Mission 003: The Nar Shaddaa Op
The air scrubbers were never quite able to keep up with the pollutants belching from industrial sectors on Nar Shaddaa. Sixty-three winced, blinking her irritated eyes rapidly as the open air taxi sped along the garish advertisement-laden route before delivering her to a posh district on the smuggler’s moon. Zipping up her jacket, the Operative slipped in with the shoppers winding through the bustling marketplace. She purchased a small bag of muja fruit, carrying the bag tucked under her arm, mimicking the other shoppers, snacking on one as she made her way to the target’s palatial estate.
The grounds surrounding the residence were surprisingly extensive given the population density. In a small, neighboring alley Sixty-three stepped into the darkness, setting down the bag of muja and activated her stealth generator, the small disc on her belt hummed as it scanned her before clicking into standby mode. The Operative retrieved her innocuous looking datapad and with a few clicks booted into the smaller, clandestine operating system that hid the tools of her craft. It took seventeen minutes for her to find a vulnerable port, exploit its weakness and infiltrate the Hutt estate’s network; an additional three to access the live video feed. She flipped through each camera’s view repeatedly, letting the images form a three dimensional map in her mind. The main structure held the conference room and a number of larger public spaces for entertaining, Sixty-three noted several guards standing along the hallways and a Gamorrean patrolling with a chained Akk dog.
The Operative selected her infiltration route and accessed the surveillance feed monitoring the west terrace. She grinned, recognizing the system the Hutts had installed, a very expensive, customized piece of software sitting atop an archaic and low end base system. “Tsk Tsk” Sixty-three said mockingly at the code, “this is what happens when you cut costs.” Locating the options for the base system had been simple enough, and setting the camera’s option to display a still image of the quiet entrance every forty seconds rather than a live feed. The Operative stood, exiting the Hutt’s network, leaving no sign of intrusion and reverted her datapad to its standard functionality before tucking it into her hip pouch. She gathered her thoughts for a moment, focused on her breathing and drew on the fiery rage within. She allowed it to blossom in her chest before extending her senses outward. Sixty-three knew it was unlikely that there were Force users present but she left nothing to chance. Satisfied she was the only Force user she quickly made her way to the west terrace, noting the timing on her chronometer she propelled herself over the high terrace wall with the Force’s assistance, landing and rolling to the wall beneath the camera in time to hear it hum and update the feed’s image. The Operative activated her stealth generator and moved cautiously into the main dwelling. The hallways, wide enough to accommodate an adult hutt, gave her plenty of room to slowly maneuver past the disinterested guards, her soft-soled boots leaving only a faint whisper against the stone tile floor.
Thirty steps and she was through the conference room’s doorway, stepping left and looking to the right, noting with satisfaction the guard, right where they were supposed to be. She paused a moment, quelling the mounting excitement as she took in the room’s layout. Sixty-three took a single step forward as she caught movement from her periphery atop the conference table, she halted immediately as her eyes widened. Perched at the edge of the table was a vibrantly orange-haired Kowakian monkey-lizard gleefully tearing petals off flowers that once belonged in the arrangement at the table’s center. She glanced over at the guard who stood immobile and indifferent. Slowing her movement considerably she moved deeper into the room, checking the stealth generator’s power against the chronometer on her wrist. ‘Eleven minutes.’ she thought, ‘Eleven minutes to plant the device and exit.’ Heavy footfalls punctuated by skittering claws echoed off the stones in the hall, growing louder as they approached.
Sixty-three moved as quickly as she dared toward the conference table, crouching to a near crawl as she moved underneath. With silent, practiced movement she retrieved the minuscule transmitter from a hidden belt compartment. She slowly felt along the underside, before finding a small imperfection in the lush Orowood table and pressing the small rounded end into the tiny crevasse. The transmitter’s bulb split silently, the clear liquid sealant securing the device to the wood as it activated. The Operative waited for what seemed like an eternity before the Gamorrean and chained akk entered the room, the porcine guard barking something to the stationary human who responded with a rather rude Huttese insult. The two exchanged heated words that Sixty-three barely heard as her attention was fixed solely on the akk dog excitedly sniffing the air. ‘The muja…’ The gravity of her oversight slammed into her like a heavy dead weight as a second idea came to her. With no time to waste the Operative closed her eyes, letting her frustration and fear bolster her as she reached out to the mind of the Kowakian with a simple illusion, turning the control box on the Akk’s shock collar into a plump, juicy muja fruit, the shiny red skin near bursting with ripened sweetness.
An ear-splitting shriek drowned out the bickering guards as the Kowakian flew off the table and onto the Akk’s back, screeching and clawing at its collar. The Akk, for its part, tried to throw off the nuisance by shaking itself violently and charging its handler. While the two guards frantically tried to break up the altercation, Sixty-three slid out from under the table and moved silently out of the room and down the hall, deftly avoiding the additional guards rushing by. The Operative paused at the west terrace door, watching the multiple chronometers on her bracer carefully. One timing the security camera, the other noting the stealth generator’s power. She counted down, waited for the still image to complete and then launched herself over the side of the terrace, using the Force to slow her descent to the ground. She exited the grounds, retrieved her bag of muja fruit, enjoying another with a satisfied grin and she sent a quick encrypted transmission to the untraceable dead drop account which read simply, “Objective Complete.”