It's a dark time for the Rebellion. The Death Star has been destroyed, and the people of the galaxy given hope - which only makes the Empire more intent on quashing that hope. In all corners, the Empire presses hard against the rebel forces, tying down the already strained resources in defense of the Home Fleet, and of the few planets and outposts that remain under rebel control.

In times like these, the Rebellion has to be a bit more... flexible in its methods. General Airen Cracken, the head of Intelligence, thus taps a few old friends, the highly unorthodox strike force known as Sparrowhawk Grey. The rebellion had originally been forced to distance itself from these men, renegades that were sometimes indistinguishable from pirates. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and the team is coming back together now - back together, first of all, to retrieve the last of its members from the Corporate Sector, where he is enslaved in the court of the infamous Gaelka the Hutt...

EPISODE I - Pinstripe Suits

To say 'Hutt Court' to most people is to invoke images of air heavy with spice-scent, low roofs, and the trappings of luxury and sordid pleasure. Dim lighting, and of course the surpassing centrality of the Throne, and the Hutt - the two of which meld in the mind to become one and the same, the image of power, terror and awe.

The Court of Gaelka the Hutt, on the Corporate Sector planet of Etti IV. Located in a nondescript leased office building on the campus of the Cybot Galactica Headquarters, the sign over the door is a bland corporate logo: 'Serveco Imports,' a shell company owned by the Desalijic kadjic, and the front lobby, visible through the window has clean white tile and bland grey-beige walls. A receptionist's desk at the end of the corridor is manned by a perky-faced human woman in a tidy blue suit and a phone headset. Even the four security guards are tidy and presentable, slim human men with collared shirts over the subtle bulk of low profile body armor beneath, military style hats perched on their heads. The blast doors at the end of the room have tasteful brushed nickel accents, and the company logo. A nervous looking Twi'lek woman with a bandage on her face and a suit that's seen better days sits nervously in a sleek, bantha-leather chair to one side, a satchel on her lap.

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It's a shame, though, to get out of the transportation, a marvelously well-preserved Ubrikkian PL-90 Luxury Speeder: slow and low, but with the smoothest ride and the most comfortable upholstery most galactic citizens will have ever felt. The speeder is on loan from an unnamed rebel contact inside of TaggeCo, the largest conglomerate in the corporate sector (or, incidentally, the galaxy). It was reported as stolen, as cover for the contact, but the report was laconically filed, in order to give some time for the team to finish their business and ditch it. In the meantime, every team member has been supplied with business attire, forged TaggeCo credentials, and briefcases, each with a small scan-proof compartment - large enough for a heavy blaster pistol, but not much more. One team member has been provided with corporate livery, in order to appear as a combined chauffeur and valet.

A shame to get out, but inevitable, for the speeder pulls up in front of the doors of 'Serveco Imports' with the beautiful purr of a perfectly balanced set of repulsors beneath its body. Time for 'business'.

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Inside, the slave's quarters are clean - sterile in fact, bearing more of a resemblance to a hospital corridor than living quarters. The beds are flat durasteel palettes in two long rows, with thin, firm mattresses, and are meticulously made - the guards will put up with no less. Here, the guards are less... tidy-looking, a group of 4 wee quays carrying pikes. Some slaves sleep, others amuse themselves with whatever meager means they have available, their few belongings inside of a small drawer built into the side of their bunk. Each has their foot chained to the bed frame with a shock-chain.

With a soft schnick hiss the doors of their transport opened onto the landing pad. "Those are some fancy doors there... Now remember the plan, we are here to negotiate the purchase of some efficiency boosting supplements for TaggeCo's manufacturing arm. I'll do the talking but you guys keep an eye out for some opportunities... we don't have all day either."

With that Nir got out and awaited the chauffeur to open the doors to the building.

"Getting weapons out of the cases won't be quick," Gerst mutters. "Better to get somewhere out of sight before we open up."

"Just make sure our esteemed host is distracted before getting to work."

Echo set the speeder into idle, and exited the driver’s door. He walked quickly to the entrance to the building and pulled the door open. Then holding it, he waited for the rest of the team to pass through.

In a section of one of the sterile cells on the top bunk, tucked into the corner of the bunk, wall and ceiling is Zyi Qur'Ux. However no one would know this wiry twitchy creature by that name here.

His head still hurt from the last time he was put to work. He had a feeling that the job might of been too sloppy.

Nir nodded to Echo as he walked calmly through the grand entrance to this corporate building. Interesting place for a Hutt to call home, most interesting.

The dark haired Bothan walks with purpose right up to the human receptionist, catching her gaze and introducing himself "Good day I am Veejay, a representative of TaggeCo, here for a business meeting with her excellency Gaelka the Hutt"

Gerst follows in close behind Nir, keeping an eye on the security and waiting patiently for the opportune moment.

The receptionist smiles, though with a slight discomfort at the non-human, and nods, "Veejay? Is that a.. a surname, sir?"

She opens the data pad in open sight to a calendar of appointments, unpleasantly blank for the day, but for an entry for 'Cybot Galactica - Danfor Hokk' in approximately fifteen minutes.

"I'm not seeing your name... are you with Mr. Hokk?"

SLAVE'S QUARTERS

----------------------------

One of the Weequay, Tekmuta, stands by a paper screen, the dark, strong feet of Atha Kalik, a human dancer, visible below, surrounded by a pile of her clothing. Tekmuta, looking up at a chronometer in the wall, wrinkles her brow, and speaks in Huttese, "Quickly dancer, or I come and pull you out."

Atha growls, "And pull me onto the stage half-dressed? How will your mistress like that?"

Tekmuta snorts, "Who knows. Perhaps."

Atha hisses, and speaks a curse in a local dialect unfamiliar to others in the room, but comes out from behind the screen, still drawing long, sinuous white lines down the lengths of her throat with a stubby grease-pencil. The lines lengthen her features, making her look taller and more dignified. Her hair is piled atop her head in a mass of braids that are difficult to untangle with the eyes. Jewels at the end of long hair-pins make a corona on the top.

She finishes with the pencils and tosses it atop her clothes, "I'm done, I'm done."

She looks across the room with dark irritation on her brow.

After waiting a moment, Echo follows Gerst through the door, and towards the receptionist. As Echo crosses the room he observes its other occupants. He stops further back than the others from the receptionist, acting like a valet waiting for the passenger’s next request.

Lobby

--------------------------------

"Well there seems to have been some kind of mistake then. We where assured that a time had been made for us to see her excellency and that our business proposition would be most welcomed... besides it wont take long, 10 minutes should suffice."

Nir deliberatly dodged the question about the name, if they don't think too much about it they will hopefully forget for any future interrogation, best to keen them talking about the more pressing matter of getting to see the Hutt.

The receptionist looks at the group with a little fear on her face. As she sees one of them look about like he's 'casing the joint', her hand as subtly as possible slides a few fingers under the edge of the desk, as she forces a weak smile, "Let me just quickly call Ms Gaelka's secretary, we can see where perhaps the ball got dropped. Do be patient, please, I'll just be a moment."

She touches the headset at her ear, but her eyes don't leave the group, darting between them. TaggeCo was a good respectable company! Why would they send these... things as representatives?

"Hello... yes, hello Meris, I have a Mister... Mister Vayjay here with some companions, they say they had an appointment to speak with Ms Gaelka? I'm not seeing it on... yes... hmm..."

Atha...

He whispers slinking as near to her as the cuff on his ankle will allow.

...your hair. You know as well as I how it is when that Hutt is dis-plea-sed.

The last word he stretches out like it's foul ooze squirting from his lips...

Here i'll fix it...

Deception vs guard's vigilance: 3eA+3eD 1 success, 2 threat

Nir watches calmly as the receptionist speaks, seeing the guards distracted he takes his opportunity

"Mam, excuse me mam" Nir waits a moment for her to stop speaking before laying the Charm on thick "Mam, the attention to detail you have put into your personal appearance is astonishing, with such care you must be exelent at distinguishing between respectable and untrustworthy folks. As you can clearly see I work for a respectable company and come here to make an honest negotiation on the purchase of some legitimate goods. Her excellence would be most wise to hear our proposal"

A quick glance across at the guards shows them to still be occupied, this should be ok if they can just get inside and keep the eyes on Nir.

The receptionist, still on the phone holds up a finger to ask the Bothan to wait, but then blushes, and smiles, and drops the finger, and speaks into the phone again, "Meris? Really, you're sure? There must be a mistake. TaggeCo... yes... oh, well, pencil them in, hmm? For me?" she laughs into the phone, and grins, "Thanks, Meris."

She hangs up the phone, and looks at the Bothan again with a wry smile, "I don't swing your direction, hon, but you're a sweetheart for trying." She winks.

Before she can open the doors, however, they open of their own accord, and a tall gentleman - of a surety, a gentleman, in his tailored suit and retired rear admiral stripes - exits, his face dark, with his immaculately manicured nails resting just above a pistol holstered at his belt. Following behind him are ten security guards, who quickly and serenely station themselves in containing positions around the door and the lobby.

"Ms Thule," the admiral speaks with a soft tenor, "Are these..." he looks at the motley group with a slight sneer, "... people... causing trouble?"

Ms Thule, the receptionist looks up at the man and immediately stands and bows, "Majordomo, no, they are... I was just... calling so you could check their Identification. I don't have them in our security system."

The Majordomo frown, and clucks his tongue, looking the group over, speaking still to Ms Thule, the way one speaks about unruly children without ever actually addressing the children, "What business do these have with Lady Gaelka?"

SLAVE'S QUARTERS

----------------------------

The guard says nothing, eyes still trained on the performer. Atha looks back, on the other hand, with something between confusion and suspicion. This slave... he was not a hairdresser, why did he want to get close to her? Little petty rivalries between the various performers were only natural in an environment where the Mistress growing bored with you could very well mean a one way trip to the Spice Mines. Or worse. But none of the other performers were particularly stupid, and this seemed so obviously to be a ruse, that she had trouble imagining any of them trying something so blatant.

She stares the man down, as she pats her hair, lowering a brow and following him intently, "It feels fine to me. As if I haven't done it a sight more times than you, I'm sure."

But she pauses a moment - deceptive or honest, it made sense to play along and understand what was going on...

Seeing that the guard's attention is elsewhere, he sits by the bars and begins his ruse.

Misss, Your curls are ajar.

His wilting voice suddenly drops an octave. Serious and sure he whispers,

There is something you need to know, but we know the economy here misssss... I need a small favor in repayment.

Come, come I ain't gonna bite.

He waves her over nonchalantly.

The guard turns to speak to one of the other guards - or more accurately to stare intently at them, and produce a ***** mix of utterly undecipherable pungent odors. One of the other slaves, a Devaronian pit fighter named Luk rolls over in his bed at this, and growls, "F***ing stink in here, smells like wrinkle-faces."

The dancer frowns harder, suspiciously at the man, but ambles closer to him, on her guard, "What's this... information I need?" She stands within reach of the man, at a stretch of his chain.

Play along so we aren't noticed ok? ...and you do have a loose curl.

He reaches out and touches her shoulder gently trying to spin her back to him.

Do you like it here? You might get an opportunity to upgrade your existence... If you'd fancy that. However if this is fine for you just ignore me and I'll cease being a bother.

Lobby

----------------------------------------------

Nir's attention immediately turns to this new and clearly far more powerful individual. Without waiting on the receptionist to provide introductions he launches into his pre planed deception "Ahh, Major-domo, we are here on behalf of TaggeCo with the express purpose of negotiating the acquisition of a shipment of production output increasing stimulants... legal of course" It may have be the last line, perhaps it was Nir's tone, but that did not appear to convince the major-domo in the slightest...

The majordomo looks at sir, with something between irritation and disgust. "Ah. I see. Well, come along then..."

As he says this however, a long dark speeder pulls in front of the building, and two men with briefcases get out, striding confidently into the front doors.

"Lenny!" he raises a hand jovially toward the Majordomo, who smiles - its a polite smile, only, but at least not a hostile one.

"Mr Hokk, The Lady has been waiting for you."

Danfor looks a little nervous at this, but smiles with the determined false smile of a salesman, "Oh, she'll understand when we meet. This deal is worth waiting for!"

The majordomo looks at Nir and his band of interlopers, and gestures towards the chairs, where the nervous looking Twi'lek woman sits, miserably clutching her bag, "Gentlemen, if you'd sit down, I'll have to see these gentlemen up. I will have someone retrieve you for screening in just a few minutes. In the meantime... make yourself comfortable." The icy tone does not imply an actual desire for comfort for the guests, but hey, its something.

The dancer makes a bemused face, the face of someone who knows the power of her looks. "Why, how kind of you to notice. I'm sure you can straighten it without my turning around, be a dear won't you?"

She leans in close then, the thick smell of 'Yavini Flower' perfume coming from the soft spots of her neck, her breath warm across the other slave's cheek. Her hands, however carry the casual poise of a dancer - ready to act if necessary.

Gerst scowls. "If this is going to take so long, we're going to need to repark. Come on, you," he gestures bluntly to Echo as he head back out the front door, bristling with very real irritation.

What is this dancer's kriffing problem... A tic causes his brow to momentarily crinkle. The only thing that gives away his inner frustration.

The one's who live closest to the master, inevitably pick up bits of their attitude, I'll never get used to it even though I've seen it many times before. Why this women has any pride in being a slave is beyond me.

He starts off calmly, knowing it's going to take some work to get her to do what he wants.

Atha right? Your name right? Beautiful...

He lets that last word linger.

...fit for a princess... Don't you think?

He pauses letting it sink in, but not long enough for her to realize he's just buttering her up.

Speaking of...

He reaches out and slowly caresses her face putting a curl back behind her ear.

I know a gentleman, I don't know when... It could be soon.

Let this puzzle her, let her guess where this is going. Let her grab the hook and pull.

But he's heading here, I know I caught a glimpse of the coming schedule for meetings. He's a a bit of a figure in r Bothan colonies, and with more than a bit of money. He doesn't know both his importance and wealth are about to increase beyond his wildest dreams.

Your wondering who am I, how do I know this, and why would I care about you miss... Am I right? Do you know what I do when they take me out of this cage? Hmmm?

He adjusts another of her locks, fiddling with a one of the long sharp pins but decided on palming a Bobby pin as instead.