This Message Will Self Destruct

[Wyl Staedtler]

It is a universal truth that children in small spaces will expand in tenacity and ingenuity, a survival tactic employed in the hope that, somehow, this release of excess curiosity will result in a larger playing field. This method has been proven to be largely effective under the right circumstances; any authority figure in their right mind will only be able to endure so many attempts at architectural destruction and then it is simply a waiting game (the soundtrack of which is generally The Neverending Song) before the malicious miscreants are banished to the outside world. Which is, of course, exactly what they wanted in the first place.

But on a ship, there are only so many places to go.

Which was what had brought Pilot and his wife, the keenly intelligent Fang, to this small, neglected corridor of the Whaladon in the first place. They were using their code names in keeping with the mood of building anxiety that hung around them like a cloak, small faces painted with a solemn dread that made hard determination shine from the depths of their eyes.

"I think it's clear," Wyl whispered, risking a glance out into the main passageway. His heart gave a sick thump. They didn't have much time and everything depended on staying calm - and whether or not the schematics he'd managed to lay hold of were accurate. Because on a ship, there were only so many places to go... unless you made more .

The boy took as even a breath as he could, bracing himself for the task at hand. He glanced at his fellow fugitive. " "Did you remember to bring the servodriver (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Servodriver)?"

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

Her face, like her husband's, was the picture of seriousness and complete concentration rooted in the knowledge that their time was short and getting shorter by the microsecond. Their window of opportunity was a small one, and their chances for success even smaller. It was now or never, and Fang was ready. It helped that Pilot was on the same brain-length, and that meant their coordinating efforts were perfect anyways.

She dug into the toolbelt she'd 'borrowed' from Cirr; well, on him it was a toolbelt - on her it was more of a tool bandolier.

"I got any size you need," she whispered quickly, craning her head up to look at the screwheads that'd need to be swiftly undone. With a furrowed brow and her tongue partially sticking out, the girl gave her best guess in picking the correct servodriver size. She held it up dramatically, studying the tip for only a few precious moments before handing it to Pilot.

"That should do it."

[Wyl Staedtler]

It was moments like these, when years of training and studying slotted together with experience and the sort of knowledgeable companion one could depend on that Wyl lived for. Liberation was bred from competence and today didn't look good for the competition: they weren't going down, not without a fight.

"Boost," Wyl tucked the tool into the belt around his waist and reached up to catch hold of the emergency breath mask, mounted in a sealed case halfway up the paneled wall. With Tak's added push against the sole of his boot and a determined pull he was vaulted ceilingward, elbows catching on the flat top of the case. It took a moment for the rest of him to catch up while he carefully edged to center. There was very little space to work with and Wyl had to move carefully, pull one knee up with deliberate slowness and then ease to an upright crouch, hands flat against the wall for traction, before bringing the other along.

But once he was there, secured as best as was possible, he got right to work. Tak had a good eye - the servodriver slotted over the first corner screw with ease and whined lowly as it began to undo the fastening. The noise echoed hauntingly in the ventilation shaft, the grate of which was being held together by the very bolts they were working to get rid of.

Wyl cupped his hand under the swiveling tool head and bent his body in an attempt to block some of the sound. "Check and see if they've got a mark on us, Fang."

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

"On it."

Her voice came out in a hiss, and the little Lupine gave one last upward look to Pilot as he put forth all of his efforts into making sure their agreed upon entrance was opened in as timely (and inscreetly) a fashion as possible. If anyone could do it, Pilot could. He was the one who knew more about machines and speeders and stuff like that anyway, so she let him deal with all that. For her part, Fang was the muscle and the lookout (though Pilot sometimes argued that he was better at the 'muscle' part. Whatever.).

Tiptoeing to the corridor's bend, Fang flattened herself against the wall before creeping the last few feet to the edge. Slowly and without a sound, she leaned over to look upon an empty hall. Empty SO FAR. How long would it stay that way?

She blinked, bit her lip in thought, then finally pulled back to look over her shoulder, up at Pilot. He was still working with the servodriver, and she frowned just enough for him to notice.

"It's clear, but you gotta hurry," she urged.

"We don't got much time."

[Wyl Staedtler]

"Sweetheart, if you think you can make this thing go faster, be my guest," Wyl hissed back, willing the servodriver to turn faster. It's lazy cycles seemed to be reeling in their demise.

The first screw dropped into his waiting palm and Wyl pocketed it. "Listen, Fang. If... if things get busy, I want you to run, okay? I'm a Jedi, my capture will be a political victory and they'll be distracted. It'll give you enough time to make a break for it. Promise me you won't try and do anything stupid."

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

Taken aback, she stared at the opposite wall for a few intense moments, blinking furiously as her brain worked through what Pilot had just said. And, like she'd seen her mother do so many times previous, the girl folded her arms across her chest, stuck one hip out, and fixed her husband with a withering glare.

"I so will not leave. And 'sides - you're not a Jedi, you're a padawan."

She set her jaw.

"I'm the muscle anyways. S'my job to protect you."

[Wyl Staedtler]

"I am a Jedi and that's the most preposterous - "

Wyl's rebuttal was cut off as his hand slipped from the grate, nearly sending him toppling to the floor. With as much dignity as he could muster, the boy righted himself and shot an impatient look over his shoulder. Most times it was in the best interests of everyone to agree with his wife. But this was life or death and they didn't have the luxury of toying around for the sake of trying to be self-sacrificing.

"Your job is to get those papers to safekeeping," Wyl snapped, moving on to the next bolt. "And anyway, when push comes to shove I'm at a far better advantage in a fight. I'm a man."

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

"Winning at 'My Apologies' doesn't count," was the snapped reply before Teagan turned on her heel in a huff, edging back to the corridor's bend to have another look, making sure no one was coming. She heaved a sigh of relief at the all clear, but kept her eyes peeled for a small bit more.

But, her watchful position didn't stop her from finishing with -

"You're a boy."

Couldn't that servodriver work any faster??!

"Hurry uuupp. I don't want anyone finding the big wheel's speeder where we hid it."

[Wyl Staedtler]

Oh, now she was just being petty. There were better times for a marital spat than in the middle of a daring undercover op but beggars couldn't be choosers and he certainly wasn't going to let her get away with insulting his male ego so blatantly.

"Listen here, furball," Wyl started, arm gesticulating wildly. Unfortunately he underestimated the demonstrative force of such a maneuver and the servodriver slipped from his grasp, landing with a damning clatter on the floor below.

"Now look what you did!"

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

Furball? FURBALL?! FURBALL?!!!

"You listen to me, Wyl Staedtler," she hissed sharply, dropping the use of his codename completely as she moved to scoop up the fallen servodriver.

She lifted the tool up, but instead of handing it to him, she shook it in his direction threateningly.

"I'll let them catch you, and when they do, they'll interrogate you and make you tell them all your secrets, and then they'll court martial you, and then you'll be in trouble with my Dad... "

Another wave of the driver.

"... again!"

[Wyl Staedtler]

The boy's mouth flapped wordlessly in the face of what was undoubtedly a legitimate threat; Tak was not one for idle promises. But the mere fact that she were willing to delve to such treacherous depths of betrayal shocked him into silence. This was his wife, his life partner, his number one. If she couldn't be relied on, who could? Wyl's stomach twisted. He had the uncanny feeling that perhaps his future wasn't as cozily secured as he had presumed.

Even with his objective forgotten, the boy remained in his perch like a rather confused and ill-fated bird. He wasn't stupid: going down when Teagan got like this was suicidal. Even Mace Windu wouldn't have crossed her.

"I think," he finally said, eyes narrowing. "That you're forgetting which one of us navigated through Cloud City all on their own for three entire days. You couldn't double-cross me if you tried, Fang. I've the Force on my side!"

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

She rolled her eyes, shrugging her shoulders before tossing up the servodriver. He caught it, but only just barely due to the awkward trajectory and end over end movements of the tool as it floated in the air.

"Well how about you use the Force to get that thing open?"

Her hands found themselves on each hip, feet planted wide and her back arched upward so she could look up at him.

"Now that I got you floofed up enough, maybe we can get in there faster."

Dama had once told her that if she ever wanted Dad to do something faster, all she had to do was insist she could do it better. After that, Dad always worked harder.

Fang hoped this tactic would work on her own husband.

[Wyl Staedtler]

"I'll floof you up," Wyl muttered lowly, starting the agonizing process of angling himself so that he could reach the ventilation shaft. It was an awkward stretch, the remaining bolts all either at the top and requiring him to go on tip-toe or to the adjacent side, which meant propping himself against the loose end of the grate in order to access them. "Bossy, alpha-syndrome... think you know everything... show you how it's done..."

The urgency with which they had been so occupied with was now weighted down by a crackling sense of mutiny, both of them firmly affixed in their positions and convinced that the other was being a stubborn bantha. Which was true, in Tak's case. Fate and fortune seemed to agree with Wyl because presently the last of the bolts came free, little silver curls of durasteel shaving with it. The little knob was passed down to Fang along with the servodriver and then her definitely-a-man-and-also-a-genuine-Jedi-who-was-a-mechanical-genius-thank-you-very-much husband applied himself to prying the grate off.

"Ha!" Wyl barked triumphantly when his firm wriggling finally forced the vertically-planed cover to let go of it's grip. The ventilation shaft was a gaping hole, stale air that smelled of dust and hot rubber gently blowing out. It was just wide enough for a pair of entrepreneurial operatives to shimmy through.

The arched look that was sent Fang's way could have stopped a blaster bolt. "How's that for muscle?"

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

The quirky smile she gave him was one that only he was ever graced with. Pilot was the only one who could make Fang smile like that, and completely ignoring his show of bravado, she gestured at him to help her up.

"We don't have much - "

And that was when she heard it. Her head snapped to look at the hallway's corner, and she gave the air a little test-sniff.

Sure enough, that familiar old-home scent of brown Jedi robes trickled into her nostrils, and her eyes grew to the size of saucer-plates. It wouldn't be long now, and she wouldn't have much time at all to climb up.

Frantic, Fang darted forward and up, her jump taking her just high enough to latch desperate fingers onto the edge of Pilot's perch.

"Help me up! Hurry!!" she whispered quickly.

[Abarai Loki]

It had been an unusually long day; between half a dozen training sessions, overseeing the sparring club and avoiding Taataani Meeorrei, Loki was done. There were few things more frustrating than an underperforming padawan, more tiresome than the morning bathroom queue, more relentless than a battalion of stormtroopers, and more enduring than a sarlaac pit monster, but Cirrsseeto's eccentric mother fits the bill. And now having survived this far, Loki had resolved to return to his quarters, wash and change into a clean tunic, and don the family haori for dinner. A last desperate scrabble for routine in a world which was becoming increasingly susceptible to disorder and chaos.

So, it was with a degree of quiet despair he saw a little pair of legs kicking at the air, vanishing into an open ventilation shaft. He paused only to take a calming breath and then, in an instant, he was outside the airduct, and, arms folded, addressed the offending legs in a tone of deathly import.

"I don't know what this is about, but you secured your defeat when you decided to operate outside my quarters."

[Wyl Staedtler]

Given the space that was provided - perhaps two feet in width and a foot-and-a-half in height - and the fact that the duct had never been designed with the intention of serving as a last-response exit for one, let alone multiple persons, there were literally only two options afforded the stealthy pair: they could ignore the infiltrating voice and make a scramble for it, or they could confront the danger and embrace it.

Wyl glanced down at Tak, sprawled on her belly in front of him, and then out toward the square patch of light and made an executive decision. They very probably couldn't combat-crawl at a rate fast enough to secure their safety and only moments before they had gone over this very scenario.

One hand pressing down on Teagan's back, Wyl leaned forward and stuck his head out of the shaft. The boy's face was a blank canvas, just a hint of irritation beginning to shade the forming outline of innocence painted on his features.

And oh, thank the Force. It wasn't anyone dangerous standing there to destroy them - it was just a kid. Certainly he qualified as a Big Kid, and the pinched expression on his face meant that he probably couldn't be drawn over as an ally, but it wasn't as though the quartermaster had discovered their antics and was preparing to have them shot out the airlock.

"Sorry for the disturbance," Wyl gave a laconic shrug, in the unapologetic fashion he'd seen the deck mechanics do when delivering bad news about engine repairs. "Routine maintenance, you know. Won't take long."

The boy's eyes narrowed then and he put a little more emphasis on his next words, tone drawing out in mystical fashion. "Go about your business. This isn't the corridor you're searching for."

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

Wyl's hand on her back kept her in place, but never before had she wanted to poke her head out next to her husband's so much. The voice down in the corridor was one she'd never heard before, and the curiosity to see the stranger was hard to supress.

Her eyes darted up to Pilot's.

'Who is it,' she mouthed silently.

[Abarai Loki]

Loki was surprised to see the youngling attempt such an advanced Jedi technique, it was commendable, if rather foolish. His eyebrow lifted in quizzical appraisal of the scruffy airduct-dweller and his unidentified acomplice.

"Padawan, you will find your elementary mind tricks have no power over me."

A curious tilt of the head allowed him to identify the boy's attire as traditional, if rather tatty, Jedi robes. Strange, he thought, that he'd never seen him in any of his practice sessions. He sensed foul play.

"Now, you will cease this flagrant disregard for the rules and climb down from there immediately," Loki considered his words, and made a diplomatic amendment, "If you choose to co-operate I will see to it personally that your punishment will be... fair."

[Wyl Staedtler]

This kid was gold. Never before had Wyl encountered a soul who approached the game with such dedication, who immersed themselves so fully into character, who applied such dignity to their lines. This was going to be the best round of Incognito ever.

Relieved that they were in no danger, Wyl let up on Tak and shrugged in response to her silent query. He had no idea who it was but the boy tugged on the sleeve of his loose garment - ragged from being constantly yanked down over his palms - to indicate that it was a fellow Jedi. Or someone pretending to be a Jedi, possibly, but Wyl was confident about the former; that warm buzz of recognition tickled at the edge of his senses. A quick and eager thumbs up indicated that they were still a go.

"Your offer is compelling," Wyl replied grandly, the statement reverberating in the chambers of the airway. Barely-contained excitement colored his tone, trembling like a wild animal in anticipation of freedom. "But we all know that's not going to happen, 006.

"Or should I say," the boy paused for dramatic effect. "Dr. Nix!"

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

Dr. Nix?!

While she had no idea who Dr. Nix was, Wyl had ingrained in her enough of how to conduct herself in these situations that Tak felt herself press even closer to the duct's paneling. Her mouth formed a silent 'Oooo', and after a few moments of thought, squirmed herself forward just enough to poke her head down through the opening.

A cascade of blonde hair preceded dancing eyes and a crooked, mischievous smirk as she gazed down at the undoubtedly evil Dr. Nix. Why, even his scowl looked like an evil doctor's scowl!

"You'll NEVER catch us," came her overly-dramatic declaration,

"... Not this time!"

[Abarai Loki]

"Youngling, you are mistaken. Your flight will be as futile as the sand slug fleeing a rising tide. There is no escape for you here."

While Loki remained statuesque throughout, speaking words with cool disinterest, inwardly, a quiet outrage simmered. Never before had he witnessed such a brazen display of disobedience before a superior officer, it simply wasn't done, and what precious patience he'd scavenged during his time with the Wheel was fast running thin. It was the case of misidentification that gave him pause for thought, the children were confused, and once they understood he wasn't Doctor Nix, or a doctor of any sort for that matter, their compliance would surely follow:

"My name is Abarai Loki, younglings, and you are guilty of insubordination. Identify yourselves."

[Wyl Staedtler]

A fog of peril had descended upon the party, grim and determined in it's efforts to ensnare the noble pair of ambassadors of truth and justice and keep them from restoring power to the rightful hands. The malice clung to their new friend like a second skin, disguised beneath a front of professional detachment. Had it not been for their extensive training, Wyl might have been cowed by the display of authority before them. But he was not an idiot; he recognized a trap when he saw one. Oh, what a clever, clever villain.

Basking in the delightful twist in the game, the young Jedi spared a look at his wife. For just a moment he broke character, face glowing with uncontainable glee at the opportunities that lay ahead.

"Ha ha ha ha!" Wyl boomed. "That kind of elemen'try trickery might work on gearheaded laserbrains, Doctor, but not on us! We know who you really are!"

And now more than ever was he glad that Tak was here. She was always so good at this dramatic stuff and it had been her idea to script a tandem introduction for their alter egos. The boy pressed himself against one side of the duct so that she could be more comfortable as they stared down at the terrible face of their rival.

"But you're no match for the galaxy's last hope - with speed n'agility so awesome they can't even be explained because it would melt your brain to try: PILOT!" Wyl bent into a practiced action pose, his biceps flexing in an intimidating manner as he froze his face in a heroically fearsome glare and waited for Tak to carry on.

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

There were times when her husband literally dazzled her with his words and actions, and now was one of those times. His voice struck a chord in her, and the little Lupine couldn't help but feel as her pride swelled; Pilot was her husband, and he was the most absolute best husband any girl could have.

His delivery was masterful, and Teagan's eyes glittered as she picked up on the very next beat.

"And the seven hells (that one she'd heard from Dad before) won't want you when I'm through with you," a hand lifted up beside her face, fingers curling into talons as she bared her teeth as menacingly as an eight year old girl could.

"... cause I'm FANG!"

To finish off her show of 'viciousness', she gave a hiss down at Dr. Nix.

"If you know what's good for you, you better just give up now."

Another little snarl.

"I just took a bath, and I don't wanna have to take another just 'cause I got your organs splashed on me."

[Abarai Loki]

"You dare threaten me?" Loki whispered dangerously, "I have killed for less than that!"

Loki sized up the rebellious pair, eyes narrowed into fiery chasms, and his little body poised like a cobra ready to strike. But the younglings were undaunted, in fact, his outburst turned their faces bright. There was no way in the galaxy a normal person would react like that, not to such a grave and imminent threat. He pondered at that. It was starting to make sense; scurrying into airducts, believing themselves engineers, speaking in bursts of dramatic monologue, naming Loki as their nemesis doctor, and having the gall to make a threat upon his life. There could be no doubt, the children were insane.

"Younglings," he began, calm again in light of his epiphany, "It is my sworn duty to help those in need. Perhaps you are looking for Doctor Henning? I can take you to him."

[Wyl Staedtler]

The plot thickens! Loki could not have chosen a better counter offer, assigning his allegiance to the stoic Doctor Henning. Wyl had met him once or twice when excursions had taken a turn for the worst and resulted in a victory wound (and all wounds were victories, a sign that one lived life to the full, uncowed and ever steadfast.) He was a seemingly quiet man who was much more accommodating than the red-headed physician who always seemed to be offended by the mere presence of patients, doubly so when they were charming young men like himself.

But it had been Taa who had revealed Barton Henning's true identity. The Cizerack matron was one of the most generous, loving souls Wyl had ever encountered anywhere and thus it was only natural to understand that it would take a great deal to edge out of her good graces. He'd been shocked to find, showing off his latest medical badge of pride to his friend and pseudo-roommate, that the mere mention of Captain Henning could elicit a narrow-eyed glower. And she had proceeded to reveal a truth so shocking and deliciously scandalous that he'd been tempted to induce another malady just to investigate.

Wyl exchanged an inscrutable look with Tak and waggled a single eyebrow. Something passed between them, then, and it was a gloriously crafted dance that followed.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Nix?" Wyl chuckled in that debonair way that Jonny Rocket did in the holovids. It was a sinister, confident sound. "To take us back t'your pirate king like nunas to the slaughtering block, oh wouldn't you just lo-o-ove that!"

Loki's face remained impassive but the young boy wasn't fooled - he could see he'd stumbled onto a sensitive joint.

Wyl canted his head to one side cannily, feet behind him suddenly tensing. "Yeah, that's right. We know. Doctor Henning might be able to fool the Rebellion and the rest of the Jedi Order but it takes more than a good bedside manner to trick us. We can see the truth..."

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

They'd shared the 'Look'. That look. Their minds were on the same level like no other time before, and Teagan flashed her husband a crafty, excited, and mean little smirk that told him she was more than ready. It wouldn't be long now; they were close.

As Wyl taunted Dr. Nix, she made sure to keep her moves stealthy, just like he had so often drilled into her. Not only that, but they'd made sure to practice their sneaking arts in earnest for the last few days, readying themselves and preparing for any and all eventualities. Both knew the stakes were high, and both knew the chances of capture were grave. BUT, they were steadfast, and knew that the mission wasn't impossible. It was just difficult.

Slowly and carefully, Tak slid her arm down along her side to the special pouch that she carried on the belt at her waist. Her tool-bandolier held just as many other pouches and random tools, but what she wanted was on the bright yellow 'My Little Dewback' belt that Cirr had gotten her last Life Day.

Little fingers unclipped the latch, and her hand dug in past the top flap to scoop up something invisible before slowly bringing it back up the length of her body once more. She stopped just before her closed fist reached the edge of the vent duct's opening.

Wyl was still speaking to their mastermind arch-nemesis, stalling and wearing down the Doctor's no doubt strong mental defenses. It was a task that was no doubt taxing on even the most tough of adventurer warriors, but her husband was a dedicated man (boy), and she trusted his expertise and abilities.

It was as he was finishing up when Tak grinned cattily down at their cunning adversary.

"... too bad you won't be able to see anything once we're through with you!"

And like an uncoiling whipsnake her hand shot out through the opening, her fingers splaying open to release a cloud of glitter down upon Nix. Each minuscule bit glinted and flashed in the light of Whaladon's glowpanels. It was like a rainbow shower of justice, meant to obscure the escape of two young, intrepid adventurers as they vanished from the opening and scurried and scrabbled their way rather noisily deeper into the ventilation ducts.

[Abarai Loki]

Caught in a shower of a thousand shimmering motes, Loki stood and weathered the storm with patient dignity. Invoking the practice of his Jedi forefathers, his eyes closed and he called upon the calm of ages. The calm, it seemed, wasn't home. Sounds of small clattering feet echoed from the open airduct, it was the sound of escaping children, but their victory would be short-lived.

Once he felt of sound enough mind to continue, Loki opened his eyes and with a soothing sigh, exhaled his worries, and a plume of psychadellic glitter. His face ticked. When he was through with these diseased ingrates, he vowed, they would never set foot on a Jedi vessel again. And with that, he took off down the corridor, and swept past a congregation of stunned padawans.

"Continue to stare and I will pluck out your eyes."

[Wyl Staedtler]

Deep in the arterial passages of the ship, an unmitigated rhythm of triumph sounded hollowly amidst the rounded echoing thumps of fleeing knees. It was premature to completely give in to the feeling of having crossed a treacherous river unscathed but the heady rush of almostalmostalmost saturated the stale air in the ventilation shaft and floored the agents onward.

"That was incredible!" Wyl panted, scurrying over a slotted grate. The thin durasteel-coated flexiplast of the tunnel bowed under their slight weight as they navigated the winding passages with the instinctive homing ability of carrier squab. "A perfect shot!"

Few men who could claim to be as proud of their spouses as he was. Tak wasn't just an explorer. No, she was a warrior and a fearsome one at that. It wasn't simply that she faced threats with the courage of a thousand armed troops or knew the intimate details of a myriad of weapons, it was her deviously clever brain that made her such an astonishing adversary. Had she her own laboratory in which to devote hours of finessing, Tak would change the shape of modern warfare. Glitter Gas. Genius!

In the eery metallic glow of their route to freedom, Wyl's face shone with an exhilarated light. They were in love and weighed down with a fantastic cache of ammunition, scrambling away from a nefarious villain toward their getaway vehicle. Life didn't get much more picturesque.

The ventilation maze took a sharp, 90-degree turn up ahead and the young padawan dove around it with fervor. "Almost there, Fang! I think we lost him!"

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

"Are you sure?"

She was breathless with excitement and the rush of their daring escape, her face etched with a permanent smile that went from ear to ear. She fed off of Wyl's energy, and he fed off of hers in a self-perpetuating cycle of heart-pounding giddiness. They were intrepid, daring, ready to take the risks... they were Pilot and Fang!!

Scrambling their way through the maze of Whaladon's vent system, the two drove ever onward, shuffling further through the darkness.

"You don't think he can hear-"

It happened so fast that she only had time to react, and as the panel that Wyl crawled over bent, it gave way completely - leaving the boy to pitch forward and down - Teagan let out a squeal as she shot forward, grabbing her husband by an ankle and keeping him from falling down to the decking below.

The panel itself clattered noisily on the floor, with Wyl hung suspended, upside-down, in the air.

"PILOT!!"

Legs going wide, the little Lupine planted her feet along the shaft's walls to wedge herself as firmly as possible, but Wyl's weight was enough to slowly pull her toward the fate of open air as well. She grunted, trying to leverage herself better, but her death-grip hold on her husband was ponderously bringing her along as well.

Still, she fought the inevitable.

"I've got you!!!"

[Wyl Staedtler]

Swaying like a deranged pendulum, his arms flailing about desperately to find purchase in the dangerous open air, Wyl let out a squawk as the deck flooring below rushed a few inches closer. Fang had the reflexes of a cat - which was hilarious, if you thought about it - but even she couldn't maintain her own position while keeping him from plummeting to the ground below.

Wyl spluttered and pushed at his robes which had fallen over his face (growing red as blood rushed from his toes to his brain and what if that gave him some kind of freak intellectual superpower that enabled him to know everything in the galaxy and -)

His thoughts completely derailed as he spun and caught sight of a sparkling cloud bearing down upon them. He lifted his torso as best he could to warn his wife: "We didn't lose him! We didn't lose him!"

[Abarai Loki]

The sight of the dangling youngling put fire in his belly, and his determined gait became a predatory charge. Crewmen parted in his wake, scattering to either side of the narrow passageway and once his path was clear, and he could see the panic in the youngster's eyes, Loki drew his Jedi weapon.

"I have you now."

In a single bound, he closed the distance between himself and his inverted prey, and snatched him out of the air. There was a flurry of fierce blue light, a trail of twinkling dust, and as he landed, a length of airduct fell from the ceiling with a mournful groan. Its plummet decelerated dramatically and it alighted without incident, save for the telling squeak from within. And with one of the fugitives suspended in his arm, he stalked close to the smoking husk of metal where the second outlaw was imprisoned.

"Now, younglings, by what flight of fantasy could you possibly think that you... ever stood a chance... against me?"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

As Loki at last seemed to triumph over his embarassing predicament and apprehend the pint-sized ne'er-do-wells, his nemesis appeared.

"Mjy darrljing Abarrraji!"

Smartly dressed (thanks in part to a few port of call trips), the felinoid matron paused for a moment, blinking to make sure that she wasn't imagining the sight in front of her. The corners of her mouth ticked up, but her lips stayed shut, and if any indication from the quivering at her midsection it was to stifle a laugh that would have burst forth. Quickly, she let the amusement pass, and her face retreated from its sudden mirth to that of simply idle pleasantness.

It appeared she'd interrupted a game of some sorts, no-doubt orchestrated by the fearsome duo of Tak s'Ilancy and Wyl Staedtler.

"jI have to ssajy, what jyou've done wjith jyourr rrobess jiss...well...jinterresstjing!"

She looked him head to toe. He looked like a living embodiment of a jizz wailer ball.

"But jyou ssjimpljy mussst come to me fjirrsst beforre trrjyjing ssuch maverrjick fasshjion trrendss. jIt'ss a bjit...sslapdassh."

She leaned in, wetting the tips of two fingers with her tongue to provide the sort of cleaning only a mother could.

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

It had been an outcome absolutely unexpected, but with Wyl's paniced warning of their enemy still bearing down on them, she'd only had enough time to brace herself as her husband was snatched from her hands. And when the brilliant blue blade passed in front of her eyes, Tak had curled up into as tight a ball as she could, knees drawn up to her chest and her arms over her head.

She didn't outright scream though - that wasn't what adventurers did. She did give a little squeak, as her portion of the cut-out duct bumped gently to the ground.

Dr. Nix's gloating was enough to rouse her however, and the girl peeked out from two fingers at the opening before her. She was still in the shaft - well, the part of the shaft that'd been cut out by the evil Doctor - which meant that she was still out of sight. Her last resort had come; her last chance to save her husband.

Mama Taa's voice was heard, but went unregistered.

It was as Mama Taa was pulling her fingers from her mouth that the fearsome beast burst forth, soft grey fur puffed out in all directions. With an oversized toolbelt and a shiny yellow 'My Little Dewback' belt (she wasn't about to just leave that one behind) clutched in her jaws, the vornskr pup let out a high-pitched growl that was intended to be quite fierce.

The little animal strutted towards Dr. Nix, doing its' level best to intimidate and strike fear into the Doctor's blackened heart.

And for good measure, she let out another puppy growl.

[Wyl Staedtler]

Their darkest hour had arrived. Ensnared by their iniquitous opponent, his beloved pinned in a vulnerable position and their hidden vehicle seeming to grow ever more distant, Pilot tried not to give in to the despair that threatened to drown him. They had been in tight situations before and each and every time they had escaped. Surely this would be no different, he simply had to have faith.

Yet no matter how he struggled, he couldn't break free of Doctor Nix's hold. It was as though there were a forcefield...

Wyl gasped.

Great moons of Tatooine, the padawan realized with a sick sense of horror. He's not just an evil doctor he's... he's a darksider!

It was then that salvation arrived. And what fashionable salvation it was, too.

"Taa!" Wyl cried out, small fists flailing at Loki in a desperate attempt to inflict some kind of wound. "It's a trap! He's in league with Captain Henning! They're plannin' a hostile takeover! He's -"

The words were cut off by a growl, one that his ears immediately recognized. The boy's breath caught and his heart sang out with a depth of joy that made the waters of Mon Calamari look like drying puddles after a pithy rainfall. The odds had just shifted in their favour. Nix didn't stand a chance.

[Abarai Loki]

It was only logical to think that, with the successful apprehension of Pilot, Loki's troubles were halved. Instead they were tripled. A fleetwide red alert would've been preferable to what came next: the arrival of Taataani Meorrrei, decked out in all her gaudy glamour, turning the unglittered portions of his face whiter than the snows of Hoth. When she complimented him on his appearance, he bristled irritably.

"These robes are the vestments of my forefathers. I assure you, I have done nothing to them!"

Just as he was about to relay to the Cizerack matron his news of the youngling rebellion, a rankled little canine came barrelling out of the downed ventilation shaft, rumbling like a toy podracer. His eyes narrowed in a curious frown, noting the colourful accessories clamped between its teeth, he was about to remark upon the Whaladon's pet regulations when something Taataani said snapped him out of it.

"Slapdash!?" he repeated, wide-eyed, "How dare you! There is more heritage and nobility in the folds of my undertunic than in your entire- GYAH!!"

He swatted frantically at the old matron's hand, there was a clatter of metal as his lightsaber fell to the ground, and it rolled rapidly away as if to disassociate itself from the reprehensible scene, marking the first time Loki had ever dispensed of his own weapon in combat. It was a dark day indeed. Wiping away the offending wetness, he scowled furiously through his fingers, but despite the deep indignity of the situation, he refused to relinquish his prize.

"Taataani Meorrrei!"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Suddenly, the matriarch put it all together. The ridiculous glitter, and Wyl's bombastic declaration of defiance. Abarai had fallen into a trap that not even ten thousand lightsabers could cut itself out of; the world of misbehaving children at play.

Putting aside the teen Jedi's baleful look, she simply tossed him a knowing wink and hoped that the paragon of seriousness had enough nuance to know how to play along.

"No, jyou mussn't take ourr jyoung jintrrepjid herro hosstage! He'ss ourr onljy hope!"

Suddenly caught in the act, Taataani clasped her hands pleadingly in Loki's direction.

"Take me, jinsstead! jI wjill be the Drread Pjirrate Hennjing'ss hosstage, jif jI musst."

She looked to Wyl.

"Rrememberr Wjyl, therre'ss nothjing morre the drread pjirrate lovess than djissorrderr. jIf jyou clean up jyourr messsess, he lossess hjiss powerr!"

She again resumed her defiant-yet-vulnerable facade facing Loki.

"jI'm not afrrajid of jyou, pjirrate!"

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

With a full mouth, the vornskr pup couldn't do much beyond her incessant growling, but it was when the lightsaber clattered across the deck that she stopped, her head turning and ears swinging forward at the sight of the thing rolling away.

Rolling...

... rolling...

The belts were forgotten in an instant; they could be retrieved later. Now though, she'd been presented with only the goldenest of opportunities, and with a delighted little bark, the animal took off after the saber hilt as if her tail was on fire. She had only to steal it, and the darksider pirate doctor that held her husband hostage would let him go!

Paws hit the deck in a rapid, staccato beat, with clawtips tik-takking in matching time. Full of energy, the pup skidded low, her neck going out and down as she scooped up the saber into her mouth.

Dr. Nix would have to let Pilot go now.

Triumphant, Tak made sure to keep a fair enough distance away, and plopping down on her haunches, she waggled her head from side to side, showing off (and happily slobbering on) her new prize.

[Wyl Staedtler]

Had the full power and authority of Alliance Intelligence been at his disposal, Pilot could not have orchestrated a finer strategic display of cunning extraction as Taa and Tak seamlessly executed. Of course the fact that his wife had instincts as honed as lasers was no surprise but the Cizerack matron's uncanny ability to set up the play was a miracle. Taataani slipped into the role with a natural grace of a seasoned veteran. Logic demanded the only explanation: she was an unwavering ally, probably deep undercover herself on a different mission. By the Force! Did treachery and corruption have no bounds aboard the Wheel?

Fortune shone upon them yet again when Doctor Nix responded rather violently to... Mother Bantha's attempts at hygiene (perhaps he was allergic to saliva? That was a theory to explore later) and dropped his weapon.

But no, that wasn't right. It wasn't merely a weapon, was it? Why... it was the very heart and soul of his diabolical master plan, the key to unlocking his maniacal organization and at last putting an end to the terror that Nix had long released upon the galaxy! Wyl trembled at the implications. They had reached an unpredicted and critical junction of their operation and everything depended on the next few moments.

Fang had already figured this out and taken action. Very quickly the mood changed and Wyl found himself unceremoniously abandoned as the doctor's attentions shifted abruptly. This was perhaps their only chance and they had to seize it.

"To the X-5!" the boy hollered hoarsely, stumbling to his feet. He saluted Taa smartly, giving her the signature supportive wink of one secret agent to another. One day it would fall on them to return the favour but for now, indebted and fired by a newly-forged determination, Wyl could only make the promise as he began to rocket down the corridor, small limbs snapping with wild effort toward escape.

[Abarai Loki]

"My lightsaber!"

There was a note of panic in his voice, a sound as alien to Loki as laughter, as the rambunctious pup snatched up his lightsaber and put a generous distance between them. He wheeled around, his captive forgotten, and approached the thieving little dog with caution in his step. Its beady eyes glistened playfully as it gnawed on his weapon, coating it with a thick lining of drool. The sight of it made his mouth feel like sandpaper. Suddenly, he stopped. The pup had become deathly still, which meant only one thing, it was about to make a break for it. Eyes locked, sizing each other up, not one of them dared to make a false move. Edging his weight forward on his boot, Loki cleared his mind, and prepared to-

"No! Stop!"

Loki cried out as the dog darted off and disappeared under the feet of an oblivious youngling, it skittered out of sight. In swift pursuit, he barrelled unceremoniously through the cluster of padawans, sending them sprawling across the floor and barked orders for bystanders to intercept the puppy. Weaving between an intimate congregation of startled onlookers, Loki zeroed in on the faint pitter-patter of little paws against the deck, and followed it around a corner. His boots squeaked dramatically to a stop.

"Oh, no..."

It was a junction of four corridors, four empty corridors. He listened intently for the sound of little furry feet but with dawning dismay, he realised his quarry had escaped, and his Jedi weapon was gone. Breaths started to rattle in his throat like haunted declarations of grief. He turned helplessly on the spot, and with a feverish dread bubbling up in his stomach, he folded, hands clamped on his knees, buckled under the gravity of his loss. A fragrant aroma wafted alongside him which could only mean one thing, his nemesis had come to gloat in his hour of defeat.

"Taataani," he muttered breathlessly, "I've lost my lightsaber."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Taataani stood alongside Loki, at first saying nothing. She looked at the scene around her. Padawans and assorted crew rubbernecked about, and Loki seemed to be at rock bottom. There was no sign of Wyl, no sign of his tagalong strange-tailed puppy, and no sign of a lightsaber. Taa gave a brief sniff at the air. Though Cizerack sense of smell was generally high among humanoids, the confluence of people and things in tight spaces meant that she wasn't going to be able to exactly follow her nose to the culprit.

Still, she was far from giving up. This was her area of expertise, after all.

First thing was first though.

"Don't jyou all have ssomewherre betterr to be?"

She gave a snap to the group gathered around in the patrician lilt she was used to speaking in when she needed to talk to her lessers. Even for padawans, the voice was effective. After a brief shuffling of feet, the group dispersed.

Next, Taataani extended the young man an outstretched hand.

"Abarraji Lokji, jI do beljieve jI can help jyou wjith that. But jyou'rre gojing to have to trrusst me."

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

Her short legs were a blur, propelling her along through corridors, between legs, and around corners as both vornskr pup and her human companion careened headlong into certain freedom. Her plan had worked!! Dr. Nix had become like a limp noodle in the face of his 'precious' being stolen, and if she and Wyl played their cards right, this mission would turn out to be even more of a success than they'd originally planned!

Flecks of saliva trickled down the lightsaber's handle, seeping along the metal and flying off to land in droplets along the deck flooring as she ran alongside Wyl. Both moved easily through the maze of bulkheads and clusters of padawans, drawing ever closer to the hideaway that they'd secured for the X-5.

In the dawning moments of their victory, careening around a corner and into the home-stretch, the pup gave a happy whorrfflemph from around the lightsaber she still held clamped in her jaws, adjusting her stride so that she pressed against Wyl's side.

Nothing could stop Pilot and Fang!!!

[Wyl Staedtler]

From an outsider's vantage the scene was a picturesque, if somewhat curiously misplaced, portrait of youth: just a young boy and his faithful canine companion lost to the abandon of the imagination, joy propelling all six legs forward through the Whaladon's winding corridors as effortlessly as through a sun-bathed field. The only thing missing was a wistful windpipe solo playing in the background.

An unbridled laugh burst from Wyl's chest, from way down low where real things came from. Fang's warm form made him glance down and he grinned, crooked and wide, and tousled a hand through her soft, thick fur.

Yes, it just looked like a kid and his dog. But this was much more than that - this was true love.

By now the regular Wheel inhabitants had come to expect Padawan Staedtler to travel at top-speed and were just as adept at dodging him as he was at avoiding them. As the pair thundered past the mess hall, a pair of sturdy legs in tech coveralls neatly sidestepped.

"Hallo, Wyl!"

Wyl spun, jogging backwards with Fang at his heels. He frowned and then his face cleared and he waved brightly. "Oh, hi, Davek! Can't talk right now!"

The burly technician chuckled and glanced down the opposite end of the hallway, where only the regular traffic milled. There didn't appear to be anything afoul and no alerts had been issued but you never could tell with this one. And where had he found a puppy? Davek called after the retreating figures, "Where are you headed in such a hurry?"

"Just trying to save the galaxy! You can thank us later!"

* * *

The X-5 was a glorious thing. A two-passenger speeder bike, it was the ideal craft for competitive racing and it's strength and speed had made it a prime choice for military and security forces all over the galaxy. The frame was a chorus of sleek, sloping lines that looked mean and fast and, while it wasn't a combat vehicle, it sported a decent enough laser cannon.

Or at least, the real ones did. The X-5 was a perfect, miniature reproduction of a 22-B Nightfalcon (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/22-B_Nightfalcon_speeder_bike). Fang had gotten it for... well, probably just for being awesome. General Dan and Dama s'Il liked to give awesome it's due reward.

Of course, it wasn't nearly as fast as the real thing. It was meant for children. Which was why Wyl and Tak had been forced to make some adjustments.

Panting, the partners burst into the tiny storage alcove where the speeder lay hidden beneath a monochromatic tarp. Wyl rubbed at his face, red with exertion, and sent up a word of thanks that they'd had the wisdom to park the X-5 close. There was no way he would have been able to keep up the pace for much longer.

"Can you stay on like that?" he asked Fang, looking with concern at her paws. "This ain't gonna be no country ride."

[Abarai Loki]

"Abarraji Lokji, jI do beljieve jI can help jyou wjith that. But jyou'rre gojing to have to trrusst me."

He looked up, lines of discomfort etched deep into his pink face, and stared at her outstretched hand. Something cold and hard clutched at his heart; the open hand was much more than a gesture of support, accepting the offer was a confession of weakness, it was a step down the ladder. He would not lower himself, not in the presence of fellow Jedi, not anywhere, and he suddenly remembered himself. Snapping upright, he gave her a dubious glance.

"You have formulated a strategy to apprehend the younglings?"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

She had to parse Loki's words through that veneer of warrior phrasing he was so fond of to get to the heart of it, and once understood, she bundled it back up in its military tropes so that it would lodge itself firmly in his stubborn head.

"jYou'll neverr face an opponent jin battle qujite ljike a chjild, Abarraji Lokji. jYou attempt to be rratjional wjith them and trreat them ljike an adult and jyou'll losse everrjy tjime."

A creeping smug expression graced her face as she let her tail swish.

"jI can teach jyou to thjink ljike jyourr enemjy and to fjight the battle on thejirr terrmss, ssurre. jI rrajissed fjifteen cubss, and jin turrn, took carre of overr fjiftjy grrandcubss. jIf two arre caussjing jyou trrouble, perrhapss jit'ss tjime jyou become mjy Padawan jin the academjy of chjild wrrangljing."

That he hadn't taken her hand wasn't lost on her. She still held it out, only this time, it wasn't a hand up, it was a hand out, ready to shake on the most serious of pacts.

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

From around the lightsaber in her mouth, Teagan gave a haughty little snort, an answer that of course she could stay on! She wasn't some no-balance pup! Well, it would be easier if she changed back, but then if she did that she'd be naked! No, she was perfectly fine and capable in her current form.

Hopping up onto the back of the X-5, the little vornskr pup perched atop it as though it was a prize she'd just run down, her tawny eyes glittering happily at Wyl. They'd have to put the stolen lightsaber in one of the makeshift saddlebags though, since it was getting to be a little cumbersome to heft about.

So, with a phtheh and a healthy amount of drool, Tak deposited it onto speeder between her paws where metal smacked against metal with just the right amount of slobbery cushion.

Her husband was gonna have to put it away though, since he was the one with hands.

[Wyl Staedtler]

In a viscous puddle of saliva the apprehended superweapon of doom lay, dangerously vulnerable to passing thieves of Nix's bend and yet, by some biological default, impenetrably sealed in an unhygienic shield that was a veritable no-man's-land of persuasively repellent bacteria. There were uncrossable lines in every relationship (they were arguably what made such commitments successful) and this was one of them: it was one thing to kiss but to dive into a pool of bodily fluid was just going too far. Wyl grimaced and shot his canine counterpart a look of patiently fond exasperation.

"This is payback for calling you a furball, isn't it?" he asked in a resigned tone.

Fang just cocked her fuzzy little head and let loose a fading whine that seemed to express that she hadn't the faintest idea of what he was talking about.

Wyl rolled his eyes and peeled off his well-abused outer robe. "Right. I suppose I deserve it," the boy said. Accepting the unavoidable was a grim part of reality and so with precious little time at their disposal, he scooped up the absconded lightsaber with his cloak and wound the folds of cloth around the hilt, mopping up excess drool off the seat with a dangling sleeve before bundling the whole package into one of the saddlebags. The leather pouch, designed to hold only a few basic necessities on supply errands, bulged obscenely with the cargo, swollen and distended as a pregnant woman well past her due date. That sort of advertisement was hardly ideal and smacked of amateur effort but the apprehending of such a tool could hardly have been anticipated. They'd been caught unprepared and now they would have to deal with it. At least, Wyl pacified himself as he swung a leg over the X-5 and gripped the rubber-wrapped handlebars, the lightsaber would be well shielded from any harm.

"Let's do this," Wyl rumbled in a rough growl that sounded incredibly tough. Face set in a roguish mask, the boy punched the starter on the X-5 and it came to life with a rolling clatter of warming mechanics. The little padawan smirked; oh, yes, he could feel the burgeoning power thrumming against his fingertips. This baby was loaded far past the regulated capacity recommended on the box and it was going to be awesome.

A flick of his thumb shifted the little speeder into gear and Wyl twisted a rubber grip back hard. With a high whine like a bantha in mating season the X-5 hurtled forward into the main corridor, a tiny rocket of power that sent crewmembers diving to the walls with squawks of alarm in order to avoid being bowled over.

[Abarai Loki]

"It is imperative I get my lightsaber back," he said, and reluctantly he clasped her hand, allowing her to do all the shaking.

Despite Taataani's vast experience raising younglings, making her a qualified authority on the matter, her padawan analogy still managed to leave him rather disturbed. Consequently, it was important for him to lay down the terms of their unthinkable partnership, the very thought of his missing lightsaber made him almost short of breath, and beyond apprehending the younglings and bringing them to justice, reclaiming it was now objective number one. Straightening out his glittering robes, he tossed the Cizerack matron a dubious glance.

"Taataani Meorrrei, you will find these younglings to be quite unlike your own offspring. They are operating under serious mental delusions and are in urgent need of medical attention."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Unimpressed with his hyperbole, she nodded casually.

"No, that ssoundss about rrjight. All chjildrren arre brrajin damaged."

Making a face, she tugged at an ear as she looked Loki up and down.

"Well, all but one, sso jyou'rre a fjirrsst forr me. But jyou assjide, thejy all have brrajin damage. jIt'ss okajy, thejy ussualljy grrow out of jit though.

The mosst jimporrtant thjing rrjight now jiss forr jyou to thjink about jyourr encounterr. What wass ssajid to jyou, do jyou rrememberr?"

[Abarai Loki]

"Taataani Meorrrei, I am hardly a child."

In his mind, there was no doubt of that small, and yet deeply significant, fact. Especially in light of her confident revelation of mass infant brain damage; it was an intriguing theory, and one which was supported by his limited experience, but it sounded improbable, medically speaking. He folded his arms, his expression turning grave, and his eyes darkened as he divulged the details of his fateful encounter:

"I caught them climbing into a ventilation duct outside my quarters. The boy, Pilot, first claimed to be part of the maintenance crew. When I persisted in my attempts to make the arrest, he wrongly identified me as a Doctor Nix, and the girl, Fang, threatened to disembowel me. They speak... oddly."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"No, jyou arren't, but jI can jimagjine how djifferrent jyourr chjildhood majy have been."

She listened to his account of their initial encounter, waiting for tell-tale clues to appear. Her ears bobbed just about the time Loki mentioned Doctor Nix.

"Thjiss doctorr...ssoundss ljike qujite the vjillajin. And jI sseem to rrecall them ssajyjing jyou arre jin league wjith the Drread Pjirrate Hennjing asss well."

A plan began to form in her mind, indicated by the blossoming smile on her face.

"jI thjink jit'ss tjime forr jyou to conssjiderr becomjing a bad gujy, Abarraji."

Of course, the concept of teaching the stern young Jedi to act would be an ambitious one.

[Abarai Loki]

"A deception," he said, deducing her meaning, with thumb and forefinger he stroked his chin deep in thought, "Yes. It would provide us with a distinct tactical advantage. The enemy's behaviour is erratic but we shall have the element of surprise."

Clearly, the matron was a general, having weathered the command of two generations of younglings. In spite of all her shortcomings, he knew a seasoned veteran when he saw one and today, he would defer to her child-handling expertise. It was no small fortune there was no longer anyone around to witness the transaction, if word of him working with Taataani Meorrrei got around the ship, his reputation would be ruined. His look turned quizzical.

"Am I required to..." he recalled a phrase used by Acacius Blade, "Look the part?"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

It actually sounded like he was going to participate without dragging him kicking and screaming, so Taataani beamed a broad smile.

"Total jimmerrssjion. Ourr wajywarrd ljittle herroess wjill need a convjincjing vjillajin."

She crossed her arms over her chest as her tail curled around her middle.

"And of courrsse, ssome ssensse of urrgencjy doessn't hurrt ejitherr, and that'ss wherre jI come jin, asss jyourr hosstage."

[Abarai Loki]

Loki frowned, his face creased with grave lines of uncertainty, "But-"

The plan was a logic singularity and they were fast approaching the event horizon. His only hope of making any sense of her colourful tactics, and escaping with his sanity intact, was to hit the brakes. Once before had he gone by an alias, on an ill-fated trip to Nar Shaddaa, it was a tiresome, degrading experience that yielded precious little in the way of results. This time, however, his lightsaber was on the line, and by extention, his very soul. He shook his head, miserably.

"How will this help me get my lightsaber back?"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"Becausse we convjince them that jyou can be rredeemed. Of courrsse that dependss on ljittle tasskss along the wajy ljike cleanjing up afterr themsselvess and rreturrnjing thjingss that don't belong to them."

As she talked, she inspected her claws for any chipping, unsheathing and sheathing them casually.

"Chjildrren learrn djifferrentljy than we do. jIt'ss one thjing to be told ssomethjing. We both underrsstand that. Chjildrren rresspond much betterr to parrabless and sstorrjiess sshowjing morraljitjy and good behavjiorr. Thejy plajy jin orrderr to underrsstand the worrld arround them."

Satisfied with the condition of her claws, she returned her hands to her side.

"All we need to do now jiss to underrsstand the game thejy'rre plajyjing."

[Abarai Loki]

"Playing... a game?"

The words took shape, thick like treacle, and oozed reluctantly from his mouth. Grave implications orbited his bowed head, just beyond his reach, and he sought to divine from the floor an ounce of truth, penetrating it with his steely gaze. His body clenched like a fist, and when he spoke, it was to the dangerous trudge of a thousand troops marching to battle:

"You mean to tell me that this... this chaos... is a product of some infantile charade?"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"We werren't all borrn herroess ljike jyou, Abarraji."

It was part a compliment, and part a move to push him toward gaining some perspective.

"Ssome of uss have to trrjy jit on fjirrsst. When jI wass a jyoung cub, jI gave mjy fajirr ssharre of grrown upss fjitss wjith ssjimjilarr antjicss. jYou have a golden opporrtunjitjy to sshape ssuch futurre herroess jin jyourr sspectacularr jimage, thjink of jit that wajy."

With a smile, she extended her hand to him.

"Come, come. jI'll ssee to jyourr grrand trranssforrmatjion. jIt wjill be fun, and beforre that pout on jyourr ljipss becomess perrmanent, jyou'll have jyourr lasserr ssworrd back."

[Abarai Loki]

"It's called a lightsaber," he said, and regarded the outstretched hand as if it were a rotting carcass, "And if you think I'm going to hold your hand anywhere you are grievously mistaken."

Instead, he swept past and navigated an efficient route through the narrow corridors. It simply wouldn't do, he concluded, to dwell on the inherent indignity of their underhanded plan, not when there was an important objective outstanding. The sooner it was over the better. His pace quickened, every stride a reminder of the missing weight at his hip, an empty space as unnatural as a lost limb. The door to the medical bay slid open.

"If we are to convince the younglings I am a doctor, then it is prudent I look like one. Correct?"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"Total jimmerrssjion! jYou've got the jidea!"

Taa's smile took on a look of pure mischief as they entered. Blue eyes darted left and right, curious to see if either Doctor Henning or Doctor de Coventina would be about to catch them in the act. Neither of them rated all that high in her book so any mischief in their neck of the woods was happy collateral damage to her. Fortunately or perhaps not, there were no doctors nearby to annoy with her pilfering, so she went immediately to the linen closet, pulling both doors open in a flourish as she rifled through a row of white coats. Stopping at the smallest on the rack, she pulled it aside, and tossed it in Loki's direction.

"Look forr glovess! Darrkerr the betterr!"

She yanked a drawer open and pilfered a stethoscope, twirling it around playfully before passing it on as well.

"jI don't thjink Doctorr Njix jiss known forr hjiss bedssjide mannerr."

Her ears lifted at the opportunity to kick a nemesis into the proverbial litter box.

"Perrfect companjy forr Barrton Hennjing jindeed!"

[Abarai Loki]

The application of the white coat was the first and most obvious step in disguising himself as a doctor, and as it reminded him of his haori, Loki felt no shame in wearing it. The gloves and stethoscope, however, were another matter entirely. It made sense from a methodical objective-based perspective: if he was to pretend to play then his appearance had to fool the enemy, but it all felt so wrong. In the end, Taataani clapped the stethoscope around his neck, but when she attempted to help him into a pair of large rubber gloves, it was an indignity too far.

"You'll find I'm fully capable of dressing myself," he snapped, snatching the lengthy black gloves from her grasp. Under the coat they reached his elbow.

"The younglings will be fooled into thinking I'm a part of their ridiculous game and, once close enough, I can retrieve my lightsaber from under their noses."

He folded his arms with a muted squeak rubber, "Now, Taataani Meorrrei, tell me: how does one play?"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

The Meorrrei matron's smile dimmed a little.

"Abarraji, do jyou want a sshorrt terrm ssolutjion orr a long terrm one?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, drumming her fingers along her upper arm as she looked over her younger partner in crime.

"Drrawjing out a rrusse long enough to ssteal jyourr ljightssaberr? That'll do, untjil the next tjime thejy ssteal jit. What jyou sshould be thjinkjing jiss how to prrevent jit frrom everr bejing sstolen agajin. Forr that, jyou musst teach them, vjia the charrade, that sstealjing jyourr ssaberr jissn't a prroperr thjing to do. Ljife lesssonss love, ljife lesssonss."

[Abarai Loki]

"Taataani Meorrrei, I have no intention of drawing out this sordid little affair any longer than is neccessary."

It appeared they had entered the negotiating phase. There arised moments, during his time amongst lesser beings, in which he often found himself engaged in the most tedious kinds of exchange; a bartering of sorts in which the only elligible currency appeared to be Jedi dignity. In such matters, experience had made of Loki a miserly tradesman indeed. Now it seemed the seasoned Cizerack matron had designs to embelish what was a deft and elegant strategy with a bevy of bloated theatrics. So the boy Jedi gave her a measured look which stated in no uncertain terms that he was having none of it.

"There is no call to complicate our mission. Once we are within range of the child bandits, you shall be treated to a display of unrivaled speed and dexerity, closing this debacle with one decisive stroke. The lightsaber will be mine again. And, mark my words, there won't be a next time."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"Abarraji, jyou'll wjin the battle jI have no doubt. jIt'ss the warr that rremajinss."

She jerked a thumb down the corridor, at the unspoken they.

"jI hope jyou arre vjigjilant, becausse ourr herroess have plentjy of tjime to become olderr, bjiggerr, and morre cleverr."

Standing tall, she nodded.

"But...jyou arre the Generral, ne? jI am merreljy jyourr brrjilljiant, battle-harrdened advjissorr. Orrderr me to battle, doomed asss jit majy be!"

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

The rumble of the X-5's little engine was like music to her ears, and as Wyl steered the little speeder down the corridors of the Whaladon Tak balanced herself rather precariously. The thrill of the wind rushing by was too much though, and her little head ticked upward as she opened her jaws to catch the air with excited, snapping bites.

Overjoyed at their escape, the little Lupine let out a few sharp barks that soon enough turned into a happy howl.

Pilot and Fang were saving the day, and life on the Wheel would be that much safer from villains like Dr. Nix once they were done!

[Abarai Loki]

"But...jyou arre the Generral, ne? jI am merreljy jyourr brrjilljiant, battle-harrdened advjissorr. Orrderr me to battle, doomed asss jit majy be!"

"Propriety suits you," Loki offered, a bid to compensate the matron for her doubts, "And when our task here is done, I shall see to it personally that your assistance is rewarded."

Sucking in a calming breath, Loki gave the door panel a tap and swept out of the medical bay in his eclectic costume. The lab coat hung rigid at his sides and grazed his knees, hissing with each purposeful step, and his gloves gave a conspicuous squeak when he curled his fingers into a fist, groping absently for the comfort of his lost weapon. Eyes forward, he brushed off the double-takes of surprised padawans, storming cramped corridors with predatorial intent. Then after completing a full lap of the deck he wheeled impatiently on his advisor.

"You are the child specialist," he snapped, "Where would a mischievous youngling go to ground on a ship like this?"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

The Matron wondered just how the austere Jedi planned to exact such a reward, and what that might possibly entail. She did her best not to smile at such a farcical idea, and instead nodded sagely.

He moved like a shark would. Direct and deliberate movements forward, ready at an instant to increase his rate of speed into a hot pursuit. His question betrayed his lingering ignorance of his enemy. Taataani wondered momentarily how forthcoming she really should be with the answer. After all, he was going to have to learn to figure these rugrats out.

"Tactjical advantage, Doctorr Njix. Thjink. jYou'rre ssmall. Yourr enemjy jiss not. Hjidden, jyess, but alsso jinaccesssjible."

She paused, suddenly realizing she had no idea of the layout of the ship she was on. She shrugged.

"Don't look at me forr a sschematjic, jI'm jusst gjivjing jyou jideass!"

[Wyl Staedtler]

Meanwhile, at G.R.O.S.S Aitch-Kyew...


Director of G.R.O.S.S Intelligence - known simply as F, though it was rumoured that he’d once been a mathlete by the name of Ronan who hailed from Baroonda - stared stonily across the conference room, arms folded over his chest, and slowly let a curling exhalation siphon from his nose. It was no easy task to bear the amount of responsibility that he did and sometimes he wondered it was worth it in the end. Certainly the reputation that it had bred for him wasn’t particularly flattering, but no one could refute that the man possessed the unflinching dedication and acute discernment needed to get the job done. F played a tight, hard game and he expected his players to execute seamlessly, just as he had done back in his field days.

Of course, those golden years were just a memory now. F was no spring chicken. He was well into his thirties, his dark hair going grey at the temples and lending him (what he hoped was) a distinguished, lethal air of experienced confidence. He was a broad-shouldered man, with exacting grey eyes that seemed somehow able to pierce through flesh and sinew and inspect the very depths of a being’s soul.

Which they could, actually, on account of being prosthetic. He’d lost both of his own eyes during a particularly nasty interrogation in the Coruscant underworld. At the time it had hurt like h-e-double-lightsabers but F could say honestly now that he didn’t regret it. Not only had he kept silent and not compromised the integrity of the mission, not to mention the agency, he’d gotten two top of the line ocular implants and a cushy promotion out of the deal. Sure, before he’d been able to shoot a mean flirtatious wink that had the ladies swooning, but now he could shoot lasers.

Clearing his throat, the Director turned to face the two agents before him. They were promising - staggeringly so - but they were also young and too cocky for their own good. Too many times they’d brushed dangerously close to going rogue. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it all.

“Agent Fang, Agent Pilot,” he barked, "debrief.”

Until now, Pilot had been kneeling at loose attention. The vent intersection that served as headquarters was too low to allow for standing, a security precaution that helped keep the base and all it’s delicate intelligence information safe from invasion. At the sharp command, he straightened and blew some of his chestnut hair from his eyes.

“Sir,” he said cleanly, a cheeky grin tugging at one corner of his mouth. “The mission was a success, sir.”

“You obtained the device?”

“Yes, sir.”

F arched his brow. “And you weren’t followed?”

Pilot faltered. This was an unexpected snag in the debriefing process. He glanced over at Fang, a question etched into his expression, but the momentary hesitation was all that his superior officer needed for an answer. It was more eloquent than anything that Pilot could have said aloud.

Scrambling from Tak’s side, Wyl shuffle-walked forward on his knees a foot or so and turned around. The boy’s features shifted from boyishly charming into hard and commanding, his scrawny arms leaving his side to cross over his narrow chest as he once again made the transition between Pilot and F.

“Well, Agent Fang?” Wyl-as-the-Director demanded. “It’s a simple question: were you followed?”

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

"I... I ummm... "

She found herself stuttering a little bit, suddenly nervous at the question that had been turned on her. Sitting cross-legged, the girl bit her lip. How was she supposed to answer?! How was she supposed to even begin to explain? The situation had been delicate and their escape a fortunate happenstance, so to try to verbalize it was tricky.

"Well, it was a very sticky situation," she finally started, hoping that her choice of words would do well to smooth out the harsh stare she was getting from F.

"Doctor Nix is a man of many bad talents, but Pilot and I were able to overcome that."

A finger found its' way up to scratch at an itch behind her ear.

"We lost him with the X-5 though."

Her other finger came up to trace an X over her chest.

"Cross our hearts."

[Abarai Loki]

"Don't look at me forr a sschematjic, jI'm jusst gjivjing jyou jideass!"

"Taataani Meorrrei, your simple ideas will help us apprehend our quarry no more than a starship can be fueled by Corellian moonshine. We need results. We need-"

Something strange caught his eye. There was a droid loitering in the corridor and, for the briefest moment, the young Jedi was convinced it had given him what only can be described as a shifty look. It was an old model, some sort of primitive utility droid, and as the distance between them closed, it shuffled cautiously into the cover of a small storage alcove. Loki gave the chunky machine a scrutinous glance and just as quickly found his attention diverted to the object nestled strategically behind it. A casual gesture of the hand and the suspicious little droid tumbled awkwardly onto its side, clearing the way for the Jedi and his advisor. And there it was: the X-5.

"Results!" said Loki, he swept in to inspect the miniature speeder, then turned to his companion with the early glint of victory in his eyes, "I suspect this may be the clue for which we have been searching. No doubt some sort of carefully positioned getaway vehicle. My senses tell me we have picked up the scent of the enemy. What say you now, Madam Meorrrei?"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

She narrowed her eyes.

"jI've sseen thjiss model beforre. Daanarri hass one, gave jit to herr forr a bjirrthdajy."

She considered her options as she inspected the vehicle.

"Now, therre'ss a contajinerr jin the back forr extrra powerr cellss..."

A tap revealed a compartment, which carried two spare cells. Inspecting them, she pressed her tongue between her lips as she concentrated.

"And knowjing how jirressponssjible mjy own cubss werre about thesse, jI guarrantee jyou that one of them..."

With a triumphant grin, she pulled a power cell that read empty out.

"...wjill be sspent, orr verrjy well nearr jit. Enough powerr to get them jin the open, and enough powerr to sstall them."

She shoved the empty cell into the engine, and palmed the two that had a charge in them.

"Now, all we do jiss decjide how we want to flussh them out."

[Trip]

Finding himself in an atypical orientation, Trip searched his sensor logs for data that might explain his current situation. Finding nothing conclusive, he initiated a background internal diagnostic to search for any potential faults in his memory banks or sensor systems; in the meantime he logged the event as Cause Unknown: Hypothesis Jedi.

His audio monitoring software - more specifically, the subroutines tasked with tactical analysis - flagged several key phrases that corresponded with the Espionage Protocols that Master Wyl had instructed him to generate. In compliance with the directive entitled Eve's Droppings - linguistic subroutines suggested a possible spelling error - Trip covertly extended a transmission antennae from his headpiece and began to broadcast a low-powered text-only signal on the designated narrow band frequency; one which should only be detected by Master Wyl's private comlink.

Error, it read. Droid status: compromised. Speeder status: compromised.

His tactical analysis package reported it's analysis on his present situation. Trip transmitted it's findings.

Retrieval operations not advised.

[Abarai Loki]

Loki watched the matron intently as she dismantled the engine, and found himself inspired, the improvised sabotage was a masterstroke. This was where her mothering experience paid dividends, he realised, and tipped the balance of the chase in their favour. He gave her a satisfied nod.

"Your tactical insight is impressive. Such talents are surely wasted in the world of... corporate business."

The words slithered over his teeth, greasy and unpalatable. It surprised him to find that one such as Taataani Meorrrei, decked in all of her pretentious finery, was in possession of such intellectual powers despite her very obviously pampered existance. It stood to reason then, Loki decided, that as a Jedi he had to... up his game. So, he considered the direction in which the youngling's vehicle had been parked and wandered down the corridor, scanning the ceilings and walls.

"Considering our first encounter, it wouldn't be too-great-a-leap to assume our quarry would return to the relative safety of the ventilation ducts, after all, children are surely nothing if not stunted by their limited sense of imagination," he concluded knowingly, and vanished around a corner.

It then occured to him, however, that even if they managed to discover an exposed ventilation shaft, neither he or Taataani were physically capable of giving chase deep into the network of intersecting air ducts. They needed a way to detect the presence of the younglings without compromising their position or making visual contact. If only Loki's Jedi senses hadn't been dulled by the harrowing loss of his lightsaber. What they needed was some sort of sensor, a technological advantage...

"Ah!" Loki suddenly appeared again, in his ears was plugged the stethoscope, and its shimmering metal disc was held aloft, "Taataani Meorrrei, come quickly, there has been a breakthrough in our investigation!"

[Wyl Staedtler]

The Director was not impressed. Fixing his wayward agents with a flat stare of incredulity, the man curled a lip in meticulous disgust and shook his head. One meaty finger stabbed forward in accusing promise.

"I ought to skewer your hearts," F intoned darkly. "Do you realize how close to compromising the safety of this entire agency the two of you came? There are rules and protocol for a reason. We don't run around willynilly - stop laughing, Agent Pilot, it's a word - because when we do, lives are lost, objectives aren't achieved, and I get cranky. When I get cranky, heads roll. Literally. You missed every checkpoint that we set up for you. You ignored the designated escape route - "

"We were improvising, sir," Fang interjected. The Director narrowed his eyes.

"In my agency, Fang, there is no improvising. There is planning. There is orchestrated efficiency. There is no room for uncertainty."

Stars, they were really in trouble, weren't they? Wyl shared a quick look of long-suffering fatigue with his wife, muted irritation simmering beneath his mask of contrite acceptance. They'd gotten the IORBD (Item of Really Bad Destruction) and returned with it safely, effectively neutering Dr. Nix's plans of galactic domination. So what if they'd had to take a few detours on the way home? This concept of order wasn't just irrational, it was boring. He and Fang were darn good agents. Perhaps their methods were unorthodox but they got the job done, and that was what mattered. The sooner the Director understood that and accepted the fact that his ways were antiquated and on the way out, the better it would be for all of them.

Weathering the tirade with the dignity of an incredibly cool player, Wyl discretely palmed his comlink when it beeped and flicked his gaze casually down.

The boy's heart seized. His blood ran cold. The world seemed to halt utterly.

"Sir," Wyl interrupted, staring a moment more at the little screen, a screeching wind of disbelief howling in his ears. His blue eyes were very bright and filled with an icy dread when he looked up, passing the com to his wife so that she could read the chilling message - though he had no doubt she had already sussed out what was wrong by the stiff lines of his posture. There was a telepathic shorthand between spouses and their silent ability to communicate an entire legion of information was only compounded by their partnership as secret agents.

F went red in the face, irate at being so brashly disrespected.

"What, Agent Pilot?" he snapped.

Wyl swallowed thickly. "Sir, I think we were tailed."

"Excuse me?"

A hard hand of impending doom closed finger by finger around Wyl's heart and squeezed. He blew out a slow breath.

"Sir," Pilot set his jaw resolutely, the pain of failure shining in his earnest features, "I think... I think we have a Code Black."

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

Her own face blanched as she stared at the comm in her hands. She knew before her husband had handed her the small device; knew from the moment the word 'Sir' left his mouth. And as she slowly read the words on the screen, the girl found her mouth to be suddenly dry.

Formalities and protocol would have to be thrown into the trash compactor, and Teagan snapped the comm off as she heard the terrible utterance of 'Code Black'. They'd never before had such an emergency, and she felt her heart in her chest, pounding like a Cirr-sized hammer to try and get out of her body.

"We have to get the IORBD into containment," was her hurriedly hissed whisper.

"... Before Doctor Nix can get it back!"

The sideways look she gave Wyl was one of encouragement. They were expert agents, trained for everything. They'd make it through this situation and come out ahead like they always did - only this time they'd have to be just as tricky and conniving and nasty as their adversary.

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Between Loki's stethoscope and Taataani's ears triangulated on the vents, not even a sajoi sneeze could go undetected between them. With his eyes fixed on the vent and not on her, she was free to steal an amused glance in his direction. Taking his villainy somewhat to heart, she had a strange admiration for the depths he was willing to go to play an unfamiliar game by unfamiliar rules.

She tapped him on his shoulder, and without a sound, mouthed out "WHERE DOES THIS VENT GO?"

[Abarai Loki]

"I do not know," he answered in an undertone, "One of the first things I did upon boarding this ship was obtain a copy of its blueprints. In the interest of security, I became familiar with every part of the Whaladon, except its ventilation network. An oversight I shall never make again."

He repositioned the disc, testing the side panel inside the air duct, careful this time not to make the ear-splitting mistake of scraping the metal. In the end, it hadn't been difficult to locate the air duct in question, its panel had obviously had a servodriver taken to it, missing its screws and barely clinging to the wall. All that was left for them to do was listen, and-

"Wait! Do you hear that?" he hissed.

Practically hugging the wall, Loki froze, his face a picture of ravenous concentration. There was drumming, it was loud and resounded like rolling thunder, and like every thunder clap, the sound started to diminish. In his ears, it was a low rumble, a soft pitter-patter like the sound of rain against a window, or like little grubby hands, and feet, and knees scurrying through a ventilation shaft. Loki took a bracing breath.

"They're on the move!" he declared, snatching the stethoscope from his ears, "But where are they going? They can't hide in the vents forever. This is their only way out. And there are no other panels are open... except-"

A fleeting look of horror and Loki was off like a shot, barrelling past Taataani, past the little droid, and down the corridor. Fate, it seemed, was not without a sense of irony, and he would put an end to this tragedy where it all began.

[Wyl Staedtler]

This was the moment they had been training for. From the first day that they had signed on with G.R.O.S.S, Pilot and Fang had known that the risk of an organizational breach was too great to ignore; they had powerful enemies all over the galaxy, it was only a matter of time before an attack was launched and when that attack came, it wouldn't be a pithy shove from the side, oh no: the strike would be aimed for the heart, where it would do the most damage.


"Alert all field agents that we are a hostile environment!" Wyl barked to the control room at large as he hastily stripped off his robe and cast the cumbersome garment aside. They would need every advantage at their disposal, speed being of paramount importance. "They're to go to ground! Go as deep as possible! Trust no one!"

The boy's heart was hammering in his chest so loudly that he thought it surely must have been audible for miles. Briefly, he entertained the notion of injecting a mild sedative into his vena cava but blast it all, they needed to move.

Taking a deep breath, Wyl turned his focus to Tak.

"Listen, sweetheart," he murmured urgently, his voice low enough that this would stay between them, "We both know we might not come out of this alive. If we don't, I need you to know..."

Pilot's duracrete exterior cracked for a moment, the line of his jaw tightening as he tried to keep his voice from breaking. "I need you to know that you're probably cooler than a StarViper fighter. You're the best wife I ever had."

For a second, the rest of the universe faded away as he held Fang's gaze. Around them the control room was a frenzy of strictly-efficient panic as intelligence agents set about destroying cryptic files and securing exit routes. The Director was gone, already barreling through the litany of abort procedures that fell under his jurisdiction. In a few moments, the entire floor would be cleared.

"Get the IORBD into a portable containment chamber and meet me at the exit zone. I'll go on ahead and arm the emergency defense systems!" Wyl shouted as his limbs finally came back to life and pressed him into action. The boy gunned through the long tunnel of a connective vent, hands and knees scrabbling in the sort of staggering unison that only an adrenaline surge could produce.

Yes, they'd been preparing for this for a long, long time.

Wyl's face darkened as he crawled onward, a dark intent blooming in his eyes. "If it's a war that Dr. Nix and Lady Diabolica want, then that's what we'll give 'em."

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

She was as resolute as her husband, refusing to succumb to the agonizing throes of helplessness. No. As long as they were still breathing, Wyl and Tak could still fight.

And that was exactly what they had planned on for so long now. It was like clockwork, how they reacted and the motions that they went through. They were a well-oiled machine, moving smoothly due to years (days) of constant practice. Their contingency plans were well thought out, and accounted for every detail.

Taking the IORBD, Teagan nodded gravely to Pilot. She knew what was to be done, and though being split up made them more vulnerable, she also knew that it was a part of the game - if they were to survive, they had to work alone once in a while.

She clutched the cylinder to her chest, ever mindful of its' destructive powers, and watching as her husband went one way, the little Lupine dashed into action, heading off in the opposite direction.

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"Aagh! Lo..."

She corrected herself as she picked up speed. Oh, she'd chosen to run in heels what a bad idea!

"Doctorr Njix you'rre leavjing me behjind!"

She tripped, and by some miracle regained her footing, and inwardly cursed Loki for being so fleet footed.

[Abarai Loki]

Coming to a full stop with a squeak of boot leather, Loki wheeled around to find his Cizerack counterpart straggling some way behind. She trotted noisily around a startled mouse droid, a veritable soundtrack of jingling trinkets and clicking heels, and was calling his name. No, she was calling for Doctor Nix. He tensed up and swept his gaze down the length of the corridor, mercifully, there was no-one in earshot. A frown creased his face when he looked upon the dawdling matron once more, and he clapped his hands with furious impatience.

"Come along, Taataani Meorrrei! The enemy is escaping! Move! Move! Move!" he barked, then folded his arms in a huff, "So much for superior Cizeri breeding."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

She stooped low for a moment, finally ending the vicious war between her feet and her expensive heels, throwing the catches open on each as she kicked them to kingdom come. A passer-by ducked one flying piece of footwear, which caused Taataani's face to freeze in a startled "Sorry!" she mouthed silently as she shrugged, her lower half still in ungainly pursuit as she rushed past.

She did, however, hear Loki's barbs, and let no injury go unpunished.

"The onljy thjing jinferrjiorr about mjy pace jis that jI pajid full prrjice forr thosse sshoess!"

She caught up with Loki, but with a price. She huffed a bit harder than he did.

"Let me...put ssjixtjy jyearrss on jyou....and ssee jif jyou move half thjiss...good!"

[Abarai Loki]

"Seventy-four?" he said, his face locked in hard appraisal of the matron, as he swept her a glance from her to foot, "Fascinating."

A frown. A nod. And he took off again at a more considerate pace, urging Taataani to follow:

"Then consider this your much-needed quota of daily exercise, Taataani Meorrrei," he called, "There may be hope for you yet!"

[Wyl Staedtler]

A promise of death hung heavy in the hallway. Pilot could feel it pressing in from all sides, the thumping potential needling against his skin and driving his heartrate up through the ship's paneling and into the black abyss of space. There was a lump in his throat that made swallowing difficult and as the boy rolled his neck, the articular release sending out a muffled pop, he could not hold back a wave of nausea.

There would be no running, this time. Now, there was only room for brave stupidity.

The pounding echo of approaching footsteps was growing louder and louder with each passing second. Wyl couldn't keep from smiling; Nix and Diabolica were worthy enemies, he had to admit that much. They were smart enough to figure out that every ending found it's beginning.

With one last glance to the airvents above, Pilot turned with a slow, measured certainty as the very embodiments of darkness and evil turned the corner.

"Well, well," Wyl drawled, a slow twisting sneer in his voice. The boy's face was flat and dangerous. A fire burned in the depths of his unsettlingly blue eyes. "It appears that I have been... caught."

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

For her part, Teagan's will was one of steel and duracrete that wouldn't - couldn't - possibly shatter. Or even crack. Or crumble. Or be chipped away at.

With her time short, and hers and Pilot's chances of escaping alive even shorter, she knew that getting the dread device of Dr. Nix into containment was of the highest priority. Even higher than the lives of the two agents who'd already risked their lives to get it! There was a peace in accepting this knowledge, and Tak suddenly wondered if this was how Dama felt right before she'd got her eye burned out by the Sith.

The girl slid her way through a maze of ducts, zipping around corners as she made sure to hold the cylinder close. Another few twists and turns brought her to an opening, and the little Lupine scooted inside.

It was a room; or at least, it was a larger area that allowed for more space to move around in.

This was their containment staging area, and Fang wasted little time as she grabbed for the necessary tools and materials that would be needed for the success of locking the weapon away for all eternity.

Loki's lightsaber was slid into an old concussion missile tube.

Handfuls of blue glitter and a healthy amount of thumbtacks followed in quick succession, followed by a protective smattering of bulkhead zip-needles.

Last - and most importantly - came the little green ball with a fuse that begged to be lit.

And light it she did!

Swiftly dropping the little stinkbomb into the tube, Teagan hastily screwed the lid shut tight. Bulkhead tape was circled endlessly around the tube, and once she was satisfied that the entire thing had been sufficiently wrapped up, she tucked it under an arm.

Cautious eye peered over her shoulder to make sure no one had been sneaking up on her. No one. Good.

The time was fast approaching to confront the endgame of all of their efforts and hard work, and as she ducked back out of the 'room', Teagan scooted her way once more through the extensive vent system aboard the Whaladon.

The time for Pilot and Fang's last stand was marching ever closer to the steady beat of her thumping heart.

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Much needed?!?!? If she wasn't scratching for her breath, she'd clobber him for the insinuation. She didn't need anything of the sort. Taataani Meorrrei was in the peak of condition!

After another few minutes of running, they reached the destination Loki predicted to find his quarry. Grateful for the pause, Taataani stooped down with her hands on her knees, trying to act casual as she breathed heavily.

"Sso...now what do....we do?"

[Abarai Loki]

"You act like a hostage," Loki muttered under his breath, "I will handle this."

There was a modicum of relief in the appearance of the brash youngling, it meant he was one step closer to being reunited with his beloved weapon, and yet, there was no sign of Fang or his lightsaber. In his belly, a knot of agitation coiled like a Kodashi viper, preparing to strike. It would not do. An ember of patience flickered in his Jedi heart, kindled by a slow soothing breath.

"Your accomplice," he began, adopting a tone of darkest gravity, "Where is she?"

[Wyl Staedtler]

Though his face remained impressively impassive, biology betrayed Pilot. His heart gave a sick lurch at the mention of his one-true-love. Even her name was too good to be bandied about by the filthy mouth of their greatest enemy, the very truth of her existence far too great to be sullied by his twisted mind dwelling on her.

"She's long gone," Wyl assured Nix, widening his stance. He braced himself, shoulders squared and chin lifted in proud, noble defiance. "You didn't really think that we would take the risk of granting you your victory, did you? I don't believe you could be that foolish. Our lives aren't worth the madness that you would unleash upon this convoy if given the chance."

Something in Pilot's chest twinged, an old hurt buried deep below the surface that tasted fresh air and oxidized in cringing defense. For a moment, he nearly pressed the flat of his palm against his windpipe, overwhelmed by the sudden constricting of his lungs.

"How does it feel, Nix?" Wyl whispered, eyes very bright. "How does it feel to have betrayed the very ones you once fought alongside? There was a time when I considered you a brother; when I looked to you for direction; when I would have given you the bigger half of an Ewok Cake without even arguing much. Oh, how far we've fallen."

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

For her part, Teagan moved as fast as she was able, slipping and sliding her way through the ventilation system on Whaladon, intent on making sure that she was able to carry out her part of the plan that she and Pilot had put into motion.

It was a plan that neither had hoped to have a need for, but still one that they'd had to make accounts for. This situation was very possibly the worst-case scenario that either could have imagined, and she knew that each moment that went by was critical to their continued existence.

A vent grate loomed ahead, and the girl scootched up close to it - she and Wyl had made sure - days back - to loosen up the screws holding it in place. Oh, not enough to be noticeable, but enough that a well-placed kick would send it out of place.

Swiveling around on her behind, the little Lupine gave the grate a solid, powerful kick that sent the thing flying. It clattered and clanged to the deck, and sliding from the duct feet first to land in a crouch, Fang made sure the coast was clear.

The noise of the grate hitting the decking was considerable enough that she knew it would draw the curious, and she didn't want to risk putting the plan in jeopardy.

But she also didn't want to risk Aitch-Kew being discovered, and setting the containment device down, she scrabbled for the grate, hefting it up and placing it back over the opening she'd just previously come from. The screws were pushed in just enough so that they'd not be [i]too[/o] noticeably out of place, and scooping up the containment unit once more, Tak broke into a run that would take her to the hangar.

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Fortunately, she'd prepared for this contingency. Procuring some length of bandage she'd taken from the medical ward, she fashioned an effective binding for her ankles and wrists. All that was left was to act the part.

"Ssave me! Won't anjybodjy help?"

She shrilled out loud, on her knees, in full dramatic poise. She looked back at Loki and smiled, wondering how he'd respond to her best damsel impression.

[Abarai Loki]

When Taataani started wailing, Loki instinctively threw cautious glances left and right, but the spectacle was mercifully lacking an audience. Chasing away the scandalised clench of his face, he harpooned the loquacious little upstart with a gaze like granite, and reflected on his words. It was nonsense, he knew that now, and he understood that on some level the younglings were aware of it, too. However, whatever it was that motivated them to prolong their wearisome charade, despite the fact that all parties were now plainly aware of it, simply escaped him. The matron was still rapt in the throes of anguish, painting a powerful, if somewhat melodramatic, portrait of a woman in distress. It gave Loki time to think, time to conjure the correct words with which to parry Pilot's elaborate waffle, and for that he gave her the slightest of conspiratorial nods.

"You are mistaken, Pilot, about a great many things. And I was never your... brother," he finished, with evident distatse.

So far, so honest, that part was easy enough. Pilot looked angered. He looked hurt. Loki was confused. Causing offense had not been his intention. Perhaps, the response was a part of the act. He hesitated, a glance to Taataani, she gave him a nod.

"Furthermore, youngling, you speak in fabrications," he continued, boldly, "For, in truth, I have never... liked cake."

[Wyl Staedtler]

Lady Diabolica's shrill pleas for help rattled Wyl's grasp on the situation and he faltered, glancing at her uncertainly. Could it be possible? Was she really and truly just a pawn in this Machiavellian escapade, a bartering tool to grant Dr. Nix leverage? It wasn't beyond the nefarious character. He'd done far worse in the past.

In his distraction, the boy nearly missed the full implications of Nix's rejection of their closely-twined past. But there, lurking behind the sting of vicious dismissal, was a greater injury that made Pilot's blood run cold: that Nix had been against them from the beginning, coaxing not just his trust but his love, and then clog dancing on it until there was nothing left but a scattered field of shards.

"You were a mole?" Wyl gasped, high outrage colouring his cheeks. His fists clenched at his sides and he snarled, taking an instinctive step forward as a fire burned in his belly.

It would be so easy, to just end the Doctor here and now. Wyl knew with a soldered certainty that he had it in him, that he would not flinch when the time came to cast the lethal blow. Only the dim hope that every pitiful creature deserved the opportunity to make a choice stayed his hand, for a moment.

"Let her go, Nix," Pilot nodded at Taa, though his gaze remained locked with the enemy's eyes. "It's not too late to redeem yourself. Just let her go and surrender. You're better than this; once, you were a great man: be that man again."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

She winced at Loki's dialogue. For such a disagreeable little jackboot he simply did not have a villainous flair for the dramatic. She was going to have to fix this. Deftly reaching for his hand, she looped his arm in such a fashion that it landed around her neck. With the appearance of danger more close to the mark, she whimpered, looking pleadingly up at Wyl.

"jYou have to ssaaaaave me! Doctorr Njix, he'll...."

Her lip quivered, and she paused momentarily to whisper something in Loki's earshot only.

"If jyou want to ssee the Ladjy ljive....jyou know what jI want. jI'm Doctorr Njix, brrjingerr of desstrructjion and doom."

It was difficult not to smile in the middle of this. She could only hope that he'd take her advice on better dramatic delivery. She herself leaned a little more against him, and made a show of struggling in vain against his 'control' of her.

[Abarai Loki]

"You cannot be serious," Loki muttered, through clenched teeth.

A firm sideways glance from Taataani suggested otherwise, she was becoming as engaged in this fictional exchange as the younglings, and that was concerning. Accepting the matron's guidance, he remained in-character, with his hand around her neck. It was a stand-off and his enemy was giving no ground. Instead, Pilot closed the gap between them, he spoke of surrender and redemption, there was such conviction in his words. Loki felt his confidence waver and he clutched for the only weapon left in his arsenal:

"If... you want to see the lady live... you know what I want."

On cue, Taataani tried hamming it up with another mournful cry, which was suddenly snuffed out, caught in her throat beneath Loki's clamped fingers. His face was murderous.

"I'm Doctor Nix," he resumed, mechanically, "Bringer of... destruction and... doom. Ridiculous."

[Wyl Staedtler]

What horrors had Nix whispered into Taa’s ear to ratchet her into such a frenzy of distress? The shape of such ideas was too gruesome to entertain but Wyl knew that terrible promises had been given life. The Cizerack matriarch was one of the most composed, graceful women he knew. Only a great and unwavering threat could so reduce her to this quibbling mess.

And still, Nix had the arrogance to dismiss the whole situation as ridiculous. The presumptuousness of his enemy floored Wyl and the hot swell of indignation that filled his chest almost hurt, it was that fierce.

“Yeah, you’ve got a lotta evil at your disposal, Nix,” Pilot agreed, his expression steely. Taa’s strangled whimpers were like needles plunging beneath his skin, piercing him with the knowledge that failure was not an option. “You’ve dismantled galaxies and enslaved planets, ripped ships apart just to write your name across the stars with the debris. You’re powerful and clever and you never give up.

“But,” the boy paused, his face still and yet no less alive with the brightness of his certainty, “you made a mistake when you decided to play in my court, because there’s one thing that you don’t have: friends. You’re alone, Nix. You’re alone in a place where it’s very, very dangerous to fly solo. And I’m not.”

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Taa gulped, the force behind Loki's grasp a bit tighter than she was ready for. The little scamp was becoming an accomplished method actor!

"Offerr a trrade..."

She whispered again, craning her neck slightly to avoid the appearance of a double chin from the funny angle he had her at.

"...and, ow."