Coral Vanda was a renowned entertainment resort, heavily promoted for its extravagant allure. Under different circumstances, Mara might have taken a moment to admire the sheer scale and opulence of the place. But today, she had a far more pressing mission.
The casino's vast expanse was truly impressive. It seemed as though every gambling game in the galaxy had found its place here, each represented by a good dozen tables. Sabbac, lagjack, tregald, holo-chess, roulette, slot machines... even the outdated pazzak had its own dedicated tables. And at each one, there was no shortage of eager players.
The large room was symmetrically divided by an enormous bar, its shelves lined with an astonishing variety of bottles. Mara nearly let out a whistle of surprise. The resort's owners had clearly made it their mission to ensure that every imaginable drink was available, ready to toast to victory—or, more often, to drown the sorrows of loss with a touch of luxury and elegance.
A completely transparent wall offered a breathtaking view of the ocean. The cruise ship's slow speed did little to disturb the schools of silvery, curious fish, which must have grown accustomed to this massive, light-blazing marvel of engineering.
The ship navigated through intricately shaped coral reefs, their vibrant forms beautifully contrasting with the blue-green, almost crystalline waters of the coastal ocean. Yes, under different circumstances, Mara could have easily lost herself in the tranquility of this place.
Especially given that Coral Vanda boasted seven such luxurious gaming rooms. Now, the red-haired beauty had reached the last of them, suppressing her irritation at not yet finding the person she was searching for.
"Milady, would you care for a drink?" the bartender asked as she approached the counter, glancing at the half-asleep patrons slouched behind it—individuals who had likely squandered vast sums of money within mere hours of boarding the liner. Yet all of them were wealthy and sophisticated. They could afford to lose. And lose a lot.
"Something non-alcoholic," she requested. It wasn't a matter of expense—she had the means—but as a first-class passenger, drinks and meals were included in the cruise cost. Those of lesser means in second class had to pay extra for such luxuries.
However, Mara had a strict rule against drinking alcohol while on a mission. There was no reason to cloud her mind or dull her senses if it could be avoided. In the past, she had celebrated the completion of particularly challenging assignments with a glass of expensive wine. Perhaps she would do the same this time.
"Here you go," the bartender said, handing her a glass of freshly squeezed juice, adorned with a colorful umbrella. "Anything else I can do for you?"
It was standard customer service, bolstered by the knowledge that wealthy patrons often tipped generously for even the smallest of favors. A simple tactic, but one that often proved effective.
"I'm just enjoying the view," Mara replied, pretending to be captivated by the coral reef while discreetly scanning the room for the players seated at the tables. But Hoffner, whose appearance she had memorized from the Imperial files before the mission, was nowhere to be seen. She would finish her inspection here and then casually wander through the hall, as if deciding which game to join.
But she had no intention of playing—her trained eyes, despite a lack of recent practice, quickly identified that nearly every table had a professional cheater. They were undoubtedly employed by the casino's management to ensure patrons lost their money swiftly. It was a simple yet effective operation. After all, the house always wins. That was the whole point.
"Quite a view, isn't it?" the bartender remarked as he polished another glass with a pristine white towel. "These corals have been here for many years..."
"Yes, I've heard," Mara replied offhandedly, turning to the bartender. Why not make her job easier? "From a friend of mine, actually. Maybe you know him? Hoffner..."
"Ah, yes, miss," the bartender said, breaking into a professional smile. "One of our regulars."
"Really?" Mara feigned surprise. "It's strange that I haven't seen him around the casino."
"He just left," the bartender said nonchalantly. "Lost again and went off with some lady to his cabin. You must have missed him by about an hour. He was quite drunk, but at least this time he didn't need to be carried to his room."
A talkative and well-informed employee could be the lifeblood of any operation. How many such chatterboxes had Mara personally silenced during her time serving the Empire? But now, she needed this man—he could make her task much easier.
She was running out of time. In ten or twenty minutes, the Nemesis would arrive, and by then, Hoffner needed to be ready for a less-than-pleasant change of scenery.
And it seemed like Hoffner was still indulging in his personal vices, squandering large sums of money in the process. Where had he acquired such wealth? Enough to become a regular customer... If memory served her right, such a status was usually reserved for those who had maintained a stable relationship with the establishment over several years. And if that was the case, how could someone who consistently lost everything still be a regular?
She needed to find out where Hoffner was. Hacking into the cruise ship's computer network wasn't a viable option. It was likely well-protected, given the number and type of clients onboard. Besides, how had Thrawn known Hoffner would be here? And why was he so interested in him?
Well, she would add those questions to her growing list, to be addressed when she met him face-to-face. And she had no doubt that meeting would happen.
"Is something wrong?" the bartender asked, snapping Mara out of her thoughts. She mentally cursed herself for letting her emotions show. She was losing her edge.
"Yes," she said, drawing on her experience as the Emperor's personal agent, where she had often played out various pre-rehearsed scenarios to get what she wanted. She had plenty of tricks up her sleeve, and it was time to use one. "Maybe you can help me?"
"If it's within my power," the bartender replied with a smile.
"I need to know which cabin Hoffner is staying in," she said. The bartender shook his head.
"Sorry, I can't share that information," he said. "We don't give out personal details about our guests."
"I understand," she said, adding a touch of melancholy to her voice and expression. "But you'd really be helping me out. You see, Hoffner is my fiancé. He proposed, and my father is ready to give his blessing. The wedding is all set, but if Hoffner is cheating on me... You're a decent man—I could tell right away! You understand that if I marry someone who's unfaithful, I'll be ruined! In our circles, a stain like that can never be washed away—even if we divorce, I'll never be able to find another suitable match..."
She extended her hand across the bar toward the bartender, who continued polishing the glass, his eyes never leaving hers. He seemed to consider her story. A subtle psychological appeal to his sense of pride—would it work, or would she need to involve the stormtroopers and start breaking down doors?
"Cabin eleven-thirty-eight, first class," he finally said, leaning in and covering her hand with the towel. Mara smiled and slid a chip worth a thousand credits his way. It was likely more than he earned in a week, so he would be pleased with the gesture. "I always believe in honesty between partners."
"I'll remember that," Mara replied with a playful smile, winking at him. The persona of a mysterious, alluring aristocrat had served her well in the past. Now all she had to do was properly embellish her cover story. "And if you see Hoffner with a slap mark on his face, come find me after your shift. I'm in cabin ten-twenty."
"I'll be free in seven hours," the bartender said, touching her fingers in a gesture of encouragement. He seemed confident that his evening would end on a high note. After all, even being a plaything for a wealthy aristocrat could lead to a far more prosperous future than working here.
"I'll be waiting," Mara said, winking once more before heading for the exit. The credit chip disappeared into the folds of the towel.
As she left the gaming room, Mara pulled a small compact from her clutch, pretending she was about to powder her nose. In reality, this seemingly simple device was one of the few relics she had kept from her days working for the Emperor, and she had never let it out of her sight since.
The compact's hidden holocommunicator projected a small figure of one of the stormtroopers. Standing only as tall as her little finger, it was easily concealed beneath the compact's lid.
"Orders?" the trooper asked.
"Cabin eleven-thirty-eight," she replied. "The target is likely there. Block the entrance, but don't breach. We move as soon as Nemesis arrives."
"Yes, ma'am," the figure responded before disappearing.
Mara approached the turbolift. She had thirty seconds to return to her room, a couple of minutes to change into her more practical combat suit made of reinforced fabric, and a few minutes to reach Hoffner's cabin and assess the situation.
Then the real work would begin.