Playing Princess for the Dean

Datalog Entry: Bymm.DEL.log/867-309-RUS1
Encrypted: IRN1-2ASU/45:17+5

While we’re putting the finishing touches on the ship, and settling accounts with the monks for our long stay on Tal Dor Station, I am approached by a gentleman with a business proposition. He cant help notice my striking resemblance to the Princess Salina and said his client needed a Salina look-alike for a very specific job.

How. . .fascinating.

Intrigued, I agree to meet with Popo the Hutt. Popo is very unusual for a hutt, he speaks in basic, is generally cordial and personable and just about as much not a hutt as you can get. His business offer – he needs “Princess Salina” to go to Central University on Dorian and act as a potential backer for a agricultural project. I’m to throw around some money, look over their project, ask some questions, and act as a spoiled patron with more credits than sense – all the while casing the facility for a prototype hyperdrive that he wants us to steal.

So, steal the prototype, steal the plans, erase the plans so they cant reconstruct the prototype easily. Sounds like a snap! So one quick paint job to spruce up the Runaway and make her look like the pleasure yacht she should be and we’re off back to Dorian.

Upon landing, I set about acting as the Queen Bee – which apparently the last 6 months on the rim has dulled that skill. I was awkward and forced and not at all my usual elegant self. How terribly embarrassing. However the is still impressed by my manor and their representative promptly takes us to the hotel suite to get settled – before I insist that we go out on the town, of course.

Generally I fritter the night away acting like a caricature of myself. Find a good looking man, suck his face all night long, dance, drink and act as if my associates are just subservient minions – which is actually surprisingly hard to do now. Oh how much we change.

The next morning, I awake at the early hour of noon, enjoy a lavish and expensive breakfast and summon the dean for my official tour of Central University’s science facility. Mind you, I don’t pay too much attention to the layout or the security arrangements myself. I’m concentrating on leaving that up to my entourage while I act as vapid, demanding and distracting as I can.

Later in the day, we retire to our suite to compare notes and begin compiling first draft plan of attack. Del thinks she can crack the security on the computers, Mahitha and Shadya got a good look at the layout of the facility – perhaps coming over from a nearby building instead of working our way up from the ground floor. Then it’s just a matter of timing, getting an idea where the schedule was weakest. Time to request a middle of the night tour.

At a completely unreasonable hour, I call the Dean as we’re approaching the front door of the science building, insisting that I have questions and want to look at the Buzzword Buzzword Ratios again. I manage to bluff and bully past security and all the way up to the actual lab containing the prototype before the dean and the security guards catch up to our party. Not a bad response time – it should give us enough of a window to work with.

The next day is full of more of the same – looking bored at technicians running down details of their lives work and then a lavish dinner before we set to work. Late into the evening, we run a zip line from the next building over to the roof of the science building. Opening the lock on the roof access door was simple – this was not an avenue of attack they thought needed covering, apparently.

At the guard station, however, my efforts to bluff the security – well, I fail utterly. We do manage to subdue her, but not before she trips the alarm. And now the clock is running. I cover the turbolifts while Del works her magic on the mainframes while Mahitha and Shadya secure the engine – shockingly smaller than I thought.

As far as the escape goes, it’s Amateur Night again – the back stairs work, but we run headlong into police and campus security, the rip roaring chase is full of wrong turns missed directions, and otherwise bad decisions – but fortunately we get away without actually killing anyone. We get back to the ship and lift off just as the spaceport is locked down.

Close, but we got away – well, I wouldn’t say clean. But we got away with the goods. Now, the delivery. . . .


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