-Chapter 97: Behind Enemy Lines-
Location: Coruscant
"The enemy you don't see is the one beside you."
After Charros and Omman, Wraith was looking forward to a little downtime aboard the Dominance. He had hoped to spend some time working on his Force abilties, meditating and working on shrinking his presence as Ahsoka had suggested. He was in desperate need of getting a grip on his new reality and had planned to use this time to better pursue that.
Unfortunately, only a few short hours after returning from Omman, Wraith was summoned to the hub alongside Banshee where a communication from Dooku awaited them.
A nervous Wraith quelled his fears and offered a silent prayer to the Force that Dooku wouldn't be able to sense him as he arrived, armorless and helmetless, taking up position beside Banshee as Scipio engaged the holotable. The render of Count Dooku flickered into clarity moments later.
"Wraith, Banshee, we've reviewed your report from Omman Minor. Your insights and intelligence will guide us as we make plans concerning the trade routes. Well done." The Sith praised.
"Thank you sir." Wraith replied, Banshee quickly nodding as well.
"Wraith, considering your glowing recommendations from previous assignments, we have decided to permit Banshee to perform solo operations." Dooku announced. The super-soldier turned to her.
"Congrats, partner. You've made the big time." He congratulated. Banshee was suddenly brimming with excitement, but did her best to keep it contained.
"Thank you, Wraith. And thank you, my lord. I am honored by your decision." She thanked them both.
"Ensure we do not come to regret our decision. You will be receiving new orders in due time." Dooku cautioned, Banshee nodding as he moved on. "As for you, soldier, we have a task of great importance at hand. The time for our invasion of the Core Worlds is drawing near and we must put final plans into place. You must return to Coruscant." He told Wraith. The super-soldier was surprised by the order, and also a little uncertain.
"All due respect sir, but is that wise? Especially after what happened only recently..." He asked. His face had been plastered all over the HoloNet after Palpatine's showmanship trial, it would be virtually impossible for him to blend in. And even with his armor, the army would be on high alert after his escape.
"We've made proper arrangements to ensure you have a non-descript place to stay and I've supplied Doctor Scipio with the necessary means to outfit you with the last in jamming and cloaking technology." Dooku promised, but it didn't do much to fill Wraith with confidence.
"We're going full-infiltrator with this one, my boy." Scipio agreed.
"I certainly hope so." Wraith mused.
"We've rented an apartment in the Urscru Entertainment District under an assumed name. It is to be your place of residence while you're there." Dooku informed him, surprising Wraith yet again.
"You mean I'm staying there a lot longer than just twelve hours?"
"Correct. For now we've scheduled you for up to a week, but that may change depending on the circumstances. I will send the necessary data shortly. You are to leave immediately." Dooku stated.
"Understood, sir." Wraith agreed, against his better wishes. Once the communication had ended, Wraith turned to his partner and stated, "Well, how about that? You get a promotion and I get a death sentence."
"Surely it will not go so poorly." Banshee countered. "You will be in your element this time, you'll have total control over the situation."
"But instead of having one or two hurdles to deal with, it's now six." Wraith mused, summarizing the odds in his head... and he didn't like them one bit.
"Banshee is right, my boy. You will be the one in control of this operation. I doubt it could go wrong." Scipio assured him.
"If I don't kriff up and get captured again." He muttered.
Several hours later...
Two-hundred and twenty-six freighters. The day was almost over and the men at Galactic City air traffic control couldn't be happier.
"If I hear about another freighter with another load from the Mid Rim, I'm gonna jump out that window." One of the controllers complained. It was easily a two-hundred and twenty-six foot drop to the ground below.
"Good. Then we wouldn't have to put up with your griping anymore." His partner joked.
"Don't act like you're not tired of it too, Grish." Their commander chided.
"'Course I am, boss. I'm just quiet about it." Grish replied. "Shift's almost over anyway. Not like anyone's gonna show up now."
"You'd be surprised. I heard some of those tech firms supporting the Republic are buying up every warehouse they can get their hands on around here. Dozens of companies, some I've never even heard of." His partner interjected.
"It's the war. They're all panicking about losing their assets to the Seppies." The commander responded.
"Aren't we winning though? Didn't they just lose Haor Chall a few days ago?"
"Yep. But that's not stopping them." The commander confirmed.
"You try telling a panicked man everything's gonna be fine. Trust me, it doesn't work." Grish added.
"Do another orbital ping, would you? I'd like to know if our doom is coming." Grish obliged his partner and performed a triple check of all their available sensors, each one coming back negative.
"Nope, nothing. Skies are clear." He reported.
"Thank the Force." His partner sighed, rubbing his eyes.
But the skies weren't nearly as clear as they'd been led to believe...
The upgraded sensory-negating and cloaking systems of his shuttle proved very effective as Wraith stealthily entered Coruscant's upper atmosphere. The Aka'jor went unnoticed and unhailed by anyone, seeing as it could not be seen by either eyes or scanners. Plus, the reflective paint job added another layer to the complex system already working hard to ensure he went undetected by any Republic guardians.
Wraith maneuvered his ship to a designated hangar near the outskirts of Galactic City and then made use of the small one-man speeder Scipio had stored underneath. He hadn't used this since his sabotage mission to Alderaan with Aurra Sing and Wraith felt a bit exposed simply driving about with no visible armor or weapons. He retained his synthleather jacket and a pair of sunshields, his hair styled to make him look as common as other civilians and avoid raising suspicions. He could use his speeder to get around and the changes to his look would prevent anyone from thinking twice when he zipped past them.
Dooku had provided him with a list of everything he needed to accomplish while on Coruscant. Tasks that should, in theory, take him one week to accomplish. However, high command was willing to adjust as necessary for him to get the job done right, even if it meant taking more time. They knew it was dangerous to send him back, but he was the one operative they trusted above all else with such a secret mission of grave importance.
The apartment complex was not much to look at, a good thing in Wraith's eyes. Made of common durasteel and flat gray, the only lights around coming from individual windows, Wraith deemed it plain enough to be a decent hiding place where no one would think to look for him. He had the room keys on hand, so he could go about his business without asking many questions and having to use his voice (which might strike some as familiar). The room itself was midway up the building, perfectly average and casual, just like the plan.
But Wraith still felt uneasy about it.
Arriving at the door with three bags in tow, Wraith unlocked it and stepped in, revealing a room that was by no means decadent but certainly cozy. It had a refresher, living area, bedroom and desk, a small collection of quaint comforts that was to be his port of call for the next several days. Setting down his gear, Wraith ditched his sunshields and poked around. Everything was as simplistic as it looked, the bedroom having a nice big window near the bed to view a small portion of Galactic City with floor-to-ceiling blinds for privacy. It wasn't bad. The room was decent. Small, but decent. It would make for a good place to store and use equipment, a good staging area or possibly a diversionary location if he needed to put someone on the wrong path.
But Wraith still didn't feel comfortable about using it for lodging.
It seemed just barely inconspicuous to him. He didn't like how public it was, how anyone could possibly figure out the whole setup, even by accident. it wasn't secure enough for him, especially considering he was a man who the planet would happily go on lockdown for. Sure, nobody was actively looking for him planetside. But that didn't mean they wouldn't should he be spotted and recognized.
He needed someplace safe and secure. A place where his business could be his own without threat of discovery. A place where any passerby's would be discreet and unassuming, having their own business to worry about. Someplace where he could be hidden in plain sight...
And he had a feeling he knew exactly where to go, recalling his trip to Omman Minor not that long ago.
Pulling out a datapad, Wraith started searching the HoloNet for the location of Coruscant's Elysium Hotel...
He'd left a bag behind in the apartment, kept the other two on his speeder, left the sunshields on and zipped up his jacket to hide the fact he wore only a shirt under it.
The lobby was filled with dark tones, from the furniture to the carpet and the walls. Even the lighting seemed to have dimmed somewhat in order to provide a rather foreboding atmosphere. He approached the front desk where a Duros concierge stood silently, organizing something behind the dividing level. But as soon as Wraith approached, he lifted his red gaze and offered a goridally greeting,
"Good day sir." Wraith read the simple card on his lapel that read 'Tembo'.
"Good day. I'm in need of a room." Wraith simply replied, questioning if he needed a codeword at all.
"For how long?"
"One week, more or less."
"Very well. For just yourself?" The Duros inquired, entering the information onto a datapad.
"Yes."
"Very good. If I could just get your information." He asked, turning the pad over to him. Wraith quickly input the necessary details, including payment information and as well as a few pieces of personal information. When he turned it over, the concierge glanced over the information with a curious eye before glancing up with a look of discernment. "Mister... 'W', is it?" Seeing his ability to censor his name, Wraith leaned forward.
"I, uh," he began in a low voice, "need to keep my presence to a minimum." Tilting his shades down, he revealed his very unique eyes.
"That's quite alright, sir. I understand perfectly." The concierge graciously replied. Wraith breathed a sigh of relief, comforted he understood and could keep a secret. "Your keys, sir. Room six-sixteen." The pair of cards were pressed into his hand.
"Thank you much." Wraith replied as he turned to collect his gear.
"Will you be requiring any of our immediate services?" The concierge asked as he did. Pausing in place, pondering what he'd need the most right now. His first assignment wasn't until later... then again he could always keep it chilled...
"I'd... appreciate a bottle of Naiana." He replied, referring to the fruity Cerean wine.
"I'll have one sent up straight away." The concierge informed him. "Do enjoy your stay." Wraith offered a quick salute and went to get his bags with a slight grin on his face.
This was a good choice indeed.
His new room was vast and spacious, private and luxurious. It was a lot like an apartment penthouse, the kind that cost a few hundred thousand (if not million) credits. Wraith really had no issues with the Urscru apartment save for the obvious security issue. But this hotel room was no problem at all. Everything was pristine and well-maintained, every piece of furniture neatly arranged. Divided in two between a bedroom space and a lounge area, it certainly beat out the other by square-footage alone.
But most importantly, Wraith felt safe here.
He put his bags on a bench in the lounge and tossed his sunshields on the nearest counter, taking a moment to stretch and roll his shoulders. He looked around, feeling both satisfied and quite pleased with himself for his choice. The wine he'd requested stood on a black tray with a pair of glasses, carefully placed on the coffee table in the lounge. Popping the cork, Wraith poured himself a glass and took a sip, savouring the fruity taste he enjoyed so much. The super-soldier had always enjoyed the taste of wine as well as other, even stronger, alcoholic beverages. Unlike anyone else in the galaxy, though, his metabolism had been so revved up by the Sunstorm serum that it was impossible for him to get drunk. That enabled him to enjoy the taste of everything from the sweet wines of Cerea to the strong drinks of Mandalore yet not be compromised during an assignment. He momentarily wondered if the same could be said for Banshee.
"Well... guess it's time to get to work." He mused aloud, setting his half-finished drink down and moving to one of his bags. The larger of the two was where he kept some of his more valuable tools, the zipper sliding down and revealing the face of his helmet. A sudden knock on the door had him close it rapidly and don his sunshields again while making a dash towards the entrance. He paused to check through the peephole, seeing a cyan-skinned male Twi'lek on the other side.
"Mister W?" He called. Clearly he'd spoken with the concierge and Wraith briefly wondered if secrets around here could not be totally kept after all. With much trepidation, he opened the door enough to allow his face and body to be seen.
"Yes?" He asked. From this angle he could see the Twi'lek was wearing smooth, elegant clothes, the kind of garb normally worn by high-ranking officials. It seemed he was a well-off fellow.
"Call me Cabot. I am the hotel's manager." The Twi'lek politely introduced. "Mind if I come in?" He asked. The manager, huh? Well, could be worse.
"By all means." Wraith agreed, opening the door wider to let him in. The Twi'lek carried himself with a sort of confident assurance, as if he knew when every piece of furniture liked he'd picked it out himself. He was relaxed and comfortable, something Wraith wasn't as he shut the door. "What, uh, brings you to my room?" He asked.
"We get all sorts of clients here at the Elysium, Mister W, but I must admit you are a first." Cabot replied as he began to pour himself a glass of wine. "No need to keep wearing those things, good sir. There's no sunlight in here anyway." He remarked without looking. Wraith could hear the almost knowing tone in his voice and left his sunshields where they were. With a full glass, the Twi'lek straightened and turned around, carrying himself with practiced dignity. "So tell me, however did you come across our establishment... Mister Wraith?" He calmly inquired. Considering he'd never used that name when signing the documents concerning his stay, Wraith realized there was more going on here and that this Cabot was clearly an insightful man. Therefore, he ditched the sunshields, revealing his reptilian eyes.
"Let's just say I learned a few things when I stumbled across the Omman Minor location." He explained, tucking his shades into his jacket. "Suffice to say, I needed a place where I could feel safe in the belly of the beast. I believed this would be my best bet." Hopefully such a simple answer would suffice. He didn't feel comfortable revealing any further information.
"It's interesting you should choose a place where any number of politicians, socialites and other members of high society might lodge." Cabot mused, seating himself beside the wine.
"Thing is, I had a very hard time learning anything about Elysium. You're not on the HoloNet." Wraith replied as he strode over.
"And we'd like to keep it that way." Cabot stated as Wraith grabbed his unfinished glass and sat across from him. "How did you learn of us?" Cabot asked.
"Ever heard of a real sleemo who operates under the moniker 'Corsair'?" Wraith wondered, only for Cabot to chuckle fondly.
"Ah, Corsair. I should've known. He's stayed here more than once, back when he was actively working." He answered, sipping his wine.
"He still is."
"Not what I meant."
"The Constitution, I know."
"So he told you that too?"
"Put some liquor in him and he'll go nonstop." Wraith replied, the manager nodding in agreement.
"I suppose it's only fair he entreated an outsider to our ways, especially to avoid breaking the rules. That's a good quality in a man." He mused, thoughtfully remembering the young man who'd frequented his establishment dozens of times years ago. "However, you know about our little network and who we cater to, therefore I must ask what you intend to do about it. You do realize our advantages are for members only, don't you?" He pried. The preciseness of his words stirred Wraith. Unlike most criminals and their associates he'd either dealt with or viewed from afar, this Cabot was refined and sophisticated. He had a sense of regality about him, like a man who knew his purpose and lived it with every fibre of his being.
"So I've heard." Wraith replied, setting his glass down. Folding his hands together, Wraith acted upon the thought he'd considered ever so briefly while he and Banshee left Omman behind. "I've only had a few hours to think about this, but I believe I'd like to join whatever you call this little network. I think it would be good for someone in my line of work." He confessed.
"It would be." Cabot agreed, surprising him. "My question to you is simple: what do you have to offer?" The Twi'lek asked, taking another sip. A brief pause, silence from Wraith as he fruitlessly tried to discern the meaning of his words.
"I don't understand."
"The Constitution will not accept just anybody into their fold. Those who agree to play by the rules must demonstrate they are capable." Cabot explained. Civility, that was the word Wraith was looking for. His speech was simple yet elegant. Cabot was a civilized man. "So I ask again, Mister Wraith, what do you have to offer?" At that, the super-soldier leaned forward and responded in a low, serious voice.
"I can run almost two kilometers in under a standard minute. I can lift a thousand pounds without trying, probably two under duress. I've killed men from over five kilometers away, cracked codes even the most seasoned of slicers can't break. I've been hidden in plain sight, cheated death more than once, and even killed a Jedi or two." Cabot did not react to any of his boasts, keeping him fixed with an even gaze. "What I have to offer are my skills." Wraith concluded. A slow nod and the Twi'lek took another sip, his glass barely three-quarters empty. After a moment that seemed uncomfortably long, he spoke again.
"I cannot speak for what the Constitution will say. But as manager of this hotel I can make you a deal. You seem like a sincere boy, honest and true. Therefore, I'll see to it you're afforded every amenity our regular clients receive. You can use this as many times as you like for however long, on one condition." The cautionary anecdote had Wraith on edge. "At a time of our choosing, you must fulfill a task for us. No questions asked. If you refuse, then there will be a price on your head so big it would make a Hutt jealous." The veiled warning within the promise was spoken with a light sense of sincerity. And Wraith believed him. "Do we have a deal?" Cabot politely wondered. Though he had yet to understand the true ramifications of it all, Wraith agreed.
"We do." The deal was sealed when Cabot extended his glass and Wraith met it, the clink filling the silent room before both parties drank in agreement.
Later that night...
Jos was tired. He'd been at this job for almost two decades now and, while it had it's perks, was growing increasingly taxing with the continued escalation of the war. He could sympathize with his coworkers, but kept his private gripes silent like Grish did. He was happy to be home now, happy to leave it all behind for at least a few hours. All he wanted now was some peace and quiet, maybe something to drink too.
But only a few feet into his home, his jacket not even off yet, there was a knock on his door.
Confused and partly annoyed, Jos turned around and opened it, revealing a man dressed in the outfit of a courier.
"Jos Dror? Of Galactic City air traffic control?" He asked.
"Yes." Jos affirmed.
"Package for you." The box in his hand was small, but unfamiliar to the tower commander.
"I didn't order anything." Jos refuted, trying to put an end to this.
"I have your name and address here." The courier continued.
"I'm telling you, I didn't order anything." Jos tiredly repeated.
"But I did." The emulated voice from behind caused Jos to jump and whirl around. All he could see in the shadows was a dark figure, taller and bigger than him with glowing bright red eyes.
"Wha-" His statement never finished as the courier suddenly attacked him from behind, simultaneously closing the door while twisting one arm behind his back. The package was dropped on the floor and Jos was thrown towards the shadowy figure, caught seconds later and then had a gloved hand cover his mouth while a second wrapped around his throat. With wide, fearful eyes, Jos was turned around to watched the courier began to fade, a web of blue following the retreating form as the guise of a human was replaced by a TC-SC infiltration droid. Jos could not summon a coherent action as the droid approach, but then had an answer when he saw the tiny Separatist emblem between the droid's four crimson photoreceptors. The grip around his throat suddenly began much tighter and the hand over his mouth ensured his nose was covered too as Jos started to asphyxiate. He struggled vainly, but the grip on him was too strong. The droid continued to watch with a steady, unflinching stare, seeming doing nothing.
But the multispectrum disguise suite it had come with was busily integrating all of Jos' movements and actions, creating programs designed to mimic his very person. It began adapting his mannerisms, quirks and characteristics, building a profile to be programmed into the droid's memory for further use. Just before he passed out, Jos watched another web of blue enveloped the droid before a render filled out the droid's body.
It looked like a clone of himself.
The integration process would take a bit longer to complete, the neruoscan more complicated than the simple 'copycat' program that had already converted Jos' basic functions into an algorithm for the droid to follow. Wraith laid the limp body on the floor and let the TC-SC continued, standing by and watching while humming softly as he waited for the process to finish.
"Hm hm hmm... more than meets the eye... hm hm hmmm... robots in disguise..."
