The Truth Comes Out

Speeders race by alongside the footpaths, forming an ever-shifting barrier that constrains the bustling crowds. Evening has fallen over Belleau-a-Lir, the clouds above a dusky, rosy hue as they obstruct the glowing horizon. Weaving through breaks in the pedestrian traffic, moving against the tide, is Brek, pushing through the streets and alternately consulting his wrist display, searching a map. He crosses a speederway, passing over a sidewalk and into one of the gardens, swallowed up by the shady trees. Wandering along one of the footpaths, he glances to and fro, checking beneath his arm. A holobook is tucked there, entitled: 'Guns, From Small To Large'. He turns, making his way through rows of bright flowers, checking his map again as he ambles toward another street.

Walking down the path coming from the opposite direction is Myiari, clad in her uniform and a large bag slung over her shoulder. She works at straightening her disheveled hair, and even in the dim evening lights, she appears to be quite sluggish and tired. After her hair has been taken care of, she opens her bag and fishes her datapad out of it, squinting at the display as she suppresses a yawn.

"And then she says to him, 'what banana?'", a loud guffaw follows the equally loudly spoken words, or two such sounds to be clearing, one of them more hiss than anything else. The two person who share in the joke are revealed when they come around the corner. Rainier, looking more disheveled than normal, and his companion revealed to be a Trandoshan. The grey-haired stranger looks around, New Alderaan still largely unknown to him, and he smiles when he settles on the figure of a man. "That's the fellow I've been telling you about, I hear he's quite good with a gun.", and just as he says that, he begins to lead his companion over to the unsuspecting Brek.

Brek, however, suddenly pauses at the middle of the flower-lined path, his head whipping upward. Despite the noise of the city around him, a vague sense of unease appears to have settled, his features slowly fading into grimness. His lips flicker into a frown, his eyes darting to and fro as he searches the path. One calloused hand falls to the grip of his blaster, and he executes a slow turn, checking the shadowy recesses of the park. Then suddenly he sees, and his grey eyes dart upward, focused with sudden, unmistakable fear on Rainier and the Trandoshan. Recognition is quick to follow, and despite the sudden tension in his frame he hesitates, his grip tightening on the holobook and gun he carries.

Myiari stuff her datapad back into her bag and frowns, pulling out her commlink, which has begun emitting a soft buzzing noise. Sighing, she answers the incoming call and continues walking. "Hello? ...I'm on my way home right now." Though the other end of the call is unable to be heard except at close range, by Myiari's tone of voice and her obvious frustration, the person she speaks to isn't in a good mood either. "I know I'm late. I had a late shift, and I'm really tired. You try having to calm down a hysterical man while his pregnant wife is giving birth in the middle of stalled traffic! Look, I know you're concerned, but I'm an adult; even Bren doesn't hover over my shoulder all the time. Give me some space."

"See?", he says, taking Brek's reaction not as it normally would, "I told you he was good." His hands, however are raised and shown to be empty, a caution given that Brek was still a stranger. "Don't mind us, this here's a friend of mine, said that he was looking for people with the right skills." They hadn't stopped walking towards Brek, merely slowed down. "There's another person too, right there.", it was purely a coincidence that Myiari wandered not far from where they were, but coincidence counted for a lot.

"... Right," Brek answers, his hands dropping to his belt with a last, uncharacteristically suspicious glance toward Rainier. The gray eyes remain narrowed, and he remains alert, little of his initial reaction fading in light of the assuagement. He steps forward, offering a hand forward to the Trandoshan with a curt nod. "Brek Halsmer," he introduces himself. Rainier's second comment seems to sink in, then, and he turns to look down the path, focusing on the figure walking through the flowers. "You're kidding," he comments, the sheer surprise of the happenstance bringing a smile to his lips. "What's she doing down here?"

In the dark, Myiari is able to make out the group of men staring at her, but is unable to recognize Brek or Rainier. "I'll...have to call you back. I'll see you when I get home," she says as she closes the call connection and tucks the commlink into her pocket. With her hand free, she allows it to drop close to her holstered blaster, the men's presence seeming to make her uneasy, though as she nears them, she is finally able to pick out Brek and Rainier, and her unease disappears. "Oh, hey. Nice to see you two."

The trandoshan had been quiet until now but he does turn towards Rainier, a few words whispered towards the one who brought him here. "Introductions are in order, this is Lessan, he is looking for people to work his various entreprises. This here is Brek, a mercenary currently between employment, and the lady here is Myiari. she works at the local hospital, but the pay isn't what it oughta be for someone of her stature. She made the news not long ago as I hear." Rainier falls silent then, observing the two others, his breath held in slightly.

"Hello, Myiari," Brek comments, his smile wavering for a moment before vanishing. He turns back to Rainier and the Trandoshan, his eyes narrowing once more. Thought flickers over his face, and he glances briefly aside to Myiari, silent for a moment before he interjects, bluntly: "You want to hire us, don't you. For a job." His arms swing upward, crossing into a defensive fold over his chest, fingers curled over his biceps as he scrutinizes the alien. His face, once again, has taken on a grim, stony quality, any potential emotion buried beneath the stoic exterior he presents.

Myiari picks up on the topic of conversation rather quickly, aided by Brek's further comments. "Yeah, that spot on the news? I was just doing my job," she replies bluntly, looking none too enthusiastic. "That man would've died if I'd been more concerned about getting myself a hero photo op, and the hospital already tried to paint me as their little poster-girl." She adjusts her bag on her shoulder, and lets her hand hover near her blaster again. "And I already have a job, thank you very much. It might not be a huge paycheck, but it's fine by me."

"You know what it's like with young ones, they don't understand the value of money since they're too young to have really needed it.", Rainier says, confiding with his trandoshan companion, the trandoshan nodding in agreement. "But look at this fellow here, quiet, calm and professional. Even if he can't handle a weapon well, he looks impressive and plenty of fights have been won by the side that looks better. So how about it, you want to run a couple of missions for my friend here, they're the type that pay very well with the danger involved. And with recent happenings on the planet, there's plenty of opportunities to fill the void.", a pause is taken then as he looks back at Myiari. "How about you, you can keep your day job too?"

"I have an ongoing contract with my ship," replies Brek, tone clipped, with a brief sideways glance toward Myiari. He straightens himself, meeting Rainier's eye, and tilts his head to one side, his neck cracking audibly. "I can give you his comlink if you want to contact him for your work, but he's doing a run on the other side of the galaxy. In the meantime, I don't believe either of us are interested. I won't speak any more for my friend, but I've seen a lot of good-looking men die in combat because they thought the same way you do. You're full of sith spit. You're just trying to sell him and sell me and I'm not buying. Not for all the credits in the galaxy."

Myiari's brow creases with faint suspicion, but she soon shakes her head. "Listen," she starts, waving her hand as if to ward off any more pitches. "I don't think the hospital would appreciate me moonlighting for whatever it is you guys are doing, which has a pretty good chance of being illegal anyway. I'm flattered that you think I'm worthy of recruiting, but I'm not really in the mood for dying young. I've already nearly had that happen a few times already."

Rainier shrugs, his pitch rebuffed, the man simply turns back to the Trandoshan. "Well, I suppose I'm too new to these woods to tell when people can be hired.", and with that, he turns back to the other two. "I will bid you a good day then, and next time I see you, don't be so suspicious, I'm just a friendly face." Barely have the words left his lips that Rainier is walking away, this time following the Trandoshan.

"That's sith spit," mutters Brek beneath his breath, his stare fixed on Rainier's turned back.

((Note: From here on, the scene is in Brek's hotel room.))

The room really didn't have much going for it, it had a bed, a holo unit, a desk, and a pair of chairs arrayed around a small table. There was a washroom and a dining unit off in another section, but really, once one saw a hotel room, all of them were familiar. The man within was seated at the chair, feet propped on on the table, a local magazine held between his hands. The window's curtains were closed, little natural light to be had with the lights also off.

A soft beep echoes through the room, and the door whirrs open, Brek's heavy footsteps intruding into the dark room. He holds a keycard in his hand, his holobook as always situated under his arm. "Putting on weight," he mutters to himself, as the door slides shut. "Gotta stop eating Corellian ta--" He stops. A flurry of movement, and a moment later his pistol rises, leveled at the figure in the chair. He reaches aside with one hand to flick a light switch, bright, glaring light filling the small expanse of the room. "You," he states, the earlier paranoia returning in full force. His jaw is set grimly, eyes narrowed to thin, dangerous slits. "Stay sitting. Don't try anything or I'll blast your eyes out."

"Put your weapon down, Mr. Halsmer.", the figure on the table says, his eyes blinked a few times as he begins to adjust to the lights suddenly being thrown on and he turns the page of the magazine he is reading. "Is this how you greet people who drop by or is it that you've decided to be particularly rude to me? After all, you weren't the nicest of people when I came to you with a job offer."

"You invaded my room, Mr. Rainier. Even I have my standards." The blaster scarcely wavers. "Who do you work for?" he barks, a quick blink punctuating his demand. "What's your angle here? You're more than just an information broker, I have sense enough to see that." His tone drops as he adds, almost as an afterthought, "I don't trust you and I resent your arrogance. Are you working with Bavon Nass?"

"Bavon Nass?", he asks, repeating the name very carefully, "No, I am not working with him. Haven't you heard that he's dead, or worse? You should pay more attention when you go on vacation to enemy worlds, you know that information you overhear could always be of use back home." The magazine is at last closed, Rainier tossing it on the table before him as he finally looks up at Brek.

Brek, however, is frozen. His face has gone pale, and the blaster even trembles for a moment in his suddenly unsteady hands. "How did you find out," he whispers at long last, but even then his tone is an angry hiss, one that reinforces him and allows him to regain his bearings.

Rainier smiles, not the genuine, open kind he has shared with others on his stay on New Alderaan but a tight one that never reaches his eyes, the whole resulting in a cold look. "Does your friend know, does her friend the Senator know for that matter? And what would they think of if they knew that they cavorted so freely with someone sworn to their demise? Have you asked yourself that, Mr. Halsmer?"

"All the time." The blaster falls. Helplessly, fumbling with the holster, Brek shoves it back into place, clipping it shut and glancing sidelong at Rainier. Without another word he strides into the washroom, turning on the water briefly and splashing a reasonable handful of the cold liquid into his face. When he reemerges, his demeanor is tight. Rigid. More military than it has been over the last couple of weeks. "Fine. So you want to blackmail me. How much do you want?"

Rainier's smile turns into a quick snicker, "Blackmail you? And why do you come to that circumstance, for that matter, what is it that you have that I could want?" The words are left to hang in the air, Rainier listening carefully to try and judge what the other man's answer will be. "Money is not it, if that's what you were thinking."

"I made a presumption, based on what I know about you." Brek moves forward, dragging out a seat and sinking into it, facing Rainier with a stony gaze. However, the weight in his shoulders speaks clearly, betraying his attempt at silent intimidation. "I was wrong." His jaw sets again, breath rushing from his nostrils. "What do you want from me, Mr. Rainier?"

"When you address me, Trooper, you will call me Lieutenant.", Rainier says, his words clearly pronounced, sharply-worded/ "And I do not remember giving you leave to sit down. At attention then, Trooper." It was a striking transformation to witness him going through, the open nature of the man having given way to this persona rather quickly.

The effect is immediate and striking, even the sudden terror on Brek's features giving way to the trained reaction. He rises up, the chair skittering noisily away from him as he does, and assumes a rigid, erect posture, his hand rising into a salute. Only then does he pause for a moment to absorb the enormity of the statement, terror giving way to dread. "Yes, Lieutenant," he replies softly, lips barely moving with this short, sparing speech.

"Better.", the Lieutenant says before rising up, he moves around the table, passing Brek as though he was just a statue to be gazed upon once and then ignored. At least that might be the impression offered. He moves to the kitchenette, reaching for the fountain and filling himself a glass of water. "What are you doing on a Rebel world, and why did you choose the company you have on this planet. Are you planning on crossing over, Trooper or am I to believe that this is just a...coincidence?"

"I was sent here by Command, sir," Brek replies, audibly swallowing as Rainier circles him. He doesn't turn, only his eyes following the superior man's movements as he goes to fetch a glass of water. His hands tremble at his sides. "I have... no excuse for my choice of companions. A firefight erupted, and--" He pauses, voice choking as his eyes veer suddenly back toward the window. "I helped them, because... Because I did. Then I asked out the woman. The medic. Myiari Oerstead. I've seen her a few times but I haven't gotten deeply involved. She's... she's sweet." He pauses, clenching his fingers into fists, and adds, with a hasty defensiveness, "I was curious, sir. I never knew much about the New Republic. Just how they fought."

"And you know very much about how they fight, you experienced firsthand the evils that they will do in the name of their so-called freedom, what else do you need to know about them?", Rainier replies, his full glass brought back as he returns to the chair he abandonned moments past. Brek, however, is left standing, Rainier's head turned up to look at the man. "What have you found about the Rebels in your interactions with the medic and the Senator. The level of curiousity you possess is odd for a Stormtrooper, beyond what is expected of you, even and it does leave me if it is professionally proper for you to have it."

"The medic isn't affiliated," he continues. "She's a citizen of the N-- Rebel state, but that's it. She's lucky. She's also very brave. Seeing her has made me consider that learning first aid from the medics on ship might save my squadmates in the future." He bites his lip, a vague, guilty expression predominating for a moment. "As for my curiosity, Lieutenant, I have... No excuse. I know it isn't my place to do such things or ask such questions. But I've survived this long because of it. I've learned to trust it and it's taken me through the worst."

"She's this, she's that, you have quite the opinion of a Rebel. Don't try and hide your feelings Trooper, you are to be an open book to your superiors, particularly those in my particular branch of the military.", there is no threat to his words, no malice, he speaks simply if with the slightest commanding tone. Rainier takes no effort at trying to impose his will or demonstrate his power, there is no need for it in his mind. The man simply takes a quick sip, "Did you know that this particular rebel is the friend of a man who has killed many Stormtroopers, many of those same colleagues you show concern for. And what if I were to tell you that this medic has had a hand in those deaths?"

Brek's eyes dart upward suddenly, his expression frozen in place once again, shock settling onto him before sinking in more resolutely. Words elude him, as does any immediate motion, but then at last his hands slowly uncoil, with all the slow, even grace of a predator's claws. "She neglected to tell me that," he states, indignation and shock fighting for control of his voice. The final tone is colorless, bland and droidlike as it emerges from him. "I didn't know. I..." A shudder passes through him, and despite himself he sags against the table, hands pressing firmly into it. "I thought she was just..." He shoves himself upward to his feet, fighting to stay standing and upright, swallowing again more forcefully. "My... feelings for her, sir, are no longer going to be a problem." His voice, unsteady at first, gains force as he speaks, his eyes rising to meet Rainier's with new, cold resolve.

Rainier remains quiet throughout it all, occasionally taking gulps of the water before finally the glass is discarded on the table, the container emptied of the water it contained. He arched a brow before finally inclining his head into a nod. "That is excellent news, Trooper. Now, your assignment for the time being is to continue your...friendship with the medic and through her the Rebel politician. You will behave no differently from before, you will inform me of anything you find out by leaving a report in clothes that you will send to be cleaned at the hotel's facilities once every three days." At last, Rainier stands, looking at the trooper with a dispassionate gaze. "You have been given the opportunity to serve those who are far above you within the Empire, to serve the Emperor better than you ever have before. Do not fail.", nothing said of what would occur if such did occur, there was little need to.

"You may be assured of my loyalty, Lieutenant. I serve the Emperor," replies Brek, one hand rising up into a firm salute as he straightens. "I have a request, if I can presume upon your generosity," he adds suddenly, a hint of the previous nervousness returning as his hand drops back to his side. "I want to know about the stormtroopers she killed. Where they were. Who they were. Their names. Families." His gaze breaks for a moment, turning down to his feet as he adds, in a more muted tone, "I'm just curious, sir."

((Note: The logs ends here as Rainier suffered a severed disconnect and was unable to complete the scene.))