The Most Deadly of Weapons

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Ossus



It was a bi-weekly arrangement. Weekly was simply asking too much from either of their schedules. Monthly was too seldom for her taste. That she'd coaxed this little game out of him at all was no small feat, as her opponent had very little taste for games, or at least the sort without an obviously practical nature. Nevermind that the trip from Bothawui to the Jedi sanctuary world was time-consuming and that ducking the media was becoming it's own job. She would hardly settle for something as blase as settling differences via hologram.

Beyond the main Jedi camp, there stood an old tree, it's trunk gnarled from decades of old growth. It's branches spread a wide and shady canopy, providing an inviting meeting place. In fact, a rudimentary picnic table had been set up for expressly that purpose. This was their meeting place, and had been for the past three months. As with the times before, she approached the site in a lazy manner of incognito, her figure draped with the nondescript brown robes of a Jedi, and with the spacious hood drawn over her head. This was, after all, not official business. Her satchel she toted on her shoulder carried neither datapads nor dipomatic missives, but instead a travel-sized holographic chess emitter board. It was a game with its trappings set in violence, but at it's core it was a thinking person's game. Despite the many differences Taataani Meorrrei shared with Abarai Loki, they both valued keeping that Most Deadly of weapons honed sharp.

[Abarai Loki]

It was late in the afternoon; the sky was sanguineous, and empty. The last of the bulk freighters departed an hour ago with an escort of tiny starfighters buzzing about its belly. The only sound that remained was the warm breeze that tumbled through the camp like a sigh of relief after a long day. Soldiers were filing into the mess, and oil-soaked mechanics shuffled home to their families, while, beside the Whaladon, padawans huddled in the shade like Mos Eisley beggers. Gone was the thunder of boots, the groaning of metal, and the hiss of lightsabers. In the renewed silence, it was as if the camp had shook loose the tension of its daily exertions, and was ready to relax.

But, as Abarai Loki knew too well, there was no such thing as free time. Only wasted time. So the moment his last class was dismissed, he refilled his water canteen and followed the familiar trail up the hill to the old tree behind the camp. When he arrived, he saw his sparring partner waiting, wrapped shamelessly in Jedi robes - a liberty too far under any other circumstances. Taataani Meorrrei, however, was providing a valuable service. Having shaken off the shackles of their space-faring prison, the Jedi were flourishing, and where there had once been chaos, there was order. Every man, woman, and child who wore the Jedi robes had a role, a place, and a time; and by a miracle they stuck to it. Loki gave instructions and saw them carried out. He followed his orders, and then recieved new ones. It was a life of perfect regimented harmony, and what he sought more than anything else, was something with an edge enough to cut through the monotony of it all. And for all her foibles, Senator Meorrrei was as sharp as Nexu teeth. Not that Loki would tell her that, of course. No. He'd fall on his own blade before that.

Stately, though he was in both posture and manner, his appearance betrayed the rigors of a busy day. His boots were scuffed, and his tunic was dusted brown; there was soil crusted in his hair, callouses on his hands, and a ring of bruising around his left eye. And yet, as he took his seat at the table, he gave the Cizerack matriarch a fleeting glance, and said:

"Taataani Meorrrei, those robes do nothing for you."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

The head beneath the hood nodded slightly. Beneath it's shade, two faintly incandescent blue eyes blinked as full, slightly-clefted lips below turned into a smile set against marbled mocha skin.

"A pjitjy jI have ssuch a plajin djissgujisse. jI'd neverr thjink of denjyjing jyourr ejyess thejirr due feasst."

Whether he'd blithely walked into a verbal trap or was using unexpected flattery to unseat her, she wasn't immediately sure. He'd become increasingly adept at the more lingual arts of war. Her tail momentarily betrayed her as it flicked at the long hem of her robes. Taataani removed the holochess set from her satchel, placing it in front of them as she carefully unfolded the array to its full playable configuration. Her eyes barely glanced at the menial task, instead finding a more interesting puzzle.

"jYou've had a bussjy dajy, Abarraji. jI'm not ussed to sseejing jyou sso...exerrted."

She could smell the sweat on him, that patina of exertion set against his familiar terroir. He'd finally grown into the body of the man he'd always seemed to steadfastly insist he'd always been. The Cizerack Senator couldn't resist wondering whether that made him more resolute in his convictions, or less so.

"jYourr sstudentss musst be learrnjing fasst to have jyou jin ssuch a condjitjion."

[Abarai Loki]

Loki humoured the senator's observation, and spared a look of indifference first at his clothes and then his hands. In place of a troglodyte's shrug, his eyebrows gave the slightest tick of dismissal.

"Don't be confused, senator. These are but the hallmarks of hard work."

Inwardly, he frowned. Perhaps that was too heavy-handed a blow for an opening salvo. It was after all a long game they played, and to kill by a thousand cuts required finesse and restraint. Then again, what was more cutting than the truth? Loki weighed the chances of there being a shaggy, moth-eaten and grease-stained jumpsuit beneath those humble robes: the odds did not fall in her favour. He'd take it, his momentary victory, no matter how cheap it was. After all, a long game was scarcely a clean game.

Then there was the holochess, which in itself wasn't an entirely unpleasant distraction. The board came alive with a low whirring sound, dividing the eight pieces between the players: amongst others, he was assigned the Savrip and the K'lor Slug, two of his favourites. A month ago, the K'lor Slug won him a hard fought victory, and he'd developed a fondness for it ever since. It appeared he had been chosen to make the first move.

"Unarmed combat drills, wilderness survival, and repairing droids in the salvage yard," he elaborated, as he ushered his little Savrip across the board, "How was your journey to Ossus? Was the shuttle carpeted the correct shade of red this time?"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"Harrd worrk jiss commendable jI ssupposse...sso long asss jit jissn't jin sspjite of ssmarrt worrk."

Her lips smirked just faintly, but returned to an otherwise innocuous position. Beneath the cowl, her eyes ticked down to study her pieces, assigning the Ghhhk and Houjix to an unbalanced flank. Grimtaash the Molator naturally centered her arrangement, with the M'onnok serving the weak flank. She dared a frontal attack, inviting the tendencies of her aggressive opponent to close rank.

"Asss farr asss the sshuttle vojyage, well jI sspent the tjime bljisssfulljy unawarre of that sstubborrnljy offenssjive sshade, assleep."

Nevermind the fact that she hadn't, in fact, sorted out that eyesore. Her shoulders rolled beneath her voluminous robe in appreciation for the partaking of one of life's basic functions.

"A full ten hourrss wjithout a communjique orr a mjisssjive, what marrvelouss merrcjy."

As she'd selected last, it was Taataani's first move, which she made with a fairly pedestrian probe using the Ghhhk, which chittered ahead to the square directly in front of it.

"Sso jyou'rre rrepajirrjing drrojidss too? Doessn't that sseem ssomewhat beneath jyou?"

[Abarai Loki]

"It was not beneath me when I was growing up on Maridun, or bartering passage from Torque. You are aware of our circumstances here, senator. We assist where we can.”

There was a hiss from the holochess board: his beloved K’lor Slug had become agitated by the sudden advance of the Ghhhk. The other holomonsters were getting restless, and started to taunt each other with diminutive outbursts from opposite ends of the board; the Ng’ok snapped its claws, the Strider gave a grunt, while the Savrip paced its little square with impatience. Taataani looked pleased with the effect her tactic was having on his team, but Loki was unnerved. He had the two main defensive pieces, along with the stocky Savrip, to watch over his K’lor Slug, which would in turn work its own violent magic. The Savrip lumbered over two squares towards the Ghhhk, dragging its knuckles behind it. Loki lifted his gaze from the game to study his opponent instead.

“I am pleased to hear you are well-rested. It means you bring with yourself a challenge, along with a considerable shortage of excuses for when you lose.”

Despite the baggy shroud and the unflattering glare of the holoboard, Taataani Meorrrei looked well; much better than she’d looked in recent memory. Of course, it was not that she ever neglected her appearance. In public, she was as glamorous as ever, but there was only so much make-up could disguise. During their brief encounters, Loki had noticed a change in the matron; it happened around the same time when Cirrsseeto became captain of the Novgorod. The love and pride she held for her son was no secret; what came as a surprise was how it appeared his assignment had driven her to such distraction. Perhaps her armour was becoming brittle with the advance of years. Few noticed the change at the time, which Loki found odd, as he had a certain handicap when it came to the subtleties of social interaction. Back then, it had been as plain as day, because, impossibly, he’d found her presence less contemptuous. Now, however, she was different. Maybe it was the thrill of the political arena, the prestige of office, or the luxury of interstellar travel. Whatever it was, her old spark was back and, impossibly still, he quite liked it.

“Before that, though, tell me about your latest victories. How goes the war of words?”

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Taataani brought her Houjix to bear fully against the Savrip, and the beast charged ahead with ferocity. It wasn't enough to end Loki's creature, certainly not in one move, but with the Savrip engaged, she could either engage the K'lor Slug with her Ghhhk, or outflank it at her choosing, depending on his response. Grimtaash the Molator growled, eager to be put to conventional use as a doombringer. The deed done, she answered the Jedi's query.

"Perrhapss not asss ssangujine asss jyou mjight be accusstomed, but vjiolent jin jit'ss own wajy. jI've found ourr Bothan colleaguess jin parrtjicularr to be vexjing, meddlessome crreaturress. Thejy'rre carreful to the pojint of perrpetual waffljing, and asssume everrjy outsstrretched hand concealss a knjife."

A lopsided grin.

"Perrhapss thejy have me exact. Ejitherr wajy, jI've thrrown them jinto a conundrrum of ssupporrtjing a ljittle plan of mjine to brrjing the Ando Ssjysstem jinto the Alljiance. Pojint jin fact, jI wass hopjing to djisscusss ssuch a tassk wjith jyou jin the hopess of rrecrrujitjing jyourr help."

It was a gambit, but one the Senator was eager to press.

[Abarai Loki]

The surprise was evident in Loki, who, in his distraction, almost sent his favourite piece on a premature advance across the board. He stopped himself short of the mistake, barely, and instead ordered his Savrip to reciprocate its opponent's attack. And with a kitten's growl, the Savrip made short work of the Houjix, pummeling with both fists until it was a broken bloody mess beneath it. Loki met Taataani's gaze, but she appeared to be unphased by the setback, and he had to wonder what exactly it was she had planned.

"I hold the centre of the board with a power piece, and you sent in a lowly Houjix? I hope the sacrifice was worth it."

One last glance at the board to double check his formation. Yes, there was his K'lor Slug, still flanked to the left and right by his two defensive pieces. Taataani was preparing a frontal attack, and with another mid-range piece, no less. Content that his opponent was doomed to failure, he returned to the subject of diplomacy, with particular focus on the matter that almost had him come undone. He hesitated at first, eyes narrowed in suspicion, much like a child unwilling to repeat a naughty word.

"Now, about your proposition, senator: you do not intend for me to... negotiate with these people?"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Though she guarded her expression and gave her opponent nothing, Taataani was unhappy over her poor luck in losing her Houjix in a single move. No matter. Half the game was decided on skill, the other on chance. You won by minimizing the effect of the latter. With the Savrip turned in the direction of the Houjix's corpse, she decided to employ Grimtaash to his bloody purpose, punching directly at at the Savrip at the height of the enemy creature's victory. At a disadvantage from not facing its foe, the Savrip was trod under heel entirely, the Molator roaring over it's broken perch as it stared down directly at the K'lor Slug.

Now to Loki's question.

"jI am told that jiss a sskjill held jin essteem bjy the Jedji, no?"

She drew her hood back ever-so slightly, allowing more sun on her face as she examined his uncomfortable expression. A disarming smile was applied.

"Conssjiderr jit merreljy a lessson opporrtunjitjy. jYou've learrned to wield jyourr tongue nearrljy asss well asss a ssaberr."

The Senator's hands clasped before her.

"Alass, howeverr, the rreasson forr mjy rrequesst jiss morre prractjical. jI rrequjirre prrotectjion."

[Abarai Loki]

"I see," Loki said, pleased, but stone-faced, "You expect your negotiations to turn sanguineous, after all?"

A single prod prompted the Strider into position directly between the Molator and the Slug, the move was over, and in its palm it patted its mighty club with hungry anticipation. Loki's eyes flitted between the pieces, recalling statistics and calculating the potential outcomes of Taataani's next move. The Molator had an offense rating which barely exceeded the defense rating of the Strider; an instant kill was unlikely, he told himself, when the corpse of his poor Savrip flickered out of existence, shattering his illusions.

“This assignment will, of course, require the Council’s blessing.”

And therein lied a dilemma: one last hurdle to leap before he could take his leave of this barren rock and go on a mission. His thoughts cartwheeled at the possibilities. An actual mission - how long had it been, he wondered. Too long, and throughout his stay, he kept his performance exemplary. It could be reasoned that he had earned an away mission, and yet it was reason that suggested his superiors would identify a snag in the plan.

“Have you considered the possibility you will be assigned an alternative guardian for your mission? We have a coloured history, you and I.”

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"Ssangujinouss? That jiss perrhapss a pessjimjisstjic apprrajissal. The Aqualjissh don't carre to be jimpossed upon - orr to appearr to be jimpossed upon. An offjicjial Alljiance delegatjion would be...offenssjive to thejirr jindependent ssenssjibjiljitjiess. Mjy jintentjion jiss to be jinvjissjible. A djisscrrete meetjing wjith thejirr leaderrsshjip junta jin whjich thejy can hearr ourr worrdss wjithout anjy ssemblance of jimprroprrjietjy."

With the defeat of his Strider, Taataani moved her Ghhhk in to close with the Slug, its pincers snapping menacingly as it prepared to engage. The far flank still remained naked, but Loki's move would need to be careful in order to avoid a fork. She'd neglected that side of the board in the hopes of letting this danger fall out of his mind.

"Asss forr the councjil, jyou can deljiverr mjy asssurrancess that thjiss jiss a peacekeepjing mjisssjion and that thejirr help would be apprrecjiated. jI would thjink that ourr...passt...asss jyou mentjion jit, would onljy sspeak kjindnesss asss to ourr abjiljitjy to worrk togetherr."

[Abarai Loki]

"That is perhaps an optimistic appraisal," Loki said, with an arch of his eyebrow, putting a spin on her earlier words.

On the holochess board, the K'lor Slug lashed out, burying its fangs deep into the Ghhhk. Loki watched in dismay as the attack failed to end the inferior creature, managing only to push it back a square instead. His chances of victory were beginning to look bleak, but the looming shadow of defeat was chased away by thoughts of this fresh opportunity. A covert operation behind enemy lines. His mind raced, compiling a virtual inventory for everything he'd need for the trip. Then, as he watched Taataani contemplate her next move, he was struck cold by a terrible thought.

"Wait. Just the two of us?"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"Anjythjing morre would thrreaten the djisscrretjion needed to do the job."

She needed to project confidence to the Jedi. After all, she was the one who was defenseless.

"Even what jI tell jyou now hass onljy been djisscusssed wjith mjy Bothan ssenatorrjial colleaguess and the Mjinjissterr of Sstate. Therre jiss no commjittee, no tassk forrce. A purre djiplomatjic mjisssjion underr sstrrjict confjidence."

Somehow, she started to sense that it wasn't visceral danger that was on his mind. While she at last rolled up her M'onnok to close the distance against his Ng'ok, she felt in danger of losing the war.

"What of jit?"

[Abarai Loki]

"We are... an unlikely pairing."

It was a suitably diplomatic response. In Loki's experience, the Cizerack matron was something of an unknown quantity, even after all this time. He'd learned to enjoy her company in small doses, but in the past he'd found her intolerable in the most mercilessly persistent kind of way. Prolonged exposure to her whims could result in them clashing. Still, she was Cirrsseeto's mother, and he had to take that into consideration, along with the fact that she had proven herself an ally to both the Jedi and the Alliance. It was enough to warrant an extra dosage of patience on his part. The alternative was to not go on the mission at all, which was an option he simply couldn't humour.

The second attack from the K'lor Slug proved to be fatal. Clamped between its mandibles, Taataani's limp Ghhhk was ravaged and tossed aside.

"If our presence on Ando is to be covert, I need to be briefed in advance. Experience has taught us both that deception is not skill we share."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

With her flanker destroyed, Taataani could no longer rely on the easiest course of victory. Instead, she engaged the Ng'ok with her M'onnok, probing to see whether it would face her head on and let its back show to Grimtaash, or whether Loki would gird himself against the greater threat that was near.

"jI have ourr detajillss exact."

With a self-satisfied grin, she slid a datapad across the table to him.

"We'll go underr the gujisse asss a pajirr of weekenderrss lookjing to sspend tjime at a rressorrt. Nothjing possh, jI took efforrt to fjind a fjittjingljy vulgarr place - the ssorrt common people frrequent. jI even prrocurred clothjing to fjit the parrt. Of courrsse jI guesssed jyourr clothjing ssjize, jyou grrow sso prrodjigjioussljy of rrecent. We'll be utterrljy unrremarrkable. Booked passage on a..."

She paused with effort to continue, her patrician sensibilities faltering.

"...bulk trranssporrt."

[Abarai Loki]

"Words I never thought I'd hear you utter, Taataani Meorrrei."

Loki accepted the datapad and glanced over its contents. Absently, he moved his K'lor Slug into striking range of the M'onnok, while it was engaged with the Ng'ok. Grimtaash the Molator was the greatest threat on the board, with the highest attack rating, but the M'onnok was Taataani's power piece. If the combined might of his two remaining pieces could, by a miracle, bring it down, then perhaps he still stood a chance at victory.

Once he reached the bottom of the article, Loki surfaced from the datapad and fired the senator a quizzical look.

"What's a weekender?"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"Well jit'ss...ah..."

A puzzled face as she gesticulated absently while trying to explain.

"...jyou know the tjype who onljy holjidajy forr a few dajyss..."

It wasn't a concept she had any personal experience with. That was for other people.

Distracting herself from having to explain the comings and goings of hoi polloi, Taataani minded her gambit, turning her attention to Grimtaash as it began grappling in earnest with Loki's Ng'ok. With lynchpin pieces like this in play, it could be a matter of turns to know how the gambit would fare. She would have much preferred to have the beast tripped up by guile but he'd been keen to rebuff her flanking, so it was strength against strength.

[Abarai Loki]

"No, I really do not."

Loki stared at Taataani, waiting for the other shoe to drop. In the silence that followed, it became apparent the senator shared his ignorance, which was something of a relief. The whole concept seemed completely trivial to him.

Back on the board, the Molator's opening salvo was repelled by the Ng'ok, which matched its attack value with defense, point for point. Taataani's move resulted in a counter-push, with her prized piece being driven back a square. Tactics gone, it had become a game of numbers, and the greatest risk lied in the confrontation between his K'lor Slug and her M'onnok, but as the slug attacked, he had faith.

"Loath though I am to talk politics, if the Aqualish were to learn of your mission, what are the implications?"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"That dependss on who catchess uss."

Taataani reached to make a move, but hesistated, and thought the better of it.

"We've been coverrtljy jin contact wjith a frrjiendljy parrtjy wjithjin the Aqualjissh goverrnment. Thejy can't be sseen havjing anjy hand jin ourr actjion. Thjiss decjissjion needss to appearr to have come frrom the Aqualjissh. jIf we'rre found out openljy, we'll ljikeljy be arressted and expelled."

She made a gesture as if to say 'but on the flipside'...

"Of courrsse therre majy be otherr parrtjiess outssjide the goverrnment at worrk who majy be less kjind."

A sigh, and she looked up at her Jedi friend.

"Ssajy jit. jI'm takjing an awful rrjissk and thjiss jiss a fool'ss gambjit."

[Abarai Loki]

"Senator, I do not pretend to understand you, or your ilk. I was raised to believe politicians to be inherently corrupt; at the very least self-serving. As such, I've no doubt there must be something in the deal for you. You are a woman of business, first and foremost; you are smart, and nobody's fool."

He gauged her expression throughout, uncertain whether or not her words had been a genuine request for affirmation or in fact a veiled distraction from the game at hand. If anything, Loki was confident that his bi-weekly appointments with Taataani had gone a long way to prepare him for the snake pit of shadow diplomacy ahead. He considered the conundrum a moment longer.

"Frankly, it sounds like there is plenty to gain and little to lose. For me, being arrested and evicted from a place I have no wish to be is a trifle. For you, your political reputation is at stake. You could stand to lose much worse. Then again, reputation, I am lead to believe, is a politician's bread and butter."

The colloquialism lingered on his tongue like a bad taste. He frowned in sudden uncertainty.

"Bread and butter, meaning one's livelihood or an essential sustaining element. Did I use it correctly?"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Self deprecation was wasted on Abarai Loki, and she'd come to find his 'warts and all' commentary to be a delight even when it was indirectly insulting. There wasn't any malice in it, at any rate. He was, after all, correct. Normalizing relations with Ando would add stability to another market for trade, and would serve to improve her political stock. The tabloids had already taken to deriding her as 'Madam Starkiller', so showing that she was a woman of peace was of underlying importance.

Finally committing to her push, she attacked the K'lor Slug with her M'onnok. The animation sequence started, and...after a pronounced grapple, the slug still stood its ground. Her ears flicked in her annoyance, knowing that she'd pushed for a decisive breakthrough and was denied. With the slug still blocking her flank, she had no advantage to exploit.

Salving her frustrations, she again turned to Loki's words, which caused her brow to knit.

"Brread and butterr? jI..."

What was it with Loki and these indecipherable turns of phrase today? Her tail thumped against the bottom of the table. Not even bothering to broach the subject of what bread and butter even might be, she side-stepped it in favor of the actual point the Jedi was going for.

"Rreputatjion jiss jimporrtant."

[Abarai Loki]

"Just not as important as peace."

There was more than a hint of distaste imbued into that final word. Loki weighed up his options on the board, torn between his best chance of victory and his loyalty to the K'lor Slug. From a purely statistical point of view, the combatants were well-matched. He predicted a long and tedious exchange between his Ng'ok and the Molator, whereas his K'lor Slug's battle with the M'onnok would be over in another move or two; of neither outcome could he be certain. However, should the slug retreat to engage the occupied Molator, he rather fancied his chances. Unfortunately, the unchallenged M'onnok was then free to resume its attack and his beloved K'lor Slug would surely meet its end. Then it would fall to the M'onnok and Ng'ok to bring the game to a decisive conclusion. But could he bear to sacrifice his favourite piece?

After a troubled silence, Loki made his move, and Grimtaash the Molator fell under the glistening mandibles of the K'lor Slug. On the precipice of a new victory, he glanced at his opponent, his cyan eyes flashed like cold steel.

"I cannot abide a stalemate."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"Ai'kosa!"

Taataani smacked the table with an open hand in frustration, as irritated that her temper had been drawn out as she was at Loki's move, which was likely to be a game-ender. Glowering for a moment, she drew herself back into poise to effect the futile move of destroying his beloved K'lor slug with her M'onnok while its back was turned. Either way, his Ng'ok would certainly face her full-on next turn, a duel that held little chance of a victory. Of course this was Dejarik, and even the most genius or foolish of plans could be mutated by fickle chaos.

Taataani wouldn't capitulate either way. He'd have to come and take her off the board himself. Shrugging off arrogant pretense or petulant indignation, she looked at the board with a new, inscrutable expression.

[Abarai Loki]

Even though a win was not assured, Loki took some quiet pleasure in Taataani's outburst; to see her poise slip like that was a small victory in itself. On the board, the two remaining pieces squared up to each other, hissing and chittering in their own indecipherable way. Loki's hands were clammy and his heart raced with a mixed flutter of excitement and anxiety. There was nothing else he or his opponent could do, except watch and wait.

The Ng'ok lunged with a snap of pincers, only to have its opening salvo parried aside by the wily Monnok. Under normal circumstances, such a poor strike resulted in a counter-push, forcing the attacker back a square. During a bout of to-the-death, however, the attacker suffered damage instead. When the Monnok attacked, its blows were similarly blocked, and nothing came of the first exchange. Loki huffed with impatience.

"This must be how it feels to be in the senate!"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

The Rrou'fai considered her opponent's tolerance for protracted strategy, and sent her M'onnok in full retreat from the Ng'ok. He'd have to chase her at a mobility disadvantage.

"Oh come now, mjy Jedji prrotectorr, not everrjy move of jyourrss can be a kjilljing blow."

Tormenting her young friend was a pastime she relished, but it was only done in careful, small doses.

[Abarai Loki]

"Taataani Meorrrei, this is pointless."

His voice was neutral to a fault and weariness gave his gaze a heavily-lidded quality. On the outside, Loki was a picture of calm, exuding the kind of hard-boiled indifference that had forever been his trademark. But to the trained eye, there were flecks of red on his ears which betrayed the blood that boiled just beneath the surface. He stabbed a finger at the board everytime Taataani moved, urging his piece to give chase, while his opponent followed up at a painfully leisurely pace. For every three squares the Monnok retreated, the Ng'ok lumbered forward one miserable square at a time, and when the Monnok had almost come full circle, it reversed course, denying Loki his attack. His fist hammered the table, the splintering of wood sounded the death toll for his patience.

"Taataani! Stop wasting time!"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

She cupped her chin with the palm of a hand as she could no longer contain her smile. In his haste to close the distance against her incessant delaying, he had taken to shortening the gap at any cost. What his impatience had hidden from him was that the Ng'ok was now in range for the M'onnok to attack - not from a frontal position that he would be sure to rebuff, but from the flank where he was weak.

"Sslow and ssteadjy wjinss, Abarraji."

The M'onnok bounded back on its path, turning deftly to the side as it delivered its coup de gras upon Loki's remaining piece. The game logic crunched the probabilities, which came into the Rrou'fai's favor. The Ng'ok fell dead.

[Abarai Loki]

"Useless thing!" Loki hissed, as his Ng'ok crumpled, then vanished.

He then fell silent, embarrassed by his defeat and the ridiculous outburst that had followed it. It was illogical, he knew, to blame or praise a holographic sprite for the outcome of a game, but as of that moment, Loki would forever associate the Ng'ok with his latest humiliating loss. The deeper shame came at the realisation that, in the final critical moments of the exchange, he'd been so effortlessly manipulated by the senator into making a glaring mistake. This time, however, the table was spared a pounding. Instead, the tension melted into humility, and he gave Taataani a nod.

"A worth victory, senator. Congratulations."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Rising from her seat, she neatly put away the game board into her satchel, and as she walked by the table she paused, extending a hand to Loki. There was no look of victor's smugness on her face, no sense of gloating. He'd taken her to the limit in a game in which she had to work hard to stay alive. Twice she'd been spared destruction based on the foibles of the computer's logic alone. So there was nothing to hold over her opponent. There was only respect.

"Come wjith me, Abarraji."

[Abarai Loki]

The hand, offered in - what, sympathy? friendship? - was a conundrum. In a sprinted marathon, Loki considered the implications of him accepting the hand and being helped to his feet, or worse still, forced to hold it indefinately, and, following a moment of hesitation, he declined the offer with a slight shake of the head. Once on his feet and alongside the matron, he explained:

"I mean no offense, senator. It is quite simple: I am a warrior, and the only time I will take your hand is if I am missing a limb."



ONE HOUR LATER



Night fell thick and fast on Ossus, draping itself like an impenetrable shroud across the valley. Warm lights winked from the assorted residences on the hillside, while on the other side, the Whaladon rose against the sapphire sky like a tsunami of black durasteel. On the empty road that intersected the camp, Loki trudged under the weight of his military grade rucksack, from which innumerable tins and tools and bladed objects jangled as if at war with the placid night. He saw a shuttle up ahead, it looked lonely, having claimed the entire landing strip to itself; he approached it at a steady jog, clanking and rattling all the way.

When he reached the shuttle, he found its boarding ramp deployed, and rose cautiously into the gloom:

"Senator Meorrrei, the Jedi Council has assigned me to be your guardian, just as you predicted. I am ready."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Gone was her elaborate garb. Her silken mantles, her embroidered trusses, her carefully-arranged hair. In its place was a woman Loki would hardly recognize. Whoever the woman was, she wore her hair in a simple shoulder-length part, wavy auburn locks cast free and unadorned. Her shirt was a warm red v-neck with some alien script across the front. Below that, a pair of relaxed fit capri pants leading down to open toe sandals. Nothing she wore was bespoke or beautiful. It was loose in places it shouldn't be, tight in places it shouldn't be. It was boring, and forgettable.

Hearing his footsteps and voice approaching, she hurriedly stopped frumping in front of the mirror in her shuttle. Her patrician's poise returned to her, and she remembered to suck in her middle, unconsciously pulling down at the hem of her shirt to make sure. She felt horrible, but all would be made right.

"And jI wjill extend to them mjy grratjitude forr thejirr wjissdom, good Knjight."

She then looked at the ominous war chest he'd taken to lumbering with him.

"Abarraji Lokji, jI have daughterrss who pack ljighterr than jyou do."

[Abarai Loki]

So stunned was Loki at the sight of the deglamorised matron, that his ascent into the shuttle was brought to a halt. In truth, he'd for a moment feared he was entering the wrong ship. And then she spoke. Despite her condition, Taataani Meorrrei managed to exude status, she wore it like a well-tailored suit, unlike the bland rags in which she was bagged. He resumed his climb, and once inside, shrugged off the rucksack with a crash.

"I was unsure what to bring so I brought everything."

Gone were his traditional Jedi robes. Instead, he wore the only other articles of clothing available to him: his desert combat fatigues. The alternative was his digital glacier arctic survival gear, which he feared would've proved somewhat conspicuous, given the mission. His eyes wandered over the matron from head to toe, narrowed in morbid fascination. It was rancor-in-a-ball-gown strange.

"Curiously, the council was enthusiastic about my interest in a diplomatic assignment. It is not my area of expertise. Although, due to the duplicitous nature of the mission, I have come prepared for all eventualities. Do you require a rebreather?"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"A rrebrreath..."

Her tail snapped at the question that went alongside his appearance. Casual day for Abarai Loki was apparently just a happy jaunt through a battlefield. No doubt that monstrosity he lugged would be replete with all manner of body armors, accessory belts, and probably a concussion missile launcher.

"jI sshouldn't thjink sso."

What a strange young man. She gestured at the luggage.

"Come put that down. jI wjill...rrequjissjitjion jyou ssomethjing morre apprroprrjiate to wearr."

True to her word, the Senator had selected a wardrobe more befitting the task at hand. She reached into the shuttle's baggage port and retrieved a series of shopping bags. Fishing into one of them, she retrieved a set of clothing that she'd selected to go together into a single wardrobe, and handed them off to the Jedi.

[Abarai Loki]

In his arms, Loki awkwardly cradled the outfit as one would a baby with a contagious disease. Stumped at first, and not quite sure where to begin or what to do, he raised another uncertain glance to the senator. She gave him a nod and he knew from experience there was nothing he could say to keep his desert fatigues. It had always been a long shot.

Slowly, he crouched, placing the bundle on the ground with agonised caution. He then retreated a step and took a moment to brace himself, staring down the offending articles as he did so. Then he removed his jacket, and his top, at once feeling cold and exposed. He snatched up the shirt and pulled it on without ceremony; mercifully, it was black, but it was also emblazoned with a logo in a violent shade of yellow. He glanced down at it in defeat.

"I have no idea what a Nubian Nightshrike is..."

When it came time for him to remove his pants, he shuffled rigidly until his back was to his self-appointed personal shopper, and changed into his new trousers as quickly as humanly possible. Unfortunately, they were made from a tough, unyielding sort of dark blue material which refused to climb his legs without a fight, and so he hopped, and tugged, and wriggled until at last they were in place. It would be some time before he could look Taataani in the eye after such an undignified display, so he went about trying on his footwear. They were large white rubbery things covered in garish black and yellow markings - at least the colours were co-ordinated, he realised, groping for the silver lining. Thereafter he walked, and for some time too, pacing the length of the shuttle.

Finally, he came to a stop, took one look at Taataani and said:

"The shoes are remarkably comfortable. Everything else is a travesty."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"Then we both agrree!"

For emphasis, Taataani raised her arms a bit, then let them fall at her sides against her ridiculous capri pants. Once again adjusting the hem of her shirt, she turned to look at the mirror alongside Loki.

"But we arre a magnjifjicent pajirr of sshabbjy lookjing thjingss, arren't we?"

She found her hands travelling up to her hair to try and correct it, and had to resist the urge at last.

"Let'ss agrree to take abssoluteljy no holophotoss."

With a sigh, the Rrou'fai reached to the small cubicle that passed for her desk on the shuttle, handing Loki a datapad.

"And now, ourr aljiassess. jYou arre Tjycho Jentjiss frrom Torrque, and jI am Hirraia S'aathaani, frrom Rotarsis. We met on Naboo on bussjinesss and decjided to weekend togetherr on Ando."

Sliding into a plush leather chair, Taataani crossed her legs, again remembering to tug at the bottom of her shirt.

"A perrfectljy norrmal pajirr of tourrjisstss."

[Abarai Loki]

"Whatever that means," Loki muttered, darkly, as he accepted the datapad.

"Tycho," he repeated to himself with a frown, "I have been to Torque, but not Naboo. I believe it is a green and pleasant world."

Another frown as he considered the shortcomings in his knowledge. It was something to be remedied as soon as possible; mission success required their deception to be airtight. He took a seat opposite the senator, and gave an imperceptible squirm. Already, he was concerned about where on his person he could conceal his weapons, and mourned the loss of his roomy Jedi robes.

"So... Hirraia, where are we to board this bulk transport?"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"jIt'ss verrdant and beautjiful, Abarr-err-Tjycho."

'Hirraia' reclined in her seat slightly, her ears perking at the thought.

"The garrdenss of Theed, the arrt of the old quarrterr. Ssjimpljy loveljy."

Enough daydreaming, however, as Loki was clearly onto more pragmatic thoughts.

"jI purrchassed two tjicketss on a trranssporrt leavjing frrom Lantjilljiess. We'll sstajy on a hjyperrlane no closserr than a ssectorr from Bothawuji. jIt'ss a dajy'ss jourrnejy nonsstop, sso we sshould besst be leavjing."

Taataani stretched in her seat, a motion that carried as a wave from her toes to her fingertips.

"Now jif jyou'll excusse me, jI fjind the besst wajy to ssufferr the rrjigorrss of sspacefljight jiss wjith a nap."

[Abarai Loki]

By the time Taataani was softly purring away, Loki had already downloaded a small library's worth of reading material. He sat hunched over her desk, poring over articles about Endo politics and tourism, finding, much to his annoyance, that precious little of the information had sunk in. If someone were to ask him which he found more frivolous, sunning sloths or bickering bureaucrats, the Jedi would struggle to provide an answer. When, in a bid to bolster his back story, he turned his attention to Naboo, it wasn't long before he found himself sidetracked by stories of planetary invasions and battle droids. When the Republic was at the height of its powers, he read, war took place under the pretense of a trade dispute, and while people died, the senate wrung its hands. And decades later, there was a new senate wringing its hands while people died. It was then he wondered, and not for the first time, just who exactly was benefiting from the great truce? His gaze fell at once upon the sleeping senator. He couldn't help it.

Hours passed, and Loki, who was used to being cooped up on starships, passed the time with menial tasks, such as cleaning his lightsaber and polishing his sadly discarded boots. Then he unpacked his rucksack, spread its contents all over the floor, and took inventory, before packing everything away again. Perhaps, when she woke, the senator could browse the list and strike from it anything she deemed unnecessary for the mission. Because he had no idea. In time, he felt the itch for action, and in his hand he turned his lightsaber over and over with deepest longing. What he would give to be able to spar with someone, or do some drills or push-ups or something. He stood up, then thought better of it. Taataani wouldn't stand for the noise, he decided, recalling their first encounter: it was on the Whaladon, and she was in her nightgown, complaining the ship's engines were too loud. So he sat, and reached for his datapad. It was probably for the best, he consoled himself, the sonic shower queues on a bulk transport would be a malodorous nightmare.

There was a low whine and the shuttle gave the slightest lurch as it dropped out of hyperspace. Taataani, whose melodic purring had mutated into a vulgar sonorous din, rocked in her chair, dislodging her wig in the process. Loki approached the sleeping senator with caution, and he knew, as he caught sight of an errant strand of hair rising and falling with each cavernous gasp, that her image as a perpetually dignified example of aristocracy was dashed forevermore. Once he'd cherished the moment long enough, he gave her arm a poke.

"Senator Meorrrei, wake up and compose yourself. We have arrived at our destination."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Her eyes snapped open with a sharp, guttural snort, to the point that she realized she'd been in the midst of a snore. Immediately, hands went to her head, finding to her great dissatisfaction that her wig had become dislodged from her scalp. Fastidiously, she corrected the error, noting with sullen moodiness that she'd been undone already and that her Jedi companion was already privy to her vanity's darkest secret. Her frown deepened.

"jIf jyou brreathe a worrd of thjiss, Abarraji, jI wjill wearr that sstojic frrown of jyourrss asss a hat."

Some women were blessed by figure, some were blessed by good hair, and those who were not had to invest heavily in other charms. Still, it could make for poor solace. Already fussy, she stood, again correcting the hem of her shirt as she quickly went through the motions of tidying her faux hair. Makeup was applied in that boorish way that common folk might tend to the task, or at least to her best approximation. Still groggy and moody, she busied herself with pilfering for what passed as her shuttle's larder, opening a cabinet full of sliding trays. No time for anything particularly large, sanguine, or otherwise messy, she took her morning frustrations out on a poor sajoi, the creature disappearing in her mouth to the utilitarian sounds of crunching bones. Another, then another as the Rrou'fai made her best efforts at breaking the fast. Licking a trace of blood free from the corner of her mouth, she again returned to the mirror to make sure the demise of a few rodents hadn't left her lipstick in disarray. Finding it still passable, she scrambled for her luggage.

"Feel frree to help jyourrsself. jI'm ssurre therre'ss ssomethjing at leasst passable forr jyou."

[Abarai Loki]

Loki's eyebrow gave an inquisitive leap. He then considered the food cabinet and its contents with morbid curiosity. There were things that moved, and there were things that looked like they recently moved, along with a variety of slick shimmering organs. On one tray, however, he spied a plate of roasted nuna meat, complete with crispy drumsticks and wings. But the nuna went untouched. Whether she had intended it or not, Taataani's words registered with him as a challenge, and Abarai Loki would rather flay his own hide than appear to be unmanned by an elitist cat in a wig. So he reached out, siezed one of the squirming sajoi, and put it in his mouth.

Eyes fixed on his Cizerack companion, Loki started to chew, terminating in an instant the thrumming of the rodent's heart against his tongue. In the beginning, it was a chore, and the flesh was rubbery and unyielding against his human teeth. Then, suddenly, his tongue was drenched in a metallic tang and the creature came apart in his mouth, spilling its soft warm innards. It was rich, and full of overpowering flavours and bizarre textures, but most satisfying of all was the gentle crunch of bone that accompanied every bite. The last thing to go was the tail, which resembled an undercooked length of pasta by the time he was done with it, and he sucked it down with a thwp. All that remained was the drizzle of blood on his chin, which was wiped away with the back of his hand, and the look of victory he gave the senator.

"I've had better."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Instantly, his brazen stunt washed away her bad mood, and Taataani's surprise turned into an impressed grin.

"Therre'ss hope forr jyou jyet, Abarraji Lokji. Todajy a gourrmand, tomorrow a gentleman."

Appraising his gastronomical feat, the Rrou'fai's tail swayed.

"Perrhapss forr jyourr next adventurre jyou'll ssample kuun'a tai. Good food forr a warrrjiorr ljike jyou to enhance the massculjine vjigorr."

An inscrutable wink was all she left him to ponder as she debarked from the shuttle, heading to the greater concourse of the Lantillies starport.

[Abarai Loki]

Loki did his best to look unpuzzled as the Cizerack matron took her leave with that familiar gleam in her eyes. He'd spent enough time in Taataani's company to know that the way of euphemism and trickery was her modus operandi. Promptly, he gathered his belongings and followed her down the ramp, pausing only for the briefest instant to adjust his crotch.

"Hirraia S'aathaani," he said, starting as he meant to go on, "I do hope you know where to go. This place is... unfathomable."

It was a challenge to make himself heard over the clamour: an ocean of maybe a thousand people, maybe more, buzzed busily about the concourse; weaving, winding, and in some places knotting in confused clusters. The droning was oppressive and, for someone like Loki, who scarcely visited city-worlds, it was quite overwhelming. Starports rose up all around like giant nests alive with the swarming of starships. Voices sounded from floating holographic displays, announcing arrivals and departures to the gawking masses. But worst of all was the fleet of luggage trolleys that clattered over the floor with such a united din that it sounded like the shunting of freight trains. Indeed, apart from the signage, there was not a repulsorlift in sight, and once they had negotiated a route through the labyrinth of proles, Loki discovered why. Over the gaping entrance to one of the stations, emblazoned in bright green, hovered the official motto of the Lantillian shipping firm:

"We make interstellar travel less exciting."

The Lantillians, it seemed, were a frugal sort who valued function over fashion. Indeed, it was a mantra with which any decent Jedi would find himself in agreement... within moderation. Inelegance on such a large scale, however, was monstrous. Suddenly, Loki had a very bad feeling about the journey ahead. Then, in the middle of the bustling station, they came to a stop. This time, Loki did not disguise his confusion.

"What are you doing? The boarding gate is all the way over there, just past that..." he froze, and glanced up at the senator with dawning horror, "Tell me this is not the queue!"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

She was equally horrified, ears ticked askew as Taataani walked up to the tail end of the line that would lead the the...eventual start of their voyage. Not even in her most lowly states did Taataani Meorrrei suffer a line to wait through, and this one was an utter leviathan of banality. Still, stiff upper lip! She was made of stronger stuff than that!

"Conssjiderr jit an experrjiment jin how the vulgarr masssess conduct themsselvess. Perrhapss not the grreatesst of adventurress, no, but we sshall perrsseverre."

Of course that was after waiting five minutes.



Thirty minutes later...


Sigh.

Siiiiiigggghhhh....

Utterly flustered, 'Hirraia' reached for solace in a stim, fishing one out of her handbag. No sooner than she'd touched it to her lips and drew up a lighter did a service droid clank up to her spot in the queue.

"Please be courteous. This is a no smoking facility."

Grinding her teeth, the undercover Senator snapped her stim in half.

[Abarai Loki]

While his companion sighed and huffed, Loki kept himself occupied by recalling their cover story and the details of his research, but it seemed fiction was less memorable than fact. In the beginning, he had sought to turn such a rueful situation into a positive learning experience: a lesson in Jedi patience. He was at peace for two whole minutes before the boredom kicked in. And presently, he was watching a boy in the neighbouring line with fierce curiosity.

He was about fifteen years old, like Loki, and just like Loki, he wore the same kind of dark blue trousers, large rubbery shoes and garish sports shirt. He wore his clothes like he resented them, a sentiment with which the Jedi could wholly sympathise, and scarcely said a word except to complain about the ungodly wait. His name was Golt, as was often blurted by the woman with him, who was presumably his mother, whenever he pulled on the curly hair of a little girl, who was presumably his sister. Loki watched him with fascination and started to mimic his every movement. Although Golt stood, he somehow slouched, and his hands, whenever not used to tease his sister, were buried inside his trouser pockets. Instead of walking, he shuffled forward laboriously, as if the act of shifting his weight from foot to foot was an intolerable chore. Occassionally, his shoe scuffed the floor with a squeak (this was typically a precursor to another complaint). When addressed by either parent, his responses came in the form of unaccomodating grunts.

Loki's behavioural study came to an end, however, when his observation was discovered by the young man, Golt, who greeted him with his middle finger. Experience had made Loki wary of engaging strangers in conversation but nor did he wish to offend the boy, so he promptly returned the greeting and averted his gaze.

Soon they were upon the boarding gate, and the guard manning the post requested of them their indentichips, which were handed over without fuss. First, he glanced over Taataani's forged chip, and then Loki's, to whom he raised a scrutinising glance.

"Tycho Jentis," he confirmed with a nod, then with a glance at his companion, added, "We met on Naboo. It is a green and pleasant place."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

The guard made a face as he looked from Tycho to Hirraia, trying to scrub clean any lecherous insinuations the pair might cause to wander into an observer's mind. At any rate, the dirty old lady's ID was clean, and so was poor Tycho's. A baggage handler checked what luggage was too cumbersome to bring with the pair, while each retained a small amount of carry-on.

"Right. Well..."

Avoiding eye contact with Hirraia, the guard handed back the itentichips.

"Enjoy, uh, Ando. Your flight departs out of 47B, on the left. Thank you for flying Lantillian StarWays."

Finally with the way clear to her, Taataani picked up a head of steam, charging along to their waiting gate and taking Loki by the hand to make sure he kept pace. Her abusive sandals had made it abundantly clear that if she were to stand in one place a minute longer, she would be in need of amputation at the ankles. A brisk march through the concourse served to achieve merciful circulation of blood to her extremities .

"Saanjarra's grracess we can actualljy walk frreeljy and no longerr sshuffle ljike cattle jin a pen."

Breathing deep her relief, Taataani's tail bobbed high in the air in relative triumph. Another brief ticket check at their appointed gate of entry, and the pair of clandestine travelers stepped aboard the loading gate to a star liner. Once within the ship, Taataani only had to glance at the claustrophobia-inducing condition of the rows of close-ordered seats in front of her, and her trepidation translated into claws extending. A few panic breaths and she looked back to consider fleeing.

It was too late.

[Abarai Loki]

"Move it along, Hirraia!"

Loki gave the Cizerack matron a sharp prod, urging her onwards down the deathly-narrow aisle with all the ceremony of a herded bantha. It was uncouth and it was unbecoming, but it was also payback for the criminal hand-holding to which he'd been subjected; the warmth of her touch still lingered on his hand like phantom fingers. Eventually, after much shoving and squeezing and wholly unnecessary bodily contact with strangers of every shape and size, they arrived at their row. This time Loki braved the way, marching defiantly through the sliver of space between the seats and passengers' knees, stumbling and stomping over feet while Taataani oomphed and hissed and grumbled in tow. Finally, they reached their seats, somewhere at the heart of a battalion of sweaty tourists. The young Jedi had never been so glad to sit in his life, to sit, and forget where he was and what he was doing with his life.

"I vow, on the bones of my father, I shall not leave this seat until we are on Ando."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Sitting stiffly in her seat to avoid the ignominy of the occasional kick from the passenger behind her, Taataani did her best to maintain. Her sandaled feet clamped fast to the metal footrests in front of her rather than touch the floor, and she took in the recycled transport's air in careful shallow breaths, afraid that any gluttonous abuse of oxygen would cause her to asphyxiate before they were halfway to Ando. The faux leather of her seat's armrests groaned in protest as her claws wickedly hooked through them in repetitive nervous sheathing and unsheathing. Her poor tail, looped around her already-squeezed middle, had nowhere for the excess length to go than across the space to her right and into Loki's lap. The fur of her tail tuft poofed to such exaggerated degree as to look like it was saturated by static electricity. Every sound - every cough, every grunt, every crying child served to reciprocate an angry flick from one ear or both.

"jI have djisscoverred newfound pjitjy forr tjinned ssarrdjiness."

She spoke conspiratorially-low to 'Tycho', her eyes flitting around at every perceived danger from passengers shifting their weight. The click of the voxcomm from the cockpit nearly caused the coiled-up matron to spring from her seat as the Captain announced departure conditions, safety regulations, estimated time and travel to Ando.

[Abarai Loki]

Hatches closed on all sides with a deep thunk that reverberated throughout the hull with distressing clarity. Gone was the faint whistle of the wind and the ambient buzz of the spaceport, in their absence swelled the resident clamour of the masses, sealed away inside a durasteel shell. Months aboard the Whaladon had weathered his fear of space travel into something small, a pip to be swallowed whenever it surfaced. He knew he'd never truly be rid of it, though, it was too rational a phobia for that. But, where his courage grew, his patience thinned. Before the Whaladon, Loki was a creature of solitude who indulged in the company of only two others, and they were taciturn men. Thereafter, he discovered in himself a certain shortcoming in the social arena, chiefly because he found people in large doses intolerable.

His eyes were closed when the engines rumbled. The ship gave a lurch and his fingers clamped involuntarily over the matron's hand, pricking his skin on her claws. That was another thing that bothered him: the closeness. His elbows battled for supremacy of the armrests with his neighbours, Taataani was having none of it, and the fat Ithorian pretended he wasn't there. Another violent lurch and the ship climbed skywards in earnest. Yielding to gravity, Taataani's tail flopped from his lap and slapped him in the face, its puffy tuft twitching upon his lip like a grossly animated moustache. And as the transport reached the zenith of its ascent, Loki had reached the peak of his patience, so he snatched the tail out of the air and brandished it with uncomely menace.

"Hirraia S'aathaani, will you keep this blasted thing under control? It is severly damaging my calm!"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"Calm! jYou want to talk about calm?!"

Taataani's eyes were the size of dinner plates, and the rate of her shallow little puffs of breath increased exponentially as she squeezed the life out of 'Tycho's hand.

"jI am! Perrfectljy!"

The ship was shaking. Shaking! She felt the residual dampness of forceful air a measure after someone behind her sneezed.

[Abarai Loki]

Then, like a ship birthed onto a tranquil lake, the quaking transport became quiet and still. There was a collective sigh of relief amongst the passengers, the majority of whom appeared to have been just as unnerved as Taataani by the dramatic take-off, while others, children mostly, continued to laugh and chat as if they had just taken a stroll through a park. Since breaking the planet's atmosphere, everything seemed to reorientate itself, despite the fact that the ship hadn't levelled out at all. There was another click from the pilot's voxcomm, prompting Taataani to once again flinch in her seat. The captain sounded conjested and drowsy, and in the same clipped manner as before, he informed the passengers that the hyperdrive spooling process would begin shortly and that they were due to arrive at Ando in approximately 24 hours.

"Twenty-four hours," Loki repeated, gloomily, "What can one possibly do restrained to a seat for twenty-four hours?"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Taataani could vaguely feel the dread encroachment of the grubby hands of a child behind her. Little fingers that were stained with who-knows-what began to invade the wavy locks of her shabby brunette disguise. Eyes wide as ever, 'Hirraia's hands drew up quick as a flash to the seams of her wig, holding fast against the onslaught as the transport began it's ascent to hyperspace.

"jI majy have made an errrorr. A grrave, grrave errrorr."

She remained stiff as a statue in her seat, poised in her ridiculous defense of her hairpiece as her tail again went on a warpath, slapping against her Jedi companion.

[Abarai Loki]

"Hirraia, please control- Ow! Hirraia, please, your tail- That was my eye! If you could just- Oh, for star's sake!"

On his feet in an instant, Loki rounded on the offending child with hellfire in his eyes. And he discovered, to his surprise, that it was the same curly-haired little girl he'd seen waiting to board earlier. Back then, she had been the one to have had her hair pulled, teased by her older brother, Golt, who was also in attendance. He occupied the seat directly behind Loki and was presently staring holes into his head. The family of four watched him expectantly, bracing themselves for an outburst. Instead, the Jedi snapped his fingers an inch from the little girl's nose, and her eyes popped in shock.

"You will refrain from groping my companion's hairpiece."

"I will refain from gromping your companmon's hairpeas," she droned.

Once the child had taken her seat, Loki backed off, hesitated a moment, then resurfaced to address the gaping parents. A stern finger leveled at the pair of them, he said:

"You will keep your child under control for the remainder of the journey."

In unison, the mother and father mumbled their way through his words, and joined their daughter in staring blankly at the back of the seats ahead of them. There was only one more thing to do: Loki, determined to end things on a diplomatic note, once again greeted Golt with a middle finger, then settled back into his seat.

"The matter has been resolved," he said to Taataani, whose breathing remained erratic, "Do you not have a hip flask?"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Her wig now no longer in threat of being unseated, 'Hirraia' carefully drew her hands down to her lap. As if in sympathy to her companion, she retrieved the tip of her tail manually, holding the offending appendage forcefully in her lap as she stared ahead like a species of statue.

"Jusst pljy the old tarrt wjith ssome sspjirrjitss, ne? Make herr docjile? jYou musst thjink me sso ssjimple."

And despite her indignant posturing, it was decidedly clever. Taataani cursed her lack of foresight in planning exactly that. The starlight in their shared porthole suddenly streaked into a kaleidoscope of motion as the feeling of inertia in her belly signaled the jump to hyperlight. Somehow the transition to incredible velocity didn't further fray her nerves. Instead she looked upon the small window to their right with some relief. After all, they were that much closer to their destination.

"jI ssupposse ssleep jin ssuch a sstate sshall be an jimposssjibjiljity. jIn ljieu of that, jI would much apprrecjiate a sstorrjy."

[Abarai Loki]

The matron's failure to produce a hip flask left him deflated. He so fancied a strong drink, given the state of things. Even with his eyes shut, he could make out the azure glare of hyperspace. Still, sleep would surely come in time; he was 23 hours awake, already. It seemed there was nothing about flying with Lantillian Starways that was designed for comfort. Inwardly, he repeated the company motto to himself, and scowled. Thus far, it had been the most exciting interstellar journey he'd ever experienced.

When Taataani requested of him a story, Loki simply folded his arms, and found a spot on the ceiling to hold his attention.

"Do I look like a bard to you?"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

She turned an examining eye to his state of attire, and a glib smile managed to present itself.

"Perrhapss not."

Comforted by the medicinal qualities of banter, 'Hirraia' only then began to allow her rail-stiff spine to acquiesce to the contours of her economy-class seat. A poor modicum of comfort was offered, but she'd been resigned to the state of a pauper already, and was welcome any meager support it might afford. Her tail sated from its recent outbursts, a hand reached across the armrest to find 'Tycho's counterpart.

"Neverrthelesss, jyou have an honesstjy that putss mjy mjind at easse, and jI cherrjissh the effect. What a noble qualjitjy, to ljive frree frrom rregrret and ssecond-guesssjing. jI fjind mjy own ssorrdjid naturre left ssomewhat cleanerr ssjimpljy bjy bejing jin jyourr prroxjimjity."

Her eyes at last turned to him. Despite the ridiculousness of her disguise, the earnestness was real.

[Abarai Loki]

"If you recall, there was a time when you threatened to have me restrained and tossed out of an airlock on account of my... noble honesty," he considered his words, adding, "Or words to that effect."

Certainly, it was a harmless observation to make a year later, but at the time, Taataani had beared down upon him with all the restraint of a stampeding reek. And in her nightgown, no less. It was by no means the only time they butted heads, either. Although she seemed to become acclimatised to his company quicker than he did hers. It was a long and trying process, but in the end, when he finally surfaced from the crucible of their relationship, he had discovered a hard-learned truth or two about himself. One of which was that he hated anyone trying to hold his hand. His fingers slipped free as if he needed to scratch the opposite shoulder. Dignity saved. Feelings spared.

"What you now percieve as a positive quality has proven to be a hinderance in my interactions with others. People take to arguing with me a lot. I know now I have, what some would call, a deficiency of tact. Perhaps watching you wheedle the Aqualish will assist me in that."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"Perrhapss that jiss sso."

Mercies were suddenly bestowed by the sight of a waitron droid rolling down the aisle and acting as a steward. No-doubt there would be some refreshment supplied to dull the affront of their voyage's tedium. For the moment, however, it was some distance away, and Taataani's wandering eyes returned to her companion.

"Neverthelesss, what a jojy jit would be to ssettle all accountss. To call them exactljy how thejy arre. jI have no talent forr honesstjy. Whetherr jit borress me orr djissarrmss me, jI do not know. jI haven't been thjiss forrthcomjing wjith anotherr persson ssjince jI wass a cub taken forr confesssjion to a prrjiesstesss of Saanjarra."

She cast Loki a strange look.

"jI don't mean to excusse mjysself bjy a ssjimple rretrreat to the cloth, asss jit werre. Perrhapss jI am jin want of a mutual educatjion."

[Abarai Loki]

"One such as yourself armed with honesty is tantamount to professional suicide."

Perhaps his ways were more than a mere curiosity to the entrepreneur-cum-senator, but to be in some way likened to a superstitious charlatan brought him acute discomfort. He did not doubt her sincerity, but Loki was no priest, and he would be a fool to think the matron was stupid enough to deploy candour in the boardroom or the senate. In the absence of clarity, he'd leave Taataani to her own devices to divine whatever education she sought.

His thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of a unicycled service droid which, in rebellion against its rusted angular chassis, had a curiously feminine quality about it. The droid pushed a trolley which puffed out fumes like days-old root stew and dispensed drinks with violent piston-powered gestures. When it spoke, it sounded like a brassy school girl with a gob full of gum.

"Anythin' f'you, kiddo?"

"A sonic shower will do," Loki muttered with irritation. Kiddo indeed.

"Aw, no can do, sweetie. How about a nice sterile wipe instead?"

Before he could protest, a hot pungent cloth was deposited into his hands with a wet slap. It reminded him of the solution used to clean the engines of the Whaladon. Once the droid had been accomodated with a murderous "thank you" it moved onto Taataani, in a fashion.

"And what about the old dear, sweetie?" she bleated.

Turning slowly away from the droid, with all the deliberate caution of a man on a nexu hunt, Loki glanced at the matron, and said, with as much indifference as he could muster:

"Yes, Hirraia, what about the old dear?"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Taataani's sense of expectation withered and died at the sight of the dilapidated waitron. Still, she would not be so easily defeated. Mustering the poise of her birthright, the incognito rrou'fai canted her head back slightly.

"Pai Leeha, on jice."

A tinny-sounding noise rebuked in the negative, followed by the ridiculous droid's saccharine excuses.

"Don't reckon we get much call for that one, ma'am."

No, perhaps not. Undaunted, Taataani tried again.

"Chandrrjillan clarret."

Again the droid rebuked her.

"Fresh out, hon."

Taataani's eyes could no longer take the sight of the mocking automaton, and she stared straight ahead.

"Alderraanjian brrandjy."

A longer buzz than usual, but the expected result.

"Do I look like the Queen of Naboo?"

Her left ear flinched once - twice - three times.

"Gjin. Tonjic."

The droid seemed ready to process the request...and then stalled.

"How bout a nice vodka namana!"

A look of delirium set about Taataani's expression, and a nearly glib smile appeared.

"Of courrsse!"

The waitron went to work pumping a pre-measured dose of insipid, low-brow cocktail into a disposable travel cup and placed it on a pre-arranged napkin. The Cizerack matron snatched it angrily, looked at the shabby concoction, and her anger slowly melted into something between longing and mourning.

"Thank...jyou."

Another kick landed square on the back of her seat, and Taataani proceeded to hork down the abomination she was served with a mix of desperation and loathing.

[Abarai Loki]

Loki watched the senator vanquish her drink with morbid curiosity, braced for a quick escape in the event of any gastrointestinal complications. When nothing came of it, he settled into the unyielding grooves of his seat, and fished a datapad from his luggage. Perhaps another bout of political studies would be fruitful a second time around, either that or it would send him soundly asleep: it was a win-win scenario.

Unfortunately, what Loki hadn't anticipated was the fact that reading was impossible. The interminable din of his fellow passengers, punctuated at irregular intervals with the excitable shreaks of children, and the consequent parental reprimands, the spluttering of the elderly, the occassional bellow of laughter, and the chorus of strange hissing, snorting, and chittering aliens, had him surfacing from his datapad with a jolt and a scowl. Those intent on asphyxiating their neighbours with the fumes of in-flight cuisine, chomped and clattered noisily over dinner trays. And, taking up arms against the encroaching stench, a baby Besalisk executed a strategic diaper change on the next row. Overhead, the air vent gave a disapproving tsk, over and over and over again.

"Twenty... four... hours!"

Beside him, Taataani was once again rigid from being on the receiving end of another seat-kicking. Loki leaned in close and muttered.

"On the way back, you will find a pilot and you will pay him handsomely."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

There wasn't much to do, crammed in such a shabby seat as she was. She could remain outraged, or find a distraction. In such an imposed state of ennui she might even consider a nap, despite waking just a handful of hours before. No, she thought darkly. The moment she allowed her head to touch the back of her seat unguarded, that would surely bring her doom. Shifting her weight in her discomfort, the Senator considered her options. A pack of something called pretzel crisps had been set upon her tray to complement her offensive cocktail. She wasn't hungry at all, but rather bored, and the act of eating could at times be considered a placeholder for any diversion of quality. Carefully flicking the packet open with a swipe of a claw, she carefully smelled the contents within, which elicited an expression of disdain. She placed the un-eaten packet into her empty glass, and slid both as far away from her as her meager folding tray would allow.

Truly desperate now, Taataani reached into the pocket that lined the back of the seat in front of her, pulling out the reading materials. One was a holoflimsy of transport safety precautions. What to do if there was a loss of power or a hull breach. Cartoonish depictions lining single-file for the lanes to the escape pods. Abandoning one cramped seat for another of far more cruelty. There was an interactive video of how to deploy a hanging oxygen mask, which led to the Rrou'fai tracing a claw above her to an inoffensive-looking panel, wondering if she might be able to deploy such a device for recreational use. Somehow, she imagined that Abarai might derive some dark amusement from seeing her in such a state, and she banished the thought outright.

A second item caught her eye, which was an issue of StarMall Catalog, some hodgepodge of overpriced assorted goods with a thin veneer of quality and class, no-doubt marketed to the nouveau riche or at least something for the hoi polloi around her to covet, imagining themselves rising above their stations in life. She studied some outlandishly-expensive contraption that was marketed as a "fat burning wand using sound waves and real Jedi crystals" that was designed to be waved over the midsection and thighs six times a day with "guaranteed results". Intrigued, she nearly brought the matter to Abarai's attention, but thought the better of it when she imagined the austere advice he might instead employ. 'Taataani Meorrrei' she daydreamed him speaking to her on the matter, imagining that proper, half-bored, and always-condescending tone he used, 'you seek success cheaply. There can be no honorable victory without hard work, even in a battle of kilograms. I would suggest you place that charlatan's brochure in the rubbish bin, and reflect upon life choices that include an austere and healthy diet, and a vigorous fitness routine.'

"Rrubbjissh."

She sighed, letting the catalog fall from her fingers and onto the tray. Once again looking for a distraction, her eyes dawdled on Abarai as he himself attempted to bear his boredom with grace. He was fast becoming a man, and she couldn't help but notice that the imagined austere and healthy diet, and vigorous fitness routine that she imagined he might extoll had certainly done him benefit. Even in such a vulgar display of clothing he was no hardship for her eyes.

Did she imagine something? Had he spoken to her? She must be losing her mind already.

"Ssajy agajin?"

[Abarai Loki]

"I said nothing."

It was Loki's turn to assess the senator. If ignoring her restless fidgeting had been difficult, this latest eccentricity proved to be too much to weather. His eyes were narrow and his face creased in confusion. There was a damning beat of silence, and then:

"Hirraia S'aathaani," he said, affording the senator her full title, "I confess myself concerned for your well-being. You have a vacant expression, your eyes are glazed, and you appear to be imagining voices. Could it be the stress of economy travel has taken its toll on your mental faculties?"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

She smiled sweetly at his brusque diagnosis, as it was no-doubt the most charming thing Loki had the faculties to say to her in the present state of things.

"Cerrtajnly."

She spoke to him quietly, smile still on her face as she felt disarmed by his broody, severe countenance. Not realizing it, she leaned back in her seat for possibly the first time.

"jI'm possjitjiveljy wrretched bjy mjy condjitjion. What would a..."

She paused, adjusting her query to omit any reference to their hidden identities.

"...charrmjing and attentjive companjion ljike jyourrsself ssuggesst forr me, Tjycho?"

Heavy eyes blinked as she waited for her answer, which she was sure would offend. And yet, it so rarely did.

[Abarai Loki]

"Under any other circumstances, I'd recommend some sort of intensive physical activity," he paused to reconsider his companion, "Relatively intensive. Exercise is a healthy distraction and has been proven to improve one's mood."

Why he could not make such a suggestion was painfully obvious. Nevertheless, he indulged in a moment of miserable reflection, taking in the entirety of their surroundings, before returning to Taataani with a helpless look.

"It is true, our situation is utterly wretched. These conditions are scarcely fit to ferry livestock, and serve to only hamper the thought process of intelligent life. Frankly, given the ceaseless drudgery, I recommend you sleep through it."

It was an only half-selfish suggestion. True, though it was, that a sleeping Taataani would make the next 23 hours a fraction more tolerable, there could be no doubt that the best way to endure the all-encompassing misery of economy space travel was in a state of unconsciousness.

[Taataani Meorrrei]

The droning sound of Abarai's morally-upright and patronizing platitudes fell like rainwater on the tin roof of her ears, and her heavily-lidded eyes succumbed to gravity at their pleasing sound, closing serenely as she fell asleep in the middle of being chastized. The apprehension and revulsion that had caused tension on her face all morning evaporated into a serene expression of sleep as she snoozed, still leaned towards Loki slightly.

[Abarai Loki]

Taataani's face, frozen as it was in a state of sedate benevolence, left Loki feeling quite unnerved. There was a quality of undeath about it, of corpses with eerie smiles molded into pasty bloated flesh, and to glimpse the senator looking so sweet and serene was a sight of equally unnatural horror. Shock subsided, and in its place blossomed gravest offense. While he'd been in full flow, she'd nodded off like he was just some prattling dullard. He reared up, prepped to smite with condemnations anew, but stopped short of an utterance. Taataani was asleep at last, he reminded himself, grateful for the smallest of mercies. And it had happened not a moment too soon: Loki had a notoriously low threshold for small talk, or socialising of any kind, and he was spent. In his smidgen of personal space, he gave a stretch, relishing the blissful release of every knotted muscle in his body. Fatigue seeped inside, and coursed like poison through his veins until his eyes were heavy and his limbs like lead. Sleep took him swiftly and he slumped against the senator with a sigh.

When he first awoke, he found the cabin placid and dim. The matron, true to form, conquered the chorus of snoozing passengers with her own formidable arrangement of nasal trumpeting. And, at such proximity, he could still smell the namana on her breath. Once again, the wig had come loose during the throes of a tortured sleep. Loki stole a glance along the row of lifeless figures before righting the treacherous hairpiece under the cover of darkness. Mission accomplished, he eased back into his seat, and closed his eyes. Despite all the snoring, the humming of engines, and the stifling sweat-scented air, he found his new environment quite relaxing. Such peaceful company was to be cherished; for a Jedi, who swam in the waters of living energy, it was like drifting on a vast and tranquil lake. Soon enough, he was asleep again.

Upon waking next, he spied Taataani staring at the torrent of azure hyperspace stormcloud as it rolled past the window. Oblivious to his curious gaze, she drummed away the seconds on the transparisteel viewport. In her reverie, the senator was a picture of composure and restraint. There was not a hint of her usual manic theatrics, and it gave Loki pause to wonder if she behaved that way on purpose. Perhaps she reserved it for his benefit: a sadistic bid to drive him slowly insane. Still, he was too tired to question it, and impossibly comfortable on that angular chair, and sleep came so easily. Perhaps, when he woke...

When he woke up, there was movement in the cabin, a lot of it. The passengers were on their feet and gathering their belongings with a typical uproar. Loki rubbed his eyes, and noticed, through the viewport, that the cold glare of hyperspace had been replaced with a pleasant blue sky. Taataani was talking. He righted himself, rolled off the rigor mortis shroud of sleep, and then blinked at her.

"...what?"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"jI ssajid jyou have a ljittle bjit of..."

In a rare instance of self-editing, Taataani stayed her tongue in defense of her friend's fragile pride. Nor did she gesture to his own face, lest he bristle at a violation of his precious personal space. Instead, she pointed at the corner of her mouth that would correspond to the corner of Loki's own mouth that was currently smeared with drool. She extended a folded-up napkin to him as her ears cocked askew in awkwardness, waiting for him to accept the means of mending his dignity. She smiled politely enough, her eyes only barely tracking to the crumpled and used napkin on her tray...and to the nearly-dried splotch of Loki drool she'd blotted off her chest where he'd fallen like a baby.

"jI cannot wajit to touch ssoljid grround agajin." She intoned in her haughty inflection, ears rising to the thought of pleasant notions. "jI have to sstrretch everrjy jinch of mjy bodjy, and jI can thjink of nothjing that wjill feel betterr."

[Abarai Loki]

Loki removed the offensive residue from his face with a sluggish wipe of the napkin. His mind was addled from the obscene amount of sleep, and it was difficult to achieve a degree of cognitive equilibrium in his waking moments. He was hungry: that he knew for certain. And, perhaps prompted by Taataani's words, he started to stretch and twist and roll himself to the sound of many little pops and clicks. Done, he grunted a deep sigh of satisfaction.

"Let's wait for the rabble to disembark. When I get off this ship, I want there to be no less than an arm's distance between me and the next person."

The wait was torturous, and the commotion of a thousand or more grouchy passengers was impossible to ignore. And, as much as their very presence made his skin crawl, Loki could not help but feel a modicum of respect for the intrepid tourists. In a way, it had been an experience not unlike battle, together they had endured a harrowing ordeal, and they survived. Still, much the same could be said for herded bantha. When the last dregs of the shambling masses trickled outside, the cabin became blissfully quiet. Loki exhaled a breath he felt he'd been holding since they first boarded, and stood. Each step felt wooden, and it wasn't until he'd walked the length of the ship when the stiffness finally wore off. There, at the exit, was a familiar shabby waitron droid.

"Thank ya for travellin' with Lantillian Starways. Y'all have a nice day now!"

Once free of the stench and the gloom, Loki was beset upon by an oppressive heat. Such was his surprise that the air was snatched from his lungs. And in an instant, the thick humidity invaded his clothes and left him feeling like steamed spigage. Above, an azure sky of deepest summer, and below, the usual assault course of security gates and luggage reclamation points. Taataani lead the way, drawing on her reserves of diplomatic grace to negotiate the minefield of drudgery with speed and flair. On the other side, they piled in with their belongings into the backseat of a speeder, with not a scrap of help from their Aqualish cabbie. The moment their destination was imparted to the driver, the cab took off with a lurch and a shudder.

"Tell me about this hotel of ours," Loki said at last, with a note of apprehension.

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Her mood brightened infinitely by warmth and sun, Taataani smiled affably at the bright vista outside of their cab, only realizing at the last minute that Loki had asked her a question.

"Oh, jI'm rratherr prroud of that."

She fished about in her carry-on, pulling a holoflimsy pamphlet from her luggage and pressing it into her Jedi companions hands.

"jIt'ss the Trrade Wjindss, and jI ssecurred a rroom of rreassonable amenjitjiess forr a verrjy afforrdable prrjice."

She gestured to all of the finer points of the sales pitch as she went over them with Loki.

"Whjile jit'ss cerrtajinljy not a prroperr rrecrreatjional venue, jI jimagjine that ssomeone morre common mjight feel almosst cozjy. Therre'ss a holoprrojectorr, a kjitchenette wjith rrefrrjigerratorr and that thjing jyou usse to burrn food, and what thejy call a queen-ssjized bed."

She paused, her smile diminishing.

"jI thjink the terrm jiss an exaggerratjion."

[Abarai Loki]

"I expect so. Queens are typically small."

Throughout the matron's impromptu presentation, which Loki weathered with grim determination, he couldn't help but wonder the purpose of all the features listed in the glossy brochure. He nodded at regular intervals, feigning comprehension, and allowed his gaze to deviate to the bustling skies. Lanes of speeders criss-crossed above a dense and convoluted network of hotels, each one taller than the last, with rows of palm trees and bars stitched desperately into the slivers of space between them. According to the brochure, this particular resort was called Golden Sands, at least that was its basic translation. In truth, Loki was yet to identify a solitary stretch of golden sand for, despite it being the largest of the holiday resorts on Ando, every inch of the island appeared to be covered in duracrete. Not that it should bother him, of course, recreation not being the purpose of their visit; and yet, it did.

"Provided there is a functioning sonic shower, I am content," he said, peering out the window as the taxi descended low over a wholly superfluous swimming pool, "This place makes Coruscant look like a hamlet!"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

The cab settled past the Golden Sands, landing on the platform shared between that resort and the Trade Winds.

"Here's your stop, lovebirds."

The cabbie leered back at the pair, and glanced expectantly for payment, which Taataani provided. She sat for an awkward moment in the back seat, waiting for the driver to exit and hold her door. With a frown, she realized that simply wasn't going to happen, and she fumbled to find the lever on her side that would enable her to self serve. Pushing the gull wing upwards, the matron struggled a bit to uncoil herself from the cramped back seat, gracelessly weebling out of the vehicle as her tail made a near miss at Loki's head. As the Jedi moved to exit from the vehicle also, Taataani indulged the moment with the well-earned stretch she'd promised herself. It was a motion that rippled through her body like a wave, from outstretched claws of her fingertips to her rolling shoulders, to her arching back, to her straightening tail, and down to her feet where she balanced like a feather on a knife's edge, rising to her tip toes.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh......."

The hem of her shirt rose up on her belly in her moment of relief, but she didn't care one bit, taking the pleasure of all of her tensions bleeding out of her taut muscles with a trembling lower lip.

[Abarai Loki]

While the senator made a spectacle of herself, Loki took a long pointed look, first, at their assorted luggage spilled onto the floor beside the speeder, and then at the other new arrivals. In every instance, without fail, the men carried the luggage, huffing and puffing under the blazing sun like some unfortunate workhorse. Once again, he considered their combined luggage and then the bizarre words of the cab driver rang in his head. Lovebirds, indeed. Taking only his own luggage, Loki joined the herd of tourists wandering towards the hotel and noted, with quiet despair, that they were all unspeakably happy. There were enough nauseating smiles to populate a holofilm.

"Hirraia S'aathaani," he called back, "What is wrong with these people?"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Curious, Taataani turned to look at what possible trouble her Jedi protector could have sussed out. Her fingers unconsciously righted her creeping midriff as she spied an array of happy couples dawdling around the lobby, eyes fixed on one another, hands holding hands. A smile formed on her face at the sight, and Taataani turned to see Loki's own expression. He looked as if he was attempting to diagnose an outbreak of plague. Sighing, the matron noticed the unattended state of her luggage, and in what had to be a trip of many firsts, attended to carrying her own.

"What jyou'rre sseejing jiss the outbrreak of a powerrful affljictjion, Tjycho."

They passed a pair of Bothans nuzzling, exchanging loving gibberish and cute names.

"Verrjy contagjiouss, can sspread frrom one sspecjiess to the next, and therre jiss no known curre once contrracted."

[Abarai Loki]

"Do not patronise me!" Loki spat, rigid with agitation.

Unwilling to waste another breath on such a demeaning exchange, Loki marched onwards, weaving a path through the amorous couples like a mule bucking amongst the ponies. Painfully aware, though he was, of his own salient appearance, particularly as he strode into a foyer full of bright smiling faces, he was decidedly done with discretion. An open palm met the reception desk with a clap that resounded throughout the room.

"Tycho Jentis. I want a room with a refrigerator and a bed the size of a queen."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

The Aqualish attendant turned and greeted the agitated teenager with a polite smile, or at least whatever passed for a smile for the Aqualish, which must have been a bunching of swollen lips, bristling of whiskers, and blinking of compound eyes.

"Mr. Jentis, yes hello. All arrangements on your room have been made in advance, and it is ready for you."

Taataani finally caught up with the firebrand, and the clerk greeted her in turn.

"And you must be Miss S'aathaani?"

Taataani nodded, extending a hand in greeting.

"Ja irra, jyess jI'm herre wjith Tjycho, asss perr the rresserrvatjion."

The clerk again nodded.

"Very good then. I'll have our man handle your baggage, and escort you both to your room. Have a lovely stay on Ando!"

[Abarai Loki]

The cheerful farewell drew from Loki a snort of contempt. Still, he couldn't fault the swift service at the hands of the Aqualish. The porter was dressed like a naval officer: he wore a royal blue jacket adorned with gold buttons, chevrons, and lapels, and a pair of matching trousers. The only thing that ruined the effect was a ridiculous little hat that covered only a fraction of his bulbous head. He insisted he took Loki's luggage, but Loki insisted to the contrary, and lead the way into a lift panelled from ceiling to floor in mirrors. There, the young Jedi glimpsed the extent of the damage the ordeal was having upon his noble countenance: lips thin, jaw set, eyes hard, and red hot ears. An errant knot of hair was deftly plucked proper just in time before the doors reopened.

"Madam... sir... if you would follow me," said the porter, kowtowing into the corridor beyond.

Taataani led the way while Loki dragged his feet behind, fascinated with the carpeted floor. It was pleasantly cool and refreshing in the hotel, and as they arrived at their door, he could feel the tension ooze from his muscles at the thought of a sonic shower, and some much-needed privacy. The door slid open without a sound, and Loki slipped inside while the porter performed for a few credits. The room was spacious enough with a bed that put his humble Whaladon bunk to shame, the floor was carpeted (which was nice), and everything else fell very much in accordance with the pictures on the pamphlet. Satisfied with his preliminary inspection, he swept across the room, and started opening doors: a rest room, of course, with the coveted sonic shower, a closet, and then... another closet. When Taataani was done with the porter, she found Loki standing in the middle of the room, looking mystified.

"There's been some kind of mistake..."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"Mjisstake?"

Taataani flung her luggage to the ground, looking at Loki with genuine confusion, her ears canted at askew angles. Her eyes drifted to the bed, understanding shining through.

"Oh, Abarraji, jit'ss jusst a turrn of phrrase - 'queen ssjized'. jI assked the man forr the larrgesst thejy had whjich wass a kjing ssjize but therre werre no rroomss wjith one of thosse. Sstjill..."

She clapped her hands to her side, determined to make the best of living in middle-class squalor.

"jIt'ss bjig enough forr two, no prroblem!"

[Abarai Loki]

"That it may be, but..."

Something was puzzling Loki: it was there, in the ether, floating somewhere above the bed between Taataani and him. His eyes skittered once more over their surroundings, searching desperately for something they might have missed; that he might have missed. He froze, eyes wide as he approached the cusp of an epiphany that made his blood run cold. Slowly. Murderously, he set his sights upon the matron.

"When you said we... met on Naboo. Explain."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"jI djidn't exactljy gjive uss a backsstorrjy!" she snapped, eyes blinking owlishly as she took a half-step back from Loki's sudden withering expression.

Taataani smiled nervously, her tail tuft poofing as she tried to explain.

"Uh...we met, and decjided to take holjidajy togetherr. jI mean..."

Finding some durasteel in her spine, the Senator stiffened a bit.

"...how arre jyou to prrotect me jif we arre jin sseparrate rroomss?"

[Abarai Loki]

"I'm sure I would've managed if we were in separate beds!"

Loki howled, wild with outrage. Fists clenched, he stalked left and right, searching for a target. His gaze locked onto the bed: how much he wanted to take his lightsaber to the offensive thing, and split it right down the centre. It was perhaps the most eloquent way he was presently capable of expressing himself, and it took him every ounce of self-control to resist the urge. Instead he stared holes through the sheets while he recalled the scant details of their joint backstory: they... met on Naboo, on... business and decided to... weekend together on Ando. Hard and fast, the insinutations struck like body blows from a shockboxer. Reeling, he took a seat by the dresser, and buried his face in his hand.

"Do you mean to tell me that, this whole time, I have been paraded around as your... your..." he surfaced, with a hiss "Bit of fun!?"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Taataani's expression turned to bewilderment, mouth going agape at Loki's suggestion, as if it were something unthinkable and alien - beyond her comprehension.

"Who would take holjidajy togetherr jin sseparrate bedss?!"

Suddenly, she understood Loki's virulent horror, and the rrou'fai rolled her eyes.

"Abarraji, rrealljy? Onljy jyou would asssjign a ssjinjissterr motjive to thjiss."

The Senator placed her hands on her hips as she glowered, her tail swinging in big loopy snaps.

"What, jyou thjink thjiss jiss ssome kjind of rrjidjiculouss, elaborrate sscheme to...to...to what? Sseduce jyou?!"

[Abarai Loki]

"Don't be absurd!" he snapped, brightening at the ears, "I know why we're here, but what I did not expect was to be part of such an undignified charade."

Abandoning his disciplined posture, Loki slumped deep into the chair and folded his arms. Haunted by the faces of strangers, he scowled bitterly, and imagined the long and colourful list of thoughts that must have crossed the minds of everyone they met that day. Then there was the evening to weather, and then the next day, and the next, until the senator's mission was done; all the while, he had to operate within the boundaries of such a sordid fabrication. What was expected of him? Should they be arguing? What would the neighbours think? Was this a tiff!?

"Of all the blasted cover stories!" he said, finding his feet again, "We could've been business partners! Distant relatives! Platonic friends! Why did you have to go and make us..."

Lovebirds: that was what the cabbie said. Loki, who was by this point quite ashen, started to rummage through his luggage.

"I need a shower."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Flopping ungracefully onto the bed, Taataani sprawled, kicking her shoes off in small motions so that they rolled off the mattress. The Senator stretched, claws on fingers and toes alike kneading into the comforter as she sighed. While the bed certainly wasn't posh, and while it was a bit too firm to truly enjoy, it was nevertheless a bed, and Senator Meorrrei sighed appreciatively as she lay down.

"jIf jI had anjy jidea mjy coverr sstorrjy would've caussed jyou sso much angujissh, Abarraji..."

She sat up, propping on an elbow.

"Oh, don't look the parrt of the frrump. Go on. Have jyourr sshowerr. Tonjight jI sshall do the noble thjing, and ssleep on the floorr."

The felinoid painted the picture of stoicism, looking away from the Jedi as he gathered his toiletries.

"jIt wass mjy decjissjion, and jI wjill take rressponssjibjiljitjy."

[Abarai Loki]

Loki considered the matron, statuesque in her resignation. There was nothing more to be said. In his arms, an assorted bundle of clothes, picked from his suitcase with the vaguest sense of co-ordination. He retreated to the refresher and the door sighed shut behind him.

It was only a small room, with an even smaller cubicle, but the sonic shower provided infinite escapism. He indulged in his shower for fifteen minutes, which was thirteen minutes longer than anyone needed to be in a sonic, but it had been a long, stressful, sweaty day and Loki wasn't prepared to leave until he was certain every last atom of it had been vaporised. The deep undulating hum throbbed in his ears and his chest, every inch of his skin tingled, and in those blissful fleeting minutes, he managed to forget the sense of degredation that had left him feeling so filthy in the first place.

When he reappeared, he had changed into a pair of white shorts with orange stripes down the side, and an orange shirt with white stripes down the side - he assumed there was some sort of connection. On his feet were sandals, worn chiefly out of neccessity, what with his other shoes airing out the stink of long-haul interstellar travel. Besides, according to his research, sandals were in with the economy-class weekender crowd. Taataani was still on the bed, staring pointedly at the ceiling, and suddenly, the memory of their last exchange came over him like a shadow.

"The... sonic is free," he said, feebly.

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Sitting up on the bed, Taataani watched the renewed Jedi exit the sonics. With a smirk and a flip of her tail, she worked her way off the bed to her bare feet.

"Enjojy jyourr long sshowerr?"

Tending to her own change of wardrobe, the Senator followed in Loki's wake and headed into the privy. Articles of used clothing flung carelessly out into the main area, followed last by her accursed wig, landing atop the pile next to the bed like some kind of invading wild animal. The Rrou'fai's bout with the sonics lasted even longer than the Jedi's own, and when Taa finally emerged from the sonics like a butterfly from a chrysalis, she wore a one piece swimsuit. Her tuft of real hair dispelled the illusion, grey and unkempt, it puffed like an ugly dandelion on her head as she bent down to fetch her hairpiece.

"Ourr contact hass arrranged to meet uss. He ssuggessted the beach asss a ssafe and publjic venue."

The Senator fussed and fretted with her wig, turning it over in her hands and shaking it until it fell in a way that she liked before placing it on her scalp. As she corrected her work in the mirror, she glanced at Loki's somber reflection behind her.

"Ssome ssun would look loveljy on jyou."

[Abarai Loki]

In the matron's absence, Loki had agonised at length over where, on his person, he could stash his lightsaber. First, he tried to tuck it inside his waistband, but each time it fell through the leg of his shorts. That would probably turn some heads, he concluded. Next, he used a spare belt to strap the thing to his chest, but that was too obvious; and then he tried to strap it to his back, and that made him walk funny; and finally, to the inside of his thigh, which made his walk even worse. Afterwards, he considered every manner of curious and undignified hiding place for his beloved Jedi weapon, but in the end, it was Taataani Meorrrei who unwittingly saved the day. She had packed, for reasons unknown, some sort of bright hideous bag which was designed to be worn around the waist, and was just about big enough to conceal his weapon. He wondered what she would make of the frightful thing, and braced himself for just about every kind of barb in her arsenal, and yet, as she reappeared in a swimming costume, his thoughts were dashed.

"I..." he faltered, and inspected his exposed arms, they were white to the wrist, while his hands were browned from the Ossus suns. There was nothing wrong with his complexion, he decided, but the same could not be said for Taataani's appearance. He grimmaced at the sight in front of him.

"You are not going out looking like that! Do people go out looking like that?"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Taataani's eyes turned down to her swimsuit, trying to see exactly where the imperfection was. Well no, that wasn't right. She could see it plainly herself that it was a common looking thing that she'd never be caught dead in back home, but for what it was, she imagined it was good enough. Not garish, it complemented her figure, and it was conservative enough in her mind that it ought to soothe over any prudish grumbling from her high-strung protector.

She looked up at Loki, and what he was wearing. A parable about glass houses rattled in her head as she cast him a look that indicated he just might be dumber than a Gungan eating paint chips.

"jYou'rre wearrjing a fannjy pack."

It was stated plainly, as if mere mentioning was enough to make his argument completely invalid.

[Abarai Loki]

"It is a lightsaber holder!" he protested, with a swell of pride.

Still, he knew that look. When the senator had set her mind on a fashion statement, however strange it was, she would not be swayed. This he knew from experience. And since neither of them were an authority on the fashion trends of the common weekender, the argument could not be continued. His objection was known and that would suffice.

"We should not keep your contact waiting."

He stepped out into the hall while Taataani assembled a veritable bug-out bag of beach survival essentials. Once she joined him and they had advanced inside the relative privacy of the lift, he said, "What can you tell me about this man?"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"Not much."

Taataani thought about the arrangement as she packed away an assortment of sun lotions and essential oils into an oversized purse.

"jI wass told jI would be apprroached bjy ssomeone who would comment on the weatherr. Let me rrememberr..."

The Senator's face bunched a little as she thought about the specific details.

"Loveljy weatherr we'rre havjing. jI hope jit holdss."

Trussing up the bag as she finished packing, Taataani flung the loop straps over a shoulder.

"And then jI would ssajy. "Therre'ss a chance of rrajin thjiss afterrnoon. jI hope jyou'rre not plannjing a barrbecue."

Not exactly sure what a barbecue was, the rrou'fai made a note to ask about that later.

"And then the otherr perrsson would ssajy That'ss whjy jI alwajyss pack an umbrella, jusst jin casse."

Taataani's ears bobbed up at the prospect of the clandestine meeting.

"jIt all ssoundss sso drramatjic. jI thjink jI once ssaw a holo ljike that."

[Abarai Loki]

"Indeed."

Truthfully, Loki didn't quite know what to make of it. The dialogue sounded frivolous and convoluted, but upon further consideration, it seemed to serve a purpose. His experience in matters of subterfuge was limited and, while he wondered why I simple password wouldn't do, he nonetheless felt a flicker of respect for Taataani and her eccentric commitment to the cause. While they were in the hotel foyer, not a word of the mission or their was discussed, but once they were out in the open and the relentless glare of the sun, Loki could no longer silence his concern.

"While I am pleased you have a... reliable means of identifying your contact, I have to wonder if we can trust him," he said, and absently fondled his fanny pack, "Do you have enemies on Ando?"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"Prrobabljy."

Taataani admitted casually as she reached down mid-stride to remove a pebble that had somehow found purchase in her sandles. On the way out from the room, she had taken to donning oversized sunglasses and a sun hat as they headed out to the white beaches ahead.

"jI have enemjiess of all ssorrtss everrjywherre. Ssjign of ssuccesss jif jyou assk me."

Something was on Taa's mind, and she paused, her tail jerking a bit as she thought about the question.

"Although jI don't know of anjy enemjiess who hate me enough to kjill me. Hmm."

Pondering such a unique concept gave her pause, and the Senator crossed her arms as she looked at the beach ahead.

"What a drreadful jidea. Who would want to kjill me?"

Envy? Sure. Petty bickering? Naturally. Professional rivalry? Guaranteed. Oh she certainly had enemies. Usually they were the sort that could still be invited to polite functions and that you could still smile to their faces. For someone so accomplished at collecting enemies and dispatching them, it never occurred to her that it could become a matter of bloodsport.

Frowning at the thought, she allowed simpler niceties to warm her spirits, such as having bare feet meet warm sand on the beach below their resort. She spent a moment in the sun, digging her toes a bit into the sand before she padded along towards an array of beach chairs covered with wide, inviting parasols.

[Abarai Loki]

"You are now a political figure. Your words and decisions may yet earn you many more enemies, faceless enemies, who arm themselves with weapons instead of words. Political assassinations aren't unheard of, after all, but if you start taking precautions now, you will have a much better chance of survival. Remember, you won't always have a Jedi Knight at your side to ah- ah- AH!"

Loki, who hadn't fancied ruining his new pair of sandals, discovered the price for padding barefoot over scorching sand. He promptly retreated to an island of wooden decking where people were showering. The cool water was blissful upon his skin, but the same could not be said of the Nautolan whose shower time had just been encroached upon, and she repelled the intruder away with a combo of fiesty backhands. Once he was safely out of reach, Loki resigned himself to donning his sandals, which were at once soggy and sandy.

"Crackin' weather, eh, sport?"

Distracted from managing his flimsy sandal straps, Loki glanced up and saw a Devaronian towering over him, a Devaronian in a dazzling pair of surfer shorts. Short on words or, in fact, a comprehension of what he'd just been asked, Loki squinted in confusion.

"Excuse me?" he said.

"The weather! Beautiful day, am I right?"

In an instant, Loki was upright and gravely serious. He addressed the cheerful Devaronian in an undertone, "I wouldn't have a barbecue if I were you."

First, he gave his new acquaintance a look full of meaning, and then fired the senator a glance that said, in no uncertain terms: this is it!

[Taataani Meorrrei]

The befuddled look the Devaronian gave Loki didn't rest on him for too long, mainly because Taataani had him by the wrist and was pulling him along. She flung an apologetic smile back at the horned alien as she spirited her confused protector away, tail high in the air as they made their getaway.

"Loveljy, jyess jit trruljy jiss! Sso ssunnjy!" The Cizerack saccharined, a disarming smile on her face as she fled. Hurrying Loki along, she kept him close as her tail tuft poofed in embarassment once they were free from the awkardness.

"jYou know, ssometjimess weatherr commentarrjy can be ssjimpljy jinnocent banterr. jYou know, 'How arre jyou dojing?' orrr 'That jiss a loveljy hat', orrr 'Djid jyou have a njice brreakfasst?'"

Taataani ebbed her admonishments, taking a look at the stinging outlines of red fingers on one side of the Jedi's face.

"Kosa! What happened now?"

[Abarai Loki]

"Nothing!" he hissed, "The Nautolan woman was unwilling to share her shower with me, that is all."

Wrenching himself free of the matron's fussing, Loki scowled in search of the chatty Devaronian, and saw he had taken to plying another stranger with his dubious charm. Then he glanced down to discover that their unceremonious charge across the beach had caked his wet feet in sand to the point that they resembled a pair of gnarled hideous pastries. Quickly, he was beginning to realise that beaches were truly awful places to be. His mood thoroughly soured, he returned his attention to less trivial matters, and muttered:

"From now on, you deal with the spy games!"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Finding a vacant pair of beach chairs, Taataani staked her claim by setting her oversized purse on the sand adjacent. She reached in, procuring two enormous beach towels, which she unfurled in a flourish over each chair.

"Sspjymassterrr..." the rrou'fai purred, peering from over her sunglasses with a conspiratorial waggle of eyebrows and a wink "...jI rratherr ljike the ssound of that."

Teasing with a wave of her tail as she reclined on her seat, Taataani made sure that her parasol was positioned in a fashion that might keep the sun from her eyes.

"Unforrtunateljy, therre'ss prrobabljy a confljict of jinterresst wjith mjy current posst. jI wjill be forrced to merreljy dabble asss a hobbjy."

Digging further into her purse, the rrou'fai retrieved a tube of sun lotion, flipping it to Loki.

"No, therre'ss no need to rrussh. jI am asssurred that ourr contact wjill sseek uss out. jYou'rre herre to prrotect me, Abarraji, but musst jyou make jit sseem ljike a mjiljitarrjy campajign at everrjy turrn? Forr now therre jiss ssun, therre'ss ssand, therre'ss the ocean."

Was it hopeless? Was he forever to brood and slouch and scowl? Wasn't there anything that he'd enjoy here? Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted movement as a man in a white uniform and a tray tended to other beach chairs. Hoisting a hand in the air for him to see, Taataani made her voice known.

"Garrcon! Sserrvjice herre, pleasse!"

[Abarai Loki]

"There was nothing in your briefing about me having to enjoy this experience," then as the man in white arrived, he said, "Water. Still. Cold."

Content his order was simple enough, Loki eased into his seat and became distracted with the appearance of their waiter. He was a tiny old man, as brown and shrivelled as a Tatooine prune, with a thick white moustache to match his blinding outfit. Though he was withered, and there was a tremor in his hand that sent glasses jittering from one side of the tray to the other, his posture was a picture of professionalism: his back was as straight as rickety bones allowed, his free hand was locked against the small of his back, and at all times, his head was held high. He looked like the product of some terrible war, waged upon his body with the advance of years, as age drew battle lines against pride.

"Why not try a refreshing ice-cream?" he wheezed, for what was in all likelihood the thousandth time of the day, "We have a variety of exciting flavours to choose from: there's chocolate, vanilla, or strawberry, or chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry."

"That sounds good," Loki said at once, "I will have a large helping of chocolate, vanilla, and stawberry... please. Hirraia?"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Taataani made a face at the mention of the delectable being offered. What in Traanjirra's claws was ice cream? Creamed ice? Was this a play on words for water? What kind of con-artistry was that? It ranked up there with the time she'd been visited by a Toydarian guru on her birthday who gave her the gift of 'air from his lungs'. It was said to be deeply symbolic and auspicious to receive such a gift.

Worst Birthday Ever - Taataani pouted, only distracted from her runaway train of thought at Tycho's insistence. She brightened a bit, suddenly remembering the rumbling pit at her middle that hadn't been sated on anything proper in two days.

"Do jyou have a ljive menu?" Visions of fresh-caught fish and wringing rabbits necks ran through her ravenous mind, only to be dashed by the sight of her waiter blanching a bit at the mere proposal.

"Begging your pardon, our establishment considers such selections inhumane." he croaked.

The Senator huffed, a dramatic sigh puffing a strand of brown wig in the air a bit. Forrda. Sensing his customer's disapproval, the old waiter tried a different tact.

"Might I suggest our shrimp cocktail? There is none finer on Ando."

Now that sounded unusual. And while Taataani could only put off eating a proper meal for so long, alcohol was a fine enough consolation. Shrimp? Well, first time for everything.

"jI wjill have a sshrrjimp cocktajil, extrra drrjy, and jI too wjill trrjy the crreamed jice."

The waiter looked...quite confused, opting to simply take the order and retreat to the hotel with a practiced modicum of politeness.

[Abarai Loki]

While Taataani was debating her gastronomic options, Loki inspected the tube of sun lotion with mild suspicion. He read the instructions first, and it seemed simple enough, but the description was a load of scientific babble that was completely lost on him. Something about protection from the sun; he rankled at the idea, as if he needed any protection of that ilk. Upon flipping the lid, he was greeted by a sweet and pleasant smell... perhaps too pleasant. Then he considered his ghostly complexion once more: months of drifting through space had robbed him of his healthy colour, and it was at times like these when he realised just how much he missed plains of Maridun. He gave the tube a squeeze and rubbed the sweet-smelling cream into his skin, rationalising away his doubt with the knowledge that, had this been an arctic world, he'd be in full cold-weather gear, so where was the harm in the odd squirt or two of sun lotion?

"I don't understand these people," he said, surveying the legions of lounging holidaymakers with distaste, "They are doing nothing. Just... lying there, moving only to put something in their mouths. What is the purpose of all this?"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"Pleassurre jiss jit's own purrposse, Tjycho."

The Senator smiled sweetly at her protector as she stretched in her lounge chair, toes splaying a bit as the claws extended. A contented sigh, and she relaxed, the tempo of her tail's movement in the space between her chair and Loki's reduced in turn.

"jYou mean to tell me jyou arre unmoved bjy thjiss? Pjitjy jyourr sstone hearrt, mjy dearr. jI'd ssajy thesse ssjimple wage-chasserrss have the rrjight jidea - well, wjithjin thejirr sstandarrd of ljivjing, of courrsse."

Taataani inhaled deep through her nose, exhaling slowly through faintly smiling lips.

"The ssmell of ssalt ajirr that hangss ljike a ssjirren'ss beckon...the warrmth of the ssun on jyourr sskjin...the rrhjythmjic mussjic of crrasshjing wavess...the blue waterr meetjing the beautjiful, ssugarrjy whjite ssand."

Her head turned a bit to examine the Jedi, wondering if her explanation was helping him to experience any of the aforementioned ecstasy via osmosis.

[Abarai Loki]

"It is possible to experience all of those things and still manage to do something with your time."

Loki watched Taataani unfurl in an ecstacy of lethargy, his eyes narrow with scathing disapproval. And when he attempted to make use of his own chair, Loki reared up in violent protest at the obscene angle of reclination. Next to become the focus of his frustration were his wretched feet, wrapped in ridiculous sandals and crusted with damp sand. After a fight with the straps, the sandals were removed and he started to decrust his feet, unwittingly showering his companion with clods of sand.

"I don't like sand!" he grunted, "It's coarse, and rough, and irritating... and it gets everywhere!"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"Pfft...pffth...thhh..."

He was making a mess of things, and the Senator tried ridding the spray of sand from her face as delicately as she pleased, without letting the sudden violent act spoil her mood. She turned on her side slightly, propping her chin with a hand.

"Perrhapss jyou would enjojy ssomethjing morre ssoft...and ssmooth?"

She brushed her hand gently at his leg, clearing off a patch of the offending white powder, while casually feeling his lithe frame. Taataani sighed, stilling any nascent lecherous thoughts out of respect for her Jedi guardian. It would never, ever work. She pouted while deep in thought.

[Abarai Loki]

Loki went rigid at Taataani's touch. Eyes like photoreceptors, he gaped at the invaisive fingers brushing his thigh, and then gave the matron a look pregnant with horror. Slowly, her words took root, and his mind was parsing them in ways that could make his skin crawl. He opened his mouth to speak, and then something happened. His brow was knitted in sudden confusion, he reconsidered her words, and then with the slightest tilt of the head, said:

"You're making fun of me."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Taataani's eyes went momentarily wide.

"Oh no..."

Her shock could only be feigned so far before a smile threatened to overtake, and she flicked an ear as she spoke.

"...jI'd be much too frrjightened to teasse a..."

In all of her fun, she'd almost said Jedi. Faltering, the Senator glanced to Loki's offensive fanny pack once more, and the bulky parcel it contained. Now she couldn't help a smile.

"...man wjith a fannjypack."

[Sheldon Esalis]

It was easy enough to spell the old codger when he'd gotten back to the hotel. After all, he looked like he could give his back a rest. I was decked out in cabana whites, but unlike Dusty McFrankenbones, I had the legs to pull off a pair of fantastic shorts to match my white top. Also a mustache. Imperial Intel standard issue. The adhesive is breathable. Most false mustaches just use a simple water soluble adhesive, but we pay top billing for that.

"Hurry up lad, the customers are waiting."

Palpatine croaked something at me, and I realized I was just standing there with a tray of shrimp cocktail and ice cream, checking out my reflection in the window. Oh well, no rest for the gorgeous. I headed back to the beach, slipping on a bespoke pair of aviator frames to shield from the sun as I tapped my earbud comm.

"I'm moving in position."

Going silent from here, I headed to the nearest set of lounge chairs and cleared my throat.

[Abarai Loki]

Taataani was definately making fun of him, Loki decided. His gaze dropped defensively to his ugly, but perfectly functional, fanny pack, and he groped for the long hard shaft concealed within. When he looked up again, all thoughts of returning fire were dashed with the appearance of another waiter. He was a younger man, still dressed in the same dazzling white outfit, and came with their order on a tray. Loki was disappointed: the only reason he bothered to order ice-cream in the first place was because he felt a sliver or respect for the withered, yet proud, old man. Now he was served with something he didn't want from a ridiculous-looking man in an obnoxious pair of sunglasses. He frowned at the bowl of cold colourful balls, and looked up at the waiter.

"Where is the old man? I ordered water."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"And jI..."

Taataani sat up fully, looking at the tray with a frown. Of all the deception!

"Wherre jiss the cocktajil? And the crreamed jice?"

Her tail kinked in annoyance, even as she clearly took what was offered anyway, popping two shrimp in her mouth in quick succession and spitting the tails free a moment afterward.

"Thjiss wjill not do." She stated plainly with a nearly full mouth, mid-chew. "Pleasse brrjing Tjycho hjiss waterr."

The Senator cast a suspicious eye at the dishes full of colorful spheres that seemed to wither under the heat.

[Sheldon Esalis]

"Uh..."

There was usually a language barrier with aliens. Look, I'm not racist, but as a field operative I'm often sent to places where people might talk in clicks or whistles or blorps and things like the 'cocktail' in 'shrimp cocktail' is a turn of phrase is lost in translation. Even still, the fatcat was pounding the sea bugs like they could cure cancer. I...I'm sorry. I really shouldn't make jokes about cancer.

Oh yeah, I was working. Neither of these people seemed like our marks. That red-headed bulldyke was cracking the whip and tapping yet another dry well. Still, I'm nothing if not thorough.

"Apologies, sir. Would you prefer tap water, well water, mineral water, carbonated water, caffeinated water, or water plus?"

[Abarai Loki]

"Just... water!" Loki shook off the daze induced by the long baffling list of options, and snapped, "Water water!"

Content that the latest bit of tedium had been dealt with, Loki turned his attention to the bowl of ice-cream resting on his lap. He dug into the brown one first, and tentatively spooned a sliver of it into his mouth: it was soft, and cold, and very sweet. He was reminded of the ration bars he enjoyed so much on expeditions into the jungle on Maridun. Another bite, this time of the glossy pink one: it tasted like fresh junaberries. And with every mouthful, the gloom of beaches and slothful sun-worshippers started to fade away. Beside him, Taataani was similarly demolishing her shrimp with ravenous intent.

"You should try the ice-cream before it melts. It is quite agreeable," he said, through a mouthful.

And then, suddenly, he froze. The lines of confusion on his face contorted into cringes of pain. There was a clatter as the spoon hit the half-empty bowl, and with his free hand he pinched the bridge of his nose, hissing at each agonising pang.

"Hirraia... be on your guard... I've been poisoned!"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Blue eyes went wide as Taataani immediately forgot her shrimp, setting aside the ridiculous dish on the table with a clatter as she climbed onto Loki's chair along with him.

"No no no no nonononono sstajy wjith me!"

Worry creased the matron's face as she cupped his cheeks with her hands, looking into the Jedi's anquished expression. Poison?! Who would stoop to such an insidious means of treachery? Taataani uselessly pried each squinted-shut eye open with a thumb and forefinger, looking for...

...she didn't know? Were dilated pupils a sign of poison? Or constricted ones? Weren't you supposed to suck poison out? No that was for animal bites.

For a few brief seconds the Senator more or less flailed uselessly at the sight of her Jedi protector's anguish.

[Abarai Loki]

The pain was excruciating, searing, like the press of red-hot brands against his skull. Only cold. Taataani's words pattered on the periphery of his awareness, distant and indistinct, but her sense of panic was palpable. Loki could not afford to panic: there was too much at stake, and years of training had disciplined his warrior's mind into a fortress from pain. There, in his fortress, he summoned his greatest ally, the Force, and started to counteract the effects of the poison. It was a draining task that would take all of his Jedi-

"Mm," he grunted, suddenly, "It's gone."

Slowly, he eased himself upright, blank with confusion. It then occured to him, as he noticed amongst the holidaymakers a perimeter of swivelled heads, what a spectacle his companion had made of herself. And of him. He scowled, and muttered to the matron in a reprimanding undertone:

"In future, you must remember that, when I am compromised, you are at your most vulnerable. If I tell you to be on your guard, you be on your guard! Understood?"

On the table, he noticed her untouched bowl of ice-cream, and added, "Also, excercise caution when consuming your ice-cream. And restraint."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Taataani opened her mouth to retort; to defend her actions. Promptly, she closed it again, averting her eyes. Goddess, he was right, wasn't he? That was the sort of cold calculus they were working with in their arrangement. He was her protector, and ultimately if there was a threat, she was to make her safety a priority if he was no longer able to do so. She suddenly felt awful about asking him to come. Not out of any doubt to his ability, certainly not. She wasn't sure if she was ready to make that hard decision he'd made while seemingly succumbing to poison. Poison which, apparently, came to be nothing at all.

The Senator removed her person from her protector's side, returning to her seat.

"jYou'rre rrjight, of courrsse. jI sshouldn't darre thjink mjy fearrssome prrotectorr could everr be ended sso eassjiljy."

Loki had apparently given the OK to the ice cream strangely enough, and with the immediate threat seemingly passed, Taataani humored the human in sampling the dangerous confection. She brought the dish to eye level, seriously scrutinizing each colorful, slowly-melting spheroid. It looked like a science project gone mad. She looked beyond the three scoops to Abarai, and determined that if he was going to scarf down sajoi, then she wouldn't be deterred by something so silly. Gripping her spoon awkwardly, she angled for a big scoop, then remembered the Jedi's caution, and instead shaved a small bite off the dark brown ice cream. It smelled like nothing she'd ever smelled before, and carefully she slipped the spoon in her mouth, letting it rest there a few seconds as she made a funny face.

[Abarai Loki]

"Yes, it is quite sweet," Loki said, divining meaning from that bizarre and unnatural expression.

His own ice-cream was set aside: out of sight and mind. After his enthusiastic, and consequently painful binge, he was, if anything, even more hungry. Hopefully, the rendezvous window had not been thrown wide open by his companion and was rather ajar instead. He glanced again at Taataani, who appeared to be contemplating a second shaving of ice-cream, and then looked beyond at the horizon of horizontal holidaymakers. In places they looked like pink rolling hills, or a worthy catch on whaling day, bloated and glistening and ready to be processed. It was as alien to him as Rodian dismemberment theatre or the subtle language of Twi'leki brain-tails. There was little doubt in his mind that the senator felt the same way, but he did have to wonder why. After all, she probably had more parsecs under her belt than raw meals. He gave her a curious look.

"Were you born into a life of privilege?"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"jI ssupposse jyou could call jit that."

Her spoon cleaned from the latest bite, Taataani decided that bizarre was her fancy for the day, and scooped a far larger go this time. This was negotiated by a tightly-clamped mouth, and a rolling tongue casting the bolus of dissolving frozen dessert about before she relinquished it with a swallow. Her ears perked, now certain she liked what she was having.

"Although that nearrljy ssoundss ljike an accussatjion when jyou assk."

Another bite, this time from the pink spheroid. The Senator's half-lidded eyes signalled her approval. Giving the remnants on her spoon a lick, she did the polite thing and mixed conversation and food in tidy but separate portions.

"Mjy motherr wass verrjy wealthjy, and herr motherr beforre herr, and beforre herr. jI djidn't want forr anjythjing jif that'ss what jyou'rre asskjing."

[Abarai Loki]

"If you think I am judging you for being rich, you are wrong. I am curious as to your apparent disconnect with these people, and their lifestyle. You are, after all, well-travelled. Surely, a..." he almost said 'senator,' and stumbled over words to regain his footing, "...a woman in your position should be aware of the needs and views of people from all walks of life."

Once more, he surveyed their surroundings, and arrived at his point with a note of gloom.

"We do not fit in at all."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"Afrrajid jit'ss harrd to ssee verrjy much frrom ourr jivorrjy towerrss?"

Taataani twirled her spoon, now taking a bite of the white scoop of ice cream. She shrugged a bit.

"Perrhapss jyou'rre rrjight. We arre out of ourr element. But ssurreljy jyou have faced a battle wherre the oddss beforre jyou arre dauntjing, and jyet prrevajiled?"

The Senator flashed the Jedi a goading smile as she mixed flavors from two different ice creams in the same bite, trying on the synergy of the experience.

"We majy have ourr own djifferrent wajy of wagjing battle, mjy frrjiend, but we both know how to wjin. Look at uss now. jYou arre on a beach, and jI am havjing jice crream. A jourrnejy of a thoussand mjiless sstarrtss wjith one sstep. A Calanjic monk once told me that."

Pursing her lips at the memory, she glanced down at the spoon.

"Of courrsse, he majy have been trrjyjing to ssell me a clajy pot at the tjime. No matterr!"

Beside the two disguised heroes, an Aqualish man began to spread out a beach towel on the sand. His shirt came off in a flourish, and he looked to be an unimpressive lumpy and brown specimen like so many of his kind. Sipping a cocktail, he nodded to the two vacationers nearest him.

"Lovely weather we're having."

His compound eyes peered at the crashing waves ahead as he lounged on his towel.

"I hope it holds!"

[Abarai Loki]

Loki, who had at first recoiled from the sight of the repulsive Aqualish and his bristly bare back, suddenly gaped as if in the path of some demonic pod-racer. His words resonated like the chords of a familiar tune; one line of the verse had been uttered, and Loki, stupified from the heady shock, began to speak.

"It's... raining," he said, wide-eyed and deranged, "Don't... something... about a baebecue-"

Whereupon he abandoned his dalliance with the mysterious world of espionage, and quickly turned to his companion, "Hirraia!"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Taataani elbowed him in the ribs, playing the part of Cyrano as she whispered within earshot.

"Therre'ss a chance of rrajin thjiss afterrnoon. jI hope jyou'rre not plannjing a barrbecue."

Loki handled intrigues the way that angry children handled tamper-resistant medicine bottles, and Taataani was determined to see him through the crisis and learn something.

[Abarai Loki]

Eyes closed, Loki took a deep breath, then exhaled as if he could expel the indignity of being reduced to the role of a ventriloquist's dummy.

"There's a chance of rain this afternoon," he droned, with the plodding cadence of one reading from a cue card, "I hope you're not planning a barbecue."

"That's why I always pack an umbrella, just in case."

When the friendly Aqualish produced said umbrella and used it to give Loki a smart salute, he couldn't help but roll his eyes and mutter.

"You're Aqualish. I thought you liked getting wet?"

He got another dig in the ribs for that.

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Despite Loki's unwarranted ad-lib, the message was successfully conveyed. The Aqualish busied himself with idly sunning on his beach towel, sipping a drink while reading a book. On a smooth patch of sand, he began to dig a few ruts out with his finger. After a while, it became clear that it wasn't just an idle movment, he was writing something in the sand, on a patch of beach that would be washed by an incoming high tide half an hour. Once finished, he glanced at the incoming waves, and hmphed.

"Looks like I placed my towel too close. The tides are coming in. Enjoy the beach, friend."

The Aqualish waved at Loki, packed up his beach towel, and moved to a further inland patch of sand.

[Abarai Loki]

It was a long and uncomfortable silence in the presence of the cheerful Aqualish sun-bather, and more than once, Loki exchanged uncertain glances with his undercover companion. The whole thing was stilted and unnatural, and even Loki, who was normally blinkered to social nuances, had the good sense to feel awkward. He was relieved when the stranger excused himself from their company, leaving for them a crudely etched note in the sand:

The High Tide. 20:00. Order a Salty Swallow.

Once the details were committed to memory, he stood and walked over the sand, erasing part of the message. His gaze panned the length of the beach, packed as it was with idle sun-worshippers, but there was nothing that registered as suspicious to him. Satisfied, he paced back to his bench, tramping out all evidence of the secretive exchange. He didn't speak until he was seated and close enough to be heard without raising his voice, and as he spoke, he watched small Zabrak twins building castles out of sand.

"The High Tide... I assumed it would be only a matter of time before we found ourselves in a cantina."

[Sheldon Esalis]

I paused at the door leading back to the beach, tucking away my macrobinoculars as I retrieved the teenager's water. So, I wasn't expecting it to be him. I knew the Alliance was running something of a ramshackle government. While the concept of teenage senators and queens was certainly a thing some (insane) planetary governments chose to use, he hardly struck me as the sort. Maybe it was the fanny pack. A man comes to me wearing a fanny pack and asks me to vote for him, he'd better be running for the office of village idiot. Anyway, contact was contact, so it was time for me to check in. I tapped my earbud.

"Target's been spotted. Looks like our mystery Alliance Senator is a kid."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

In the meantime, Taataani had taken to seriously demolishing her courses, foregoing the spoon that came with her ice cream and instead using each of the shrimp in the "cocktail" as an edible utensil, dredging up a heap of ice cream on each prawn as it disappeared into her hungry mouth. She gave the cup of red sauce that came with the shrimp a sniff, physically recoiling from the unpleasant assault on her nose. Nope, that was not going to do at all. Clearly ice cream was a superior condiment.

Spitting away a prawn's tail onto the plate, she considered Loki's words, giving her right ear an idle tugging as she did so.

"Publjic meetjing place, no doubt ssomewherre we can be sspjirrjited awajy to meet wjith the goverrnment."

Of course, the risk would still be there. Only when they were able to have their secret audience would they be relatively safe. Or at least Taataani assumed so. She was certain she could convince the Prime Minister to see her point of view.

"We sshould rreturrn to ourr rroom."

[Abarai Loki]

It took Loki a moment to consider the proposal before he gave a nod, "Agreed."

Part of him wanted to go to the cantina and inspect for any signs of a trap, or, in the event of an ambush, scout the area for avenues of escape. He kept it to himself, not wanting to alarm the senator, since his thoughts came to nothing. There was a risk that they were being watched and if they were to visit the cantina, prior to the appointed time, their rendezvous would be compromised. Of course, he could have gone alone, but then Taataani would be without his protection and that was unnacceptable.

He stood and slipped on his sandals with a flicker of contempt. And, as they vacated their spot, he gave a soft hmph.

"Let's pick up some bottled water on the way back. The service here is rubbish."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"jYou'rre rrjight, thejy arre rratherr sslow forr ssomethjing asss ssjimple asss waterr."

Taataani's own sense of thirst was heightened, which she found strange after eating something called ice cream. Securing her glasses and big hat along with both towels in the beach bag, she followed her Jedi companion back to the hotel, across the hot sand once again. Midway through their journey back to the room, Taataani paused dead in her tracks, as if a deadly asp had crawled across her path. Her eyes widened as her tail tuft puffed. Was it hot in here? The rrou'fai wiped at her forehead with the back of a hand. And then from her middle came a sound somewhere between a rancor and a trash compactor firing up. Felt about like that too. Taataani braced against the wall, exhaling a long hissing breath.

"What werre jyou ssajyjing....about pojisson beforre?"

The unnatural squelching din sounded again, a sensation of stampeding kaadu could be felt through her insides, rapidly trampling down her gastrointestinal tract. Taataani simultaneously clutched her middle with both hands and suddenly drew her legs together in a fashion that kept the knees firmly touching as she tried to precariously race to the room as fast as possible while only moving her legs from the knee down.

"Get to the rroom!"

[Abarai Loki]

In an instant, Loki, who had wilted the moment he was over the hotel threshold, was suddenly upright and battle-ready. He fired glances down the length of the corridor: it was empty. There was just him, and Taataani, and the strange sounds her insides were making. When they reached the door, it was unlocked with a wave of his hand, and he stepped inside, remembering to check the corner's first.

"Clear! Come-"

His words were cut short at the sight of Taataani, waddling furiously across the room like she'd been fired from a wonky pistol. His brow knit in concern.

"You mentioned poison. Are you- Hirraia?"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"Move!"

Not bothering to even take the energy to humor his question, Taataani charged ahead - as best she could in her strange means of locomotion, nearly bowling Loki over as she charged for the door....

"Wajit!"

Then she stopped, eyes wide, as if she was nearly about to step on a tripwire or a land mine. Something terrible was happening, and she feared that she would be undone if she took another step. Every muscle from her ankles to her lower back locked, and the Senator splayed wide her hands and tail for balance as she took deep, shaking breaths from her open mouth. A bead of sweat accumulated on her forehead, and rolled down her nose as she stared at a single spot on the floor, not even willing to move her neck. Her insides protested again, sounding as if some ravenous parasite was hatching in her belly, eager to chew its way out.

"jI have to get to the rrefrressherr...orr jI. Am gojing. To DjIE!"

[Abarai Loki]

Just when he thought he had her figured out, and had catalogued each of her unique foibles, the senator managed to stump him again. The latest in a long line of eccentricities had him frowning, as he watched her rigid shuffle turn into a precarious freeze. She asked him to wait, and wait he did, at least until her body produced another horrid symphony of gurgles. Thereupon, he commenced his approached, fearing for the worst. He was within arm's reach when the word 'refresher' fell into the conversation; it dropped like a bombshell.

The refresher door came to life with a gentle hiss and slid aside for Taataani, who was, in an instant, propelled inside by powers unseen and deposited haphazardly before the lavatory. There was another hiss, sealing the matron inside, and in the calm before the storm, Loki retreated anxiously from the door.

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Awkwardly perched on the toilet as soon as her one piece suit was at her ankles, Taataani desperately flailed for the switch on the wall, eventually ripping off her wig and beating it against the control until the air vent switched on. It served its obvious purpose sure enough, but the angry chopping noise of the fan above would also hopefully drown out any other...sounds. The Rrou'fai stopped resisting and in a few seconds of violence, relief and horror both made themselves manifest as equilibrium balanced itself. Feeling a wave of nausea in her humiliating position, Taataani reached for the waste bucket next to the toilet, perching it on her knees as she rested an anguished cheek against its cool metal rim.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh........"

A burp escaped, and Taataani cringed at its fearsome portent, her ears sagging as she waited to completely purge herself of deadly poison.

[Abarai Loki]

Loki flinched at the first ominous rattle of the ventilation system being kicked into gear, and then felt a surge of relief that it was not in fact the sound of the matron's very own surge of relief. In a moment of inspiration, that some would call the Will of the Force, he summoned to his hand a remote control and turned on the holoprojector. It came alive with a whine, and a flicker of blue, to project some fuzzy shapes into the air. He changed channel only to be greeted by some burbled nonsense, so he changed channel again, and that time the picture was clear but it appeared to be some sort of quaint horticultural show. The channel was changed again, and again; he alternated fingers, pressing different buttons to switch channels and increase the volume. He was looking for something loud, and most of the channels seemed be suffering from faulty signals or excruciatingly dull viewing. He stiffened and paled at the sudden encroachment of a wet rasping sound from somewhere nearby, and clung to his sanity with the belief that, somewhere outside, there was a pool being drained.

His efforts redoubled, blinking channels into and out of existance and, as the volume gauge reached its apex, he spotted a war holomovie sandwiched between an Ithorian talk show and an advertisment for cybernetic implants. Victory at last. He punched the keys one more time, but instead of explosions and the pierching shriek of blasterfire, he was greeted with another kind of piercing shriek, and the sight of green rippling buttocks that obscured an entire wall. Horrified, he started to mash buttons, desperate to return to the war movie, or the talk show, or even the ridiculous Mon Calamari rock pools.

"Mmmm! Ohhhh! Kriff me!" went the Rodian, astride her scaly companion.

"Ahss! Ahss! Ahss!" he hissed.

"Ohhhhhhhhhh..." Taataani joined in.

It was at that moment, just as a very flustered Jedi Knight fumbled the remote to the floor and abandoned all hope in the alleged Will of the Force, when there was a buzz at the door, and a voice that rang out the words:

"Room service!"

[Sheldon Esalis]

I stood at the door, finally having the bottle of water the young master had requested. Beyond, I could hear what sounded like a cheap holo skin show. At least one very involved Rodian, from the sound of things. The young Senator had exotic tastes.

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Exhausted by the ordeal, Taataani batted a clawed hand at the loo roll, hooking a few dozen squares in her grasp before separating the perforation. She dabbed the sheen of sweat on her exhausted forehead, then at the bile on her lips and chin, spitting weakly into the waste bin that was her lifeline. She could sleep here. Just let her sleep forever and not face the shame.

Her ears tweaked at a sound beyond the refresher. A very familiar sound.

"What arre jyou watchjing out therre?"

A new shudder from her middle and Taataani set aside the waste bin, scrabbling for the toilet controls to deliver a courtesy flush.

[Abarai Loki]

"Nothing!" he protested, scrambling for the remote, "It's... it's a Teras Kasi contest. This Rodian is getting a good pounding."

His ears started to burn and sweaty fingers fumbled over the buttons until at last the moaning and the wet slap of body parts turned into the sound of children's laughter. He glanced up to discover an utterly innocuous scene of younglings at play just in time for the second buzz from the door. When it opened, he was a picture of pink-faced awkwardness, and dived straight into his excuses:

"There is a problem with the holonet: the signal is poor, the remote doesn't work, and some of the channels are-"

It was then he recognised the man, in all his immaculate white glory.

"Is... that my water?"

[Sheldon Esalis]

"Yes it is! Sorry about the delay."

I took out my pen for him to sign off on the bill, then with a click of the plunger, I jammed it into his neck.

"Oops."

[Abarai Loki]

The attack stole his breath away, and Loki retreated a step with one hand raised in defense, the other pulled out the pen. Already he could feel it, a heavy numbing sensation in his shoulders, the tips of his fingers, his legs, his eyes. A rush of light-headedness, he folded under the influence of the drug, his thoughts ran to the senator, but not a single utterance of warning could form on his lips. On his knees, he tried to counteract the sedative but its hold came too strong, too fast; his vision was black before he hit the floor.

[Sheldon Esalis]

The good thing about kid senators was that they weighed approximately the same weight as a kid. I was able to heft him in an instant, and tuck his kid-sized frame under the refreshment cart with minimal effort. As far as my usual assignments went, this one was going along quite nicely. I tapped my earbud, signalling Una.

"The, uh..."

Damn, what was the code phrase we were using? I hated this nerd shit.

"The bun is in the oven, or something. Look I did it okay."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

One hour later...

The refresher door creaked open, and Taataani shambled out wearing nothing but a look of exhausted disgust on her face. Her stomach still rumbled but she knew there was nothing left within. She felt like a dish towel that had been wrung dry and thrown into a heap in the corner. Another disgusting burp and she fell forward onto the bed, butt in the air and with her tail flipped over so that the tuft hung in front of her face. She sigh/groaned, burying her face in a pillow until she realized there was a lack of sound in the room. Well, there was plenty of sound thanks to the holo being on at full blast, but none of those sounds were the distinct timbre and inflection of Abarai Loki scolding her for...well...any number of reasons.

"Abarraji?" She looked up with tired eyes from her pillow, wiping away a little drool at the corner of her mouth. No answer.

Taataani sat up, grabbing for the remote to turn the holo off as her ears perked. No sound. Nothing. And then she saw something on the bed she should never see.

It was Abarai's fanny pack. Concern written plain on her face, Taataani reached for the ugly accessory, and it felt weighty in her hands, as if the contents within were still there. She unzipped the pack, and a look of surprise came over her.

"Abarraji?!"

It was his lightsaber. He never went anywhere without it!

[Una Rakesh]

Their point of contact was innocuous enough. A large backroom tucked away behind the facade of a hole-in-the-wall establishment that sold Ithorian kebabs and other equally 'exotic' sides, it was a utilitarian affair that none could imagine existed. None except those that knew of its' existence, that was.

Sitting in the throes of near-boredom, Una Rakesh leaned forward on her elbows, feeling the cool surface of the cheaply made desk that'd been provided, and gave a sharp blow from between pursed lips, sending a bright red lock of hair up and out of her eyes.

Sheldon was doing whatever it was Sheldon did (why did Director Esalis continue to pair the two together?!), and hopefully that included doing his actual job, and not some lusty-lipped Twi'Lek with round hips and perky tits. She would've almost put money on that.

But when Sheldon's voice had cut in to the earbud she wore, the redhead let out an expectant sigh, leaning back in her chair. She'd almost figured the call would never come, but when it did she felt a small measure of tension leave her. So Sheldon had secured the target... a point in his favor. Of course, whether he could smuggle the senator back to the safe house or fail in some spectacular fashion was yet to be seen.

"Congratulations, Sheldon," her voice was like a monotone drone, uninterested until the deed had been fully completed.

"ETA?"

[Sheldon Esalis]

I moved the cart to the back of the hotel towards the utility loading zone. Making sure the coast was clear, I deposited the contents into the passenger seat of my waiting speeder. I then quickly unbuttoned the white coat I was wearing, revealing more casual attire beneath. Hopping into the driver's seat, I picked up altitude as we headed off to the pre-arranged safehouse.

"Gimme ten minutes. Then we get to grill our young senator for everything he knows."

After that, for all I cared, they could just throw the senator to the Circle of Patriots. They were nothing more than a well-organized street gang with political aspirations, but they were convenient. There were plenty of like-minded people on Ando who wanted nothing to do with the Empire or the Alliance, and who didn't take kindly to being usurped.

Of course, that was assuming that Mother wouldn't be wanting us to bring the Senator back. That would be more complicated, but still do-able. I gave a glance at my captive zonked out in the seat adjacent. Stupid kid.

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Taataani quickly dressed herself, a quickening of her heartbeat drumming urgency into her. Where was he?!? She keyed up his comm frequency and sent him a message, only to see that he'd also left his comm in his pack as well. She'd write it off as irresponsible behavior, but this was Abarai Loki, the most disciplined, uptight, authoritarian sentient she'd ever met. He'd never debase himself by being so forgetful. So if it wasn't that, then...

...a gnawing feeling of dread rolled through her belly, already weak with after-effects of nausea. Face creased with a worried frown, Taataani sat on the bed, turning Loki's sacred lightsaber over in his hands. What to do? What to do? Her hands tightened on the Jedi weapon, and she sighed. What would Abarai want her to do?


"Taataani Meorrrei, you have a mission to perform."

She could hear his too-proper monotone in her head, knowing that he'd expect her to carry on. The Senator's eyes again returned to the lightsaber, and she placed it in her purse, zipping it up out of sight as she left the hotel room. She went to the lobby first for answers.

"Excusse me, ssjir?"

Flagging down the bellhop who had helped her previously, Taataani pressed him for information.

"Have jyou sseen mjy frrjiend Tjycho? The human? About thjiss tall?"

"The frowny kid?"

The bellhop had him exact, and Taataani nodded.

"Not since you both returned to the room from the beach. I can ask around for you."

Taataani nodded. "jYess, pleasse...pleasse do." Her ears dropped a bit as she continued to look around for any sign.

[Una Rakesh]

Ten minutes.

We'll see.

If Sheldon managed to actually stay on course, then his stated time would be met, but Una knew the man well enough (unfortunately). The possibility that he would stop to ogle scantily dressed women was very real. Of course, he could manage to surprise her, and so the redhead gave a shrug to the empty room, stood up, and moved to an old, small sofa that rested along the far wall. On one side had been placed a mid-sized duffel, and she opened it up, rummaging through its' contents before pulling out a few pairs of binders. Stuncuffs would be overkill, especially since the senator was more or less a kid, and while they were out for information, there was no need to actually hurt the kid too much.

[Sheldon Esalis]

Ten minutes more or less passed without incident, and I parked the speeder around the back of the safehouse. After all, heaving a body over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes was usually not the wisest tactic in not getting caught. I gave the door a series of three raps with a knuckle, loitering lamely on the stoop as I glanced up at the window she'd likely be able to see me from.

"Would you get this damn door open already, I swear this kid is full of lead or something."

Once cleared, I hustled inside, wanting to brusquely deposit the Wonder Boy Senator into a chair and give my beleaguered shoulder a rest.

"Alright, tag 'em and bag 'em! One Alliance Senator, as promised. All we have to do now is interrogate the little snot and we've got two days of work-free sand and fun ahead of us!"

[Abarai Loki]

Loki stirred an inch. He gave a blissful sigh and sank again, until his chin met his chest and he gave a stifled snort. This time, he rose two inches. Voices mumbled on the periphery of his awareness but the siren call of sleep was too sweet and, once more, he sank into a leaden torpor. His body lurched. There was a hand upon his shoulder as heavy as a planet. He gave a groan. Waking was a herculean effort.

"Taa... Taataa... taani," he breathed, syllables scratched over his tongue as if it were made of sandpaper.

When he opened his eyes, it took a moment for him to realise there was anything strange about his predicament. He'd been asleep on a chair. What chair? Were they still on the transport? Had he been dreaming? No. They were on the beach. But he was indoors. The hotel room, then. But... but... The voices! The hand! Memories shot through his mind like lightning bolts, jolting him awake.

"Where am I?" he said, struggling against his restraints, "What do you want?"

[Una Rakesh]

Ignoring Sheldon's exclamations of an enjoyable vacation, Una sat in her own chair, staring at the boy that her partner had brought in. It wasn't so much an incredulous stare as it was a meticulous one. She let her eyes go from the top of his head down to his feet. The sight made her purse her lips in thought, and slowly she leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest.

At the boy's question, the red-head said nothing. Instead she looked over at Sheldon.

"Did he have anything on him?"

[Sheldon Esalis]

"You mean aside from those tacky tourist duds?"

I gave a nonchalant shrug.

"No intel. No identification. Didn't exactly stick around and wait for the Jedi bodyguard to introduce her lightsaber to my insides. And judging from our Senator's taste in holos, I was probably only a few seconds away from walking into something I'd need therapy to unsee, so I should probably talk to mother about some kind of hazard pay surcharge."

The kid senator was finally coming around, and I crossed my arms as I leaned against the nearby wall.

"Oh don't act so surprised, Senator. We both know you didn't come to Ando for the sun."

[Abarai Loki]

"Senator?"

At once, Loki inspected his surroundings, surprised by the absence of a bound-and-gagged Cizerack matriarch. The room itself offered up no clue as to his whereabouts - it was a grim and plain affair, furnished with a desk, a chair, a dusty sofa and an open and ominous-looking duffel. Then there were his companions: the man was chatty and casual, the woman appeared to be all business. Whoever they were, he thought darkly, they were about to pay for this insult. When he next struggled against his binds, it wasn't to break free, but to pinpoint a weakness.

"You have made a grave mistake in bringing me here."

[Una Rakesh]

Something underlying was bothering her, but as of yet it eluded her. Frustrating, but not anything to cause outward signs. Instead, Una let out a sigh as she took her eyes back to their 'guest'.

"Quiet, boy."

Another moment longer she watched him, blinking slowly before finally moving. She shifted forward, using the momentum to help push her up and out of the chair.

"I'd like to take care of all this business sooner rather than later," she started, moving to where her duffel sat. Kneeling, she reached inside, pushing the contents about in search of something particular.

"Cooperation will help our time pass smoothly. Otherwise... " a nod in Sheldon's direction, "... I let him deal with you."

Her eyes locked with the boy's own.

"I can already tell you that my option is preferable."

[Sheldon Esalis]

"For both of us."

I said, shifting my weight uneasily.

"Torture is messy, and you wouldn't believe how hard it is finding good housekeepers on Ando."

[Abarai Loki]

"Am I supposed to find that intimidating?"

First, he stared at the man and then the woman, taking full measure of them both. Given their words and the nature of their work, he had every reason to believe they were armed, even if their weapons were out of sight. Information was what they wanted, but what they didn't know about their captive was that Loki would die before he betrayed his comrades. Then again, what could they know about him? He was Tycho Jentis, the tourist from Torque, not Abarai Loki, Jedi Knight. There was surely no information of any value to be extracted from a simple tourist. It begged the question, then:

"Do you have any idea who you are dealing with?"

[Sheldon Esalis]

"Of course we know who we're dealing with."

Oh my God we have no idea who we're dealing with. Great Mother, not even a dossier on the little things, you know, the name of the Senator and what planet he's from. Making an omelette with the eggshells in. Classic Mother. Well, no sense crying about it now.

"We know you're here on a secret mission without official Senate sanction to upend the playing field on Ando and swing their allegiance to the Alliance. We know it was important enough to keep official channels in the dark, and to slip planetside with only a single Jedi as protection."

[Una Rakesh]

That got her to stop her search, and Una looked up to their captive with a strange look on her face. She pursed her lips, and shifted her weight so that her knees could be a little bit more comfortable in her crouch. Silent as Sheldon went on his little spiel, she kept her eyes on the boy's face, watching his expression for any clues.

And when her partner had finished, Una let out a sigh.

"Just cooperate, kid. None of us want to be here, if you can believe that."

Sheldon's constant insistence on spending time on the beach and what drinks and women he wanted was starting to wear on her, and the sooner she could finish this job the sooner she could be rid of him.

[Abarai Loki]

"My name is Tycho Jentis. I am on vacation with my... companion, Hirraia S'aathaani."

While he stalled for time, he considered what he'd just learned. His captors had mistaken him for an Alliance diplomat. When he provided them with Taataani's alias, the voluptuous syllables rolling lustily off his tongue, a terrible thought occurred to him - they thought she was the Jedi! The offence was almost enough to make him come clean on the spot. He took some solace in knowing that it was he who presently had the upper hand in this unusual exchange: not only did they have him mistaken for someone else, but he also had an alias to hide behind. The longer he maintained the pretence, the more his captors will believe him to be who they suspect him to be, and, all the while, the real senator will be able to complete her mission while the fools are looking the other way. There was a thrill of excitement at the thought of that - the promise of danger, the satisfaction in his own intelligence. Perhaps there was something to this deception business, after all.

"Senator?" he scoffed, "I'm the son of a droid-maker from Torque!"

[Sheldon Esalis]

Bullshit.

"Oh yeah?" I asked, shrugging nonchalantly. "What's his name?"

See, the trouble with aliases was that people only fleshed them out to a few degrees. It didn't take much digging to make a rube stall for time and try to lie their way out of things.

"What's the company name?"

Not that we were really fishing for anything important. We already knew his alias was busted. This was just procedure.

[Una Rakesh]

Sometimes... sometimes, Sheldon was on point. Una was thankful for those times, and it made complimenting his questions easier.

"I've been looking for a new R2 unit," she started lazily, leaning back in her own seat while crossing her arms.

"What sort of deal can I get from your 'dad'?"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

The High Tide Cantina: 19:55 hours



She still had a mission. That didn't stop the clawhoppers doing flips in her stomach. Something terrible had happened. Abarai Loki was more than her insurance policy. He was her protector; her bodyguard. He was her companion into the unseen darkness. If something happened to him, they were both in quite real danger. As horrible as the thought was, she couldn't bear the thought of turning back. Quitting. Neither of them had a quitting gene in them, and if Taataani were to cash in her credits at this juncture, she would insult her honor and Abarai's own.

No, there was no turning back.

Stepping out of the hovercab, Taataani made sure her evening attire was presentable. Not too dressy. Good shoes. Makeup was a nightmare but she still had to keep up appearances of being common. The purse she slung over her shoulder carried more weight than it had before. By the goddess, she hoped she didn't have to make use of the contents within. Tipping the cabbie, she headed into the establishment. It was everything she had expected. Touristy and kitsch, full of offworlders with varying degrees of suntan and sunburn, doing their best to cool down from the previous heat of the day.

Taataani made her way to the bar, finding a seat that was unoccupied to either side. She stared daggers at the wall chrono as her tail twitched and snapped in open display of her nerves. The incognito Senator tried to casually acquaint herself with the faces of people around her, and look for where doors and windows were placed. Abarai had insisted on drilling some of these survivalist notions into her mind, and miraculously she hadn't ignored his delusional fearmongering. Unfortunately his advice was proving to be prophetic.

At last, the wall chrono switched to 20:00. Show time. Taataani raised a hand to flag down the barkeep droid.

"jI'll have a ssaltjy sswallow."

An affirmative series of beeps, and the droid rolled down the length of the bar to tend to her order.

[Abarai Loki]

"What sort of deal can I get from your 'dad'?"

"A good one," Loki replied, icily, "I said my father was the droid-maker, not me. Contact Laylatech and ask for Sanis Jentis."

He gave the man an indignant sneer and silently congratulated himself on a job well done. Upon reflection, perhaps he should've been more creative in constructing his alias, but at the time, he figured it best to fall back on details he could recall with ease. Besides, it was the best he'd been able to manage whilst under siege from Taataani's baritone snores. Once more, he yanked against his restraints and fired his interrogators a scathing look.

"There are better ways to secure an affordable astromech, you know."

Let it never be said preparation doesn't pay off.

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Her drink arrived promptly, and Taataani nominally fussed at it. It was served up in a high ball, some pinkish creation with a salted rim that tasted of...

...her face screwed into a disapproving grimace as she tried to negotiate the bracing combination of intense citrus sour, pithy bitter, and salt. Who even drinks this? The Senator very nearly conjured up her previous bout of nausea before noticing there was something on the cocktail napkin underneath. She carefully pulled it aside, mindful to not let the condensation ring tear in the process. Scratchings of ink, fairly smudged.

Yellow shirt, blue hat. Follow me.

Wadding the napkin up, she pushed the drink aside, noticing an Aqualish in fitting attire near the back of the bar, chatting to a few others of his race. Taataani carried her drink with her, sliding through the scrum of bar patrons until she reached him. His compound eyes blinked.

"A Salty Swallow? That's a bit out of fashion."

No kiddng, Taataani thought with dark gastronomic portent. She eased her glass onto his table.

"Do jyou know wherre we could get a morre...fasshjionable drrjink?"

The Aqualish set his own drink aside, dabbing at his tusks with a napkin.

"I may know of such a place. Follow me."

Casually, he walked towards the back of the establishment where Taataani followed in close order, clutching her purse tightly and trying not to be obvious in looking back. No tails...aside from her own, jerking and twitching behind her. She cursed herself for not being more natural in this cloak and dagger setting. The door at the back of the bar opened up, revealing a waiting speeder with it's gull wing doors opened. With a small amount of hesitation, Taataani stepped inside, followed by her handler. The gull wings closed, and the speeder accelerated down the back road.

"Senator Meorrrei?"

The fellow tourist wasn't the one to speak. It was another Aqualish in a suit.

"I'm Resk Kantu of the Aqualish Peoples Council. I'm sorry we had to meet in this capacity, but our interactions should not be visible."

Stilling the harried beat of her tail, Taataani spoke with urgency.

"Mjy bodjyguarrd hass been kjidnapped, Councjilman. Ourr ssjituatjion hass become morre dangerrouss."

Councilman Kantu spoke in harried Andoese with the plainclothes party of his retinue, then again in basic to the Senator.

"We suspect there are offworlders involved in the abduction, Madam Senator. I wish there was more we could do at this moment. For now, we have to bring you to the Council as quietly as possible."

Taataani nodded, a nervous flick of her ear as she watched the city lights pass from her window.

[Sheldon Esalis]

"A good one," Loki replied, icily, "I said my father was the droid-maker, not me. Contact Laylatech and ask for Sanis Jentis."


I glanced back to make sure Una was taking notes. I don't take notes. That's nerd shit. Sounded all bullshit though.

"And if we were kidnapping the son of a droid maker we would, Senator." I called his bluff while crossing my arms.

"Don't know many rich kids who holiday with older women at any rate, so that cover story is bantha dung. But by all means, I'll happily take you back to Coruscant and let a whole host of very persuasive people have a chat with you on that one."

[Abarai Loki]

"You are willing to travel halfway across the galaxy to present your superiors with someone who you suspect of being a senator, without so much as a scrap of evidence to support your claims."

His cover story was starting to wear a little thin, and he was fast approaching the limits of his improvisational skills. It didn't help that his mind was elsewhere; the longer he stalled, the longer he kept these Imperial bloodhounds off the scent, the better Taataani's chances were to finish her mission. That was his goal, and he had to dedicate himself to it wholly - that meant imagination. The thought of it made him squirm in his seat. Instead, it was in cold logic he sought familiar refuge.

"Allow me to help you. Senators are high profile individuals. Search your databanks for a senator matching my description and, should you succeed, I will confess to all of your accusations. If not, accept your mistake and let me go."

[Una Rakesh]

From her spot a short distance away, Una watched with a healthy amount of detachment. She wasn't necessarily paying too much attention to the kid, and she sure as all nine Corellian hells wasn't paying attention to Sheldon any more than she absolutely had to. She took the notes she felt prudent to take, and nothing more. No embellishing, no fancy words. Nothing extra or unnecessary.

The last bit of the kid's words did register, but she filed it away for a later examination.

"Just come clean, kid. The longer you stall, the louder his," a gesture to Sheldon, "... his mouth gets. Pretty soon he won't shut up, and we're both gonna have to hear about what he plans to do to whatever hooker he brings back to his hotel room tonight."

Her datapad was set on the desk, and she leaned forward in her seat, elbows coming to rest on her knees as she leveled a serious look to their captive.

"Every. Single. Detail."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

At an undisclosed location


To their credit, the representatives of the ruling junta on Ando wanted to dispense with the proceedings as quickly as Taataani did. They reached the meeting site promptly, and whisked the Alliance Senator into a room with other like minds in the governing body. Senator Meorrrei was well-poised to play her game. She framed her argument on a matter of sovereignty by degrees. The Aqualish people were famously independent, but without increased access to worlds abroad they could quickly find themselves isolated and weakened. Using the example of her own homeworlds, Taataani explained that the Cizerack still maintained de facto home rule while enjoying greater representation abroad under the larger aegis of the Alliance's influence. To counter, she urged them to consider the ever-weakening state of the planets in the Tion Cluster, who's obstinance to Alliance entreaties had left them exposed as a haven to undesirables such as warlords, smugglers, and pirates. While Ando lay far enough within Alliance space to avoid overt Imperial aggression, this vulnerability to small power could be exploited to undermine their government.

The junta deliberated with some spirited arguments, but to Taataani's relief they were amenable to her insights. The question remained of how to make the alliance official in a way that caused the Aqualish to not lose face over aligning their interests. Taataani suggested a shrewd first move by the junta would give their government momentum. A proposal put to Bothawui on special trade status would tear down trade tariffs between the two governments, allowing the economies to sync. From there, the junta could press by degrees for liberalization in relationships. Always on Ando's terms, and naturally a notion the Alliance would be receptive toward. It would alienate the Empire, but Taataani correctly noted that the Empire's trade relations were already curtailed by the reality of any trade passing between their governments having to do so with the Alliance's blessing. Ergo, what had historically been a slow stream of commerce to begin with was by now a trickle. They could afford to alienate the Empire much more than they could afford to alienate the Alliance.

With the roadmap to normalized relations in place, Taataani bid adieu to her opposites in Ando's government, and she prepared to spirit away back to her hotel. Before doing so, one of the Aqualish representatives approached her.

"Madam Senator, I understand that your bodyguard has been kidnapped."

Taataani nodded.

"Vanjisshed wjithout a trrace, jI'm afrrajid."

And afraid she was. Abarai Loki was an unshakeable ally. The notion of his abduction disturbed her greatly. The Aqualish representative nodded.

"A Jedi kidnapped...whoever is behind this must have sophistication. I believe I may be able to help you."

Taataani's ears perked at that, an invitation for him to make himself plain.

"Our intelligence bureau has monitored the activity of a few offworlders who have been coming and going with increased frequency over the past few weeks. We believe they have been courting some of the nationalist gangs in the capital to help counter our anticipated move. They may have worked together in planning this. We managed to capture one of the nationalist agitators during a police raid earlier today. His interrogation has been...enlightening."

The representative removed a holo emitter from a pocket, flicking it on. An aqualish appeared at a table, bound to rails by stun cuffs.

"Who are you working for."

"I'm working for Ando!"

"We're the government, traitor. You'll name your accomplices or you will be shot!

"I work for the brothers and sisters of our planet who serve no masters other than our people!"

"We caught you because we've been following you closely. Your accomplices will turn up soon enough."

The hologram disappeared, but the representative continued.

"Unfortunately, the man managed to ingest a poison pill shortly after interrogation and has since died. However, we gleaned enough information from him to believe he's a member of the Vulkar gang, a bunch of misguided youth with an unfortunate political bent. They're known to congregate at a locals pub known as the Winking Womp Rat. We've known about this connection for some time, but intervening without cause would only serve to embolden the nationalist spirits here."

Taataani considered what the man was telling her.

"jYou need to ssee thesse trroublemakerrss openljy actjing on behalf of thesse...outssjide jinfluences?"

The Aqualish nodded.

"Correct. If the nationalist fanatics are seen as pawns of someone else's plan, it could serve to backfire their efforts, bolstering our own."

"And lead uss to mjy bodjyguarrd."

"With hope, Senator."

A plan began to form in Taataani's mind. One that Abarai Loki probably would tell her was a fool's errand.

"jYou need bajit."

The Aqualish blinked uneasily.

"I'm not sure if I like where this is going."

[Abarai Loki]

"Just come clean, kid. The longer you stall, the louder his," a gesture to Sheldon, "... his mouth gets. Pretty soon he won't shut up, and we're both gonna have to hear about what he plans to do to whatever hooker he brings back to his hotel room tonight."

"Every. Single. Detail."

"How disappointing."

It was a challenge not to roll his eyes. If it wasn't bad enough that he had to suffer the drudgery of pretending to be a helpless senator, he was also to be faced with the indignity of the smart-mouth's smut. Part of him wished he were in fact a senator so he could just confess and be done with it. Attempting to conjure up any enthusiasm in his performance was becoming an exercise in futility.

"I had you mistaken for kidnappers with moral integrity. Truly."

[Una Rakesh]

Una gave the senator a sweet smile, though beneath the surface was a healthy amount of exasperation, and she shrugged.

"I've got moral integrity, but my delightful partner here is... " a pause, as she considered her words. "... not as full of discretion."

She leaned back, giving a wave to the air as a sign for Sheldon to have his way while asking him a seemingly innocent question that held within it so many terrible consequences.

"So. What're you gonna do tonight?"

[Sheldon Esalis]

Was I offended? Maybe?

We were having such a polite conversation.

"Well, ass, I was thinking about curling up around a tub of cookie dough ice cream and watching The Datapad."

I coughed into my hand

"hgkhff...with a hooker. DON'T JUDGE ME!"

She was deflecting the issue, and I pointed at the captive Senator.

"Besides, idiot, if you'd seen what the esteemed junior senator here was watching when we met, you'd realize I'm not the only person in the room with needs!"

[Abarai Loki]

Wait. How did he get dragged into this quagmire of depravity? His confusion showed, as he looked from one accuser to the other. Of the pair, he knew with which he'd rather have no association whatsoever, with him or his needs. So he cast his mind back to his abduction and it brought him no shortage of bother: him, a Jedi, to be abducted by such a banal specimen. His memory of the shameful ordeal was blissfully foggy; what he did remember was that he was alone in the bedroom, while Taataani inflicted herself in full upon the lavatory. Fortunately, the holo drowned out the ungodly din.

"The holo!" he blurted, pale with horror, "There was a malfunction! I couldn't change channels!"

[Una Rakesh]

Now this was new information, and the look on the young senator's face was enough to pique her curiosity. Still though, they had a job to do, and despite the smile creeping across her lips, the redhead turned back to her notes.

"Ok so he was watching skinamax. Most kids his age do that."

A pointed look was sent to Sheldon.

"Now just do your job and get what we need."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

The Winking Womp Rat Pub - Four Hours Later

This was a terrible idea. Even if the Ando government had all the right people watching her every move now, this was dangerous and risky and foolish by orders of magnitude than anything she'd ever done. But for Abarai Loki it was enough. Taataani had time to work up her courage. Enough time to shop for new clothes. Enough time for a proper hot shower with real water. Enough time to eat three thimiarrs. Enough time to throw them up on account of nerves. Now here she was, actually walking in to the den of vipers. Her purse felt heavy with precious cargo, and the Senator tugged steadfastly at the hem of her new black sleeveless top. It added an aura of menace to her attire, but as she passed the pub windows, her conviction wavered as did her steps.

Do my arms really look that fat?

No. Clearly it's an imperfection in the glass!

Shaking off her discouraging vanity, Taataani entered the Winking Womp Rat. As she crossed the threshold of the backstreet drinking hole, the music from the juke box died as if on cue. Every head in the joint - all Aqualish - turned to regard her in uncomfortable unison. Taataani steeled herself, fixed with practiced haughty indifference as she moved to the bar. A sole stool remained unoccupied between a particularly large pair of specimens, and Taataani took her seat as if she owned the establishment. The bartender glowered at her suspiciously.

"jI'm lookjing forr Tjyccho Jentjiss."

The barstools to her left and right creaked as their occupants turned fully to face her. None spoke, save the bartender.

"Never heard of 'em."

Taataani's tail snapped. She remembered her authoritative poise, staring down her nose at the specimen shining tumblers across the counter.

"jYou'rre ljyjing."

Four chairs screeched against the floor in unison as Aqualish got to their feet. Things were getting awfully uncomfortable.

"You're in the wrong bar, tourist. You'd better pack up while you still can."

Taataani leaned forward, swagger on her expression as her ears pitched in for emphasis.

"Tourrjisst? Trrjy agajin. Thjiss jiss Jedji bussjinesss."

Laughter erupted across the bar. Aqualish pounded the counter in the peak of hilarity.

"Jedi?!? You?"

Taataani's face twiched. Yes me, WHY NOT me?

"jI'm Jedji Massterr...um...Arrta Vandelajya."

She'd heard that name somewhere. Seemed a reasonable alibi to use. Loki would be proud of her improvisation during battle.

The Aqualish to Taataani's right wiped a tear of laughter from one of his compound eyes.

"Aren't you a little fat for a Jedi?"

Another Aqualish overcome by hysteria piped in raucously.

"Maybe she means she ATE a Jedi!"

Howls of laughter obfuscated the fact that Taataani's ears were ticking back murderously.

"Boss...boss...she can feel the force. FLOOOOWING to her thighs!"

"AAAAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!"

"...hrrrrowwwwwrrrrrrgggggg..."

That...wasn't laughter. The manic Aqualish petered off their chortling to the sound of something throaty, deep, and animal. Taataani's cheshire snarl parted to reveal her sharp teeth and she roared to her feet, fishing Abarai Loki's lightsaber from her purse as she summarily cleaved the entire bar in half. Some distance away, an auburn wig went sailing into a pitcher of beer, drenching occupants at another table.

"HOLY SHIT!"

"IT'S TRUE!"

Taataani stood on top of the bar wielding Loki's weapon like Exar Kun's war blade. She seethed and growled past it's brilliant cerulean.

"Jedji Massterr Arrrta Vandelajya hass had ENOUGH OF jYOUUUUU!!! GRRRRROOOUUUUUGGGGGHHHH!!!!

To the onlookers from the Ando government hiding a distance away, it must have seemed like Taataani Meorrrei summoned a plague of stinging insects from some apocalyptic book. Dozens of Aqualish ran screaming for the exit, while more still opted for expediency and willingly ran through the glass window.

Dealing with raining jagged shards was mercy compared to the wrath of Jedi Master Arta Vandelaya!

[Sheldon Esalis]

Back at the Imperial Safe House

"And that was the second time I got crabs."

I was being a little more forthright with my personal history than usual, but apparently that pushed the kid's buttons. Rakesh was clear across the room with that cold judgy look in her eyes.

"Okay. Seriously though. Interns. I mean assuming we don't kill you or imprison you forever, when you get older you're going to need them. They don't even have to have actual work experience. They do that shit for college credit or a promise, haha, of an actual job. As if. They can type twenty six words per minute and as long as they have a great rack and know how to speed dial for Utapauan takeout, you're set. But make sure they trim. Like I said, crabs."

I hit him hours ago with truth serum but it was the same line of bullshit as always. Maybe some idiot at HQ swapped that vial with placebo. Wait why would they make a placebo torture drug? Maybe boner medicine for old people. But be that as it may, I am an officer of the Empire and I have high ethical standards. I am not going to look to see if he has a boner.

"Alright, from the top. If you had three choices, which Senators would you bang?"

A sudden banging at the door caught my attention, and a blaster was in my hand faster than a squib fart. Huh. Banging on the door of a secret safe house.

"Una! Check to see if it's pizza!"

[Una Rakesh]

For a moment she scowled, seriously having to wonder if Sheldon would have the gall to order delivery food. And if she was to be honest, she wasn't so certain that he wouldn't. Standing, she gave a dark look to her partner before palming her own blaster and moving to the dark metal door that separated the interior of their small safehouse from the rest of Ando. A single, rectangular sliding plate was at eye level, and Una hefted her firearm while reaching out to the small latch holding it securely shut. A flick of her fingers, and she snapped it aside, sliding the plate to the side a mere inch. Her head was kept out of the opening though, lest the last thing she ever see was a blaster bolt filling her vision less than a split second before burning a hole through her brainpan.

"What." Her voice was low, but carried through the thin opening of the barely-open view panel.

A manic, almost trembling answer came without pause.

"Trouble... there's a Jedi lookin' f'r tha senator; she done tore up th' Winkin' Womp Rat!"

Still keeping out of sight, Una made a face as the voice went on.

"Y'gotta let me in! Dat fat bitch damn near took m'arm off and Yoris got hisself all cut up running through a window!"

As if to punctuate, a low groan sounded; Yoris no doubt. Closing her eyes, Una let out a long, slow breath. This was not what she needed; even moreso that these two idiots had shuffled their way here, possibly leading the Jedi to the very place that she was not supposed to know about. A silencer was slowly threaded onto the front of her blaster's barrel with deliberate motion as more desperate pleas sounded from outside, calls to be let in repeated over and over.

[Abarai Loki]

Fighting the effects of the truth serum had taken its toll on Loki, who was pallid with fatigue, and nausea. After hours of exposure to his interrogator's extensive history of orifaces, bodily fluids, rashes, infections, and parasites, Loki's insides had turned to water. He could feel his stomach churning like the roiling sea. Just as he was about to lose his lunch, fate dealt him a merciful hand, and a welcome reprieve when there came a knock upon the door. The woman moved out of sight, then there were voices. He listened intently to the pleading and the groaning and the panicked gibberish: some waffle about an angry fat Jedi. Loki frowned. An angry... fat... Jedi.

Pitching forward against his restraints, Loki plastered the floor with vomit. He spat a last bitter string on his shoe, and muttered, "I confess! I confess! I am... Senator Rabeak of the Alliance of Free Planets. You have broken me, Imperial dogs. Now, take me away!"

[Sheldon Esalis]

"Well the mood for pizza's passed."

Still, score one for the good guys! I shot Una a fairly chuffed look, crossing my arms in supreme agency over my badass interrogation methods. Sure, the room now reeked of lightly-used prawns and ice cream, but we'd made a connection here. Wait a second...

"...the Jedi??"

I hit rewind in my brain, replaying the scene at the beach over again. Swarthy alien lady. Little thick and soft around the edges. Jedi Master. Well, maybe she was one of those sedentary meditative types. Apparently good enough to rout a posse full of Aqualish goons at least.

"Nice work idiots, now she knows where we've gone with Senator Rabeak."

Facepalming, I slid my hand down just in time to catch a no-nonsense look from my dour ginger comrade.

"You're thinking about doing something dumb, aren't you? News flash, Pirates of the Perlemian, Jedi are no joke. It's hard to bear arms in defense of Empress and country without...arms. Let's vamoose with Doogie Rabeak Pro Tempore here and play it safe."

[Taataani Meorrrei]

She'd gotten her point across at some point during the tirade. Another point was made painfully clear to Taataani somewhere during her volcanic outburst.

Lightsabers are dangerous!

"Ssorrrjy! Ssorrrjy!"

The Cizerack gawked at the sight of a severed Aqualish arm still twitching on the floor holding a broken beer bottle. It's former owner screamed in agony, propped up against the bar, sucking rapid breath in and out in shock-induced hyperventilation. She hadn't even seen him there. In her zeal to make an effective demonstration, Taataani had simply flailed the azure blade in an angry hurricane. Whether it was old growth hardwood or flesh and bone, she felt no resistance whatsoever. Someone could get killed with this!

Extinguishing the saber, the Cizerack Senator drooped ears as her bewildered worry froze on her face cartoonishly. Goddess, I could've taken his head off!

The thought then evolved in the Senator's mind as her face emoted horror. Or mine!!

Retrieving her beer-drenched wig from where it rested half-within a toppled pitcher, the rrou'fai shook out as much offending dampness as she could, placing the unkempt thing back into place with a mind to at least salvage some dignity. The reflection in the bar mirror did little to buoy her spirits. She looked a fright.

The screaming Aqualish had petered off into blubbering sobs and gasps, and Taataani made use of the convenient carabiner on the lightsaber pommel to attach the thing to her belt...mindful not to touch any dangerous anything. She shuddered, then remembered her poise. Standing over the fallen Aqualish, she regained enough composure to appear magnanimous.

"Jedji Massterr Arrta Vandelajya forrgjivess jyou."

Still, worry ticked across her skewed ears, and Taataani grimaced.

"Though jyou mjight want to call a doctorr. Ssorrrjy!"

And with that, she was off! No doubt her unlikely partners in the government were keenly watching which way the rats scurried. She was not content, however, to settle Abarai Loki's liberation from the rear guard. He deserved no less than heroism from her! So she ran! At first! Slowly petering out over the two hundred meters, her spirited sprint became a jog, which became a trot, which became a lethargic stroll with labored breath.

"All thjiss herro bussjinesss jiss forr the nunass...no wonderr thejy alwajyss sshow up at the end of the fjilm."

[Una Rakesh]

The small viewing rectangle was slid shut with a quickness, only to be followed by a string of begging pleas from the other side of the door.

"Oh we're leaving alright," came the low, almost growled out words.

"But not before I take care of something first."

Without any amount of wasted movement, Una wrenched the door open.

"I knew ye'd nawt le' us out ta die by da-"

The silencer was now fully screwed on to her pistol, and Una leveled it at the two simpering wrecks outside. Two quick fingerpulls, two muffled bursts of fire, and both Aqualish dropped to the ground, each with a scorching hole in their foreheads. Slamming the door shut once more, the redhead turned back to Sheldon and the senator. When she spoke next, each word seemed as though pulled from a freezer unit.

"Ok. Now we can go."

[Abarai Loki]

When Loki was led to the speeder, he was made to carry a crumpled jacket to hide his binders. The redhead took the wheel while her crude and talkative partner joined him on the backseat, providing a glimpse of his holstered blaster as he sat. There was no further need for words as they departed, leaving behind the dank backroom and the fresh corpses that inhabited it. The first jolt that propelled them from the alley churned his insides like curdled blue milk, but once free of the gloom, he greeted the warm red kiss of the evening with a relieved sigh. Above, the sky was pink, and purple beyond the distant green mountains, and below, where the ground fell away in remarkable decline towards the coast, the ocean blazed like a fire.

All around, the bustling population went about their vacuous tourism, eating, drinking, shopping, talking, blissfully unaware of the agents of the Empire that walked amongst them, and the foul designs they conducted under their very noses. The chatter, the music, and the revelry provided a backdrop so distant to his thoughts, they may well have been taking place on Coruscant. Instead, Loki thought about Taataani, and what he had overheard the Aqualish lackey saying about his encounter with a Jedi. It had meant only one thing. His confession expedited their departure, and in turn, saved the senator from a violent end. He had done his job, he just hoped that she, in turn, had accomplished hers.

The speeder deviated from the regular ebb and flow of traffic, and took off instead over a wide sparkling river that was flanked on either side by tall hotels, garish casinos, and beautiful white restaurants. The deep blue water hissed beneath them, fanning out in foaming jets on either side, as their designated driver guided them effortlessly between quaint little boats and brightly-lit ferries.

Shortly, the view began to change along the waterfront: the casinos became bars; the restaurants, cafes; and the tall hotels became fancy villas. And, jutting out from amongst them all, stood a large boathouse of golden brick and terracotta tiles. With a whine, the speeder slowed to a stop beside a wooden jetty.

“Tell me, do you ever ask yourself why you work for the Galactic Empire?”

[Sheldon Esalis]

Don't mention the nepotism, don't mention the nepotism, don't mention the nepotism.

"The benefits, mostly."

The smell of salty air was redolent here, and I hopped out of the speeder to catch a view, keeping fairly close by in case the confessed Senator decided to take an unauthorized swim.

"Low insurance copay, a big expense account. Gold travel miles points. A suit stipend."

The thrills, the danger, the exotic trysts with beautiful (sometimes dangerous) women. Probably should stick to the suit though. For emphasis, I slid two fingers down my lapel.

"This is an Arvati. He only even makes like five hundred of these a year, and you need a six month wait list to get personally fitted."

Yeah yeah, I get it Your Honorable Electedness. Lay on the Mister Smet Goes to Coruscant line.

Una hopped out of the speeder, and we began to frog march our little captive to the boat house. The plan was (Plan B, anyways. The plan we had for whenever Plan A inevitably failed) was to simply cut ties with our fairweather Aqualish liberation friends, beat a path to a secluded little starport, and get off planet.

[Una Rakesh]

"Would you cool it about that damn suit?"

Sheldon Esalis and suits. It was like his love affair with turtleneck sweaters. Unbearable.

She reached a hand out, palming the reader-pad to allow access into the boathouse, and less than a moment later the door whisked open to give them entrance.

Thankfully the kid was light enough - though at the same time strangely heavier than someone his age might've been - that she and Sheldon were able to sweep him in through the doorway. Another second later, and the boathouse door shut with a swift sshhftshh.

Una let go, letting Sheldon do the 'manhandling'. Though honestly there wasn't much to it. Instead, she concerned herself with the duffel on her shoulder, rooting around for something unseen.

"Aaawww helllll," her voice seemed to drop in timbre, and she let her shoulders slump.

"You didn't pack the neural stimulator, did you."

It was no question that she now asked, and Una lifted her eyes to look accusingly at her partner, the kid still in his hold. Her free hand pulled out a thin rod with a rubber, nobby tip and held it out accusingly.

"What. The. Hell."

She waved the thing at him.

"And what am I supposed to do with this?!"

[Sheldon Esalis]

"You said pack the stimulator."

Still with a handful of Senator, I scratched the back of my head with the grip of my pistol.

"And, clearly, that's for stimulation."