Toxicity and Conversations with Spies

[Estelle Russard]

Continued from here

Aboard "Hope For Change"
Rebel Cruiser, Mon Calamari Space


Spy # 1 - Ophelia


Estelle walked with the brisk step of a woman on a mission, the echo of her footfalls pinging dully back to her from the gleaming durosteel of the Starship's interior. Polished floors and walls, sterile in the bright glare of the overhead flourescents, cast a muted reflection of her form, crisply dressed in navy cargo pants and black t-shirt, as she passed through their pristine hollows.

She checked her chrono. She had timed her arrival to the Interior Communications Hub down to the minute. She was expected at 1800hrs on the button and her chrono ticked over to have all hands lined up perpendicularly centered on the time peice face. The Hub door's swooshed open and Russard stepped through.

"Im looking for Officer Cristobal" she announced to the two heads that had bobbed up from their respective datascreens at her entrance. Fresh-faced, her hair pulled tightly back into a simple pony-tail, her eyes clear and alert - no one would guess she'd been running for her life, alongside her two partners, and all of them under a hail of laser fire some short six hours prior, escaping from an Imperial Relay station assault they'd just carried out.

"He is expecting me" she added as the doors swished closed behind her and the ebb and flow of soft electronic blips filtered from the surrounding equipment and through the air around her.

[Santiago Cristobal]

"Back here!" A voice from a back office called. Estelle made her way around the various *blips* and *bleeps* coming from the equipment placed at various stations in the room. As she entered the office, she only saw the back of the man.

"Officer Cristobal?"

"One minute." The man pressed several buttons on his computer and the senior operative watched as four different screens had four different data analysis scrolling down. One was Holonet, the latest feed talking about upcoming public trial of Director of Intelligence Dasquian Belargic. The next three were data she didn't recognize but Estelle knew Cristobal was the Sub-Director of Analysis so he had to be analysing something.

"Is that a Surprosa?" She hated to interrupt but her curiosity at how a supercomputer could be housed on a Mon Calamari cruiser got the best of her.

"It is." The man hadn't moved just yet. "Have you seen them before?"

Estelle had actually at Russard Industries but she wasn't going to tell this Cristobal yet. "I have sir, yes."

The 'sir' appeared to have caught Cristobal off guard momentarily and he turned around in his seat and stood up. He was shorter than Kazaar and barely an inch taller than she was. His brown hair was cut close to the scalp, emphasizing his face, which was far from unkind, but appeared to be able to switch into a different mode at ease. His eyes were a dark green, flecked with brown, and smiled when his mouth opened to greet her.

"You don't have to call me 'sir'." He clasped her hand in greeting. "I'm Santiago. Or Cristobal if you prefer. You're Estelle Russard correct?"

A joking smile. "Tall, dark and spooky sent you here yes?"

[Estelle Russard]

"He did, Sir, yes"

She winced slightly, having included the sir he'd just told her to drop. It was an automatic association, though, when her thoughts were led in Othniel's direction. She returned Cristobal's handshake firmly and then withdrew her hand. His jest at The Black Man's expense was faintly reminiscent of something Aurelias might say, only, minus the rock of gibraltar on his shoulder and the 'I hate authority' sign-waving. Santiago was attempting humor to break the ice and Estelle appreciated the effort.
"That's what we call him, too" she said with a shy smile.

"I have just returned from Rhen Var where we acquired the data Othniel passed on to you." Santiago would be aware of that already, but he politely omitted saying so. "Have you had a chance to look at any of it?"

[Santiago Cristobal]

"No I hadn't." Santiago admitted. "I was waiting for you before analyzing it. I thought you'd want to see the analysis before I turned it over to your boss. Would you like a rundown on what we know so far?"

Estelle nodded and Cristobal motioned her to take a seat. "Here's what we know: Based on information we got from a communication device found here on the Hope for Change, the Empire is plotting something against the Council." His hands went over a keyboard like it was a musical instrument not a piece of technology. "Now your information, hand it to me will you." He accepted the data disc and plugged it into one of his computers. "Should at least be able to tell us who's going to...hmm that's not right."

Cristobal's fingers started moving quicker on the keyboard. "Did the Empire try to delete this information?"

Estelle's brow furrowed. "There was a program, but we were able to stop it from deleting the data."

"Not all of it I'm afraid." Cristobal made several more keystrokes and narrowed his eyes. "Some of the data is disjointed, in pieces." His jaw set. "It's going to take an hour or so before the data is processed.

[Estelle Russard]

Estelle compressed her lips disappointedly, she had hoped there would be minimal loss of information.

"But it is retrievable? Eventually, right?" she asked, optimistic.

[Santiago Cristobal]

Cristobal's smile was wide and friendly. "Of course it's retrievable. It's easily retrievable. In fact, the computer's all ready processing the data and getting what it can. Just going to take an hour or so to get done."

He pushed back his chair from the desk and Estelle noticed he kept himself in good shape for a techie. "Do you want to come back in an hour or so and see if it's ready?" Another smile. "I was going to get some tea from the officer's lounge if you wanted to join me..."

[Estelle Russard]

"Tea?" a smile broadened across her face, "I'd kill for a good tea" she announced. Santiago arched a brow, clearly no killing would be required but the idea of this girl being so violent was surprising.

Ugh, she'd sounded too eager, and Estelle feared he might take it the wrong way, thinking that she was eager to have tea with him. Which, technically, wouldn't really be wrong, the idea of having tea with him was quite pleasing, but she didn't want him to think that's what she meant. He was very handsome.
He was watching her curiously, and Estelle squirmed a little.

"I mean...I could really use a good cup of tea" she corrected, waving her hand airily in an off the cuff-ish manner. Which was even more lame than the over-excited killing comment.

She ended by compressing her lips together once again in an effort to shut herself up.

"Tea it is then" Cristobal said.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Spy #2 - Cowboy

"Trey, good t'see ya pal." Kazaar strode up th'ramp of The Flying Dutchman, a trail o'smoke followin' him. 'Trey', th'former bounty hunter's R7 droid, *twittered* o'greetin' then spun back into th'interior of th'ship. With all th'running 'round Kazaar'd been doin' th'last month he hadn't seen his ship in ages'n it was gettin' pretty frackin' annoying. Damned Imps and their plots. Damned Rebs'n their BlackOps.

Kazaar's right shoulder still hurt from where he'd been shot. Didn't even know it 'ntil th'nurse pointed it out when he'd taken Birdie t'get patched up. Kazaar's simply shrugged at th'news like it was nothin', 'course when th'adrenaline'd worn off it'd felt a helluva lot worse. Force 'im t'take a dip inna bacta tank and Kazaar frackin' hated those damn things. Always left 'im with a taste in 'is mouth which took 'bout five cigars t'get rid of. Kazaar was currently on cigar number two.

Hadn't seen either th'Kid or Birdie since they'd gotten off th'frigate either. k'Vik was gettin' ready t'be interviewed by some hotshot analyst, while th'Kid was takin' the data they'd grabbed from Spindler to th'Analysis department for those eggheads t'look over. He knew couple o'guys over there...some of 'em were too smart f'their own good. Others were just plain assholes.

Kazaar took o'puff offa his cigar'n grinned. Was nice t'be sittin' in his ship 'gain. Even if it was docked onna Rebel ship that could be attacked at any moment. Even th'Brentaal-raised Alderaanian 'preciated th'irony. No such thing as true safety...'less ya were in th'frackin' grave.

His communications station suddenly *chirped* one. Damned Gorgja, ya frackin' know it ain't a good time t'be talkin'. Not after th'crap ya pulled. But it wasn't Gorgja. Instead th'message was just a buncha numbers'n randomly placed letters.

N1z11h. D2 k22w f6 l33f. D3mm x4kf1xf m1f3h...

What...the...frack?

[Milivikal k'Vik]

Spy #3 - Songbird

Milivikal k'Vik ached. The Dark Trooper had broken five ribs. Broken ribs combined with her return to the deck had caused some minor internal bleeding. She should have been off her feet, the medic said. Her bones had been glued back together, and would fully heal in a weeks time. The internal tearing had been soothed with bacta, and was healed.

“Including running?” Milivikal said with a frown. Some of her color had returned, although the left side of her face was purplish, along with several other parts of her otherwise pale body.

“Especially activities like running. I'm amazed you were on your feet at all.” The medic said, knowing full well that she would likely end up running before a week was up.

“I shall do my best to not run.” She said, and did not sound certain or hopeful.

“Field agents.” The Mon Cal nurse said with a sigh. Milivikal grinned slightly, and delicately pulled her shirt and jacket back on. Both smelled fresh. All of her clothes did. She held her breath, eyes wide, near panic as she dug through her jacket pocket for the small soft bag. It was there, and so was the polished stone. k'Vik finished dressing, pulling her belt on.

“Is something the matter?” The nurse asked.

“No, all is well.” k'Vik replied with a soft smile, and released her the gem and it's bag back into the pocket.

“Oh, an officer left this pad for you. The rest of your equipment is in a locker.” The nurse passed a pad and a locker key to Milivikal. She held the pad for a moment, and then turned it on. The instructions were simple: head to Conference Room K as soon as possible. She walked to the locker at a cautious pace, mindful of her soreness. A glimpse at the polished floor confirmed it: she looked nearly as bad as she felt. She pulled on the weapons belt, complete with blaster, comm, and other miscellaneous equipment. The DH-17's weight against her right thigh was reassuring, and she ran her finger along the back edge of the grip. The belt needed to be balanced, Mili thought.

[The Black Man]

Spy #4 - The Black Man

Mon Calamari

"Repeat your last statement again, Mister Cambyses." The watery voice of the Mon Calamari asked again.

'The Black Man' leaned forward in his chair, ignoring his lack of sleep, "There is a plot against the Council. You." He pointed at all four people in front of him. "Are in danger."

"We're all in danger." The councilman from Chandrila, Kameis Sallian, scoffed. "The Empire could burst in here at any moment and kill all of us."

"That's highly unlikely." Mon Razien answered with a wave of his hand. "But I appreciate your apprehension Councilman Sallian. But I agree, we must keep this meeting short. Tills will only let us meet for so long."

The other three politicians nodded and Othniel/Cambyses agreed with them. The longer he stayed here, the greater the chance they could all be caught and executed. It was why there were four council members at the meeting and not the entire group. To keep secrecy to a maximum, the Alliance moved their meetings from place to place. Sometimes meeting in lavish hotel rooms overlooking the Mon Calamari sea. Other times a dark cantina on the Quarren side of the planet. Today was the former.

"How did you come about his information, Director Cambyses?" Razien asked.

'Othniel' handed them the datacard with some of the information Lessard had found from the communication console. "You can see here, the Imperials are discussing a new plan."

Sallian scoffed again. "And where did you get that information Director? From your 'vaunted' Imperial sources."

The Black Man's face remained passive. "That information is classified."

"Oh of course it is!" Sallian pressed further and rubbed a hand against his beard. "All your information is 'classified'. You won't even bother telling us how you have all the information you have or what your job for the Empire was before you came to us."

"That was an agreement Mon Mothma and Crix Madine agreed to." 'Othniel' bristled. "A pact Mon Razien has decided to keep. Despite your opposition."

The Chandrila representative locked gazes with the Director of Rebel SpecOps. "I don't like putting my life in the hands of someone who won't bother telling us his real name. What other secrets are you hiding Director?"

"Are you questioning Director Cambyses ability to lead, Representative Sallian?" Tukphen from Mon Calamari asked.

"No. Just his trustworthiness. For all we know he's the one plotting to take us over." Sallian acted as if The Black Man weren't in the room. "I would rather we have someone we know running Special Operations. Not someone who is so secretive."

"So that's your argument then Councilman?" Razien asked. "You simply want someone you know." Sallian nodded. "Very well. I'll take it into advisement. Meeting adjourned. We'll meet again in two days."

Razien motioned for 'Othniel' to follow him out of the grand hall. It was obvious their conversation was far from over.

[Santiago Cristobal]

"So then." Cristobal poured Estelle another tea. "The Barabel says to the Wookie, 'why didn't you bring the net?' They were so busy arguing, I slipped out the back."

Estelle smiled at the story. She hadn't realized Santiago had been a field agent before moving into Analysis. As her partner had said numerous times, "Those eggheads sure as hell don't know what th'frack th'real world's' like. All busy in their frackin' data." This one seemed different though. She smiled again before realizing Santiago had asked her a question.

"I'm sorry." She tried not to blush. "What did you say?"

Santiago grinned. "I was asking if you liked your tea. It's a blend I made myself. Well." Santiago smiled in slight embarassment. "I got help from a very nice Mon Calamari trader but it's mainly a mixture of leaves I put together myself. Do you like it?"

[Estelle Russard]

She liked the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

"Its nice." she said. "Tea has got to be one of the great discoveries of the ancient age" she added, though she could have kicked herself for doing so...of the ancient age? Good grief..

Cristobal held a smile for a moment, as if he might say something but thought better of it. Instead, he said simply, "I agree"

"Ive yet to perfect the art of brewing it though" Estelle pressed onward, strangely desirous to keep the chit-chat going. "I think I am too impatient, I cant ever seem to wait the appropriate moments for the leaves to steep."

[Santiago Cristobal]

"It's not as hard as you think it." Cristobal's eyes crinkled again with his smile. "What you do is add a bit of sohli bark for flavor. It's quite tasty and tends to balance out some of the sweetness. But you only use a pinch of it. Using any more would cause the tea to turn bitter."

Santiago finished off his tea. "It's a balancing act, but if you practice, you can get it right."

Estelle nodded letting her mind process what Santiago was saying. It made sense, balancing things out and it might relax Kazaar a bit. She shuttled that thought with a hint of a smile. No, Kazaar was as steady as a gundark. And as stubborn. "How'd you become an analyst after being an operative?"

Another handsome smile. "Got bored with going out into the cold every single day. Plus I got shot on Socorro once when one of my contacts betrayed me." His expression flitted toward darkness for a second before settling. Santiago smiled again. "Also wanted to have more of a 'real life' than I did. The action is fun (and I've been known to take an operation or two every so often) but I enjoy being behind the keyboard looking at data."

The Analyst topped off Estelle's cup and poured the rest into his. "Why'd you become an operative?"

[Estelle Russard]

"Oh, its a long story" she said dismissively, "And boring."

Estelle immediately felt a stab of regret for saying that. It was belittling to James's memory and she had not meant it so. She just did not wish to divulge anything quite so personal as the loss of someone dear her as being the catalyst for her opening her eyes to the sinister nature of the Empire around her.

She shrugged, at a loss how to correct things.

"I understand" Cristobal said with an empathy that made Estelle look up at him.


Did he really...? Was she that transparent? She would really have to work on her acting skills...

"I--er, anyway, I dont mind the cold" she said at last.

[Santiago Cristobal]

"The cold's good for those who can handle it." Santiago gave a mysterious smile, as if a thought suddenly came to his head. "What was his name?"

"Hmm?"

The smile stayed on the Sub-Director of Analysis. "The person you lost. What was his name? Did you ever find out what happened to him?"

[Estelle Russard]

"James" she spoke his name quietly, remembering.

Yes, she knew what happened to him. A brand new Rebel recruit, killed by Imperial forces. He hadn't even got the chance to make a difference.

It seemed a lifetime ago now.

"Killed in action" she said simply.

[Santiago Cristobal]

"I'm sorry." Santiago answered, placing a hand on her arm for a brief moment before removing it. "It's always tough losing someone close to you."

Estelle's eyes raised towards his. "You?"

Cristobal gave a solemn nod. "My wife...on Bilbringi. She was working for the shipyards there when Palpatine decided to make an 'example' of a group of workers who were protesting a wage decrease. She wasn't a part of it, but they cut her down anyway." He gritted his teeth. "She shouldn't have been there...but she was."

His eyes took a faraway look. "I came here shortly afterwards. Seems such a long time ago..."

[Estelle Russard]

Estelle felt sad for Santiago's loss and expressed as much. A companionable quiet then settled on them for a moment and Estelle sipped her tea. It really was very good.

"Do you think there is much of value on the datadisk?" she asked after a while, turning the subject to the safer topic of work.

[Santiago Cristobal]

"I certainly hope so." Cristobal answered thoughtfully. "I'm sure you risked your life to get whatever information is on there. It would have been terrible if you risked it for nothing." He let Estelle interpret it however she wanted it to.

It looked like he was about to say something else, when his watch beeped. His eyes held a brief gaze into Estelle's before his flickered them down to the watch. "It looks like we should have that information by now. We can finish our tea before going and seeing what you got for us."

The two smiled again as they sipped their tea once more.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar frackin' hated codes. They were troublesome'n took up a ton o'time. He understood why they were used, wasn't like ya were gonna tell th'Imps 'Hey we're gonna go attack Coruscant', but 'least ya could make 'em a little less complicated. 'Course, he admitted, if ya did make 'em less complicated it'd make 'em that much easier t'decode. Still annoyed th'hell outta 'im.

His black eyes narrowed at th'message he'd been given: N1z11h. D2 k22w f6 l33f. D3mm x4kf1xf m1f3h...

Made no frackin' sense. Whoever wrote this was trying t'be real cute or real cautious. Or, Kazaar smirked, both at th'same time. Sure as hell didn't make his job any easier, 'specially if what he was starin' at wasn't someone's idea ovva joke.

"'ey Trey. Get over 'ere." Th'R7 droid *twittered* to himself as it rolled to th'communications console. "This thing make any sense t'ya?"

'Trey' gave two *blits* anna *blat* as its oculator scanned th'message.

"Yeh I know, makes no Force-damned sense t'me either." Kazaar snorted. "Guess that rules out it bein' some kinda 'droid speak'. No that wasn't an insult, what th'frack's th'matter with ya? I know a couple spies who only talk in droid. And it ain't that droidspeak crap o'yas either."

Th'former bounty hunter smirked at th'R7 droid's response. "Yeh yeh. Makes a helluva lot more sense to ya than what's comin' outta my mouth. Frackin' droid...th'frack would I do without ya?"

Neither bothered t'answer that, they were too busy starin' at th'string o'numbers'n letters.

N1z11h. D2 k22w f6 l33f. D3mm x4kf1xf m1f3h...

Gotta be somethin'...Kazaar rolled 'is eyes. Frackin' course. He'd started t'recognized th'old code now. Thing dated all th'way back to th'Republic. Frackin' old ass code.

1 = A

Z = Z

B = Y

If that were th'case then N1z11h would mean...Kazaar grabbed o'piece of durasheet'n started writing. He frackin's hated codes.