"Well?" Ariv asked Ajuur, the Hutt in charge of the Duelling Ring on Taris. Large feline, shrewd eyes peered at him, curious. The sound of the Huttese libretto filtered through the room and some duelers danced with the dancers of the Cantina.
Ajuur raised a pudgy hand to his chin, contemplating his response. The Hutt was old, with leathery, mottled green skin. Slime and mucus coated the thick folds and the Hutt's wide mouth broadened into an unsettling grin, "You have piqued my curiosity, ootmian," he said.
A red-skinned Twi'lek came forth, translating the words the Hutt said, "Mr. Ajuur here says that you—" "I understand him perfectly well," Ariv cut off the Twi'lek in perfect Huttese. It would be foolish if he didn't, after Basic, the Hutt's native language was the most spoken one in the galaxy. Even on far off worlds in the middle of nowhere, some form of this language had existed.
Ajuur dismissed his attendant, "I will never turn away new blood for the ring, and people have been bored lately," the Hutt added in his native tongue, "But you need a nickname, like Ice, Deadeye or Twitch, such are the customs here."
Ariv did not mind, this was better for him: the less the people knew who he really was, the less likely he'd be traced back to the Republic.
"Hmmm…" Ajuur contemplated, "What's a good name for you?" he added, listing what he knew about Ariv, "You're an off-worlder. You're new here, people won't recognize you…"
Suddenly he perked up, "I know! From now on in the duel ring you'll be the Mysterious Stranger!"
The Mysterious Stranger, it was an…interesting name, Ariv wasn't too fond of it, but it would do. He nodded and smiled showing his acceptance of the strange moniker, and the Hutt beamed, responding, "I have chosen a perfect name for you. You've got no past, no history... it makes you seem like you have some big, dark secret." Ariv's smile slipped at that remark and Carth's ever-present frown deepened, but Ajuur continued, unbothered, "People like that. Makes them bet more." He seemed almost giddy at the prospect of incoming credits.
Carth sighed, and whispered, "This is for the best. We could use the credits from these duels, but using your real name is too risky. The Sith might have come across a crew manifest back on the Endar Spire."
"I know," Ariv responded, equally quiet.
"Now that it's settled, I assume you wish for a cut of the total winnings, say…five percent?" Ajuur asked and Ariv almost laughed in the Hutt's face. He wasn't an idiot, he knew that with the sheer number of people a single duel brought in, five percent was meagre in comparison to what the Hutt would earn.
"Absolutely not," he said, firmly, "You and I both know that is way too little."
The Hutt frowned, "You must understand your position here, little human, I am giving you more than enough."
"Ten percent or no deal, I promise I'll make it worth it," he argued, Carth shot him a bewildered look and Ariv shook his head, not wanting the Captain to get into the middle of this.
The Hutt looked displeased for a moment but realised he would rather lose only a small portion of his prize than the entirety of it.
"Alright," Ajuur said, "You drive a hard bargain, return at precisely eleven tonight for your duel with Deadeye. I await your victory."
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A few hours later Ariv was putting on the light armour that he had worn as the Endar Spire went in flames around him. Thankfully, it was of simple design, and common, which meant that no one would recognise it as being the Republic's. The beige suit was comfortable and flexible and would protect him, to some extent, at least against physical blows. He strapped a pair of long swords to his belt and took in hand an Arkanian blaster pistol, making sure that it was set to stun. He wanted to win, but he had no desire to kill Duncan or break these rules.
Carth had been silent most of the time, watching the city outside quietly, he finally turned to face Ariv then, "Look, man, just…be careful, alright?" Carth said, after a few moments of tense silence, "We still need to find Bastila, that's our priority."
Ariv huffed, "I know, Captain, that's why I am doing this in the first place, okay?"
Carth nodded and left the room, making his way to the stands.
Only a few minutes later the booming voice of the Duel announcer filtered through the thin walls, signalling Ariv's entrance, "One and all, draw your eyes to the centre ring! We have a very special presentation in store for you: you've seen him lose night after night after night. But this time, he's after fresh meat. In this corner I give you Deadeye Duncan!" The crowd's cheers rose to a deafening roar as Ariv walked into the arena, "And in the other corner, a relative newcomer to the Taris duelling scene. Emerging from the shadows with no history, no past and no name... the Mysterious Stranger!"
The floodlight's bright light focused on Ariv and he squinted against their harsh glare, soon a loud gong resounded, counting down the seconds till the duel began. He looked around, trying to understand the arena. It was a large open field, lines had been drawn to mark places. It was utterly empty except for him and Deadeye, there was nothing he could use to take cover. The stands that circled the field were high and packed, he felt his heartbeat faster, a sudden and surprising bout of nerves that couldn't have at a worst time. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath in, willing to calm himself, and readied himself for the duel.
Finally, the announcer yelled, "Begin!" and immediately Ariv reached for his blaster, earlier trepidation gone almost entirely. This time, Deadeye did not drop his own, and raised it to fire at him. Ariv ducked beneath the stun blasts and rolled to his side, keeping his finger on the trigger of his own weapon, waiting for the proper moment to return fire. It was as though he knew instinctively where the bolts were going to come from and he dodged them just in time. Deadeye's face twisted with anger and impatience as Ariv continued to evade his attacks and he knew that the older man would inevitably mess up. All he had to do was bide his time.
Soon enough, Duncan misfired, the shot missing Ariv widely. Raising his own pistol, Ariv fired a single powerful stun blast, the shot rippling through and distorting the air across the arena. A split second later Duncan collapsed to the ground, stunned, and the duel announcer's excited voice blasted through speakers, "It's over! The fight is over! The Mysterious Stranger has won!"
He smirked, pleased with his victory, "But," the announcer drawled, "Are we really surprised? Deadeye losing isn't exactly news, now is it? We've seen it happen. Fifty four times. In a row," Ariv winced, "You have to do better than that to impress us, Stranger!"
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"Good fight, human, good fight," Ajuur said, clearly pleased, "People like you, Mysterious Stranger. They bet a lot when you fight. It makes me happy... and rich."
Ariv forced a smile onto his face, as the Hutt continued, "I always pay my debts. You won, so you get paid. Ten percent of the purse – that was the deal. Here's your credits. You come see me when you're ready to fight again." Ariv accepted the credits, knowing that they were far from enough.
Carth grabbed his arm realising his intent but Ariv was quicker, "Actually," he began, "I'd like to come back as soon as possible."
The Hutt's eyes widened and he smiled, "Oh yes, of course, of course! How about tomorrow night, eh?"
Ignoring the look Carth gave him, Ariv shrugged, "Seems perfect to me."
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Ariv took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. It had been a week since his victory against Deadeye, after that, he had gone on to defeat the other duellists – Gerlon Two-Fingers, a woman named Ice (that match had been a close one), and a veteran named Marl. Now there was only one more person he needed to defeat in order to become the Tarisian Duelling Champion.
At first, Carth hadn't been too pleased, after all – another week had nearly passed without them finding Bastila, but just last night, one of the more loose-lipped spectators had let slip that the Sith could be a little…lax with their security. For the right amount of credits they could get their hands on the needed Sith documents to get access to the Lower City. However, they were still short of a few hundred credits and thus Ariv had to win this duel to cover the cost.
He knew that this fight would undoubtedly be the most difficult one for him to win. Twitch had been the Champion for years, he'd earned himself a reputation of being crazy, unpredictable and the best in the game.
The duel announcer's strident voice pulled him out of his thoughts, "Everyone, draw your eyes to the centre ring! We have a very special presentation in store for you! Hold onto your seats and stay back from the edges of the ring! He's wild, he's unpredictable, he's borderline psychotic.." The floodlights focused on the Rodian, who was waving to the cheering crowd, his bright green skin practically glowing from the attention and light, "...and he's the best damn duelist in the game today. Give it up for Twitch!"
"But Twitch's opponent plans to take the champion down! Night after night, battle after battle we've watched this young phenom rise through the ranks... In this corner, the challenger for the title of Taris Dueling Champion – the Mysterious Stranger!" The lights then focused on Ariv, but he had gotten used to their harsh glare. He swallowed, remembering what he'd told Carth: he had faced more difficult opponents than this one and as long as this damn war continued, he knew he'd face worse.
"Begin!" The Duel announcer yelled and within a split second, Twitch raised his blaster, his arm a blur and fired a series of shots in quick succession towards Ariv who ducked, the laserfire missing his head by mere inches.
Twitch did not slow the barrage of blasts and kept firing. He was definitely a quicker shot than the rest of the duellists. There were only so many bolts Ariv could evade, and he hadn't gotten the opportunity to retaliate just yet.
"Well, looks like this is one of Twitch's most common tactics — overwhelming his opponent! So far, no one has been able to make much progress against this move, but it looks to me like the Stranger might just be an exception to this!" Ignoring the announcer's comments, Ariv unsheathed his blade, twirling it with ease and blocking off the shots, and this time, it was Twitch who had to dodge the blaster bolts.
The audience roared and Twitch laughed, more than ready for the challenge. He pulled out a sword of his own and came charging at Ariv, blade held high and ready. Ariv ducked beneath the swipe of the sword, moving away from the sharp edge. The two exchanged blows for a few minutes and the clash of their blades was somehow amplified even over the hooting and hollering of the crowds.
But Ariv knew what he was doing, something guided his steps: he knew where Twitch would attack seconds before the Rodian would strike and thus he was able to block them or dodge. Soon enough, it became clear that Twitch was more experienced with blasters than he was with swordsmanship. He failed to realise that Ariv had been pushing him back, closer to the edge of the arena. He had managed to get Twitch to give up his advantage and now he held the upper-hand, he was a skilled duellist, having even trained with Echani during his travels.
The Rodian looked tired, sweat beaded his brow and he breathed harshly. Ariv was in a similar state, but he felt far from exhausted, adrenaline pumped through his veins and he felt more alive in the heat of the battle. He had missed this, getting bored out of mind in the past few weeks. He used his frustration over his failure to locate Bastila already, channelling it into his strikes and his blows became more and more powerful till they found their mark.
Twitch pulled his hands away with a yelp as the edge of the vibrosword brushed against his fingers. He barely managed to recover and evade the next blow, trying to put his pain to the back of his mind. He even managed to hold his own for a few minutes more but it was too late. The next blow knocked the Rodian to his knees, his sword clattering to the floor. In a last act of desperation, Twitch reached for his blaster to shoot at Ariv but he once again used his sword to deflect the stun bolt which hit his opponent, who slumped to the floor, unconscious.
The announcer practically yelled in shock, "Twitch's reign of terror is over! Tarisians, we have a new champion – the Mysterious Stranger!
Ariv couldn't believe it — he had actually won.
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Ariv sat on the tall barstool, taking a sip from his drink as a woman came and sat on the stool near him. He had won the duel against Twitch the previous night, since then, there had been quite a few people who had suddenly become interested in him because of his victory. The contact that he and Carth had found had said he'd meet them the day after in this cantina. Till then, he and the Captain had decided to scout around to find him but, so far, they had no luck.
The woman who had come and sat next to him, smiled at Ariv, leaning closer so that she could be heard over the loud music, and he tensed slightly, "Long night, huh?" She asked, and he could do nothing but nod.
"I understand," She continued, "This place is just so bad. Once, it rivalled Coruscant, but now it's just one of the many dump heaps in the Outer Rim." Ariv grimaced at her tone and she continued unbothered, "When I signed up for the Sith, I was lured in with a promise of adventure and excitement in exotic locales."
A Sith, Ariv thinks, hackles rising, it seems she doesn't realise she's talking to a Republic soldier.
"…And next thing I know, I end up stationed at a military base on some backwater planet on the fringes of the galaxy. If I could just find some other way to earn some credits I could give up this lousy job. Retire my uniform, so to speak."
Ariv realised she was still looking at him and he asked, "You're a Sith? You sure don't look like one of them."
She stared at him in the low light, cocking her head and blinking. She took his comment as a compliment and replied, "I'm off duty right now, so I'm not in uniform. Anyone in uniform is banned from entering the cantina," she scoffed, rolling her eyes, "The officers don't like it when we show up here off duty. Guess they don't want us to be fraternising with the locals, but it gets pretty stale hanging out around the base all the time. Besides, the Sith don't own me. Being a soldier in their fleet is just a job, you know? A job with long hours and low pay, I might add. Sorry, I'm being rude, my name is Sarna by the way – junior officer first class with the Sith occupation force."
"Ariv Drayen," He introduced himself and raised his glass of Durindfire — a mild drink, he had no desire to end up smashed and out of his mind by the end of the night.
The drink glowed eerily as Sarna beamed and exclaimed, "Oh my!" Ariv started at her tone, "I thought that I was wrong – but I know where I've seen you – you're the duelling champion! I'm actually a little surprised you're talking to me at all…" She waved her hand, "But it is so good to meet you. Most of the people here on Taris can't stand us Sith. It can make this job pretty lonely."
That is probably because you conquered their planet, he snarks in the safety of his mind but maintains his cover and tells her, trying to sound sympathetic, but lying through his teeth, "Thanks, but you're just doing your job, right? I don't hold that against you."
"Besides," he continued, "I'm not actually from Taris. I'm just stuck here until the quarantine ends."
Sarna seemed surprised and answered, "You're an off-worlder? Huh, I figured you'd be even more angry, being stuck on a foreign planet and all."
"Hey, we're both strangers on Taris. We have to stick together," he assured her.
"Being stuck here isn't so bad...but the locals aren't that much fun." He added, leaning into what she had said earlier.
"You're right! It's like everyone on this awful backwater planet permanently in a bad mood. Don't they know they have to make the best of things?" She agreed, exasperated.
Ariv shrugged, "Everybody has their ups and downs…it's how you deal with them that counts." he began, grinning, realising that a chatty Sith officer might know more about Bastila than he did. All he had to do was get answers out of her.
Better he go to the Lower City prepared.
He called out to the bartender, buying Sarna a drink who beamed at him. Ariv felt bad that he was essentially using her to get to the Jedi, but he had to put these personal morals aside for the sake of the galaxy. And it wasn't like he was hurting her, all he was doing was getting information. He had done worse during battles.
"It's all about the attitude," she said excitedly, chugging her drink, "I didn't ask to be assigned to this backwater planet, but I try to make the best of it. It's pretty easy to get depressed on an assignment like this, but we do what we can to keep our spirits up."
"It must be tough," he began, trying to sound as sympathetic as possible, "being stuck on such a hostile planet."
She nodded, agreeing, "That's true. It's nice to meet someone who understands what I'm going through," she placed her hand on his bicep and he stiffened, uncomfortable at her touch, but brushing aside his discomfiture as Sarna continued, "It's good to talk about this stuff – It gets pretty boring up at the military base. Tell you what," she said a moment later, leaning even closer, and he took a slight step back.
She did not notice it because she said conspiratorially, "Some of us junior Sith officers are having a party the day after tomorrow to blow off some steam. I'd really like to see you again. Why don't you drop by? Everyone will be really happy to see you!"
Ariv opened his mouth to decline, he had a Jedi to find, but then he realised that it would be easy to get information out of a bunch of drunk Sith officers. There was no guarantee that his…contact might deliver on his promise.
He smiled, accepting her offer, "Sounds good. I'll be there." A part of him thought that he ought to take Carth with him, but he knew that there was no way in hell the Captain would agree, especially since they were closer to reaching the Lower City.
Sarna got up then, turning to leave, "Great, it starts at nine thirty pm – just don't be late. We're starting right after our shifts end. Most of us won't even be going back to the base to lock up our uniforms."
Even better, he thinks as she continued, "I look forward to seeing you there." With that, she left and Ariv sighed with relief.
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"I'm not so sure about this, Ariv," Carth said as they made their way to Sarna's apartment, "What if she is luring you into a trap?"
Ariv sighed in response, he knew that he shouldn't have allowed the Captain to accompany him till Sarna's apartment like he was a small boy, "She only knows me as the Duelling Champion and you as my friend. Sarna's only a junior officer – I doubt she's privy to too much important information."
Carth looked at him, his gaze critical and judging even in the low light of the city, "Speaking of the Duelling Championship—" Ariv had a feeling he wasn't about to like this conversation at all, "—I must admit, I'm surprised that you managed to win. That match of yours against Twitch, the way you fought was…unusual."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Ariv asked.
"It's just that…you're a soldier and were a scout before that. Where in the seven Corellian hells did you learn how to fight like that?" Carth explained.
Ariv rolled his eyes, elaborating testily, "I have travelled extensively during my time as a Scout, especially to far off worlds where I was forced to learn how to fight if I were to survive. And that became even more crucial when I joined the war."
Carth scoffed, "Let me ask you something first, though. I've been going through the battle aboard the Endar Spire over and over in my head since we crashed. Some things just don't add up for me. Maybe you could tell me what happened… from your perspective."
Ariv glanced at the Captain, brow furrowing at his tone, he sighed, "I wasn't really in a position to know what was going on."
"That's not what I meant—" the Captain said but Ariv interrupted him, "I don't understand why you're asking me, you were there!"
"I'm just trying to figure it out. I saw enough men lose their lives needlessly during the Mandalorian Wars. It's… difficult to see that happening all over again." Carth answered and Ariv felt his annoyance disappear.
The Captain was right, something had gone wrong, the ambush and subsequent battle had been too quick, so he answered the best he could, "Like you said when we first met: Bastila didn't have time to use her powers."
"True," Carth agreed, "Bastila is as powerful as they say… she's the one who defeated Darth Revan, after all. Hmm. I guess that even with her abilities, no matter how powerful, can't make up for being completely surprised and outmatched."
Ariv nodded and the Captain continued, "We didn't choose that battle, anyway. It got forced on us. Hell, I'm just surprised that any of us are alive to talk about it. Come to think of it, it's more than a little surprising that you happen to be here, isn't it? "
Ariv cocked his head, confused, and asked lowly, "Why? Are you accusing me of something?"
"Not at all." Carth backtracked, raising his hands defensively, "I just think it's a bit odd that someone who got added to the crew roster at the last minute just happens to be one of the survivors."
"You'd rather I wasn't?" Ariv asked, raising his brow.
"Don't be ridiculous!" Carth replied almost immediately, "You've more than proved yourself since the crash… we wouldn't have made it this far without you. But still…"
Ariv froze and asked, bewildered, "Are you implying that I had something to do with the attack?"
"No. Well…maybe." Carth said and Ariv opened his mouth to defend himself but Carth was quicker to speak, "Don't get me wrong, it just seems odd that someone Bastila's party specifically requested to transfer aboard at the last minute happened to survive."
Ariv grit his teeth, "I don't know anything about Bastila's party, but I was added to the roster at the last minute because of my experience. I am just another soldier following orders given to me. But go ahead and be paranoid if you like!" he snapped and Carth made to answer but they had already reached Sarna's apartment complex.
"We'll talk about this later," Carth promised as Ariv walked in, and the Captain walked away in the direction of the Northern District to hunt for answers in the cantinas.
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The sound of the pounding music coming from Sith's apartment could be heard from outside. Ariv stood in front of the closed door, hand poised to knock, hesitating for a long awkward moment, but it swung open to reveal Sarna herself, who smiled on seeing him.
"Hey, you made it! I was beginning to wonder if you were going to show!" She said, loudy, "The party's in full swing – come on in."
Ariv took a hesitant step in as she continued, raising a glass, "You have to try this Tarisian ale – it's fantastic! We should have conquered this planet ages ago!"
"Careful, Sarna," came the voice of another man, who slung an arm around the officer and laughed, "That wine's got quite the kick. Drink a couple more bottles and you'll be passed out on the floor!"
Ariv swallowed, he knew Tarisian ale packed a punch: he had already decided that he wouldn't touch the stuff unless he wanted to end up absolutely wasted.
"Who cares?" Sarna slurred, "We're not on duty tomorrow – let's live a little! Come on – drink up!" She said enthusiastically, holding out a glass to Ariv who accepted it to maintain his cover.
The party had been in full swing for nearly three hours and had shown no sign of slowing down.
The first thing Ariv had done was take stock of his surroundings: noting all the exits and the layout of the place, it was better to be prepared in case anyone learned of his identity. What he had found was mundane, not too ostentatious.
The apartment wasn't too big, but the main drawing room occupied most of the space. The furniture had been pushed to the side to create space for a dance floor and the lights had shut off, with the exception of a few neon lights that illuminated the room in dim light.
There weren't many personal touches, the walls were somewhat bare, occasionally Ariv saw a poster of some 'exotic' world like Alderaan or Naboo or even Coruscant hung up. Bottles of different liquor, primarily Tarisian ale were strewn about on the floor, staining the dark grey carpet. The music was just a little loud, but no one in the apartments nearby dared to report a Sith to the local authorities.
The curtains had been left wide open to allow the light from the city's skyscrapers to filter in. Ariv would admit that the view was rather lovely, but occasionally he could see a blip cutting across the night sky, reminding him about the fact that there was an entire fleet of Imperial ships circling the planet, ready to shoot anyone trying to escape.
He had been going around, trying to discreetly ask questions about Bastila and the Endar Spire. A drunk pilot from an Interdictor-class Cruiser, the Rampant, had boasted about the fact that majority of the escape pods that had left the Spire had been shot out of the sky or their occupants had met a grisly fate at the hands of the Sith or the locals once they landed on the hostile planet.
Ariv had barely been able to restrain himself from punching that particular pilot in the face, reminding him that Bastila slipping through the Dark Lord's fingers would be more than enough as an answer.
Now, he sat in a corner, nursing a glass of fruit punch (it had been far too difficult for him to procure something that did not have alcohol) and observing the party around him. He made a note of a pair of uniforms that had been abandoned on the floor under a couch by duo of soldiers who had headed towards the rooms for some privacy and a datapad that left open on the armrest of a couch.
Sarna came and sat next to him, nearly falling off her chair in the process. Ariv reached out a hand to help her but her friend from earlier had been quicker and the man sat next to him, between Sarna and Ariv.
"So," Sarna began, leaning towards him, "What do you think?" she asked, blinking rapidly and slurring her words. It was obvious that she had had too much to drink, dismissing her friend's earlier advice. Seeing the way the other officer spilled half the ale from the bottle onto the floor instead of inside his glass showed that he hadn't heeded his own advice either.
Ariv shrugged, and Sarna frowned, but the man asked "Why did you come to Taris anyway?"
"Work with the Exchange," Ariv answered curtly, knowing that occasionally the Empire worked with that particular organisation.
"Ooh," Sarna interjected, looking him up and down, "Sounds dangerous!"
You have no idea, Ariv thinks.
"Work is work, it's not always enjoyable, but it has to be done," he said simply.
"Ugh," the Sith officer said, agreeing, "Ever since the battle we have been looking for that Jedi," Ariv sat up straighter, suddenly a lot more interested in the conversation, and Sarna continued "Have been sending patrols down everyday. A lot of the time many don't return...either get killed by those kriffing rakghouls or gangs."
"Which Jedi?" Ariv asked, feigning ignorance to know more.
"Ugh," Sarna said again, "I am not sitting here if you're discussing work, Yun!" with that parting remark, she made her way to the makeshift bar.
Yun made to follow but Ariv stopped him by asking, "I thought that most of the Jedi have been killed?"
"Oh," Yun said, "One would think so, yes, but this Jedi is different; she isn't that easy to find, let alone capture. You know the one, Bastila Shan — the Republic's Last Hope. First Revan was after her, now so is Malak! We have received instructions to get her – dead or — ," he sat up then suddenly, looking sober, "I've said too much already, I'm sorry, buddy, but you're a civilian, I am sure you understand."
Ariv cursed in every language he knew in his mind, realising that such precious information could be in his reach. He couldn't afford to lose it.
"You want to tell me more," Ariv says, trying to be persuasive, "I am a friend of yours and you can trust me," he added, looking at him intently.
Yun stared at him and repeated in a daze, "I want to tell you more, you're a friend of mine and I can trust you."
Ariv nodded, smiling, "Tell me about Bastila Shan."
"Last hope," the officer scoffed, "I don't think that she's alive, let alone in any condition to fight. Dunno why the Empire's making a fuss, the Jedi likely got taken by those gangs. She's had a massive bounty on her head for nearly two years. Anyone who wants credits will hand deliver her to us, especially since we control the planet. She's got no way, no resources that will help her off-world but no, Lord Malak has to throw a fit."
Ariv raised his eyebrows at Yun's tone and blatant disrespect towards his leader but didn't pry, knowing that his opinion of Malak was undoubtedly worse, "Gangs?" he asked instead.
"You know, the Black Vulkars and Hidden Beks," he said, resting his head against the back and closing his eyes.
Ariv wanted to ask more but seconds later a bunch of officers came his way, threatening to drag him away to dance and he was forced to follow.
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A few more hours had passed, it was almost dawn. Lines of red and orange lined the sky outside as the Tarisian sun began to make its way over the horizon. The apartment was entirely quiet except for the light snoring of the Sith that were laying on the floor, passed out. Ariv tiptoed his way around them, being careful not to step on anyone or make a sound.
He looked around to confirm that he was the only one awake and reached for the footlocker that the soldiers had dumped the uniform and datapad in. Ariv must have been particularly lucky since he realised that they had not even bothered to lock it.
The box opened with a click and Ariv picked up the uniforms. They were light, and likely made of some cheap plastoid. He found a secluded corner and quickly donned one so that he wouldn't look suspicious and stuffed the other uniform and his jacket in a bag.
He wore the helmet and walked out of the apartment, looking back once to make sure no one saw him leave and quickly returned to his hideout where Carth had been waiting for him. Looks like he had found another way into the Lower City and they might not need to meet with that contact anyway.