Siren's Aria: Hendonism Hymn

[Milivikal k'Vik]

Zeltros - Northern Province, Breakwater Point

Milivikal k'Vik was not completely immune to the effects of mass humanoid manipulation that was the pheromone breeze of Zeltros. Compared to most she was unaffected due to a mix of Jedi discipline and a poor sense of smell. Milivikal had a task before her. She stopped herself from licking her lips at the waiter's slim hips and pleasantly shaped shoulders. Under her wide sun hat and comfortable sun dress, Mili reviewed the dossier of one Captian Quintesh Porell (Imperial Navy, Retired). A warm breeze pulled the edges of the umbrella of the seaside cafe overlooking crashing waves, and she inhaled a mostly pure breath of ocean air.

There was no official record of the weapons test on Naalol, but there was enough holographic evidence from one of the defectors. The orbital bombardment cleanup had been declared a "standard weapons check with a targeting mistake". Like every black op run by the Imperials at the height of the Rebellion, there were misdirections and misinformations. The defector's smuggled pictures and references were enough to create a compelling picture of a man who did more than follow orders. Quintesh Porell''s record had other indicators that he was less than honorable. There were allegations of rape, various slaps on the wrist, and more than one fractured skull of captured rebels under his tenure.

Porell had been honorably discharged 2 years ago, and had "somehow" come into a considerable sum of money, likely funded by pilfered contraband. He had been marked as a liability by one Director of Imperial Intelligence, and k'Vik was going to provide ample evidence that was the case.

[Sheldon Esalis]

The Breakwater Point Regatta was something of a thing to do, according to all the right people on Zeltros. That meant it attracted influential sorts like a honeypot. The buy-in was a hundred thousand credits. Normally for digs that nice I'd be forced to wheedle the cash out of the slush fund or (shudder) ask mother. Fortunately for me, I was only here to look after the kind of solid gold macher who could afford to enter his own sailboat on a regular basis.

Well, it was pretty easy so far. The hardest part for me had been figuring out what to wear. It was right at that threshold between blazer and seersucker or crew sweater with khakis. Fortunately I could hedge my bets on shoes, with bespoke chit loafers that worked either way. Another tricky bit was figuring out what cocktail to order while we watched the boat crew wax the hull. While its a little uncomplicated, I'm a fan of the Salty Dog. It's fizzy and fruity, but also clean and bracing. And well, salty. It's a margarita for people who happen to not have a vagina. And who might be a high functional alcoholic and need something to help them function highly.

At any rate, I'd settled on the seersucker and blazer, and the waiter was bringing the salty dog. All I had to do was babysit some salt & pepper haired sociopath while a few pink ladies fed him grapes off a bayonet. I'm not going to judge. What a man does with hired women of pleasure and military surplus equipment is his own business. I just hope the bayonet was clean.

[Milivikal k'Vik]

Milivikal's light blue sundress fluttered around her while she held her hat on her head. The meter-high waves had a long, rolling period, and extravagant watercraft bobbed and swayed gently in the water, while others were being waxed and polished to a fine sheen, such as the boat occupied by Porell, and presumably his handler, who looked decidedly involved in a drink and looking mostly decorative. Old money had bought this boat, and the Porell's family interests were mostly property based. Quintesh had been pushed into the military to keep him out of the family business after an incident involving a longstanding business partner and a fireplace.

Porell's figure was still broad and powerful, although he was softer in the middle now. It was likely the side effect of additional alcohol in the diet, and probably the bayonet fed grapes. He had facial hair now, and was a deeper tan. She took note of the boat's name, "Polite Rancor".

Mili didn't see any immediate weapons on the 25 meter craft, and noted the three obvious entrances. The rigging was largely automated, and could be easily crewed by one. One topless Zeltrons puttered around the deck, while two others were involved in the grapes, and one was bottomless and additionally occupied. Mili continued her walk, although she briefly locked eyes with the handler, and felt an odd transitive familiarity. The four crew on the boat were occupied in it's preparation. The craft was in top shape. Part of Milivikal wanted to see it descend to the ocean bottom. She knew what it felt like, and would be able to find the craft at her whim.

[Sheldon Esalis]

"Weigh the anchor! We sail, yes?"

Porell lazed on the deck chaise, watching as one of his Zeltron crewers tended to the rigging controls and the anchor. The Polite Rancor was built equally for speed and comfort, as this regatta was more of a gentleman's wager sort of event. While winning was important, you weren't expected to sacrifice the enjoyment of the moment.

"You don't speak much, Esalis. Perhaps you require more refreshment?"

One of the more berry-colored ladies straddled my crotch and licked a line of salt off the rim of my glass before swapping the salt on my tongue. She kept an expert level of grind as she did so, which seemed to move in time with the gentle swaying of the boat.

"It's called tradecraft, Porell. Generally, the idea is not to talk."

Plus, it wasn't in my assignment. Babysit the basketcase, sure. Make sure the credible intel about a kidnapping plot doesn't come to fruition, sure. Honestly, I'd only taken the assignment because it was on Zeltros. I mean Whore Planet, come on.

"Plus, there's not much to talk about. Unless you're worried about getting murdered by a racquetball paddle or a croquet mallet or some other means of silver spoon homicide, I think you're set up with good people."

[Milivikal k'Vik]

Milivikal had managed a rental of a light air speeder with minor aquatic capability. It was essentially a puddle jumper, but had more than enough range to get to the final destination of the Regatta. It was a small island with a famed bar 60km off of the coast. It was said that the drinks were the best on Zeltros. Mili was certain that it wasn't true, and that the title belonged to a small bar 3 kilometers outside of the main port in the Southern Province.

She anchored her rental craft on the beach, mindful of the tidewater marks. She bought a tropical drink, without the stupid umbrella in it. This bar didn't bother with the umbrellas, and encouraged the use of your own damn fruit, which they would pulp and juice and strain, and then mix with the correct liquors and liqueurs. She did not have her own fruit, but a pseudo-tree was graciously provided for a reasonable fee. Mili ordered one such drink. Or two. Her bare feet played in the warm sand as the water lapped rhythmically meters away. When the sun became too much, she retreated back onto the pier and watched boats and masts appear over the horizon. She learned the name of the bartenders, some of whom were extras for the Regatta looking for an extra credit. When Mili danced a stir between her fingers and then flipped it into the air, and into her drink with nary an drop out of it, they offered her a job on the spot. She just smiled a pale smile and declined, as they could always use a talented pour on the bar boat. A good deal of the wealthier patrons paid for to-craft delivery.

Golden light bathed the ocean, while it's shadows were a dark purple. She took in the sunset, and ate her pre-packed dinner. One by one boats of the Regatta dropped anchor in a safe harbor of the unnamed island with the infamous unnamed bar. Golden sunsets became purple evenings, into boat-lit night. The moons were both out of phase, and the water would be only lit by the Regatta's lights.

Mili marked the profile of the Polite Rancor in the distance.

Patrons arrived by dingy and speeders, depending on degrees of romanticism and practicality. Porell nor his handler was not among them, although there was an impressive to-go order carried by the Zeltron crew. Mili went back to the bar and ordered another drink. She flirted politely, superficially: enough to be socially engaging, but not enough to be memorable. In fact, none of the patrons she interacted with had a clear memory of her at all. The party finally slowed well after midnight. Mili slinked into her rented craft and donned a skin-tight active camouflage wetsuit. She grabbed hold of the small motorized diving assistance pod, and set off into the ocean. She went a few meters below the surface, her approach was completely undetected. She set the device to maintain position and swam to the Rancor's ladder in enforced silence. Most of the boat's patrons, some previously unseen, were passed out in naked embrace under the stars.

Milivikal could hear Porell's bandsaw snore below deck. He was alone, passed out with an extraordinarily expensive bottle of Corellian brandy half drunk, some spilled. She tsked at the sight.

"Hello Quintesh."

[Sheldon Esalis]

The former Imperial waved off an imagined voice, still half in a stupor.

"No, Preshka...no caviar. Maybe later."

Eyes still closed, he clung to the bottle of brandy in the bed of his cabin. Slowly, his subconscious began to send enough amiss signals to convince him to crack open an eye...

...then both eyes opened.

"What is this?"

While the skin-tight suit was certainly as attractive as the woman it hugged, neither of them were sticking to a certain theme. It was all too serious.

"Who are you?!"

[Milivikal k'Vik]

"You are a drunk, Quintesh, but not stupid." Milivikal flashed a smile beneath wide, wild eyes. Her comparatively slight frame was held taught, as if it were a compressed spring.

"Come now, Porell, surely you can remember Naalol." She said in a rythmic, matronly voice. His eyes narrowed at her insinuation.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Two hundred fifty seven twi'leks and one hundred twenty one humans did." Porell's hand tightened around the bottle. His large frame shifted position, better set to attack.

Her voice rolled out in a clear version of his own. "Field Report, Captain Quintesh Porell, Imperial Navy. Project 12Zed Dewback was successful. There are no survivors and the full scouting contingent has reported no evidence of anyone within 10 kilometers. In fact, the most distance covered was 300 meters. Overall this test has exceeded expected parameters given wind speed and altitude. A targeting beacon has been placed in the settlement center." He sounded rather proud of himself.

Porell bellowed and charged. He grabbed for the comparatively diminutive antagonist, and found only air. Enraged, he swung the mostly empty bottle at k'Vik. Instead, it shattered against a wall. While the room was large for a boat, Mili was mindful that she only had four meters in a given direction to maneuver.

"Quintesh Porell." Mili continued, now in Director Esalis's voice. "...would be disposed of, if not for the massive political inconvenience. Monitor him. An inopportune confession would damage Imperial credibility..." he charged again. She countered, knife in hand, rending the bottle-arm's bicep severed. "...in the Mid Rim." She ducked another clumsy attack, and the long ceramic blade found blood again, severing his hamstring. Quintesh yowled. Distantly, his brain could not comprehend why no one had come to his aide against this pale freak

[Sheldon Esalis]

The night was waning, and I was making my rounds after a Togrutan Caipirinha and a Zeltron Happy Ending. Note: only one of these was a cocktail.

I gave the cabin a courtesy knock, wearing nothing but a dog-leg holster, an unbuttoned seersucker shirt, and a speedo.

"Hey, uh, since I don't hear any rhythmic pounding I'm just gonna assume that you're passed out in your own sick. If you're not, we're out of lube and caviar. In that order. I'm gonna give a five count, and come get some."

Still nothing. Could sure as hell smell the brandy from here, but no bile.

"Alright then, here we..."

I stepped through the doorway and saw...

"Huh."

[Milivikal k'Vik]

Blood.

Milivikal had whittled the man down, limb by limb, until he became an enraged, wounded animal with no means of lashing out. His wounds oozed, and his struggle slowly decreased until he was tired. Life weighed on him heavily, and k'Vik relieved him of that burden with a final slice. Blood gurgled through his opened throat.

Mili breathed a deep breath, of relief, when the door vibrated. A knock. As slight as she was, passage through one of the small, round windows was impossible. She attempted to disentangle herself, yet the homogoni wood was slicked by the pool of blood. Mili's attempt to charge her potential adversary became a stumble.

The door was pushed open, and Sheldon's mild surprise was supplanted by years of combat training. In a series of smooth, practiced motions, Sheldon dropped to one knee, drew the blaster, and shot the off-balance Jedi with a stun bolt. Surprise painted her face. She hit the floor with a wet slap short of the Imperial Agent.

[Sheldon Esalis]

Mother was going to give me hell over this, but in my defense, dead men told no tales. The worst part about it all was that I could see the remnants of the bottle of brandy I'd smelled. That reserve was an endangered species! Pigs like Quintesh Porell were much more common, though now it appeared that he was leaking on the floor even more than the brandy.

I scratched an itch on my temple with the barrel of my blaster.

"Awk-ward."

Suddenly I had a feeling we probably wouldn't be needing the caviar and lube. And here I was expecting this to be a pleasant work trip. Ugh, now I had to tie up some lithe brunette assassin chick and there would probably be stun cuffs and torture and maybe lube is back on the menu after all!

[Milivikal k'Vik]

Milivikal loathed the feel of a stun blast. Her nervous system always responded in a scatter-shot manner. She recalled a time where one of eight fingers worked, and neither thumb for nearly ten minutes. Each time, her body responded in a less than predictable manner.

For normal people, the first senses to return were those closest to the brain. Mili could smell the mix of salt air and... fluids, but her eyes fell open, completely unfocused. The left eyelid blinked. The right did not. Her hearing was normal. Aware that she had been stunned and aware that she was still alive, she would instead wait to test her body. She waited. A gentle hum revealed that she was in stun cuffs, and that she was lashed to her chair. Waves caressed the hull of the sailing boat.

Mili's addled mind gradually filtered out the unimportant noise. In the distance, she could hear the slosh of liquid against glass. Footsteps followed.

[Sheldon Esalis]

I moved her from the murder scene. It was for the best, really. As much as I might create dead bodies in my line of work, I'm not exactly chummy with them. Pretty sure that would be a sign of a sociopath, and two, dead bodies tend to release their bowels, which doesn't make for a good atmosphere. Yes, literally.

So we absconded to another set of quarters. I kept the eyecandy away from the scene, and made sure to keep them paid enough to keep their mouths shut. Alone again, I tended to the wetbar. The drink was for me. My brunette barbarella was gonna have a different kind of cocktail. Next to my Mojito, I unzipped what appeared to be a black toiletries bag. It was a travel kit of a sort, courtesy of Mother. A row of hypo syringes was arrayed in a line of elastic straps. None of them were labeled. It wasn't the sort of thing you wanted to explain when searched. They were color coded instead, and you were damn sure supposed to remember which did what.

"Okay, I'm pretty sure the blue one is the truth serum and the green one is the suicide shot. Okay seventy-five percent sure. Hmm. Oh hey scout, wakey wakey."

[Milivikal k'Vik]

Mili was not yet equipped to deal with counter-acting the effects of psychoactive compounds. She could feel the slight difference in density of the drug course through her circulatory system. It crashed through her brain, which released a series of chemicals that interacted in a convient fashion to make her both alert and pliant. Her eyes shot open, and her body involuntarily went rigid for a moment.

"MMNNGMMGGHGHTGFFFFFFTH!" This set off the stun cuffs. Spittle emerged from the left corner of her mouth while her body thrashed. Mili was awake now. Her chest heaved, and the rest of her body finally relaxed. Her pale blue eyes fixated on him. This removed a large element of surprise for Milivikal. She involuntarily frowned instead of maintaining a neutral gaze.


"Skirtopanol (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Skirtopanol)?" She asked. Given the stun cuffs, it was likely. She checked her fingers, which were not all active yet. This was not going well.

[Sheldon Esalis]

Alright, so she hadn't foamed at the mouth and dropped dead. That meant I was right, haha. I tucked the syringes back into the case, and swirled my straw in my high ball glass, moving the mint garnish about.

"That, and a combination of something proprietary to keep you lucid."

I snapped my fingers in quick procession, moving them left and right quickly. She followed each snap. A good sign.

"Muscle relaxant as well. I just need your lights on upstairs. After seeing the modern art exhibit you made out of Quintesh Porrell, I'd rather that kind of finger painting not be a series."

Pulling a chair opposite, I flipped it backwards to straddle, resting my mojito along the back of the seat as I sipped.

"So what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"

[Milivikal k'Vik]

"On the oceans of Zeltros I chum the water with the blood of Porell for crimes on Naalol." This was troublesome. The drug was working incredibly effectively.

"Director Esalis shall be embarrassed and infuriated." Mili grinned. "I am not certain which I enjoyed more." Rather too effectively. Mili was lucid but concentration was difficult.

"I dislike stunblasts. Do you dislike stunblasts?"

[Sheldon Esalis]

Well of course it was politically motivated. Porell was a liability and his projects of sociopathic largesse were long considered to be a liability. Of course, Porrell's connections made having Intel kill him effectively impossible. Someone else killing him was actually convenient - if that's all that came of it.

It was the other part that I focused on. Embarassing Mother was no skin off my back as long as I didn't feel the consequences of it. Technically she should come out of such a convenient murder spotless.

"Go back to embarassing Director Esalis. What do you mean?"

[Milivikal k'Vik]

Mili started to laugh. It was a musical sound, decidedly pleasant, and then she snorted and went into a full-blown fit until she started to tear up, and her chest was too tense from laughter to make more than squeaks. She had to take several deep breaths to cover

"Of course she shan't tell the guardian. Esalis has agreements with the Porells to keep Quintesh from trouble in exchange for their financial and social influence, plus physical access to the line of hotels and food service though space. Holos of Porell's corpse would be both a personal embarrassment and a potential scandal." She watched the wheels in Sheldon's head turn. He looked troubled, so Mili decided to reassure him.

"I am intoxicated and you are delightfully manly." True, but not the sort of reassurance she wanted to provide right now.

[Sheldon Esalis]

Hmm, a direct threat to the gravy train. That was no good. I wasn't one of the goons handling the spin machine, but spin was a lot easier to deal with if you didn't have grizzly holos to refute it.

I sipped at my mojito, rising from my seat as I looked at the goods I'd managed to pilfer off her body when she was unconscious. Lots of nasty little assassin tools. Nothing that I could see that could be used to extract that kind of evidence.

Then, she started to come on. Not shying away from an ego stroke (or other strokes now that I think of it), I arched an eyebrow.

"Now that you mention it, I am delightful and manly."

I walked over to her, raising her chin in my hand.

"Maybe this was all a misunderstanding. If you weren't working alone, that might make it a little easier for you to find out exactly how delightful I am."

[Milivikal k'Vik]

"Ahh. I do work alone today." Mili moved her head and took an uninhibited suck of his fingers. She justified her actions due to the preponderance of Zeltron pheromones floating in the air. Why was that relevant? She wasn't going to tell him about the microcamera with the transmitter that had already uploaded to a deadswitch account.

"Mmmmm..." was all that she stated. She inhaled deeply and looked up, her face the picture of lip-biting lust. Part of her brain was active, attempting to ward off the serum's effects. Maybe she could use this to her advantage.

[Sheldon Esalis]

She cleaned the lime and mint off my finger better than a Rodian dying of thirst, and it certainly occurred to me what other uses that kind of suction could find. Still, she'd mentioned she was more or less a lone wolf. So then, I was missing something. I dipped my finger into the mojito to freshen it up, and returned to sender. Honestly, I hoped this was just her talking big and that it ended with Porrell's death and nothing more. She was as randy as the Zeltrons, but with a good amount of danger to spice things up.

"Tell me about the holos."

I grabbed a handful of brunette hair, denying the lady assassin a taste just yet.

[Milivikal k'Vik]

Mili sucked in breath when her jet black hair was grabbed, and then a sultry laugh came out instead of an answer. Things were rather confused in her brain. Part of her wanted to answer the question and the other half wanted to wrap her legs around him. She caught the tip of his finger with the very tip of her tongue. She savored the flavor and then licked her lips

"I have a dead man's switch and a subdermal monitor." Part of her brain was formulating cogent plans of escape, but her actions were not. She was torn between obedience and lust. She wanted out of the wetsuit, and the stun cuffs. Well, maybe the stun cuffs could stay, if set on the most gentle setting.

[Sheldon Esalis]

It was pretty prudent. I had to give her credit. Teasing at the zipper of her wetsuit, I thought over what she told me.

"Well fortunately for you, you're not dead yet."

Still, this was only a delaying tactic. I probably should get one of those gundarks over in SIGINT a chance to fiddle with any spectrum that was being used to extrapolate a signal. If she was right, then the best tactic was to keep her alive and pliant until that bit could be discovered.

[Milivikal k'Vik]

Sheldon finished most of his drink, and ostensibly went to refill it. With is back turned he sent a quick message to SIGINT, which would bring considerable resources to bare in the tracking of a possible dead man's switch holo packet, and traffic out of Zeltros would be delay-filtered. Mili stared at his bottom. Mili could hear his quiet motions while he "mixed" another drink and mixed another drink.

"If I untie your legs you're not going to try to kick me or escape? Because that would put a damper on our relationship." Sheldon asked. She shook her head.

"Mmm mmm no." She said. To Sheldon's credit, he still made sure to untie her from the sides. He stood back for a moment, out of shapely assassin dancer leg range. Well this was not really standard procedure but it wasn't every day that a hot drugged out with truth serum assassin was throwing herself at you was Sheldon's line of thinking. Mili was in the air faster than Sheldon could properly react. She collided with him at waist level, and wrapped her legs around his hips. She managed to get herself eye level and bit his lower lip.

[Sheldon Esalis]

While the SIGINT gundarks on Coruscant crunched data, I had a little time on my hands, and a little bit more than that in my hands, now that I thought about it. The first thing they try to teach you at Spy Academy is don't sleep with the enemy, which honestly is probably a pretty good idea. Nevermind the usual dangers of social disease, there's the ever-popular holdout blaster, the vibrodagger in a thigh garter, and - well its an urban legend and I've never, ever seen it substantiated - the spring-loaded snatch gun full of tree frog toxin. Actually honestly think about that for a second. That's just asking for negligent discharge (heh). I mean, spy gadgets are usually built for abuse, but I don't think I'd trust anything in the Imperial Intel inventory when put up against time and a good kegeling.

So lets assume you violate the no sleeping with the enemy rule like I was clearly intending to do. Never ask them their name. One, you're gonna get an alias. If you don't think that's true, then I have a small book I could publish on how many times I got laid by Padme Amidala - the galactic swoop bike. Two, it's just bad form. You start asking names, that means it's not a thrill bang anymore, it's a prelude to interrogation, which kinda tends to sink a boner (but not always!). Besides, whatever part of the truth cocktail she was on that contained a bit of Ryloth Fly, I wanted to make sure to milk that (phrasing) for every last parsec.

[Milivikal k'Vik]

"My my my." She stated, her chest heaving from exertion. Mili felt lucid. The physical distraction had given her time to focus elsewhere, including clearing the cocktail of drugs from her bloodstream. Sheldon was an utter egomaniac, yet he knew his way around a bed. And a tabletop. And a floor...

"You must stay." Her word barreled it's way through Sheldon's mind, he was compelled to be still. k'Vik swung herself off of the bed, and the stun cuffs fell away from her wrists, removed by an unseen force. Mili took a moment to rub them before she re-assembled her wetsuit, her face in casual concentration as the items Sheldon had removed returned to her by flying through the air. She returned the various blades to their homes.

"I enjoyed our assignation." She cracked a wry smile. "You had every opportunity to extirpate me, and you did not. I am appreciative. I shall provide the same kindness." Mili opened the cabin door and stepped through.

"Please tell your mother that k'Vik sends her regards." Mili closed the door.

[Sheldon Esalis]

If anything was ever going to kill a boner, it was a paramour mentioning 'your mother' and not immediately following it with 'there's been a terrible, unfortunate, improbably, unsurvivable swoop bike accident'. She spoke with otherworldly gravitas and authority that would put a kool-aid cult leader to shame, and worst of all, I was pretty much following along with every word of it. Except now I was watching her slip out of cuffs and into clothes, while the pitched tent bedsheet at my crotch slowly fell like a flan collapsing in a cupboard, leading me to ask in a bewildered and defeated tone.

"...What?!"