Your mission will take you to Tanaab, a system at the edge of the inner rim. There are rumors there of the military planning separist activity. We would like to go and try to find proof of these allegations. We will be sending additional spies, but it will be in everyone’s best interest if each of your identities are kept confidential. We have booked you passage on a small unmarked transport. All relevent information has been uploaded into your datapad. You will need to select your encryption password.

Do you understand your mission? 

He did.

It wasn’t surprising in the least that this mission started out rocky. Flying around outside Republic jurisdiction was risky business. He could deal with pirates though. Does it for a living. Non-Repubic planetary officials, on the other hand, he had less experience with. Especially ones who were the target of his mission. The sheer irony was that the Republic booked him passage on a spice runner ship... One that happened to bring his targets straight to him.

He would need to weave quite the web. Or perhaps not. Maybe it would be better to take the innocent passenger angle. He would likely be detained, have to answer a few questions, and then would be released.

The blind Jedi had other plans. The man could obviously sense enough around to get around with assistance, but how he managed that lightsaber in combat was quite beyond Dime’s comprehension. As he made his way to the door, the young blue-hued Twi’lek grabbed his arm and wispered in his ear.

“My name is Kol Nuro, and I am a wandering musician coming to this world to learn of it’s exotic dances, should anyone ask.”

Dime had given the Jedi his real name in confidence, although it is not often that someone would need to do so. In his line of work, however, a name could carry much weight. Only a trusted few of the Order and the Republic were given that knowledge.

After the door closed, Dime ran to his pack and grabbed a Slitherhorn, and began working on a march he learned back on Corellia with the Coronet Quartet. He would wait for them to come to him…

The March was a bit shaky. Dime had played the Omnibox on his tour of Coronet City. The group was small and young, but good. Thankfully none of them ever used their real names with the band, Kol Nuro was his alias in that instance, and his trademark outlandish and unrevealing costumes allowed him to now keep a low profile. He would bet some hard creds that only the first few rows of their concerts would even guess he was a twi'lek. Good thing his Lekki were flexible. Now that it crossed his mind, it wouldn't be a bad thing to get back into character.

Dime put the horn down for a sec, and opened his costume chest. He grabbed a large human hairtie, and pulled his Lekki back in a single tail. He shuffled his large yellow and purple cloak to cover them. Finally the headgear he chose was both stylish and strategic. It was a plethora of colors, starting with light blue and running entire spectrum, ending in a fiery red, which both clashed and melded with the yellow back of his cloak. The arrangement of colors hid his blue-tinted skin, and made it appear more green, or at least more made-up. He slipped in his colored contacts to hide his piercing violet eyes.

With his new bright blue eyes to further mask his skin tone, Kol Nuro was reborn. Dime looked himself over. All that was missing was his black bow-tie. As he bent to grab it out of his chest, he caught a glimpse in the mirror of his former self. It suddenly struck him how few years have actually passed since he joined the Republic. He took a moment to grieve the past. It was nice to have no cares except pleasing a crowd. Now he must worry about keeping aliases straight, his friends close, and his enemies closer.

Oh well, thus was the life of a secret agent.

The sound of the high-pitched slitherhorn playing in it's uppermost range rang through his chamber, and likely into the rest of the ship. If they would be boarded, he would at least make it entertaining. (OOC: For those of you who have not played Galaxies, a Slitherhorn sounds like a synthesized Clarinet)