel room he and Lana would be sharing. "At least it's a suite," he muttered under his breath. That meant he might not have to spend EVERY waking moment in her company. Force knew he'd never be out of her sight outside the hotel.
Or, according to their covers, she'd never be out of his sight. Tierney was supposed to be Resa Elba, the daughter of a politician from an Outer Rim world that Hobbie had never even heard of before. He was her bodyguard, Tem Bissen, a position that he found ironic since it was quite possible that she'd be trying to kill him by the end of this mission.
He checked out all the rooms, choosing the smaller for himself. A balcony ran the length of the room and he thought it might provide a necessary escape route somewhere down the road. Leaving his suitcase on the bed, he stopped to look in the mirror on the way out.
Tierney herself had done the harder parts of his disguise – the makeup and hair color – an experience he had no desire to relive, though he knew he would over the course of this assignment, several times more than likely. He was dressed all in black and the three blasters she'd told him to carry at all times were likewise dark in color. One was readily visible, in a belt holster that he was accustomed to. The other two were in shoulder holsters under the jacket he wore. The clothes were fancy, but comfortable, and he was grateful for that. He was, however, surprised she was letting him carry any sort of weapon. He wondered idly if she'd rigged one of them to self-destruct.
He headed back into the sitting room. "What do we do now?" he called.
"Nothing until the party tonight. You'll be acting as my escort, of course. Most of the others will be there," she replied from her own room.
"I take it this room is clean?" he said softly, walking into the other bedroom.
She turned, holding a dress in one hand and a pair of shoes in the other. "Yes, it is. We've had people here for a while – they're the ones who arranged the rooms, transportation, etcetera. Rooms, vehicles – everything will be watched anytime it's not in use for more than a minute or two."
"If you have people here, why do you need us?"
"The people already in place on Ralltiir have set identities that they've cultivated for some time. They're our regular operatives, monitors in a way. We need them where they are, and extensive involvement in ad extraneous missions would endanger their positions here."
He was quiet for a moment, filing that information away for future use. He was surprised she'd told him that much. He'd expected her to say 'Because we do' or something equally vague and noncommittal. Maybe she'd start to trust him after all.
Yeah, right.
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"How do you want to do this?" Corran asked, referring to the room situation for him, Wes, and Karin. They'd been given a suite with two bedrooms. The desk clerk had apologized profusely for the room shortage – apparently, they were supposed to have been assigned an adjacent room but the hotel had double booked, so the three of them were sharing the suite as brothers and sister.
"You take one room," Wes said, and Corran knew what the next words out of his mouth would be before he even said them, "and Karin and I can share the other."
The blonde-turned-brunette fixed him with a glare. "Yeah, that sounds great. You can sleep on the balcony."
Corran snickered and Wes looked properly abashed – for a moment anyway. "Karin," Corran said, "you take one room. Wes, you and I can take turns on the couch."
"I can trade off, too," she pointed out defensively.
Corran sighed. Karin had been with Commenor's special forces before she'd decided she wanted to spend time in space rather than on the ground. She was nice enough, but sometimes he wondered if she deliberately took everything the wrong way. No matter what any of the men in the squadron did, she twisted it around like they thought that, because she was a woman, she was weaker or frailer or less capable than they were. He understood that her reaction was probably owed to her time in the military on Commenor – it was still a male-dominated force – but sometimes he felt like the only reason she'd wanted to fly was so she could say that she could. Not that she hadn't earned her place in the squadron, but…. "Fine," he said. "We'll all take shifts. Karin, you get the couch tonight."
Wes smirked and Karin glared at them both in turn. "Fine," she echoed, folding her arms as she dropped onto the sofa.
Corran sighed. This was going to be a long mission. "What's on for tonight?" he asked.
"A party downstairs," Karin replied, still pouting. "The desk clerk said that we could get in for free since they screwed up our rooms. We might as well have some fun on NRI."
Wes grinned. "I knew I liked you for a reason."
Corran rolled his eyes. This was going to be a long mission.
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Inyri looked up when Wedge's "assistant" who, as it turned out, was an agent, walked into the sitting room of their suite. "You couldn't have arranged for one with two bedrooms?" she asked dryly.
"It wouldn't have made much sense for your covers, would it?" he asked pointedly, though he seemed slightly sympathetic.
"I'll sleep on the couch," Wedge told her, stepping out of the refresher. "It'll still be more comfortable than some of the things I've slept on." He perched on the arm of the sofa. "What's our plan for now?"
"There's a party tonight that the hotel is hosting," Landis replied. "Most of your team will be there."
"Shouldn't we be keeping a low profile?" Wedge asked skeptically.
"Normally, yes," the man admitted. "But the Minister of Domestic Affairs, a man named Alek Cesra – the man who is refusing to cooperate with us as far as the lab is concerned – will be here with his daughter. It will give you the chance to get a feel for these people."
"How are we," Inyri gestured toward herself and Wedge, "supposed to get a feel for a man as highly placed as that?"
"Cesra didn't have a high-class upbringing. He got to be where he is by working closely with the New Republic as soon as it took a role in rebuilding Ralltiir. He hates dignitaries and functionaries and enjoys going to social events like this where he can talk to normal people, as opposed to, as he calls them, the pompous nerfs he deals with on a daily basis."
Inyri snickered. "Sounds like he'd get along with Fey'lya real well."
"They'd kill each other," Landis answered wryly. "Personally, I think Cesra should be Ralltiir's next Senator to the New Republic, but that's just me."
"Not really a fan of Fey'lya?" Wedge asked him.
"We've…had our moments," the man replied. "And we've come to the mutual agreement that we ought never to speak to each other again."
Inyri looked at Wedge. "I like him."
Wedge laughed and Landis looked amused. "What is this party actually for?" he asked.
Their contact shook his head. "Nothing in particular. It's just a social event. They hold them every few weeks or so. Your admission has been paid in advance, as part of the room fee."
"What do we have to wear?" Inyri asked. If it was something like that get-up she'd worn earlier she was going to kill someone – slowly, and very, very painfully.
"Your outfits – clothing and shoes – are in the closet in the bedroom. If the sizes aren't right, let me know and I'll have someone take care of it. There should also be jewelry for you, Captain, in the top drawer in the chest. I'll be in the office."
The "office" was a small nook off the sitting room where Landis had a data terminal and comm unit set up. Inyri had given it a cursory glance and Wedge had said he planned to look over it a bit more once they managed to have the place to themselves for a while.
Inyri followed Wedge into the bedroom, stopping first in front of the dresser to see just how gaudy the jewelry was. To her surprise, it was actually quite elegant – completely opposite of the way she'd perceived her cover identity based on the outfit she'd been stuck with earlier. "I'm guessing this was supposed to be a gift from you," she said to Wedge, holding up the box with the necklace and bracelet. "I don't think Tiera has that kind of taste."
He nodded. "I would say," before covering the rest of the distance to the closet. There were only two sets of clothing hanging up. He pulled one out and moved to where the light was better. Inyri heard him mutter something under his breath and frowned.
"What is it?"
"It's…nothing," he finally answered, shaking his head.
Giving him a curious look, she walked over and stood beside him. It was a gray suit with lavender pinstripes, over a lavender dress shirt and matching, slightly darker, tie. "It's…nice," she said, not understanding what bothered him about the outfit.
He shook his head again and sighed. "He said everyone else would be there, didn't he?"
She nodded. "Mostly. Why?"
"Just…if you see Janson…or Hobbie…go in the opposite direction."
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As Lana dressed for the party, she began to wonder if partnering with Hobbie was going to turn out to be a mistake.
Especially considering that Alek was going to be there.
"Moment of truth," she murmured to herself, before leaning over and securing a small blaster to her thigh.
If anyone died tonight, it was not going to be her.
She just hoped that….
