Truz and Ussar stepped out of the ship and onto the hangar, stepping slowly as if waiting for something to happen. The tall, tower-like building in front of them looked nothing like Truz' part of Coruscant. They were in the Coco section: a bustling area filled with clubs and high-end living quarters. The building peaked into the sky like a needle, and its tall, thin gates stood ahead in a shining silver sheen. Ussar slowly turned his head to Truz.
"Okay, here's the drill. There should be two cameras in the first room. We're going to hide next to that door, I'm going to hit the open button, and blast the two of them before they pick us up. Security should be on their way in about a minute later, so I will go through the corridors to this chump's office. You are going into a ventilation shaft from the fist room, and making your way into the diplomat's office, hopefully before I do. Then, when I get there, you line up the shot and we head out the way we came in. Should be no more than two minutes."
They stepped forward, aligning their backs with the wall. Cautiously, Ussar slapped a panel near the door and with a swift spin stepped in front of the hallway, firing off two blaster shots into the corners of the room's roof, and blowing up to cameras. A moment later, he fired a third round into the chrome 3PO unit standing behind the front desk, causing it fall to the floor with a loud clank.
Truz stepped next to Ussar, when they both heard large thuds. The guards were coming. "Get into the vent, I'll handle this!" Ussar said while pointing at square ventilation entrance in the corner of the wall.
With a clumsy fall, Truz leapt at the grated ventilation panel, slamming his knees on the steel floor. He squirmed on the ground to it, removing the entrance panel and crawling inside. Seconds later, he heard the massive guards' armor pounding against the floor, and blaster fire being exchanged between Ussar and the guards.
Truz began frantically shifting his elbows, propelling himself forward through the vent. His knees were still sore from his unnecessary dive into the ground. As he went through the vent, he shifted his head from side to side, looking through the grating into each room. He then saw some of the guards.
They were nothing like a stormtrooper. In huge, bulking metallic blue powered armor, these beastlike figures stood over seven feet tall. The only proof that humans were inside these powered suits was the cavity for the head, revealing a human face covered from the nose down by a mask. The arms of the suit were repeating blasters or flamethrowers, and a huge energy pack on the pack powered the entire suit. When they ran, the stomping of their weighty suits made severely loud noises.
Truz was shaking looking at them. He wanted to move down the shaft, to minimize his chance of being seen, but he couldn't help himself from staring at the pair of guards in one of the rooms in fright. He watched as they shuffled about on high alert, and hoped he would not be detected.
The two guards used hand signals to communicate. Their furrowed brows indicated that they were both listening for disturbances. They walked in a circle around a table in the room. Truz knew he had to continue down the shaft to find the diplomat's room, but he was fixated on the guards. How menacing their armor looked, how powerful their weapons were. He wondered how Ussar manages to combat them with such confidence.
Suddenly, there was blaster fire. With a jerk, the guards shifted their torso's clumsily to face the door, their blocky armor barely moving. One opened the door, and the two stepped into the hallway. They began frantically giving each other hand signals, their eyes wide in astonishment. It was as if they were seeing an army. Truz was impressed by Ussar's intimidation.
Strangely, the two guards peddled back. Pouring in came three squads of stormtroopers, rapidly firing into the armor of the hoards as they let off blasts of scattering laser and torching flames from their arms. Team after team of stormtroopers were blasted near the doorway, others torched until their armor was black. The guards seemed unstoppable, but the troops showed no sign of stopping, and slowly but surely the blaster fire and grenades dragged the guards down, each crashing into the ground.
What was going on? Ussar mentioned nothing about Imperial troops attacking. Truz had no idea what to do. He just continued shifting down the ventilator shaft, looking for Ussar. How was he going to get out of this alive?
Now, similarly to the previous guards, stormtroopers were surveying each room, searching plastisteel containers and dragging bodies. Truz was still amazed by the sheer amount of carnage on the part of both sides, and this lead him to be overcome with fear of his own death. He reached the end of the ventilator shaft, his gangly body awkwardly crammed inside the metal casing. He then looked through the last grated panel into an ornately decorated office with long, curving desk. He assumed this was the diplomat's room.
Much to his dismay, the room was empty. No Duros diplomat, no guards, not even Ussar was there. Now he was really becoming nervous. He tried to move back down the shaft, perhaps finding a means of escape, but as he tried to turn he realized his jacket was caught in the top grating of the shaft. He was now not only in great peril, but also immobile.
He tried releasing himself for minutes to no avail. Truz' face had become scrunched in horror. What would they do when they found him? He kept pulling, but nothing would work. He did not even know which direction to go in. he kept the diplomat's room in his peripheral vision, hoping that the stormtroopers wouldn't enter and see him through the grated panels. Suddenly, with a quick jerk, the grater panel lifted off and Truz shrieked in fear as he help up his arms, protecting his face.
For a moment, there was silence. Then, with a quick step Ussar moved in front of the chamber and quickly squatted down to face Truz. Truz tried to explain, "I was trying to find you, but I couldn't, and…"
"We haven't time. We need to hide until one of my operatives get here. He should be here in a few minutes." Ussar replied.
Ussar grabbed Truz out with a strong tug, ripping Truz' jacket as he was pulled out of the shaft. He continued grabbing Truz' arm as they ran together from the Diplomat's room into a hallway. Blaster fire and flamethrower sounds followed by screams could be heard from down the corridor, as Ussar lead Truz into a sealed doorway. A data terminal stood next to the door, and Ussar began frantically hitting buttons on the terminal. After his rapid pushing of buttons, the door opened, letting out the sound of sealed oxygen as it unhinged. Inside was a ladder, leading up to the next floor. Ussar began to climb without giving Truz any warning.
"Where are you going?" Truz asked from the bottom of the ladder.
"Up to the second tier landing pad. And you're coming, too. This is our escape, this whole thing is a mess and we can't afford to stay to clean it up." After a moment of thought, staring up the ladder, Truz began to climb it as well.
As they reached the outdoor platform on the second tier of the building, a bulky, nearly cubic cargo freighter was docking onto the platform. The ship was nothing more than engines, a huge cargo hull, and a one-man cockpit with a tiny Polis Massan sitting inside. The pilot had a helmet on, and his emotionless, small beady eyes made him seem childlike.
The side panel opened, revealing a large empty cargo hold, and Ussar ran inside. Truz followed closely. Ussar hit a button on the side of the cargo bay opening the communicator to the cockpit. With relief, he said into the speaker, "right on time," as the hold closed and the freighter took off.
Ussar now turned to Truz. "It was a mess. We're lucky we got out."
"What happened?" asked Truz.
"There are two possibilities. One is that we, and the diplomat, were set up by our clients who double crossed us to get Empire favor for ratting out both us and this guy. The second is that the Empire tracked us there, and for some reason are looking for you or me."
"But why would they want us?" Truz questioned with interest.
"Who knows, but this whole thing is very concerning." He opened the communicator again, "Jigri, take us back to the docking bay."
"I suppose we won't get our pay?" Truz asked, with disappointment.
"No, we won't. But that should be the least of your worries.