Rothana was as hostile as it got. A pro-Republic, anti-Sep planet fully on board with the Empire. It was hard to argue with the hand that feeds, and Rothana did big business as a subsidiary of Kuat Drive Yards.

So an agent, even one with a legitimate diplomatic cover as a Senator's entourage, in this case his driver and pilot, kept a low profile.

Much of his work here was not the usual; in those instances, he would rub shoulders with swoopers and smugglers, fellow Huttese speakers, and form some bonds and maybe start the process of establishing information brokering with them. Rothana, however, was a fortress world of the Empire, and so it required a degree of delicacy.

It was a heavy research world, so surveillance was a given. And while Clang was a pilot first, he knew through previous experience how to identify undercover surveillance and then had the benefit of training for this role. It wasn't a volunteerism thing; they had to pry him out of an X-wing cockpit and transfer him. But it was an important job and senators needed good pilots too. The trick here wasn't watching for surveillance, it was identifying the surveillance and its quality without giving any indication that they were actually aware of it. It was the cat and mouse game, and the Rebels working for Senator Ordo were content to catalogue the extent of their tails for if and when they needed to do something about it.

The Rothanans were so heavy on security that the supply of counterintelligence agents, especially their best, could not keep up with demand. It was a droid heavy surveillance net. Omnipresent, but automated and therefore vulnerable. On the other hand, despite the puckered, monocultural nature of the New Order, with its uniforms, marching in lockstep and everything running on time, there was still a seamy underbelly; it was, after all, the Outer Rim. It was muted compared to a Hutt-run planet, but the gamblinng dens, prostitution, loan sharking and smuggling of things, mostly drugs, continued unabated. In fact, Rothana probably had more of it before, because the Empire clamped down on people's lives and that miasma of fear led to people seeking their diversions a little harder...particularly on a company world where the company culture was also relentless and highly competitive.

And so his mission was to run back and forth. Someone needed takeout food? Clang. Someone needed any sort of shopping? Clang. The others were involved in driving, dropping off and running errands, and this was how they were able to notice patterns in their surveillance as well as lay down their own patterns, recon alternate routes that broke from the pattern if needed and, essentially, put their tails to sleep. Meanwhile, Clang made slow contact with guarded locals that were always worried that they might be talking to someone that was stooging for the Empire.

With a little luck and persistence, he'd already started to patronize a couple of these holes, the sort of seamy places that garnered little attention but where business was inevitably conducted. Then, with consultation with Leto, he'd started buying up the debt of a few low level types to start gathering information in exchange for easing their debt, slowly but surely.

Eventually, they got what they wanted, a contact with one of the local rebel groups through a local underworld lowlife after a bit of cat and mouse. The Senator was here to inspect Rothana's new line of small shuttle craft, a proposed upgrade to the old LAAT/i dropship, and the Senator was in a committee that could theoretically fund such a thing, but the real job was to establish lines of communication with local Rothanan resistance cells. After the Kamino uprising, Rothana fell out of favor, and there were hard feelings about it as other companies, core worlds more entrenched with the Empire, received more and more of the business.

A meeting now and, perhaps, down the line, smuggled equipment for the Rebels? Perhaps an underworld buy. It was all possible once Senator Ordo or one of his functionaries had a high level enough meeting where they'd work to bring the local into the Rebel Alliance fold.

"Jojako Harlush at the Rokarokatusawa. He wants a time to meet." He reported the others in the common area of their starship, which was, in addition to being fast and stately for the purposes of a Senator, also shielded from eavesdropping. Clang spoke Huttese; it was a lingua franca in the parts of the Rim he came from. His squadron, the Intruders, spoke it in the X-wings, to the despair of the core worlder military command establishment. It was a collection of pirates, smugglers and other ne'er to do wells, but once in X-wings, they also took to the hit and fade nature of the war. There was a bit of a twinge of loss that he felt over being transferred, but he shoved that well down to the back of his mind.

"That translates to the Brain Damage Bar," he added, with a grin.

@jackdaw@ethanjory@gunther@captainbritton@sanity43217@jester

"After performing our due diligence," Etain Leto, counterespionage specialist and the 6th Detail's lead intelligence officer, chimed in, "we've learned that the Rokarokatusawa serves a drink called the Rancor Shot, which may have enough alcohol in it to actually cause brain damage. We'd suggest a round of those after the meeting, not during." A few laughs went around the conference.

"In all seriousness," he said after a moment, "we've vetted both the contact and the meeting point. Ryella, if you could?"

At the sound of her name, the blue-skinned Twi'lek woman to Leto's left placed a holoprojector on the table. A nondescript human face flickered into blue existence. "Thank you. This is our contact. He's an officer with the Parcossis Valley Militia. They're disorganized, but they have a lot of blasters which makes this a good connection. He's got a good amount of influence among the PVM leadership, so this should be a productive conversation."

"Beyond that, the location itself is also good," Leto opined, tapping the holoprojector. The image switched over to a projection of a building, the bar. "Low profile bar, not too high end, not too low end, low traffic most times of day. Whatever the time of the meet, we can have a team on the ground three hours in advance to take care of our security protocols. All in all, this should be a milk run."

His presentation done, he tapped the holoprojector off and slid it back toward the Twi'lek. "Thank you, gentlemen," he said.

"I'm not completely unfamiliar with similar militia groups. The first operation that I ever conducted dealt with the pacification of a local cell of Separatist sympathizers, and that was shortly before the start of the Clone Wars."

Senator Dona Ordo had listened in relative silence for the entirety of the presentation that had been given by his subordinates. He was dressed rather casually for the meeting, but that was purely by choice. After nearly half his life wearing uniforms, he was more than eager to have some level of control over what he could wear. Besides, he had every intention to immediately change into his Senate formalwear following the conclusion of the meeting. As for the rest of his outward appearance, his prematurely graying dark brown hair was well coiffed, framing a cleanly shaven handsome face. This was only obfuscated by a discoloration of his skin that went from his right cheek and travelled the length of the right side of his body. This had been the result of third-degree burns caused by an injury gained during the Clone Wars, and the discoloration was all that remained after spending a lengthy period of time in a bacta tank near the conclusion of the war.

“In my experience, these insurgents are far too skittish in the presence of the Empire, even if it’s only a former Imperial officer that they have to contend with. My past isn’t exactly a secret throughout most of the Outer Rim.”

Once Dona had recovered from his wounds at the end of the Clone Wars, he had been placed in command of an Imperial strikeforce that was tasked with uprooting Separatist insurgent groups throughout the Outer Rim. Many labeled him as ruthless based on his draconian methods that were used to eradicate these terrorists, but he simply considered himself and his men to be efficient. Even to this day, there was nothing he would apologize for. A devastating galactic war had just taken place, and Dona had lost more friends than he would ever care to count. So, he was quite adamant to pacify the Outer Rim and help bring true peace to the galaxy. Of course, his current position within an organization that was fighting to undo that peace… well, that was an irony that wasn’t lost upon him.

“I’ll allow Leto to lead this entire operation as it concerns making contact with this… Harlush. I’d prefer to have a line in with the leadership of this militia sooner rather than later. At the same time, don’t allow my desire of expediency to be a blank check. The ISB can outperform us in terms of blackmail and coercion nine times out of ten. I’m already highly skeptical about this contact and his militia as it is.”

“I will be preoccupied with my official capacities as a senator for the most part. Keep me abreast of any significant developments by passing along any relevant information to Issmic and he’ll notify me of anything that I need to know.” With that, he motioned to his personal assistant who wasn’t standing all that far away from him. He was also looking close to pulling him out of the meeting and placing him back on his senatorial schedule.

“I do want some skin in this game,” Dona concluded, with half a smile.

Remi Vando had been in some shitty situations in his life and this wasn’t one of them. He admired Senator Ordo and felt honored to be on his PSD. He would do whatever it took to protect the man’s life including diving on a thermal detonator if needed. I would give my life for him, was his personal Creed while serving as a Personal Security Officer. He honestly hoped it would never come to that, but was mentally prepared in the event it should come down to it. He spent five years with the Rebel Pathfinders and saw this opportunity as an avenue for self-improvement. He had no desire to serve in government, but sought to improve his skills where it came to providing security and building his body to be a better soldier.

He was not completely interested in the contents of the meeting, but felt it necessary to hear what was going on or more specifically, where the Senator was heading. He could then research their destination as well as the route they were taking to determine what threats might possibly be along their path.

Remi kept his HL-27 blaster hidden under his coat. The weapon was small and easy to conceal. It had been a gift from Senator Ordo when he came to this detachment two years ago. A small vibro-blade was strapped to his back under his jacket as a back up, just in case he needed it. Other weapons were kept in other locations, to be used when needed. For now, he did not require an arsenal, keep it simple for close in security.

Remi spoke quietly to Garith Calman so as not to disturb the meeting. “I need to go use the ‘fresher. I’ll do a perimeter sweep while I am gone.” He left the room and headed to the Refresher in order to relieve his bladder and then walked around the outside of the briefing room. He checked the corridor outside the room and then the doors leading inside. There were people walking about, as though they belong. He did not see anything out of the ordinary and returned to the meeting room.

@CaptainBritton

Issmic Bene stood behind the Senator, carefully taking notes and eyeing the ticking time, as the gathered conspirators plotted their next move. The only part that really perked his ears up was the Rancor Shot, which he made a mental note to sample before they left his wretched planet. His mind, instead of being here in the meeting room, was dwelling elsewhere. Issmic had to think hours, if not days, ahead of the schedule and, while he was certainly glad that the retired Rear Admiral was concerned and invested so deeply in the Rebel cause, he still had official business to attend to. If the Imperial Security Bureau figured out his true motives for going to this backwater world, then they would all be shot for treason.

Treason! To think that Chief Bene, the hero of Targis IV, could be considered a traitor was enough to make him laugh. He had given his youth, his happiness, his marriage, his entire life to the cause of the Galaxy. He had gone into battle against dozens of species in countless star systems to ensure that the Galaxy remained stable, so that the Peace of the Empire could be extended to every star that glimmered in the Heavens. The thanks he got? A medical discharge for a shattered leg (which, although reconstructed by droids, never quite felt the same again), no pension, and no working opportunities. He thanked Lady Luck every day that Senator Ordo, no greater friend and no worse foe, took pity upon his old adjutant and made him his Chief of Staff.

At the time, he wondered why he had been graced by his brother born from combat, but the reality soon dawned on him. The Senator needed to surround himself with people he could trust, and Issmic had proved it time and time again in those campaigns against the Seps. And he would continue to prove it, in his own way and in the capacity that he served, by making sure the Senator did not forget his obligations.

"If I may interject," The Personal Assistant, feeling all together ignored by the affairs of the Rebels, finally spoke up, "Senator, I must remind you that the meeting at the Rothanan Fleet Yards is time critical. We cannot afford to miss this obligation, and therefore I insist with much haste that we get onto it."

"They've got some blasters, but what's available on the black market here isn't what they would need to do more than hunt and peck occasionally," Clang was a flyboy, but he was also an ex-ganger and knew his way through the seamy underbelly of these places in a way that allowed him to feel situations out carefully. It was hard to say why, but Shan seemed to have a good instinct for sifting through the chaff to get at a decent seeming lead, "But what they really need is computing and communications equipment and the expertise to use them." Rothana was what amounted to a surveillance state, and the surveillance was sophisticated. It was a tall order, but the planet also was a high value target to compromise in such a fashion.

"Quid pro quo; we get them set up, they are able to reciprocate. That is the deal they want to hammer out." Rothana's air defenses were formidable to the point of making regular use of aerial combat vehicles or starfighters on a regular basis a good idea -- eventually, they'd pile on the resources and shoot everything out of the sky. These guys needed the technical assistance to become more sophisticated, to expand their capability to slice and spoof and allow movement. It might involve more than that, but that wasn't Shan's problem. His problem was this unit's mission of engaging in diplomacy of a decidedly dangerous sort.

He shrugged as the Senator's aide made it clear that the Senator himself should avoid the meeting; it made sense. The senator was watched. His staff were not as watched, and Rothana's surveillance systems were so large that there were, inevitably, gaps that they took advantage of. Sending the Senator to meet with others made sense. It would also mean that Clang was driving the Senator, and wouldn't be meeting these folks again.

"I'll transfer the contact info over to Leto and let him work it out; contact was made through underworld types. One other thing; the locals think that the local fixer might sell us out, if they think there is some profit in it. This broker in the initial contact, Dras Don, does not know on whose behalf I am working, but might have some inkling of what is afoot here." That was said with a shrug, "Still, they might try to fork us over to the local counterintelligence authorities. We let slip to Dras Don that the meet was going to be at the Rusty Rudder, another fine establishment. They're going to put locals on the surveillance to see if some bounty hunters working on contract for the ISB show up. If so, they want Dras Don taken out from our side, while they put out the word that spice dealers were getting very impatient about a short count. We would need to create the impression of a flurry of borrowing activity to support that. We've been very careful to control what he knows and who is exposed, but he's a loose end."

That, of course, was the dirty end of the business.

“I’ll have my team move on that information as soon as we have it in hand,” Leto said.

That was his role. Building connections, communicating, gathering intelligence, providing operational security. The security team, in the casually understood sense, meant men with blasters that protected the Senator when things went wrong. It was by Leto’s efforts, though, that they were largely superfluous. The best way to keep someone from getting killed is by avoiding situations that get people killed.

“Does your team need our support on this matter with Dras Don? We have people to spare.”