Ziost - Crown of the Sith Empire

The Scanner Goggles blinked as the Mandalorian followed the path set by the address and the GPS. The thrusters on his pack streaked hot white as he weaved through the airspace. His teeth gritted as he found the building, and looked through his T-Visor to match the data with the correct floor.

High above traffic, and the sounds of the night city, his arms were folded across his chest, staring into the residence of one Malam Gil.

On a balcony was the man having a drink of wine.

The Mandalorian flew closer. Only a few meters away from the man, he stared. "You Malam Gil?" He spoke through his helmet, tone even and level.

Malam chuckled and said, “If you are an admirer this is the strangest way to get my attention and if you are here for a debt, I would have to direct you to my solicitor. Otherwise you could be trespassing, but I just closed a major deal so I am feeling… celebratory.”

"I'm sure you are." There was something about the other man's tenor that set Tyber's teeth on edge. His head tilted slightly, staring him down.

"Consider me none of the above. More a concerned citizen." He floated closer, maybe a meter and a half away from him on the balcony. "Any thoughts on the earlier tragedies?"

“You are going to have to be specific, mister concerned citizen? Lots of people hate a successful man. If I profited off your tragedy it wasn’t personal, just business, lucrative business,” he said smugly.

"And business must be good, Mister Gil." He just wanted to grab the man with a harpoon line, and then take him up for a private flight with a sudden stop.

"No. Nothing personal. But seems your business hurts the State." The smug grin just was begging to be punched away.

His fist clenched against his armor.

“Well you can either come in or continue to float there menacingly but I do have company and I should see to them. I am sure the State will forgive me in time,” he said finishing his glass.

He said nothing. Still. At this point, he knew he had nothing solid to go on, or mobilizing a strike force. Floating over the balcony, he slowly landed. Eyes narrowed.

"Why. Why profit on it?"

“Because I can,” he said confidently.

“Because I can.”

Bastard.

His fists clenched. Yet his hands were tied. One doesn't live in Varas Point unless they had connections and power. Sneering, he followed the man into the gathering.

A cunning mind, and perceptive training, ever vigilant, Tyber kept his eyes peeled.

Inside was a plush and well appointed sweet with women and men plying themselves with expensive booze and legally procured mind altering substances… well prescription but in the quantities being used…

He sat down and said, “Can I offer you some whiskey? Direct from Onderon… five hundred credits a bottle. Tell you what take one for the road; share it with the Colonel, my compliments.”

Kriff.

"You'll understand if I decline. I am not one who drinks all that much." He spoke without any change in tone. Remaining standing, he nodded. "But I appreciate the offer." A calming breath, remaining focused on the task.

"You said the State would forgive you in time. What do you mean by that." He was still here to do a job. To gather as much intel as possible.

“Do you know how much money I between the time you showed up and now… four hundred seventeen thousand – forty eight credits, all of it taxable income for the Sith war machine,” he said chuckling.

“I am the third best consultant in my field, and business is good.”

"And what is it, exactly, you consult on, Mister Gil?" The Mandalorian now Detective pressed on, the servos of his enhanced armor humming as he adjusted his weight from one foot to the other.

"I am sure the tax bureau counts every credit."

“I would never cheat the tax man. I consult with business ventures entrepreneurs, I have a background in corporate espionage and molding Corporate officers into efficient money making machines,” he said proudly.

“You should see my fees… just one hour of my time would cost you a year’s salary.”

“But what about you Mister Rook? Tell me about yourself.”

"I have a feeling you already know a bit."

Double Kriff.

"I'm just a soldier. I serve the Empire, and seek to secure Order and Peace throughout the Galaxy." There was a certain fire that burned in his words.

"What happened this afternoon, threatens that very order and security. I want it to end."

“Well according to the News nothing happened this afternoon, so you must have gotten your wish,” he said chuckling.

“Mister Rook, this has been an illuminating conversation but I do have guests that demand my attentions. When next you see the good Colonel ask her if she takes her kaff with three sugars.”

“I think you know the way out,” he said smugly.

Triple Kriff.

His eyes narrowed. "Indeed it has, Mister Gil. Enjoy your party." He stepped back, before turning on his heel. Making his way to the balcony, he looked over his shoulder.

"Thank you, for your cooperation."

I'll be keeping my eyes on you. A foot placed on the railing of the balcony, and he took off.