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| - The knowledge the NRI can possess is indeed a wonderful thing. A few simple calls and Kintor had found very useful information. The Near-Human had not forgotten his exchange with Sandor just after the tragic battle of Cochran, and has done everything in his power to locate the man. His search brings him to Coruscant, the large city-planet that is home to many of Kintor's memories, some better than others. Fairly certain that the local NRI cell on Coruscant would be keeping tabs on the former Imperial's movements, Kintor uploads the current whereabouts of the man onto a shipboard computer. A moment of reading yields the location of Sandor to be Ruathens. Only moments later Kintor stands outside the restaurant, leaning against the wall with Buck laying by his feet. Not one for interrupting dinner, he waits for one or both of them to exit the building before making an appearance. Emerging first, or second, or however the order had actually turned out, Sandor makes it a few steps before he catches sight of a man that he owes his very life to. Nevermind the fact that as Sandor owes his life to Danik as well, clearly the act of sparing the soldier from certain doom isn't worth as much as it could be, for the moment the significance is not lost on the Marine. Either accompanied by Ai'kani or not, Sandor abruptly comes to a halt, for a split second happy to see the man. It is only after this split second that Sandor comes to realize that if the axe-wielding berserker is present, then it might be more than just a social call. Watching Sandor exit through the door right next to him, Kintor gives a small nod of greeting to the other man, arms folded casually across his chest. "Nice to see you again, Woden." The past several days of Kintor's life have been all about re-acquanting himself with parts of his past, almost symbolically so. First the trade for his old ship Champion Glory, then a small stop at Caspar to drop off the crew, followed by meeting Juran, a man from Kintor's privateer days, at Etti, and now back to meeting Sandor at Coruscant, his home for almost a month. The odd coincidence of these events within several days of eachother would not go unnoticed by Kintor if the man wasn't so focused on both his job and the idea of retribution for the Empire's assault on Cochran. Pushing himself from the wall with the back, Kintor stands himself straight up. "Feeling better?" "Much. What're you doing here?", Sandor asks, dancing around Kintor's inanely long name, since the pair has never in this whole time been formally introduced. To the soldier, Kintor is simply the guy that wanted to charge a squad of Stormtroopers with an axe. And there could be no braver way to die than that. "You can't be here because of the service," he adds, the memory still fresh of a waiter that had nearly ruined a perfectly good experience. Kintor smiles at the concise Sandor. Straight to the point, and Kintor has no problems with that. "Glad you're better." Turning his head nonchalantly, Kintor makes sure the two are not being watched too closely or being noticably evesdropped on. He turns back to look Sandor in the eyes, his own shining a soft hazel; a nice change from the normal brown and rage-red. "On the trip back from the battle in the cargo area of the Redress, we both made it known to each other that the Empire would pay for Cochran." Pausing, Kintor fidgets with a loose fiber of his old brown coat. He continues softly, "If nothing is planned, nothing will happen. We can lay down the groundwork now to give ourselves momentum." "Shouldn't we go someplace a little quieter to talk?", the man asks, not looking especially nervous and clearly trying not to draw attention, but hoping to provide a quick closure to a conversation not very well suited for the entrance or exit of a reasonably affluent restaurant. Sandor's own blue eyes stare back, the ice in them not relenting in the slightest bit. What had been passion before is simply a fact of life now; something that must be done, and done in such a way as to merit the highest possibility of success. It just doesn't have the best of timing, so soon after a fairly happy experience for the soldier. "With the Basilica gone, I don't really have a place to stay here, but maybe you know the area a little better." A nod towards Sandor and Kintor walks down to the street from the exit of the restaurant. "Aye. Well enough to know it's safest on the ship." He turns back to look at Sandor and glance at his surroundings. Suddenly the hazel eyes turn an icey blue that easily rival the other man's. Both eyebrows pop up and then back down as Kintor points his head in the direction of the starport. "Come on." Not waiting for Sandor to follow, Kintor begins walking down the road with his hands stuffed into his pockets. The large canine gives a small growl and begins following close behind his master. Kintor smiles and gives a small chuckle. Darkness and night air together create an odd mood in the Near-Human. He almost wishes a street thug would start a fight. The seemingly unarmed man would gladly finish it. For a second, Sandor nearly doesn't follow, his keen eyes picking up on the change. By this point he has a good deal of exposure to little quirks like that - such as Ai'kani's rather unnatural hair color - but simply hasn't had it long enough to view it as normal. Fortunately, however, the soldier is nowhere near as much a follower of the pro-human philosophy as some of his former comrades are, and 'close enough' is human enough for him. Less enthusiatic than the other man, but every bit as determined, the soldier trails a short distance behind, jogging for the first few seconds to catch up. Picking up speed as Sandor catches up, Kintor keeps his unusual eyes up and roving about, never completely trusting of his surroundings, an attribute that increases even moreso on Coruscant. Turning through several alleyways, Kintor keeps the two away from the main roads. He says nothing as the two walk, not wanting to attract unwanted attention. He had already discovered that the NRI is keeping close tabs on the other man, and the two of them seen together may not be the best for either one's reputation. Shrugging that thought off for now, Kintor turns at yet another alley and continues to walk, the dog Buck close on his heels. Sandor is rather fortunate in the fact that he'd gone into his Advanced Marksmen training with a lot of determination, as otherwise it would be rather difficult to keep up with near-human, who is winding his way through back alleys that Sandor didn't realize existed. 'How much further is it?', he wonders, keeping the thought to himself for the time being. If Kintor was to say, then surely he would at his own pace, and if not, the soldier will doubtlessly learn when he gets there. Keeping silent and continuing at the grueling walking pace, Kintor turns a final corner and into the Corusca City starport. He slows considerably as the port expands around them, but keeps the aim of his walk straight and deliberate. It wouldn't take a tactical genious to realize the ship he is walking to, but for the moment, Kintor doesn't care. It would be hard to pick them out in the large crowd of spacers, even in the night. He finally stops before a large Sardakh Systems Light Cruiser with a smile on his face. Kintor looks up at it adoringly as he fishes through a pocket to pull out a small remote device. A button is pressed and the boarding ramp begins to lower from the aft end of the large ship. It comes to a stop at their feet with a loud hiss and Buck begins the ascent ahead of the two men. Kintor puts a foot on the ramp and turns to Sandor before walking up. The eyes are now a much darker blue as Kintor points his head towards the belly of the ship and smiles. "Fastest ship in the Galaxy." "Good to know," the soldier replies, ignoring the bravado as much as possible. If it truly is the fastest, or even among the fastest ships of the galaxy, that would be another story, but at the moment Sandor has no reason to believe that this is in fact the case. He only hopes that a detailed technical explanation is not to follow, as that most of it would simply pass through one ear and out the other. Not willing to be the first aboard the ship, Sandor offers a wave with his arm up the ramp, signalling that he will follow behind the apparent owner. Kintor walks up the ramp into the ship and waits for Sandor inside the fairly empty cargo hold of the Champion Glory. When Sandor joins at the top, Kintor leads the way through another door into the common area of the ship; a place where the crew would normally sit about while waiting for something to happen. This is not the case this time, however. The rest of the group had been dropped off on Caspar under the command of Lornan, and Kintor had gone on alone to complete several errands. Sitting himself in a chair, he gestures for Sandor to sit in one across a small table covered with blank paper and several pens. Kintor leans forward and takes the longcoat off to drape against the chair behind him, revealing several small blades and an IR-5 as he does so. "Alright. This should be private enough for you." He pauses for a second, not entirely sure how to launch such an uncommon conversation. "You have any ideas of how we're gonna do this? I'd prefer we do it on Caspar, if it's all the same to you." Taking the seat as instructed, Sandor listens to the preamble with intent, the gears in his head clearly turning with each passing word. Hearing Caspar mentioned, a brow rises on Sandor's face, with the man's mind desperately following just behind in a vain effort to sort out the reasoning for why. "I don't think there are any Imperial buildings left on Caspar. Except maybe the embassy, they lost basically everything over two months ago now." The significance is not completely lost on Sandor, however, as an attack on the Imperial embassy on Caspar would probably provoke a war. From a tactical standpoint, Sandor understands just how thoroughly nasty it would be. But morally.. little more than a month ago, he would have been one of the men fighting and dying to take one of the hardest strategic points of the galaxy. He leaves this objection silent for the time being, however, as the attack on Cochran had been no less brutal. "There where isn't nearly as important as the how is, honestly. Imperial security forces are highly trained - IntSec officers aren't brainwashed. They're smart and do their job without trying to get themselves killed. Kintor nods to the man across the table. "One of several reasons I say Caspar is that I'm already going to be there. I can start the crew with surveillance of the Embassy on top of what we're already doing." He looks at Sandor as he listens, then replies with his agreement. "Aye. How we do this is going to be most important of all, but so is the 'what.' There are many things we could do to an Embassy. Two that immediately come to mind are blowing it to the ground and/or kidnapping someone of high status within. Either way we do it, I want as little loss of life as possible. We'll show them how to make a dent without the loss of an entire planet's population." The last sentence comes out bitterly as Kintor remembers the battle and the picture on the holoconsole of the planet just after bombardment. The eyes flash a brief red before settling to their neutral dark brown, signalling the end of the welling up of anger. He looks back at Sandor and comments. "However we do it, we're gonna need more people than we have." "I know a few people," Sandor responds, though inwardly wondering if he really does. By now it stands to reason that Alana and Kell are dead - and the odds of the man convincing Karina, who seemingly has no purpose in life, to risk her own skin for a cause greater than anyone are fairly low. "They're not trained in MOUT tactics, or at all really, but I'll have to see what can be done in advance." Hopefully, the timeframe will be enough to get the group prepared once a suitable number of volunteers can be found. There's only so much time that can pass before the wait is too much to bear for some. "We don't actually need to blow it to the ground, though. Just attacking it at all will show the Empire that we mean business." In fact, Sandor kind of hopes that they don't have to blow it up. If the building stays intact, perhaps it will only slow the Imperial advance as they move to counter, and allow for a diplomatic solution in the meantime. That would be the best case scenario, but Sandor is not so detatched from reality that he'd actually believe that statistics don't play a role in warfare. "And bog down their logistics for at least a week." Shrugging, Kintor responds without too much concern. "If need be, there's enough space on the Glory for simple training. We don't need them to be trained in every weapon in existance. Just enough to make sure they duck when they need to duck and shoot when they need to shoot." He nods at the rest of what Sandor says, agreeing and then putting in some of his own thoughts. "Right. Anything to slow 'em down will work. And to minimize fatalaties on both sides we should put all our weapons on stun setting." He smiles mischievously and adds, "I have a blade that will work perfectly for this." He pauses a moment, thinking, and then continues, "I'll have Cassie work on some fake badges so we can get inside and study how things move from there. I could probably also get my hands on some blueprints without too much trouble, as well." Leaning forward over the table, he takes a piece of paper and a soft leaded pencil and begins to write his own notes, making sure there are no papers underneath the one he is writing on. It would be foolish to risk the operation failing because of someone hacking his datapad or sneaking aboard the ship to steal the imprints on paper below the one being written on. This paper would be destroyed almost immediately after the contents are memorized. For a man with such poor timing, Kintor really does seem to know a lot, and Sandor nods his head accordingly at various points. Sandor isn't entirely certain that he's going to leave his fate to Cassie, however, and even now is considering other alternatives in intelligence gathering. After all, if he is ever found out, he can always say that it never hurts to be prepared, at least not physically. Financially, Sandor probably won't survive this endeavor at all, but that doesn't bother him anywhere near as much as it could. The men and women who died on Cochran weren't so worried about their fortunes when the bombardment began, after all. "I don't really know anything about that spooky stuff. Just how to get us in and out during the breach, and how to set explosives if it comes to that." And there it is; Sandor wasn't intending to make himself responsible for what was to come, but he didn't want to get blown up by someone else not realizing how to properly prepare their fuses, or handle explosives to begin with. Silently, he wonders just what sort of disguise he might don for what Kintor has in mind, because he has no intention of having his face plastered all over the news as a murderer and a terrorist. If only he knew about the posters already circulating with his very picture on them. "Right. I can start on surveillance as soon as I get back to Caspar." Kintor leans back in his chair, stroking his chin, trying to think of any other points to be addressed at this time. There isn't much more to discuss until the two have a larger group to work with, seeing as a four or five man team is going to have a much harder time clearing out an entire Imperial embassy than a group of ten or twelve. "I think we're done for now. Establish contact with the people you know and convince them to join the cause. We'll need as much help as we can get; and the more definite the number of people who are in, the easier it will be to plan the extreme details." And the details must be extremely precise. Kintor doesn't say this out loud; it goes without saying in a project such as this. "If you need to find me, I'll be on Caspar. My headquarters will most likely be the Marin Mountain resort - where the swoop track is. The Champion Glory has a holoterm you can call as well. The number is: 00-47-8876. It's also listed under ComCor: Champion Glory in the directory if you can't remember the number." He folds the paper he has been writing on and slips it into a pocket to be reviewed later and tidies up the strewn about paper and pencils on the tabletop. Silently, Sandor repeats the information in his head, hoping to get it into his short-term memory before leaving the starship. "Got it. I'll get with you when it's all worked out," Sandor offers, taking the hint. Assuming nothing further is added, he turns and begins to make his way out of the starship, offering a nod as he does so. In spite of things moving in what seems to be the proper direction, however, he doesn't appear to be especially happy with the turn of events. So much can go wrong, and he has enough to keep him up at night already.
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