A read-only archive of discourse.darkjedibrotherhood.com as of Sunday May 01, 2022.

[July Pilot] Contract 035: Kordath Bleu d’Tana - Infiltration, A-Class


ACB Contract Offices
Lower Levels, Arcona Citadel
Estle City, Selen

As soon as the Knight left his office, Celevon took a drag off of his cigarette as he felt the approach of an even more familiar presence. That of his old Battleteam Leader, who had ultimately stepped down from the position following Operation: Sojourn.

The Onderonian grabbed a certain datapad and withstood the urge to grin. As soon as the Ryn crossed the threshold, Celevon lobbed the datapad at his former Commander, striking the other male in the chest.

“What the he-”

“Just checking your reflexes,” the Assassin interrupted the member of Dark Forge. “You should pick up that datapad, as it contains the details of your mission.”

“What mission?” the Ryn asked, looking highly confused.

“Well, seeing as this is the Contract Bureau, I presume you’re here for a mission,” Celevon drawled in a highly sarcastic manner, twirling a small dagger between his fingers.

The Krath gave the Prelate a wary look, his eyes never leaving those of his former XO as he grabbed the datapad and activated it.

Mission: Infiltration, A-Class
Target: Xera Weapons Division, Coruscant Underworld
Specifics: Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to infiltrate and steal several prototype weapons at the location.
Suspected Resistance: Light/Medium. Though it is located in the Core Worlds, this location has lackluster security. The most you can expect are underpaid guards, which will happily attack any intruders in the hopes of a pay bonus.

“Dare I ask why you chose this one for me?” Kordath asked, raising an eyebrow at the Onderonian.

“Don’t think I forgot about your sticky fingers so quickly,” Celevon smirked, still absently twirling the dagger. “I want you to rig some type of explosive and make it look like an accident to cover your presence there. As I know you dislike utilizing your lightsaber unless as a last resort, try not to leave any evidence that leads back to Force Users.”

“Any other advice, Edraven?”

“Just inform me when your mission has been completed. You can see yourself out.”


Kordath grumbled to himself as he settled into the small space he had managed to clear in the cargo hold. Pulling out the datapad with the mission details out again, keeping the light from it shaded with his cloak, he reviewed it for the fifth time since leaving Selen.

In an effort to keep his trail as muddled as possible, in case something went wrong, the Ryn had forgone most…conventional travel means, hopping freighters and transport ships as he found ones headed corewards. The Krath would be loathe to admit to anyone else, but this trip was so far quite enjoyable, nobody was bothering him, and it was incredibly reminiscent of his life prior to the Brotherhood. The difference this time being that he knew how to enter trances, and to meditate, and if it came down too it, actually pay for transport. Not that he had so far.

A life lesson learned early in life, at least in the life of a drifter like Bleu, had been the amazing qualities of maintenance overalls in spaceports, as well as grease smudges and dirt on the face. It helped you blend into the crowd of workers, it helped keep you from being to identifiable, as well. Carry a few crates up the boarding ramp, wander off and keep quiet, and you found yourself on your way.

If he’d read the departure information correctly, this should be the last leg to Coruscant, in a few hours the ship would settle into an industrial slip somewhere in the factory district of the mega city. Glancing at the pad again, he wondered how difficult it would be to find this ‘Xera’ place, Coruscant was an unfamiliar world for the Ryn. Blending in wouldn’t be difficult, he knew, the place had more species then anywhere else in the galaxy.

“Underworld…he specifically says it’s in the underworld,” muttered the Knight, “being Coruscant, does that mean sub-levels or the more criminally inclined areas, I wonder.”

With a sigh, the Ryn sat back, attempting to make himself comfortable between a pair of cargo crates, and worked his way through meditations and focus exercises.

A sudden jolt of movement brought Kordath out of the peaceful inner world he’d been building for himself over the past couple of hours. Gathering his few belongings, a pair of knives, his old lockpick set, the datapad and bundling his cloak up to stick into his overalls, he readied himself for ‘departure’. This meant moving more crates, but physical labor helped the Ryn’s mind work better anyways.

Quietly slipping himself into the train of laborers and droids unloading the ship, the Krath wandered off nonchalantly into the nearby porter area. Luggage, crates, cages with exotic animals, every direction he looked something could be found, an organized chaos swirling out the open hangar doors and onto the landing areas. Picking his way through, the Ryn kept his eyes open for anything he could quietly acquire to aid in his mission, grabbing a pair of heavy duty gloves off the top of a crate as he passed.

A few more steps saw a battered sack with a shoulder strap be slung across his torso, and as he wandered past the ever intrusive customs station, a worn cap, black in color, was scooped up and placed over his shock of hair. Customs could be a problem, for the unprepared vagrant traveler, but Kordath had been doing this since he was barely a teenager, he knew ways around this variety of problem.

Security guards stood at the doors, two doors, four guards, he watched as the clerks doing the actual talking would inspect a worker to insure that they were not walking out with any of the goods, and then wave them on. A guard would take an id chip attached to a lanyard on his belt, swipe it over a small box on the wall, and the door would open.

The Knight ran through the mental checklist of options…fire? How to start it…explosion? No munitions seemed to be coming through this checkpoint, unfortunately, use the Force to cause a distraction? More then likely such actions would draw attention on a world such as this, and dealing with Jedi was so far up on the ‘things are frakked’ list that he didn’t want to think to hard on it.

So, the Ryn decided to fall back on the classic, the reliable, brawl method. Two porters were moving a crate on a hover lift, their uniforms marked them as company men, not port workers. Kordath smiled as he watched the lift get maneuvered past a group of men dealing with a stack of boxes, casually making his way over to them. As he passed the lift, the Ryn stuck out a foot, tripping one of the porters, who grabbed at his hover lift to avoid the floor, an automatic reaction, swerving the lift towards the other workers, and their cargo.

Kordath whistled to himself quietly as he kept walking, hearing the crash of crates and boxes, curses, and the easily identifiable sound of a fist breaking someone’s nose. Several men rushed out from the customs office, security officers by the look of them, to break up the fight. Kordath stepped aside for them as they hurried past, one hand quickly snagging a lanyard and the attached chip. Not looking back to inspect his handiwork, the Ryn hurried on, pushing past several men who were arguing with a clerk, palming the chip to the security box on the wall, and stepping outside.

He dropped the chip, it wouldn’t be able to get him back off the planet, he was certain of that, and quickly walked away from the building. Taking random turns, down unfamiliar streets, the Ryn felt confident once he was several blocks away that he’d gotten through without trouble. Stepping off the sidewalk and into a small tapcafe, he felt himself shudder and sat down quickly, feeling the adrenaline drain from him. Perhaps the Brotherhood was making him soft, he thought wryly, if simply getting through customs was enough to give him this kind of a rush again.

'Well,’ the Ryn thought*,‘I’ve made it on to the planet…’* he turned, looking out the window of the tapcafe, and let out a long, low whistle as he took in the view.

‘And what a planet…I thought Nar Shaddaa back in the old days was crowded looking. This could be interesting.’


It had been three days since Kordath had made landfall on Coruscant, and so far it had been uneventful for him. No interactions with the law, no Jedi sightings, and as he crouched behind a low wall upon the roof of a building, no problem finding the target location. Finding the particulars on Xera Industries as a whole on the holo-net hadn’t been a problem, it was a publicly traded company that made weapons both for private and military markets. Such companies attempt to be as transparent as possible most of the time, if for no other reason then to keep the government from taking a close look at the projects that might not be quite legal.

They’re had been news stories attached to the name, concerning rumors of ‘spectacular new weapon designs’ and ‘cutting edge technology to keep soldiers safe!’ Kordath had thus far been unable to find any real information pertaining to the supposed prototypes, but it was looking promising. The weapons division or Xera Industries lay on the other side of a tram line, across from his position. Drab gray buildings, low to the ground, dotted the small, gated facility. He’d rounded the place once so far, checking for more entrances then the obvious main gate, but in the two days he’d been staking it out, he’d only seen it be used. There didn’t seem to be a delivery entrance, or any thing else.

He glanced at the battered sack sitting on the roof next to him, smiling and shaking his head. After leaving the tapcafe a few days ago, he had dumped it out behind a dumpster in a nearby alleyway. The first thing he found had been a datapad, a quick check through it had at first confused him, pictures of wild animals, lists of habitats and habits alongside them. Further inspection of the contents suggested some poor tourist or game hunter was going to be without his handbook, as well as a wide-brimmed hat that had several tacky feathers sticking out of it. No weapon was in the sack, which didn’t surprise the Ryn, only a fool tried to ship weapons through customs like that.

What he did find that was useful he made a note to himself to start putting in his own kit for these little excursions. The compact set of macro-binoculars had amazing resolution, picking out the individual hairs on the chubby face of the human security guard working the main gate. His jowls shook as he laughed to himself, telling what he must have considered quite a good joke to an annoyed looking Twi’lek in similar attire next to him. Kordath had watched these two for a couple of shifts now, the human seemed easily entertained, and the Twi’lek easily annoyed. They seemed to be the primary patrol squad of the small facility, usually leaving another guard at the gate, and from what he could tell, that was all.

The Krath had found a way to drop down from one of the higher buildings behind the compound, and had secured himself a cable and makeshift hook earlier in the day to accomplish this task. If he was fortunate, no interactions with the guards would occur. If not so lucky…well, the Ryn knew he’d have to just deal with that if it came up; he’d trust his senses to keep him out of trouble, though without knowing the layout of the actual buildings, this entire mission was foolish. All the information on the holo-net he could find, none of it provided floor plans, it was almost rude of them to make this difficult, he thought.

Checking his kit, stowing the binoculars, sliding the two knives up the sleeves of his maintenance jumpsuit, which after some effort was somewhat cleaner, and pulling the black cap down over his ears a bit, he set out to his insertion point.

A quick, careful swing of his rope and grapnel, with just a nudge of assistance from the Force, it latched onto the frame of what the Krath believe to be a communications array. Affixing the other end of the rope to a bit of pipe, he made his way into the compound, climbing down the short tower to the rooftop of one of the smaller buildings. Kordath closed his eyes as he laid himself down on the roof, reaching out through the Force to feel his surroundings; there was a man in the building below him, bored and watching something on the holo instead of the monitors that showed the security cams in the facility. Chubs and the Twi’lek were making their rounds through the buildings, currently near the front of the compound; the man in the booth at the main gate was fantasizing about…about Chubs’ wife it seemed, the Ryn realized in terror as he withdrew into his own head again and shuddered.

Slipping off the roof, he made for the nearest building, one he assumed was the main building due to the size and it’s proximity to the center of the compound. Glancing about more out of habit then actual paranoia, he reached into his sack to pull out his lock picks, before trying the knob and finding the door unlocked. He sighed, putting the tools back and pressed onwards, noting as he entered the security cam in the corner of the first room he entered, and grumbled as it rotated slightly to track him.

‘Movement tracking, oh great, bet it’s got an alarm as well to let the guy back in the booth know somebody is in here,’ thought the Ryn, sighing again as he looked around the room. He wasn’t sure how fast the patrolling pair could get to him, but he was certain he could cook something up in time…ah, closet, he spotted with a wide grin.

Rog Nost, a Corporal in the Coruscanti police force, was moonlighting again as a security guard tonight, enjoying the status that being an actual cop got him while on this job. Nobody might respect him when he was doing his usual beat, he might get yelled at everyday by his superiors, and his wife was frigid everyday but payday, but here, here they let him be in charge. Walking behind him a few feet, making funny faces at the back of Rog’s head, was Rayf Karimm, first week on the job for the Twi’lek, and he had to take lessons from the fat human that walked with an air about him that would put ancient Kings from Tion to shame.

Wondering idly if he could get away with using his stung stick on the Corporal and claiming Rog had stumbled into an exposed electrical cable, his happy day dream was interrupted by the chirp of the comlink on his belt. Rayf let out a sigh as he reached for it.

“Oh-ho, Private Karimm! What’s on the comms hmm?” asked Nost, turning with a grin. Rayf hated that the man called him Private, he was a Security Officer, not a damn soldier.

He smiled the toothy smile that only a Twi’lek could pull off, “Well, SIR, if you allow me to answer before you start asking me, like you’ve done EVERY single time this thing has made noise, I’m certain I’d have an answer for you. Probably by the time we we’re done talking about this, I’d have had time to let you know. Amazing really, how much time could be saved by doing these things in the proper order, you fat, disgusting, nephew of a Hutt.”

That’s what Rayf wanted to say, with all his heart, but he was newly married, the job was needed. Instead, he gritted his teeth and didn’t look the man in the eye, ‘Don’t know sir, let me check…this Karimm,’ he said, speaking into the comlink, ‘Uh-huh, yes, okay, got it, on our way.’

“Well?” asked the human, hitching the belt carrying his blaster and stunstick back up to his ample gut once more.

Rayf mentally counted down from five, a habit that was making Rog think his Twi’lek trainee was a bit soft in the head, “Seems we’ve got an intruder in the facility, over in manufacturing.”

“Over in manufacturing…,” said Nost, obviously waiting for something more.

Gritting his teeth, Karimm managed to force out, “Over in manufacturing…sir.”

“Great, let’s go bust some heads, Private, hah hah!”

Kordath could feel them coming before they busted through the door, the Twi’lek holding a light and a stunstick, Chubs with his pistol out, set to kill. He’d had a few minutes to slip into character, and cowered appropriately, holding a mop up in front of him in terror and backing against the wall.

“Please don’t shoot me! Oh gods no what did I do?” he shrieked, much to the chagrin of Nost, who cringed at the high whistles that came from the distressed Ryn’s fluted nose. Kordath learned a long time ago that such sounds bothered humans for some reason, maybe it reminded them of what it sounded like when a bird got sucked into a speeders intake.

Rayf rallied first, lowering the light from the Ryn’s face, but keeping his stick up, 'Calm down! What are you doing here? This is a secure facility you know!”

Rog wasn’t far behind though, glaring at the Twi’lek for stealing his thunder, 'Yeah! What are you doing here, gypsy scum?” he growled out.

“Gyp…what?” said Kordath, feigning confusion, “I work, what it look like?”

The Knight waved the map at the fat human, giving Rayf a ‘is this guy for real?’ look. The Twi’lek wasn’t paying attention, instead looking at the Corporal.

“Gypsy? What the hel…what does that even mean? Sir?” he added quickly as he saw the redness spreading across his superior’s splotchy features.

“One of them Ryn, he is, thieves, wanderers, vagrants, we should take him in, surely he’s done something wrong. Got any warrants out there, little Rat?” asked Nost, smirking.

“Rat? What? No, no warrants, and no vagrant, I work, I have house, wife, many children, no thief!”

Rog shook his head, walking a slow circle around the Ryn, stopping for a moment to use grip of his pistol to smack the Krath in the back, driving him to his knees.

Kordath grunted as he hit the ground, he hated method acting that involved taking a hit that he could have easily dodged, the fat man could be on the floor dead already, but that would be messy. And the Twi’lek didn’t seem to deserve it; social engineering it was to be then, decided the Ryn.

“So you’re working, pushing a mop, huh? In a secure facility, without ANY of us knowing you’re here, eh? Sure, surrrre mate,” said the human, obviously enjoying himself.

Rayf was watching him now, the Ryn noticed, eying him suspiciously again.

“Yes, push mop, sent by service to push mop!”

“What service?” asked Karimm, before Nost could smack the Ryn again.

“Repair people, droid who do work normally, no work right!”

Rog snorted a laugh, “So you’re here to do droid work? Pathetic. And a bad lie too, only one service droid in the plant, saw him earlier, he ain’t broke, rat.”

Kordath let his jaw drop in a portrait of fake amazement, looking up at the Twi’lek, “Partner is racist, how you work with him?” This earned another smack on the back of his head.

“Fat man thinks all droids same? Thinks all Ryn thieves! Just because two droids on plant, same model type, must be same droid, stupid fat man,” grumbled the Krath, cradling his head, and grunting as a boot was driven into his side.

“Sir…are you sure there’s only one droid?” asked Rayf, “I’ve only been here a few days, nobody filled me in on the droid roster.”

“Course human didn’t tell you about droids, why he care? Droids not human, not people,” muttered Kordath, trying to roll with the next kick, knowing that by the time this was done, his ribs would be bruised.

“Now that’s just im-po-lite of you, rat, course droids ain’t people,” growled Nost, pulling his stunstick from his belt.

Kordath looked up, glaring at the man, 'Droid not people. Ryn not people. I work, clean floor, clean 'fresher stations, you kick me. I do nothing wrong, you racist, bad man! Only Human are people to you!”

The Krath missed the next bit, as the stun stick caused his synapses to flicker a bit, but when cognitive thought became stable again it was apparent that an argument was occurring.

“–disrespectful little stain! Put that damn stick away unless you plan on using it!”

“Sir, I’m just saying you might be going a bit overboard, if you hurt him…well he might sue the company or something? I’m not sure what he can do, but we ARE on camera, sir!”

“Fine, ya know what, I’m going to the comm booth and getting some of my buddies down here to take him in and to check the logs, see if somebody lets this little rat in,” growled Nost, “you keep an eye on him!”

Rayf nodded as the man left, before turning to help the downed Ryn back up. His eyes widened in shock before he collapses to the ground, the stunstick having been shoved into his gut hard enough to leave a smoking hole in the fabric of his uniform. Kordath shoved him into the mop closet, locking the door and muttering an apology before grabbing up his sack, and taking up the Twi’lek’s blaster pistol. He was on a timetable now, he knew, the cops would be coming. Time to find some experimental weapons and blow this place up.


~Contract Forfeit by request

Grade: Incomplete (-2)