Ruses & Candor
The Thunderclap
06:46
(Three Hours in SIS Custody)
"Hey, not bad," Verin remarked as they entered the hangar where the Thunderclap sat. "That thing as roomy as it looks?" The bounty hunter radiated energy on a level that rivaled Fynta. Jorgan sympathized with the man. He clearly worried about his wife, but forced a cheerful facade for reasons Jorgan would never understand. Cormac did the same when he was nervous, whereas Fynta fought back with snark, and Dorne with research. Aric wondered if he had a coping mechanism, then remembered his reputation for being a hardass.
"Not with a full squad," Jorgan answered, deciding it was best to drop his previous line of thinking.
Cormac walked on the other side of Verin, casting plaintive glances at his wife. "She hasn't put that bloody thing down since we got here," he whispered, thumbing at the woman in question. All three men turned to examine the medic, then quickly looked away when her brow furrowed at the screen. "Sometimes, I think she loves it more than me."
"What's she looking for?" Verin asked in equally low tones. He and Cormac had hit it off instantly, so much so that Jorgan had the suspicion that this wasn't the first time they'd spoken. He'd always wondered who Balic's mystery contact was on Corellia, and how the bounty hunters had gotten the schematics for Fynta's leg so easily for Dorne to study.
Cormac offered an apologetic shrug. "Any loopholes to get Cinlat out of the pen, but I don't think it's going well." The big man leaned around to catch Jorgan's eye. "Speaking of which, Fynta says we've got something?"
"Why don't we find out." Jorgan nodded to where Fynta stood at the bottom of the ramp with hands on hips. He'd seen that stare before, the one that made it look like she wanted to murder her boots.
"Uh-oh," Cormac murmured, verbalizing Jorgan's concern. "I wonder who she shot."
Verin stopped in front of his sister, his carefully crafted façade slipped, and Jorgan saw real worry on his face. "Something troubling you, Fyn'ika?" The man's voice barely shook, and Jorgan realized that Verin was just another husband. Mandalorian or not, he wanted his wife back, safe and unharmed, no matter how tough he knew her to be.
"Cinlat's holding up," Fynta answered with eyes only for Verin. "They haven't gone too hard on her, just a little smack here and there." Verin breathed a sigh of relief, certainly not the reaction Jorgan had expected. "Don't celebrate too soon," Fynta continued. "We are going to have an extra passenger. Master Notiac Carlo."
Silence followed Fynta's revelation until Dorne looked up, distracted from her datapad in favor of the more immediate question. "Why are the Jedi interested in Cinlat?"
Verin snorted. "That's a long story. One I thought we had sorted when the Chancellor cleared Cin's name."
"Does this have to do with your stint on the Republic's most wanted list?" Fynta asked, arms crossed over her chest. Verin mirrored her stance in defiance of the accusation. Cormac snickered, then coughed to cover it. Even Jorgan had to admit that seeing the two together had explained a lot about Fynta's personality. Verin was equally stubborn and twice as foul mouthed as his sister.
"Master Carlo is the one who apprehended Cinlat," Fynta explained. Verin tensed instantly, his fists balling against his legs. Fynta ignored the way one of those hands drifted towards his blaster. "She is accompanying us on Balkar's orders to flesh out who is really responsible for the attack on the SIS agents."
The major kept her attention on Verin. "Do you understand what this means?"
"Yeah," he replied and slammed his helmet on before stomping up the ramp.
"Sure, make yourself at home," Fynta muttered at his back. After taking a deep breath, she returned her attention to the others. "I need everyone to help me make sure he doesn't attack her."
Cormac slapped Fynta's shoulder as he passed. "We'll keep him in order, boss."
Jorgan waited until the others vanished inside before asking his question. "Honeymoon's over, I take it?" He'd mentioned the idea of going public once or twice, but Fynta had been hesitant. She worried about recriminations that went beyond their careers, and he hadn't pushed.
"Unfortunately," his wife sighed. "We're going to have to be careful with a Jedi around. Especially one that we know nothing about. And, she can't know about Verin, either."
Jorgan nodded, squeezing Fynta's upper arm. He considered leaning in to kiss her forehead, but stopped when he remembered the cameras in the hangar. "I'll move enough of my gear into the barracks to make it look believable," he settled for instead. "It'll be over soon enough."
The strike team got underway within an hour. Jorgan's gut twisted uncomfortably when the floor shifted under his feet, but it had nothing to do with entering hyperspace. He stared at the pile of effects in his old locker and dreaded the next few nights of sleeping alone in his bunk. With a resigned sigh, Jorgan shut the door harder than necessary and strode from the room. He nearly collided with the Jedi outside the entranceway.
Notiac Carlo was a Miralukan woman. She had rich, brown skin with auburn hair, and a tastefully jeweled mask that appeared elegant enough to distract the viewer from the fact that it covered her lack of eyes. "Captain Jorgan, correct?"
Jorgan had never understood how Miraluka saw the galaxy. He knew it had something to do with the Force, that each of them were connected to it in some manner. "Master Carlo," he answered with a stiff spine. A salute might be lost on her, or it might not. Jorgan didn't plan on taking that chance. "Are you finding everything to your liking?"
"My accommodations are perfectly acceptable, thank you," the Jedi responded with a politeness expected of a dignitary such as the Barsen'thor. While Jorgan by no means considered himself an expert on the ways of Force users, the fact that Master Carlo's title had been given to so few people signaled its importance. It also begged the question of why she was on a mission clearly below her status.
"I am quite accustomed to crowded ships, I assure you," Master Carlo continued.
Jorgan cleared his throat. "Of course, your diplomatic missions with the Rift Alliance made for interesting reading." Anyone who could corral that many politicians was to be either feared or respected. Jorgan had yet to decide which. He'd heard of her when she received the title; front page news material.
Notiac offered a small smile. "Yes, they certainly kept me on my toes. My crew was to be commended on their tolerance of so many guests constantly tramping through their personal space."
"Naturally," Jorgan responded. He understood the Jedi's meaning; that she knew her presence aboard the Thunderclap wasn't welcome. "Feel free to explore as you want. No one will complain."
"I believe your Mandalorian tracker would disagree, but that is neither here, nor there," Master Carlo laughed with a wave of her hand. They'd settled on the story of Verin being a specialized hunter who made his name in taking down rogue Mando targets. It wasn't completely false, he and Cinlat had once hunted a member of Death Watch.
Jorgan glanced over the Jedi's shoulder to spot Fynta waving him towards the holoprojector. "We'll ensure that Verin doesn't bother you, Master Jedi."
"Notiac, please," she smiled. "But, I've kept you from your duties too long. My apologies." The Jedi tipped her head gracefully and continued past Jorgan towards the conference room. Somehow, he got the impression that the Jedi had gathered more information than she had given.
When Jorgan entered the main room, Fynta had everyone gathered around the holoterminal. "Alright, people, time to make a plan."
"Why?" Cormac leaned against the medbay door with his arms crossed and grinned. "We'll just change it when we get there."
"Better to change a plan, than to have to start from scratch," Fynta shot back. She relayed mission critical information as if the rest of them had just been called in. The Jedi slipped silently into the briefing and listened as if this were all new to her, as well. Jorgan kept Notiac in his peripheral to gauge her reactions, though found it difficult through the mask that covered half of her face.
"This particular hunter is known for taking live targets," Dorne added when Fynta finished. "Her attack on SIS personnel makes no sense."
Notiac cleared her throat, and all eyes turned towards the Jedi. "Might I ask how you know so much about the prisoner, Lieutenant?"
"Of course, Master Carlo. Imperial youth from families already established in the military are screened for children who show aptitude for the same career." Dorne's explanation came across as entirely clinical. "I was brought in to monitor the Great Hunt when I was young while they were on Dromund Kaas. I was assigned to the bounty hunter Cinlat Ejnar." No one mentioned Tython, including the Jedi.
"Fascinating." Notiac waved her hand for the briefing to continue without further comment.
Dorne nodded, apparently convinced that her explanation satisfied the Jedi's curiosity. "There is more than one death mark against Mrs. Ejnar from the Empire due to her recent sympathies towards the Republic. This could be a retaliatory strike if she is, indeed, innocent."
Fynta typed in the command to pull up the image of a planet on the terminal. "She claims the offer originated from Tatooine. So, we are headed that way to see what we can find out."
"This all hinges on the word of a bounty hunter," Jorgan added, just for show. Generally speaking, he avoided situations that hinged on his ability to lie. The only course of action would be to treat this briefing as authentic. It wouldn't do for the second in command to remain silent. "It could be a wild convor chase, however, if the Empire has managed to gain access to SIS sensitive data, it poses a serious threat to the rest of the Republic. We can't afford to ignore the possibility."
Fynta acknowledged Jorgan's input with a nod before bringing the meetings to a close. "I'm assuming introductions have been made?" A resounding chorus of affirmation went around the room. "Good. Now, we've got soldiers, Jedi, and a Mandalorian all crammed into one ship. I expect everyone to behave themselves and work as a team." She lingered on Verin, who'd remained silent throughout the charade. "That's all I have until we reach Anchorhead. Make sure your weapons are clean and loaded, and kit is packed."
Jorgan started for the bridge, hoping to speak with Fynta privately in order to get their story straight. "Major, a word?"
Jorgan stopped on the second stair out of habit. Fynta waited on the floor for the Jedi to speak. The Miraluka tipped her head to the side as if listening for the footfalls of the others to fade away. When she was satisfied, Notiac turned her expressionless mask back on the commanders. "I'll check the chrono, sir," Jorgan commented with the realization that he hadn't been invited to the conversation.
"No need, Captain," Notiac remarked. Her voice carried the hard note of authority, nothing like the kindness Jorgan heard earlier. "This involves you, as well."
Fynta and Aric shared a glance before the former crossed her arms. "Very well, say what you've come to say, Master Jedi." The major shifted her weight in order to face Notiac head on; a dominant stance.
"Let's not stand on circumstance," Notiac continued. "I can see the ties that bind this squad, perhaps stronger than your average military unit, but understandable given Havoc Squad's reputation." Fynta crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow. "However, that does not explain the tether I sense between you and the male."
Jorgan tensed as the Jedi continued to lay out her method of deduction. "Your heritage is not recorded in your file, however, you have made a name for yourself, and soldiers do gossip." Notiac clasped her hands before her, the woman's countenance serene as she spoke. "I have a colleague who has heard interesting things, Major Wolfe. Rumors I had discounted until meeting your brother."
Fynta narrowed her eyes at the Jedi. "Not sure I follow."
"You and Mr. Verin leave similar wakes within the Force. Dark violence covered in bright flashes of emotion." Notiac recounted her findings with a casualness that made Jorgan nervous. "The relation is clear to someone who knows what to look for, as is your mark on Captain Jorgan."
Aric's blood felt as though it dropped to his feet. Notiac tsked and waved a hand. "Hear me when I assure you that I have no interest in outing your family or illicit romance. One thing I value above all else is honesty. I'm sure that is something you can appreciate, Major."
"What do you want?" Fynta asked, her voice deadly calm.
"Be at ease, I am not threatening you. I merely felt it important to inform you that I am aware of your ruse, and that it is unnecessary." Notiac tipped her head. "I hope that we find what you're looking for on Tatooine. It would be nice to know that your brother and his wife are innocent. I'll leave you to disclose this to your crew at your leisure and retire to my room."
Fynta and Jorgan watched the Jedi vanish into the conference room in silence. Neither moved until the door slid shut, and even then, it took a few seconds before Fynta found her voice. "Fierfek, that could have gone better."
"Could have gone worse too," Jorgan added.
Fynta nodded, then met his eyes. "Shab, Aric. I really hope I know what I'm doing."
Nar Shaddaa
Undisclosed SIS Holding Facility
Cinlat shivered violently, her muscles cramping from whatever drug they'd injected her with. A drop of sweat ran down her nose to join the puddle on the floor. She focused on each drip to pass the time. Even while her blood felt as if it was boiling in her veins, the fan overhead ensure that her now bare skill remained cold. Doesn't matter, she thought, gritting her teeth as she attempted to straighten her spine. Verin's safe, and they've got something in the works.
The SIS agents no longer questioned Cinlat. The Rattataki interrogator had been replaced by a Rodian who dealt with needles instead of his fists. After her last round, they'd left her in a dark room cuffed to a chair with one leg cut too short. Every time the huntress felt herself drifting into sleep, her body would relax and tip her chair precariously to one side. She'd jerk awake, muscles screaming with the agony of holding herself upright.
A steady hum reverberated through the floor, and Cinlat barely bit back her groan. With a loud pop, an industrial cooling system kicked on, flooding the room with frigid air. Cinlat's teeth chattered despite her attempts to stop them, and she became painfully aware of every knitted bone in her body.
Still, no one came. Maybe they expected Cinlat to beg or call out for help. The very idea enraged the huntress enough to shock her back to awareness. The concoction made her mind sluggish, and she scolded herself for allowing it to happen. The Jedi should have been obvious, but Cinlat had overlooked the threat and gotten what she deserved.
Replaying the scene in her mind helped Cinlat focus. She and Verin had gathered their weapons and were strolling through the promenade when the Jedi struck. There hadn't been any fanfare or talks of surrender. One moment, Cinlat had been walking with her husband, the next, she couldn't move. Images of the dead faces of Republic personnel flashed through her mind as if evidence of her guilt, and then she woke up in the interrogation room. The only reason Cinlat knew that her captor had been a Jedi was due to Verin's shouting. Even the memory sounded muted, as if the entire instance had taken place under water.
Light burned Cinlat's eyes, yanking her from her numbed state. "You look a little thirsty," the male voice said over the speakers built into the ceiling. Cinlat heard laughter in it, and hated him for enjoying her anguish. She'd always considered herself fair when it came to her marks, but if she ever discovered who the bastard was at the controls, she'd happily gut him, then feed his entrails to his cohorts. These thoughts were darker than Cinlat's usual wish for revenge, but she'd had a lousy day, and so allowed herself this one comfort.
As expected, the sprinkler system switched on overhead, and Cinlat sucked in a breath when the cold water hit her skin. She wore little more than her underclothes, and those had been soaked through three times over. Even knowing what to expect didn't keep her from gasping every time.
The water switched off, and the man on the intercom yawned. "Hope you got your fill. Let's dry you off." The air currents intensified, and a small whimper escaped Cinlat's lips as she tried to curl in on herself to hold in as much heat as possible. Eventually, the man would grow bored with pushing buttons, she just had to last that long.