Noventa - A Star Wars Story

"Well then," Cal chuckled. "Here's hoping." His tone was dry enough to convey that it was definitely a joke.

"Well." He gave a vague sort of wave. "Shoot me a message if there's anything else I can lend a hand with. Although I'm supposed to be retired." He smirked. "I was never very good at just sitting around."

The Zabrak chuckled, "Well, if it comes down to it and this information pans out, you might have a job. If the Imps come back, we'll need every able body with a gun out there."

"I see." Cal said, frowning. "Those were the worst sorts. If a man says he's something, he outta be whatever that is. It's not right to go around representing yourself as something you're not."

He pursed his lips. "Well. Maybe I'll look into that a bit. Although my group is more of the muscle variety. I fancy I'm fairly quick with a blaster, myself."

"A job like this can attract some unsavory types." The Zabrak gave a slight shrug, "Let's just say I'm pretty sure we're not the only one signing for Voss' cred deposits."

Cal grimaced. "Yeah. Arcton. I signed it in that report you're putting together."

He sighed. "And yeah, I've been to Providencetown. I know what you mean. You don't wanna go there unless someone you trust is watching your back." His eyebrows went up. "Sounds to me as though you were saying that this Voss fellow isn't the sort you'd want doing that."

The Zabrak shook his head slightly, "Mr... Arcton, was it? Have you ever been out to Providencetown? You couldn't pay me enough to be out there, not without a small army of Rangers at my back."

Taking down the information into his own datapad, Cal frowned. That certainly sounded ominous.

"I see." He said quietly. "Sounds like being short-handed aren't the only personnel problems you're having?"

The Zabrak gave a nod, "All ready assembling the data to transmit off to the Old Man."

He tapped some information into another datapad and handed it across, "If you happen to find anything and need to contact a Ranger directly, the information on there will let you get ahold of the office responsible for whatever section of the planet you happen to be on. They'll be able to give you further directions if it isn't me you're talking to."

He paused for a second, "And if it's Voss out in Providencetown that you get ahold of... you uhhh... might wanna try moving a few hundred kilometers and trying the call again."

"Yeah, well..." Cal shrugged. "Caught fire and all. If we get another one we'll try not to let that happen."

He gave the man a nod. "Well. We'll see what we can find. Do pass it along, though. If this does become a problem, it's probably better not to catch everyone by surprise."

The Zabrak snorted, "Short-handed? We've barely got enough people to-" He stopped himself and gave a shake of his head.

"Look, you're right - it'd be a waste of resources to send a team out, resources that could better be used keeping them out there keeping what crime we can down." He tapped some keys, "We've got a bit of discretionary funding," - he could just charge it to the city, filing it under 'defense expenses, miscellaneous,' after all - "and I'm sure Commander Baliss would rather have something concrete before he devotes troops to properly checking it out."

He looked up, "But I mean concrete - I'd need something explicitly showing there were Imperials boots on the ground. Normally the data chip itself would have been enough as I could have double checked back to make sure it was legit and figure out which ship the equipment that generated it was requisitioned to. But without it..." He gave a slight shrug.

"Huh." Cal acknowledged this first bit with a grunt.

"Recall? You short-handed?" Cal said, his eyebrows going up. He considered for a few moments. "Don't suppose looking into this a bit further could be a payin' gig, could it?"

"Nothin' on planet. That factory's locked up tighter than a Hutt's cooling chamber," replied the young Zabrak, taking back the board and swapping the screen around. He looked over the report as he continued to speak, "Though I hear Nakadia's got them churning out specially designed [i]Lambda[/i]'s for the new Senate. They're afraid they're going to go running off to the Confederacy or something, likely, so they keep feeding them contracts."

He paused as he finished the report, "Huh. If this is accurate..." He glanced to another screen, hidden from site, "Might have to recall a couple rangers from the field to check it out."

Finally done typing, Cal turned the console back to the Zabrak. "There ya go." He drawled. "Make anything of that?"

"Sienar's still workin'? I thought that old factory wasn't making anything but dust." Cal frowned. "If they're making stuff, who are they making it for?"

The Zabrak shook his head with a sigh, "Just some business at the old Sienar factory yesterday. Place is locked down until we can figure out what to do with it, especially since Sienar's still out there doing business. Had to go out and make sure no one had actually gotten inside."

He sipped at the caf, idly watching the reversed-holoscreen to take in the details the other man was typing, "Already going to be hard enough to explain why their private property was looted if Sienar sends a team around to reactivate old assets."

Cal grimaced. "Yeah, that sounds about right, too."

He leaned forward, painstakingly typing in all the details he knew. Troop transport dropped, troopers disembarked successfully. Time of landing and discovery. Believed to be other transports. Probe droids also dispatched. Plan to infiltrate, determine the utility of Noventa to the operations of Admiral Patrice Verlasso. Operation: Phoenix Rising, could be the name of the mission, or what the mission is working towards.

"Other business?" Cal asked casually as he worked.

"Not much left of the old records," the Zabrak said, clearly somewhat sad at the thought of missing out on poking around Imperial tech. "What the Imp loyalists couldn't take when they left, they burned and blasted. Half this tech is scavenged is cobbled together from components scavenged from orbit."

He made a motion on the screen, making it easier to see from the other angle, and handed the data input across, "Whatever you can recall, type it in. I'll make sure it gets collated and dropped on Old Man Baliss' desk when he gets in from... well, some other business."

"Yeah..." Cal scratched awkwardly at his stubble. "If you're looking for a data chip, it kinda caught fire. May have even exploded a little bit. Imperial safety measures being what they are, exploding seems about right."

He sighed. "Look. Take my info, tell your superiors. And remember, Cal Arcton, former sector marshal. This sector. I've worked with your group before more'n once. If none of the old timers remember me, well..." He shrugged. "I guess I'm not as good as I thought I was."

He nodded towards the console. "In fact, my name might be on some of your arrest records. Anything from about three to twelve years ago."

The Empire, coming back here? The Zabrak's face made an expression that, to those who were familiar with the species' particular mannerisms, indicated a lack of belief. [i]Yeah, and I've got a pleasure palace to sell you on Nal Hutta...[/i], the young man thought. He sipped his caf.

Then again, there had been that incident at the old Sienar plant that the commander was still trying to deal with. If it was related...

The Zabrak sighed, "Look, I'm a techie, not a people person - but we're short handed and everyone else is a lot better with a gun than me so guess who gets to desk jockey?" He tapped some keys on the input device and the screen shifted again, "If what you've got is legit than yeah - the commander would love to see it. You'd be surprised how many people try to fake Imperial data hoping to make a few creds on their stick to make life on this backwater rock a little closer to bearable so we've got a whole process for this sort of thing."

He extended his hand, signalling to hand over the data chip, crystal, or whatever variety the man had happened to bring the information in.

For his part, Cal wasn't used to being ignored, either. He withdrew his hand, his face darkening.

"Some colleagues of mine came across some information I thought the Sector Rangers might be interested in. Just a little bit about an Imperial drop pod. Troops landing. Some sort of infiltration. An Admiral's name, and the name of the operation." He narrowed his eyes, looking at the man. "Does that sound like something you'd be interested in? Or should I have called ahead first? Maybe made an appointment?"

A tinny voice from the holo can be heard saying something about wanting to be an architect before the young man reaches out and pauses it with a sigh. He sits up and takes one last sip of the caf before looking at the visitor, a look of annoyance at being interrupted on his face. Clearly he's not used to being interrupted.

"Very busy as always," he says, clearly a master of sarcasm. He swipes a track on the holo projector in front of him, almost as if ignoring the hand and bringing up a proper display and picking up a data entry tool connected to the entire system with a mess of cabling; the entire thing looks a decade out of date and like it's gone twice as long without a proper repair. "Course, I expect a man like yourself must be busy as well so... let's not waste too much time. What can I help you with?"