Moon Knight

"Nayc," Fett replied. "Must have a backdoor." It had been unfortunate that both of them had turned their attention to the datapad just in time for Seraph's arrival, but he was certain they would have noticed the arrival of multiple contacts through the camera display they had of the corridor outside. His chrono ticked 2300. "Well let's not keep him waiting," he said, standing up. He popped the strap on his sidearm holster to check the weapon's charge, having opted to leave behind the overt assault rifle he typically favored. This didn't smell like a trap, but he was a cautious man. The power pack read full just like it had last time he'd looked. ShadowFett palmed the datacard, returning the 'pad to his belt, then once Mirdala was ready they crossed the hall. The door slid open about a second after they arrived, and he discreetly slid the card back in the delivery slot as he entered a darkened room beyond. What had once been a residential room seemed to have been converted into an office of sorts, a broad desk facing the doorway flanked by two armed men silhouetted by the backlight of a small lamp on the desk itself. The light would have made their features indistinguishable and they stood perfectly still perhaps as an intimidation tactic, but Fett's visor adapted for the low-light automatically and defeated the illusion. "Let's hear it," he said to the guards tersely. To his disappointment the light went out and was replaced by a large blue-tinted hologram of a steel-masked face partially shrouded by a white hood. "Welcome, ShadowFett and Mirdala Ad'Goran," it spoke in the same doctored voice as the message they'd received. "I am Seraph. Some time ago I came upon proof that the Shadow's Gambit is in fact controlled by and funding the--" "Stop," Fett interrupted him. "I didn't come here in person to talk over holograms. Come on out." He beckoned to the door to the left of the desk, behind which he could quite clearly see Seraph's wireframe through his active penetrating radar. The hologram paused for a moment, then terminated and the lights came on dimly. The guards fidgeted, having to come to terms with the fact that these Mando'ade were a different breed than the others who had come through this office. The sense of control over the situation had already shifted away from them. After a moment the door opened and Seraph emerged, still masked and cloaked, though Fett of all people couldn't hold that against him. "You'll have to forgive the theatricality," Seraph spoke. The mask garbled his voice a bit, but it was much more human than in their previous correspondence. "We have to take precautions what with the sensitivity of our operations." "Cut to the chase," Fett said. "What's this about?" Seraph appraised him for a moment. "Very well. The Shadow's Gambit may by all appearances be owned and operated by a corporation, but its profits are going to the coffers of the Sith Empire through a man named Raynuk Montar, alias Darth Quietus. I suspect you already know this and you're here in an attempt to find a link to him so that you can collect on the enormous bounty on his head." ShadowFett stared silently at him from behind his buy'ce. "I was initially interested in finding Quietus -- who I can assure you is quite alive despite any reports to the contrary -- but now all I care about is the Gambit itself. Simply put, I want to cut off the revenue stream to the Sith," Seraph continued. "I will give you everything I have on Quietus, including what I believe to be a lead on tracking him down, in exchange for your assistance in completing my goals here."

"Ori'jate," Fett said as he retrieved the data card from the slot, confident that Mirdala's trick would be difficult to notice on the security cameras. It was a standard card devoid of markings -- any iconography it may have once displayed had been removed. He pulled a datapad from his belt pouch and sat down next to his riduur. "It's encrypted," he observed after sliding the card into the reader and only getting static on the display. "2277?" "Attempting decryption now, Master," the beskar'ad replied. About four seconds later, he spoke again. "Done. Transmitting decryption key. It was not sophisticated." Inserting the decrypt module into the datapad loaded with the key, Fett watched as the static was replaced with aurabesh text and detailed map files. "Well now, what are you up to, Seraph?" he wondered aloud, positioning the datapad so Mirdala could also see the readout as he scrolled through. "The data is incomplete, Master," 2277 reported. "But it contains passkeys, maps, and patrol information for Shadow's Gambit security. Someone armed with this data and sufficient resources could pose a significant threat to shipboard operations." "Share the files with Flirt please, burc'ya," the Mando'ad requested mildly. "Let me know if the passkeys get us access to anything she hadn't worked out yet." He offered the datapad to Mirdala. "Wonder just how dangerous this man is."

Fett didn't expect any dar'jetiise at this point in the hunt, but it was good to have Mirdala's Seeker senses double checking. The pair of them had a penchant for being able to take down such targets, but they weren't fights that you wanted to charge into unprepared or unawares. That concern out of the way, he focused his attention instead on the wall his wife had indicated. "Flirt did say the staff hadn't been inside in a while," he mused over their private link. "Still, hard to believe that Seraph could have made structural changes without them noticing." He supposed a clever man with the right sonic dampening equipment could pull it off. Or the Gambit came equipped with such rooms to service a certain segment of its clientele. Fett wondered idly how much effort was actually given towards preventing illicit dealings in controlled substances or black market items -- the Gambit stood to gain a lot from turning a blind eye to such activity that did not threaten the safety of the other passengers. A ship drifting through space and thus not under the jurisdiction of any system law and already a place to indulge in an assortment of vices, it could attract an even greater diversity of wealthy patrons by enabling such deals to be made upon its decks. "In any case, I wouldn't be surprised if he has more smoke and mirrors planned for us," the Mando'ad transmitted. They continued to wait and watch for a few minutes until a man wearing the by-now-familiar orange and black Shadow's Gambit security uniform came strolling casually up the hallway. At first Fett thought nothing of it, but then the man paused to linger for a moment outside of Seraph's door, lifting his eyes to the top right corner of the doorframe. He nodded, then continued on his way, but not before running his palm across the door and sliding what appeared to be a small datacard into a receptacle just below the keycard slot. "Must have a camera," Fett deduced. He looked at Mirdala and tilted his head toward the doorway. "Think you can manage?"

"Could be," Kandor mused. "Also could be an elaborate dar'jetii trap if they're getting nervous about us poking around." A little bit of paranoia was practical in this line of work, if it could even be called paranoia. Fett would define paranoia as abnormal concern toward an imaginary threat on someone's life. He and Mirdala had very real threats on their lives, and no matter how fast they killed their enemies they seemed quite capable of earning them even faster. It wasn't all grim however. He and Mirdala weren't the only ones in the oyu'baat who sided against evil. "We'll attend on the chance that the offer is legitimate and he actually knows something about Quietus," he said after a moment. "We don't have to go in blind." In the last few days Flirt had slowly been making friends with the Gambit's central computer. One of her most difficult targets to date, the Sith had spared no expense in hardening the ship's memory core and higher functions against would-be exploiters and espionage agents. Even now the tiny beskar'ad was a long way from full control, but she already had access to several tiers of data and could exert influence over less-secure shipboard systems such as lights, guest room and some security doors, climate control, and assorted attraction-related functions. Given enough time, she would be able to do much more, which would open areas of the ship to them where security would very much not wish for them to be and thus just where they sought to go. Upon Fett's query, Flirt immediately piped up with her usual chipper female voice. "I've looked up room 117B. It's registered under the name 'Treym Bolvar'." "Most likely a psuedonym," 2277 interjected. "The room has been in use under the same name for 71 standard days, 5 hours and 22 minutes," Flirt continued. "That is several standard deviations longer than the average stay, and is usually a marker of wealth." "Does the system have any flags on the room?" Kandor asked. "Yes, Master Fett. The staff has been informed not to perform room service or enter at any time without the consent of Mr. Bolvar. They have complied, and the occupant has since been a model guest." "Send a timetable of when he enters and exists his room if you can get it," Fett told her. "If you make any progress on the security cameras, let me know. A visual would be helpful." The Gambit logged when each room was occupied and how many people were inside in order to assist staff and regulate the temperature. Looking at tabulated data spanning the past few weeks, Fett was able to make a few determinations. First, Seraph used the room a lot. There was time each day when he wasn't in, particularly in the early evenings, but he conducted his business from 117B. He often had guests over, usually one at a time but occasionally in small groups. This told Fett that Seraph often worked by proxy. Maybe he was worried about being recognized, whether by security or other guests. Or perhaps he simply preferred not to get his hands dirty. Beyond that the data could tell him very little. Since no Gambit staff had been inside the room in over two standard months, there was no record of what might be inside, and without access to the security footage, Fett was unable to identify Seraph or his associates that might use the room. But the logs did note that Seraph was not currently in his room. "If he follows his usual patterns, Seraph should be out for a while longer," Kandor said to his riduur. "What do you say we swing by his place a bit early, have a look around?"

Kandor returned the kiss as he accepted the data card. "Well enough," he replied to her question, then picked up his buy'ce off the nearby table. Sliding the chip into an appropriate-sized slot on the bottom rim of his bucket, he put it on and linked with 2277, looping Mirdala's implant in on the channel. "Twenty-two," he addressed the beskar'ad. "I assume we can decrypt it?" "Yes, Master," 2277 responded. "It appears to be using your old CoreSec public encryption." Fett frowned. "Is it authenticated?" "Negative. I cannot verify the author. The message is audio only, and it passes security inspection." That meant the droid couldn't detect any malware or viruses stored on the chip. "Begin playback." A voice that had clearly been run through an alteration program that thoroughly masked it began to speak. "Hello ShadowFett. You may call me Seraph. I have stationed myself on the Shadow's Gambit for some time now in an attempt to uncover its secrets, and I have come upon disturbing information concerning its origins and owners. I don't know your current status, but given your reputation I believe the information I have will be of interest to you, and in return I'm hoping that you can help me set things right here. If you're interested, come to room 117B at 2300 hours tonight. Bring Ad'Goran if you want. If you don't show, that's it, we won't be in contact again. Seraph out." The recording ended. Fett removed his buy'ce and looked at his riduur. "Thoughts?"

"Not much yet," he admitted. "Rumors of organized protest. Probably just some misguided activists with nothing better to do." He tilted his head and started walking, and soon she followed. "Want to find some skraan, take it back to the room?" Ultimately, although they had left the Justice separately so that anyone watching arrivals might assume he had come alone, it was inevitable that people watching them would end up being able to draw the association. They would be sharing a room, meeting up at regular intervals, and potentially operating jointly depending on where things went. Fett's overt approach and his beskar'gam likely meant that someone had eyes on him already. Though few still would recognize him as Mand'alor, the war in the Sector had drawn some attention to Mandalorian affairs and people who were interested would be able to make the link, making him even more a public figure of interest. Association with Mirdala he could live with, but he still wasn't about to start showing his face off in places like this, which made sitting down for a leisurely meal at a restaurant out of the question.

It was a little late, but the final Keldabe-class battleship was released from the dry dock. The Mandalorian Sector Defense Fleet had reached its maximum sustainable size with the resources and soldiers that were available to maintain and crew the formidable vessels. Perhaps someday soon they would be called into action. But for now they waited for the invader bold enough to challenge again Mandalorian space as Ab'ki had.

ShadowFett arrived in the shopping area and spotted Vi'ika before Mirdala. The sand hound, which was sitting on her haunches, was nearly as tall as his riduur and decidedly a bit conspicuous for the low-key snooping that Mirdala would be doing, but that could be a useful quality as well. Attention tended to gravitate toward novel sights and away from the small plainclothes Mando'ad who was apparently minding her own business nearby. "Su'cuy Mird'ika," he greeted her over their private link as he approached the shop front that she was browsing casually. "You and Flirt get along enough to get her situated?" The walk over had been uneventful. The Shadow's Gambit wasn't quite as big as a city, but it was larger than most resorts. It would take some time to get a feel for everything that was going on. But he and his riduur had noses for trouble and Flirt could cut past all the osik and find out what was happening behind the scenes, once she'd had enough time to cozy up to the ship computer.

"Sounds good," ShadowFett transmitted back to his riduur. He was now approaching the Seventh Moon Casino. An order of magnitude larger than the one they'd visited on Borleias, the expansive, multi-level facilities were home to every game of chance any Moon Knight had encountered and some that none of them before had. Fett walked slowly between tables displaying battling holo-beasts and transmissions live-streaming podracing on Malastare, noisy slot machines and quiet games of pazaak. But his attention wasn't upon the games, but the gamblers themselves, sentients of every variety and from all walks of life. In his beskar'gam, he drew a few gazes from those who were not too hypnotized by the dazzling lights that distracted them from their dwindling supplies of credits. Some paid him no mind, some looked curious, and others appeared nervous -- no doubt there were some among them that owed debts or even had bounties on their head and assumed any Mandalorian was a beroya or enforcer. But those bounties were small sums, and not worth Fett's time. He moved on and listened, trying to filter through conversations for anything unusual. It was slow work, but he was patient. He'd made it to the far end of the casino and about halfway back up the other side before he heard something that caught his attention. "Think there will be another protest soon?" "I can't believe you're interested in that bantha poodoo. Who are they to decide what we do with our vacation time anyway?" "I just think their message is worth hearing is all. You know I think I saw someone dealing glitterstim on our way here?" "Why can't you just relax? This place is harmless. Let the conspiracy nuts be conspiracy nuts." "I just want to be on the right side of things." Fett decided to pause nearby and listen in a bit more to see if there were any details, but they didn't shake out. A lot of conspiracies were baseless, but there was often a grain of truth buried somewhere in them, making them a good place to get more substantial rumors and find people with legitimate connections. He would keep an ear to the ground for further mentions of a protest, but for now it wasn't otherwise actionable. The Mando'ad checked his chrono and started heading to the rendezvous with Mirdala. If she'd gotten Flirt in place somewhere, it was only a matter of time before the little beskar'ad would be able to access the Sith files that were no doubt stored somewhere aboard.

The first MandalMotors-built Corona-class frigate left the space dock and they decided to build one more of their new Keldabe-class MK 2 battleships.

A MandalMotors Tra'kad-class vessel, the Justice, appeared out of hyperspace not far from the Shadow's Gambit. Its pilot, ShadowFett, had wondered what circumstances might eventually bring him here when Kuat Drive Yards had told him about Quietus and the project when it was first being constructed. Until now, he'd assumed that it would be in the midst of a hostage situation when the dar'jetiise decided they had enough important patrons on board that they could manipulate the jetiise or Galactic Alliance into capitulating to a list of demands in order to ensure their safety. In actuality the Gambit had been operating quietly ever since and was a generally popular vacation and gambling spot wherever it went as it toured the known galaxy, and he wasn't here to liberate it. Fett requested a landing approach and stated that he was on leave from his duties and was here to see the fabled Seventh Moon Casino. When he received his docking clearance, he took the Justice directly there and set down, disembarking in full beskar'gam, though he was not carrying most of his weapons. In his distinctive armor, he would be recognized. Some would remember him as a bounty hunter, for his reputation before he got involved in the war. Others would see him as the CoreSec commissioner he had been for years after it had ended. A scarce few might recognize him as Mand'alor, the one who had gathered his people together to repel an invasion fleet from their distant corner of space. And still others might see the crescent he wore on the corner of his chest plate and see Moon Knight, latest in a long line of hunters and vigilantes. He was content to be recognized as any of these. He left his ship alone and headed into the long corridors a thoroughfares that would take him to the Seventh Moon. The ship, which superficially resembled an Imperial Interdictor cruiser, was more like a city on the inside, wide-open concourses with shops, cafes and vendors, buildings towering underneath huge transparisteel domes where an Interdictor's gravity well projectors would ordinarily be housed. All manner of humans, aliens and beskar'ade walked richly-carpeted streets and a bouquet of familiar and unfamiliar aromas wafted from exotic diners. Fett could have believed he was in one of the rich areas of Nar Shaddaa if he did not look up, and he decided he was impressed both by KDY's work and the vision behind it. This was in many ways his favorite sort of place to work. There were plenty of things happening here, and it was certain that someone had the information he needed. But first he would need to get the lay of the land and see where his nose for trouble would get him.

"Nayc," Fett answered. "Not going back. Only way from here is forward. Ultimately the goal is to found the organization. The Quietus bounty would provide credits, which we're going to need. Otherwise we could start getting our names in the right peoples' kovide." He tapped a few buttons on the diagnostic device, synching the data with the Justice's onboard computer and giving 2277 access to it for his own analysis. "We already have ties to CorSec through Delavvo and the JPs through yourself and your aliit," he continued. "We could use a more business-oriented conversation with CoreSec or even the Galactic Alliance military. Even the jetiise are building a fleet these days and, although Kirlocca is dead and my history with Trevelian is mixed, they are potential allies. Just as much as we need these connections for data feeds and opportunities, we need partners. Good people who believe in what we're trying to do and have the skills to contribute." Mirdala considered those options for a minute before offering, "What risk would we run if we did wait on Quietus? Do we even know if he’s been back to the Gambit recently, if at all? “I don’t mind opening a dialogue with CoreSec. I’m understandably nervous about the Jedi, but you’ve had more experience than I have,” she continued, following two lines of simultaneous thought as they figured out the best course of action. "The chief risk of waiting on Quietus is that someone else could find him first," he answered. "With a price that high, half the beroyase in the oyu'baat must be looking for him. Networking can be done almost any time." “That’s true,” she agreed. “I think the Shadow’s Gambit is our best course, then. Same level of cover as Hapes or a different tack? I’m not advocating we face Quietus without our gear, but until we can set the battlefield maybe it’s best to take a more subtle approach. From what you know of him, is he likely to go to ground or grab the nearest group of kids as hostages and blast his way out?” Fett scratched his head. "I don't think he will actually be aboard the ship, since he knows that others and myself with access to KDY can associate it to him, although it's a risk," he said. "I can't guess what he might do if he received news that we showed up in full beskar'gam." Some dar'jetiise would perhaps take it as a challenge, but Quietus could just as easily disappear somewhere. He considered for another moment. "The Gambit is our only lead on him. I might have the best chance getting the right person to talk if I'm in armor. If you go plainclothes, you might be able to avoid attention and make him think I'm alone while you and Flirt see if you can find anything useful by poking around in their files."

The Justice streaked through hyperspace. "I can't believe I missed all of that!" a feminine voice squeaked. The source, a tiny droid about the size of a human's palm, was floating in circles on a repulsorlift around a humanoid one who sat at his station in the cockpit. "They nearly adopted a little girl?!" "Mistress Ad'Goran was quite insistent that you remain powered down throughout the vacation and emergency foster period," 2277 replied in his usual tone, which was flat, frank, and borderline-condescending. "You know that she finds your commentary irritable at best." Flirt spun almost frantically around, animating her little droid version of frustration despite her inability to make a face. "But it was a little girl! I could have been so helpful!" she lamented. "You have to tell me all about her! Was she cute?" 2277's mannerisms also successfully conveyed his attitude -- one of dismissal. "I am not qualified to comment on her appearance. I am simply relieved that Galactic Alliance Security was able to locate her relatives," he explained. "Master Fett's willingness to consider adoption was unmistakable, perhaps due to the influence of Mistress Ad'Goran which at times I must question. He has even gone so far as to ask that I continue to investigate her new living arrangements and her past." "Sometimes I think you don't know anything that matters, 2277 dear," Flirt responded. "Allow me to lend my processing power to the task. You focus on whatever horribly dull other projects you have and leave little Aerri to me." 2277 considered for an instant. "I will permit you to assist," he conceded. "However you will do so with my oversight and direction, and I will determine what findings are of sufficient note to raise to the Master's attention." ---------------------- Back in the main living space and oblivious to the droids' conversation, Fett had hooked a diagnostic tool up to their newest acquisition -- the powerful beskar-clad MAD-01, currently powered down -- and was viewing the full systems readouts. Its armor was pocked with blaster burns from the fighting on Manda'yaim, proving that it was quite capable of taking a beating, and within its computer core it stored detailed information about its service record including a list of confirmed kills. Which proved that it could deal out punishment as readily as it could take it. Mirdala was on the other side, giving it her own inspection. "Have the location of the Shadow's Gambit's next stop," Fett said. "It doesn't have to be ours if we're not ready to commit, though."

'Beskar'ade are a lot less work and never just want to socialize," Kandor answered dryly. "Ops is more than self-sufficient. Let's ditch this backwater." Saying their farewells to Rhys, the Mando'ade couple headed back out the way they came, MAD-01 following behind them and keeping its silence at Fett's bidding. A few minutes later they were back at the Justice and blasted off for parts unknown.

For the remainder of the meal Rhys caught them up on the events of the past two weeks. No one had batted an eye when Mand'alor had left, the battle fought, and the command team that had assembled for the battle had remained partially intact and rearranged to serve the Protectors. The fleet and planetary defenses had assembled rapidly with the influx of credits going to MandalMotors. Concord Dawn had taken a worse beating than Manda'yaim and everyone still had their hands full getting their lives and cities back together, but in time they would recover. The surviving Omicrons were starting to break up and return to their families, the Shadow War they'd been fighting resolved. "Any thoughts what you two are up to next?" Rhys asked when he'd finished. “Depends on if we can validate a bounty,” Fett answered. ”About that, Master,” 2277’s voice chimed in over his implant since he’d removed his buy’ce to eat. He tilted his head to indicate to Rhys that he was receiving a transmission. ”It took a little bit of doing, but it appears that the bounty on Darth Quietus is in fact fully vested. However, I am unable to validate the source.” Kandor put his attention back on the Omicron. Honestly he was a bit surprised at the result, given the enormous sum involved. If Quietus were any less dangerous he would have trouble going anywhere near a civilized planet. And he didn’t particularly care who was paying in this case as long as the credits were, in fact, real. “Validation passed,” he said. “Taking a contract as a beroya?” Rhys asked. Mirdala tilted her head slightly from side to side, “Something like that.” Rhys turned his attention to her. “I find that answer vague and unconvincing, but it's your choice.” “Technically it could also be construed as Seeker work,” she admitted. “A Sith then.” Fett nodded. “One of the big ones. Might have a lead.” “I'm good with this, Rhys,” Mirdala insisted. “Ori’haat.” Rhys seemed to accept the statement. He knew the history with what had happened before when Fett had pushed her into pursuing Ar-Pharazon and others too soon after her ordeal at the hands of the Thalassian slavers. But Fett knew he could also tell as well as he could that she was hale and prepared to move forward. Mand’alor rose. “Going to drop in on Ops. Otherwise don’t think we need to stay long.” Mirdala opted to remain and finish catching up with her brother while he headed upstairs. There was Protector leadership in the command center pretty much around the clock, and the alor’ad currently in charge greeted Fett and started answering his questions. Specifically Fett was after hard numbers on how many Mando’ade had filled the ranks of the new organization, details on the fleet and planetary defenses, and some idea about the capabilities of the planetary turbolaser that was nearly the size of MandalMotors tower. Once his curiosity was satisfied, he turned to leave but found the doorway blocked by a beskar-plated war droid in scarred armor and bristling with overt weaponry. “Mand’alor, sir!” it said in an exaggerated ultra-male voice. “I am yours to command. I request that I be allowed to accompany you offworld if I cannot serve you directly here.” Fett appraised the beskar’ad from behind his visor. “MAD-01, wasn’t it?” he addressed it. It had been a gift from Ahzinger, presenting itself to him just before the fighting had started. Though it was an extraordinarily capable soldier, he nonetheless had very little desire for it to accompany him into battle as Mirdala did. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t think of some way to put it to work if he needed to deploy an additional overt resource. With a personality matrix reprogramming, maybe it could even serve in other capacities. “Very well. Come with me back to my ship.” He started to head back downstairs, giving Mirdala a heads-up through their private link that he had a bit of unexpected company.